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Posts Tagged ‘rage’

The Return of Farnsworth

From the Kansas City Royals’ spring training camp – Gil Meche is dissolving faster than the guy who opened the Ark in that Indiana Jones movie. After his last start, his cock fell off in the shower. Frankly, the Royals are partially to blame here – they never should’ve let him use that radioactive pen to sign his $55 million contract.

(No, really. Gil Meche makes $55 million. Look it up.)

Anyway, because the Royals are a depressing Cirque du Malaise of washed-up has-beens, Japanese league drop outs, no curveball hitting Pedro Cerranos and California Penal League MVP’s they don’t have a lot of appealing options to fill Meche’s spot in the rotation.

So they are turning to… Kyle Farnsworth!

http://www.kansascity.com/2010/03/26/1838549/royals-set-contingency-plans-in.html

This is great news for fans of random sports violence because Kyle Farnsworth is a C- pitcher but he is an A+ basebrawler. This guy goes from 0 to 60 faster than a Ferrari 458 Italia. When it’s go time he doesn’t even waste time with punches – he just throws himself at people like an angry goateed missile.

The Royals have inadvertently provided the casual baseball fan with a great reason to watch every fifth Royals game for the first month of the season. If Farnsworth gets squeezed, will he kamikaze the home plate umpire and Krav Maga the guy’s crotch into oatmeal? Instead of pick off throws to first will he just run over and try to beat the baserunner to death with a sharpened cleat? Will he give the batboy a concrete toothbrush on the dugout steps after a bad outing?

Nothing is out of reach anymore.

The 2010 KC Royals – at least it won’t be boring!

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Have you ever gone into a public restroom to wash your hands and they have those hands-free soap dispensers? It’s got a motion sensor that will dispense soap when your hands move under the tap, so they don’t end up with a soap dispenser coated in other people’s poop-loaf germs.

Ever tried to use one of those hands-free soap dispensers, only it doesn’t acknowledge that you’re there? You stand there like a street mime waving your arms around in front of the sink hoping to somehow get the electronic eye to notice you, but it never does. So then you move away to the next sink…and right after you step away that soap dispenser fires off a milky white stream into the sink that would make Peter North jealous. The whole experience makes you just want to jam both arms into the shitter and then slap the building maintenance manager in the face with your icky toilet water hands. HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDS-FREE SYSTEM NOW, FUCKO!

This is exactly how it felt being a Browns fan after the Braylon Edwards trade. We installed that wide receiver as an upgrade, and he worked well for one season. So we kept waving our hands under that wide receiver, expecting continued production, but suddenly he wasn’t producing. Then, as soon as we gave up and moved to the next wide receiver he unveils these amazing sticky glue hands and actually plays like he cares. For the last 1.5 seasons in Cleveland the guy can’t catch a five yard curl route; now he makes leaping catches over his outside shoulder 30 yards down field while pirouetting the sideline like a fucking Russian ballet dancer?!?

Shove your rediscovered work ethic right up your freshly bleached asshole, Braylon Barishnikov. I hope LeBron joins the Knicks in 2010, buys a house right next to yours, and fucks your girlfriend in the upstairs picture window where you can see/hear/smell everything.

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Gas pump screamers

I would like to take a moment to acknowledge the most annoying and intrusive evolution in advertising since the Internet pop-up ad: gas pump screamers.

You’ve probably been assaulted by one of these things by now. You pull up to the pump, set everything up, and as soon as the gas starts pumping a small electronic box mounted to the side of the pump starts shouting at you about cheap hot dogs or cigarettes or something.

HEY ARE YOU HUNGRY? UNDERCOOKED HOT DOGS ARE ON SALE INSIDE, GET ONE WITH A WATERED DOWN DIET COKE FOR 15 CENTS OFF! YEAH I SAID DIET COKE, FRANKLY YOU LOOK A LITTLE FAT TO ME. BUY SOME FUCKING SMOKES WHILE YOU’RE IN THERE TOO. YOU COULD SHOVE THE WHOLE PACK DIRECTLY UP YOUR ASS AND THEY STILL WOULDN’T BE ANY WORSE FOR YOU THAN THE HOT DOG.

These gas pump screamers commit the following transgressions against decency:

  1. Nobody likes being shouted at by anything, let alone a commercial for gas station food. I would rather let Rosie O’Donnell paint a picture of her last yeast infection on my chest using mayonnaise than hear about your fucking sale on pork rinds when I’m freezing my sack off trying to fuel up my crappy Korean SUV.
  2. If you’re not expecting a sudden loud noise 8″ from your ear while you’re standing on a sheet of ice…enjoy your rapid descent to the pavement, and be sure to thank the gas station manager by breaking his nose with the brand new cast on your shattered wrist. Bonus points if you are overweight, because now you are three months closer to that heart attack you’ve been working towards.
  3. For some reason they are insanely hard to shut off. It always takes at least five seconds to figure out which button shuts the thing off, because instead of labeling it “OFF” they usually have like the Egyptian hieroglyph for deafness on there. So you have to stand there mashing all the buttons and muttering to yourself like “Why won’t this God damn thing shut off?!? I already pressed the Fish Eye button AND the Sun/Moon button! Damn it!”
  4. Even if you accidentally manage to decode which button is the “OFF” button you have to press the thing hard enough to crack the plastic shell to shut it off.
  5. There is no way to avoid these things, because you HAVE to walk past them to pump your gas. Even if you move like a ninja and shut the thing off in two seconds, you still have to go through the extra effort to avoid being screamed at by a robot.
  6. There is nobody you can yell at, because gas station clerks have already given up on life and don’t really give a flat French fuck if you were inconvenienced or upset by something.

The only way anyone could possibly justify these things is if the advertising revenue was offsetting the cost of my gas…you know what, I’m not even going to waste my time finishing that thought. It would never happen.

Fuck you, inventor of the gas pump screamer. I hope your wife is screwing your neighbor, your priest is screwing your son, and your dog is screwing your cat. I hope somebody sneaks up behind you and shouts about frozen pizzas being on sale, and you fall and break your hip. Dickhead.

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When I switched jobs a little over a year ago, my commute changed from a 5 minute jog across town to a 35 minute highway haul. This change in commutes has opened my eyes to something: people are fucking idiots.

Okay, I knew that before I started driving on the highway every day…but few places make people’s idiocy more obvious than when they are flying along in two tons of steel fueled by combustible chemicals at 70 mph and barely…paying…attention…to what the fuck they are doing.

Case in point: I was cruising in the left lane this morning at 75 mph. A few hundred yards in front of me in the right lane there is a semi being followed closely by an SUV. I get within a few feet of the trailing SUV, and right fucking then the guy decides to pass the semi without bothering to check the left lane first.

After I crushed the brakes to avoid rear-ending this guy, I am stuck behind him while he crawls around the semi. The semi is going 68 mph and this guy is passing at 68.01 mph. And I am…just…simmering to a boiling rage at the sheer assholery on display here.

Once he had passed the semi and moved back into the right lane I pulled up next to him, rolled down my passenger window and politely requested that he TONGUE FUCK A DONKEY’S ASS UNTIL IT SPRAYS BURRO JIZZ IN BOTH OF HIS EYES, SINCE HE OBVIOUSLY HAD NO INTENTION OF USING THOSE EYES TO CHECK HIS FUCKING BLIND SPOT BEFORE CHANGING LANES. HEY COCK WAGON, SEE THOSE SHINY PIECES OF GLASS MOUNTED TO YOUR CAR? THOSE ARE CALLED “MIRRORS” AND IF PROPERLY USED, YOU CAN ACTUALLY SEE IF THERE IS ANYONE BEHIND YOU THAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO RUN OFF THE ROAD WITH YOUR TANK-SIZED SUV THAT YOU CLEARLY BOUGHT TO COMPENSATE FOR YOUR ELFIN COCK. HOW ABOUT I LET YOUR DAUGHTER THE HONOR STUDENT BRUSH HER TEETH WITH MY DICK ON YOUR FRONT LAWN? CHOKE ON BROKEN GLASS AND DIE, ASSHOLE.

He refused to look over at me – some people are so rude, ignoring an invitation to polite conversation like that.

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Other transgressors of proper highway etiquette:

* Guy who is going slower than you, until you are about to pass him and he speeds up just so you can’t pass. What the fuck does that accomplish?
* Lane drifters. Hey hey hey, pay attention fuckstick! You almost sideswiped my crappy old Hyundai! Wait, maybe these people are OK after all.
* Guy who drives like he is qualifying for a race at Road America, until he sees the cop car parked in the median and stomps the brakes hard enough that anyone who rear-ends him will re-enact a scene from the Dukes of Hazzard. Nicely played ace, I’m sure the cop will have no idea you were speeding when he sees the nose of your car suddenly pitch 30 degrees forward. Dope.
* Prius drivers that give you a condescending look and shake their head slowly at you when you pass them. Choke on your fuel-sipping smugness. I use more gas than you, eat more red meat than you, and kick more ass than you. Get your egg-shaped piece of plastic crap out of the way hippie.

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“Maybe it is psychological; we just feel comfortable playing here in Cleveland.” — Hines Ward

“I think I might shit blood after this game.” — Cognitive Friction, at halftime last night

* The Browns currently lead the NFL with a “celebrations to actual good plays” ratio of 473:1. Nobody makes a defensive stop seem like DOWNTOWN FUCKING MARDI GRAS quite like those Browns! Hey, we can’t score and we can’t stop the other team from scoring…let’s dance! Jazz hands everybody!

* Anyone else get the impression that Romeo Crennel would lose a game of checkers to a 6 year old? Nice decision to skip the field goal at the end of the first half there Fat Albert. We still get 3 points if Derek Anderson throws a horrible INT, right? No? Well then I guess that WAS A REALLY FUCKING STUPID DECISION AFTER ALL.

* Browns are down 10-3 with just under 4 minutes in the game. Crennel makes an incredibly brainless decision to kick a field goal (oh I know, I was shocked too)…and Al Michaels/John Madden defend the decision! How the fuck does being down 10-6 with 3:30 left and a dogshit defense do any good?!? What the FUCK?!?

* Memo to Soldier Winslow: when you see that guy from the other team running at you, GET IN HIS WAY. Don’t slap him with your limp wrists…don’t fake block and then roll into the flat…ACTUALLY FUCKING BLOCK HIM. You are a hell of a good pass catcher but as long as you are playing tight end, you have to block.

* The entire Browns secondary looks like that old electric football game where you spend 20 minutes setting every player up for one play, and then you plug it in and half the players just fall over, and a couple run into each other, and some just go in circles. Somebody needs to fire the hell out of their secondary coach, if they even have one.

* Derek Anderson looks like wet shit in a rainstorm, but its hardly his fault. His best targets are a stud WR who has dropped 974 passes already this year…a no blocking, shit talking TE…and a collection of broken-down Yugos that couldn’t make anyone else’s roster. Plus it doesn’t help that Jamal Lewis…

* …wait, this needs its own bullet point. Jamal Lewis looks completely fucking washed up. He’s doing that dancing, hesitating crap that washed up running backs do instead of taking one step and going balls-out into the hole. Even Joe Thomas, lord among men, cannot keep the hole open long enough for Cokehead Jamal to drive his Rascal through.

* But at least our backup running back is awful too. No, not Jerome Harrison – he’s actually pretty good. Which is why he’s the 3rd string back. No, really.

I think I’ll ask my old friend Jack Daniels what he thinks about all this.

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Originally written Nov 14, 2006

The paragraph below was lifted from an op-ed piece on Fox Sports website:

“Knight has thrown chairs across the court, thrown a photographer into the bushes, kicked his son and shoved a fan of an opposing team into a garbage can. He twisted the arm of an Indiana freshman and cursed at him for addressing him as “Hey, Knight” instead of “Mr. Knight” or “Coach Knight.”

Wait, was that supposed to make me hate Bob Knight? Because it actually made me like him more, maybe want to invite him over for dinner.

I wish Bob Knight would dump that reporter in a garbage can. In fact, I would pay $40 to see Bob Knight slam Jeremy Schaap into one of those old metal garbage cans, turn the can on its side, and kick it down a really steep hill full of rocks. Make that $50.

Shut the fuck up Fox Sports, and every other channel that sent out their biggest blubbering vagina reporters to cover this huge non-story.

Bob Knight is completely nuts, he also happens to be one of the most successful college coaches ever. And Texas Tech players CHOOSE to play there, it’s not like there’s no other options.

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