Awesomeness of the Day

Awesomeness of the Day

At Least We Didn't Say This ...

So the Sox aren't exactly killing it right now.  Tek is their best hitting catcher.  John Lackey looks like Buz from Home Alone.  And Dice-K is the worst $100 million Japanese import since Digi-Pets.  So with all this failing going on in Fenway, it's making just about everyone look like idiots.  Sox fans across the country were expecting 90+ wins and the AL East.  And it wasn't just us.  The ESPN experts had that too.  But in times of misery such as this, we must look on the bright side.  Sure, we predicted the Sox to be the '27 Yankees.  But at least we didn't say any of the following:

• “Radio has no future. Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible. X-rays will prove to be a hoax.” — William Thomson, Lord Kelvin, British scientist, 1899
• “The bomb will never go off. I speak as an expert in explosives.” — Admiral William Leahy, U.S. Atomic Bomb Project.– Former Boston Red Sox outfielder, Carl Everett
• “We don’t like their sound, and guitar music is on the way out.” — Decca Recording Co. rejecting the Beatles, 1962
• "My sister's expecting a baby, and I don't know if I'm going to be an uncle or an aunt." – Former Houston Rocket, Chuck Nevitt.
• “The concept is interesting and well-formed, but in order to earn better than a ‘C’, the idea must be feasible.” — A Yale University management professor in response to Fred Smith’s paper proposing reliable overnight delivery service. (Smith went on to found Federal Express Corp.)
• "Ray Lewis is the type of guy, if he were in a fight with a bear I wouldn't help him, I'd pour honey on him because he likes to fight. That's the type of guy Ray Lewis is." – Former NFL player, Shannon Sharpe.
• “While theoretically and technically television may be feasible, commercially and financially it is an impossibility.” — Lee DeForest, inventor.
• "Cancer survivor." – Lance Armstrong, on what he would like his tombstone to say.
• “This ‘telephone’ has too many shortcomings to be seriously considered as a means of communication. The device is inherently of no value to us.” — Western Union internal memo, 1876.
• "Yankee pitchers have had great success this year against Cabrera when they get him out." – Tim McCarver.
• “I see no good reasons why the views given in this volume should shock the religious sensibilities of anyone.” — Charles Darwin, The Origin Of Species, 1869.
• "The sun has been there for 500, 600 years ... " – Current Red Sox outfielder, Mike Cameron.
• "They couldn't hit an elephant at this dist-."  Last words of Gen. John Sedgwick, spoken as he looked out over the parapet at enemy lines during the Battle of Spotsylvania in 1864
• "They shouldn't throw at me. I'm the father of five or six kids." -Baseball player Tito Fuentes, after getting hit by a pitch.
• "This case is a loser." - Johnnie Cochran before the O.J. case in 1994.
• "Unstoppable, baby!" - Golden State Warrior rookie Marc Jackson to the Mavericks' bench, after hitting a lay-up during a 29-point loss.

Pete Rose Fights Back

For a long time Charlie Hustle denied betting on baseball, while asking for reinstatement to Major League Baseball year after year.  The general consensus among many was that if and when Pete Rose finally admitted that he bet on the game, then he would in fact be reinstated, and then be elected to the Hall of Fame.  After all, time heals all wounds.  So, following that line of thinking, Rose finally did admit betting on baseball, and asked forgiveness.  How did the public respond?  No one seemed to care, and rather than being that guy who maybe bet on baseball, he became that old dude with weird hair.  No reinstatement.  No Hall of Fame.  So what does Rose do?  He is doing what any self respecting man would do.  He is taking maters in to his own hands.  And apparently he method of fighting back is by dressing like the biggest dick head on the planet.  Scorned by the refusal of the public to forgive, Rose is taking on the public by running around dressed as a gayer Elton John, tempting everyone who lays eyes upon him to claw their own eyes out and jump off a bridge into a shark tank.  Anything to get this ridiculous image out of their head.  Well done, Pete, you're fighting back.

Haven't seen what I'm talking about?  Oh, well you're in for a treat.  Here's a link ... http://www.baseballthinkfactory.org/images/uploads/article/tumblr_lixt55wxoe1qc8nnpo1_1280.jpg

Getting Knowledge, Book Of Deuteronomy Style

Well said, bearded crazy man.  No dude clothes for chicks.  Got it.  And of course that includes ball caps.  Duh.  But I'm surprised you stopped reading from the Book of Deuteronomy.  I mean, there's a lot of good stuff in there.  But I get it, you're a busy guy.  You probably have a lot of chipmunks to shoot and ethnicities to protest against.  So I'll help you out, and spread the Book's word.  Here are just a few topics the Book of Deuteronomy speaks to ... and yes, these are real:

On the beautiful story of rape and selling bitches
 22:28-29 reads, “If a man happens to meet a virgin who is not pledged to be married and rapes her and they are discovered, he shall pay the girl’s father fifty shekels of silver [and they shall marry]."


On not hooking up with your mom or wearing your dad's shit
22:30 reads, "A man shall not take his father's wife, nor discover his father's skirt."


On trading in for a newer model
24:1-2 reads, "When a man hath taken a wife, and married her, and it come to pass that she find no favour (sic.) in his eyes, because he hath found some uncleanness in her: then let him write her a bill of divorcement, and give it in her hand, and send her out of his house [and he may marry again]."


On not getting frisky in your parents house
22:21 reads, "Then they shall bring out the damsel to the door of her father's house, and the men of her city shall stone her with stones that she die: because she hath play the whore in her father's house."



On what to do with the Jews
4:27 reads, "And the LORD shall scatter [the Jews] among the nations, and [they] shall be left few in number among the heathen."


On implicitly acknowledging the existence of other Gods
28:14 reads, "Thou shalt not ... go after other gods to serve them."


On how to interact with strangers
7:2 reads, "And when the LORD thy God shall deliver them before thee; thou shalt smite them, and utterly destroy them; thou shalt make no covenant with them, nor shew mercy unto them."


On God not really being that "all knowing," after all
32:27 reads, "And He [God] said unto him [Jacob], What is thy name?"


And finally, on what we should do with people who aren't too sure about good old God
13:6-10 reads, "If thy brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, or the wife of thy bosom, or thy friend, which is as thine own soul, entice thee secretly, saying, Let us go and serve other gods, which thou hast not known, thou, nor thy fathers; Namely, of the gods of the people which are round about you ... Thou shalt not consent unto him, nor hearken unto him; neither shall thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal him: But thou shalt surely kill him; thine hand shall be first upon him to put him to death, and afterwards the hand of all the people. And thou shalt stone him with stones, that he die."

God bless the USA.

Drinking With Ricky: Ricky Goes Curling

It's time for another Drinking With Ricky.  Today's adventure?  Ricky Goes Curling!  So my connection to my curling expert is a little attenuated, so bear with me.  My brother's college roommate's girlfriend is an olympic level curler.  We'll call her Curler Jane.  Still with me?  Good.  So Curler Jane  wanted to teach her boyfriend and some of his friends how to curl.  I was hanging around while they were talking about it.  So, of course, I said I'd love to get in on that, and also said that I was probably a prodigy and would revolutionize that game.  Curler Jane said I could join, and it was on.  The date was set.  Saturday, March 26.  The plan is to drive over to Waylan MA (about 25 miles from Boston, and where the curling ... uh ... rink? .. is) at 10:00 am with some of Curler Jane's boyfriend's boys for an 11:00 ... uh ... tee time?  Whatever.  You get what I'm saying.  And this is how it went:

8:15 am:  Alarm clock goes off.  I run to the gym for a quick workout.  Not because I wanted to, but because I knew that I would be drinking in about 90 minutes, and wanted to make sure that I was as physically depleted as possible, so that I could maximize the affect that the booze would have on me.  That's science, Holms.

9:00 am:  Home from the gym.  Got a good workout in.  Although, I can't help but think that there is something fundamentally contradictory with blasting Eminem while gliding along on an eliptical next to two fat Asian women and what is clearly a faculty member of the Northeastern University dance department.  But I digress.  Either way, yeah, good workout.  Sufficiently dehydrated.  Time to drink.  Rip a few from the bottle of Absolute 100.  Hop in the shower.

9:10 am:  Have a bagel and Irish coffee.  Wait, an Irish coffee is four shots of whiskey loaded into a Keurig machine, right?  Yeah, that's what I thought.

9:45  am:  Ready to rock.  Our ride should be on it's way.  My brother and I are riding with Curler Jane's boyfriend's high school friends.  The plan was for one of them, we'll call him Crazy Carl, to meet the other one who has the car, we'll call him Mail Man (because he always delivers, as we'll see), at Copley.  When my brother calls Mail Man, he says "Oh, we're still doing that?  I'm in the North End."  Not a good start.  It normally wouldn't have been a problem.  But last weekend Crazy Carl busted his phone on a wall, as one does.  So now we're in the position of having Crazy Carl in the North End with a phone but no car, Mail Man at Copley with a car but no phone, and my brother and me in the apartment (drinking) without any way of getting to fucking curling.

10:10 am:  If you know me, you may know this.  If you don't, well here's a little bit of knowledge about me.  I can go from calm to fucking out my face pissed off in about two minutes.  This is what happened here.  Fucking Crazy Carl is blowing this for all of us.  He's the only link between Mail Man's car and me and curling.  But this dump bag was busy peeing the bed all over his smokeshow girlfriend from being out at BHP the night before, and didn't bother going to Copley to meet up with our ride, Mail Man, and thereby screwing everyone.  I am about ready to throw a chair out a window, Chris Brown style.  Losing it.

10:18 am:  Our apartment buzzer rings.  It's Mail Man.  How the fuck did he find our place?!  He was banking on Crazy Carl to get here!  How the fuck did this wizard find us?  Turns out, he had been here once.  Months ago and hammered.  He had some recollection of where we lived, so he headed over this way.  This crazy bastard drove to the middle of our street, started honking the horn, and yelling our names.  Fucking genius.  And when that didn't work, what did this MacGyver do?  He started going in to all the apartments on our street and ringing random buzzers, looking for our name.  Slow clap for Mail Man.  Eventually he gets us, and we roll out.  But we're not dick bags.  We're getting Crazy Carl and making this happen.  I'm calm again.  It's amazing.  I went from being chill, to ready to murder kittens, to calm again in a matter of 20 minutes.

10:38:  My brother, Mail Man, and I are in the North End waiting on Crazy Carl.  It takes this fuck nut 25 minutes to walk down Hanover street.  If you're not familiar with Boston, Hanover street is like 200 feet long.  This dump bag has been holding us up for about an hour, and now can't stumble down Hanover.  I'm ready to murder again.  He finally gets in the car.  He sees my bottle of Absolute 100.  He says "fucking awesome ... hey, I think I played my first game of Beruit against you!"  Best friends.  And we're off!

11:20 am:  We get to the rink.  Or whatever it's called.  I'm about 3/4 of a pint of Absolute 100 deep.  Winning (side note:  Is "Winning" over?  Didn't think so).

11:25 am:  We get on the ice.  I'm rocking a sweet Under Armor shirt and jeans.  Upon reflection, I look like a white trash power lifter.  But, according to Curler Jane's email, jeans were fine.  Everyone else, though, is rocking straight up ninja curling gear.  Even Crazy Carl looks the part.  Seriously, everyone looks like rock stars.  I look like a drunk gym coach from West Virginia.  Upon further review, however, Curler Jane's email said "anything but jeans are fine."  Awesome.  I look like a dick.  But whatever, I'm an athlete.  I'm going to own this shit.


11:40 am:  Curler Jane shows me how to toss the pebble, or whatever.  I say "yeah, I've seen this on TV, I've got this.

11:41 am:  I jam my pinkie on the stone and fall down, twisting my wrist on the sweeper thing and end up spinning around on the ice on my back like a dying turtle.  But I wasn't the only one.  Our buddy, Larry Walker, is all over the place too.


11:55 am:  I decide that "sweeping" (when you sweep the ice with that sqeegee thing so the stone does something or whatever) is my thing.  I yell "I call all time sweeper!"  Everyone looks at me like I just murdered a bus full of kindergarteners.  Apparently curling isn't a yelling game. 


12:10 pm:  It's game time.  It's me, my brother, Crazy Carl, and Maiil Man against everyone who showed up on time, had been paying attention, and is sober.  I'm a shit head, so I still think we're going to win.  Even though everyone on my team is drunk, wearing jeans, doesn't know what they're doing, and I honestly think that Crazy Carl just threw up in a bucket.


12:52 pm:  We just got our asses kicked.  But jokes on them.  I've finished the rest of my pint of Absolute 100 AND only ripped my jeans twice.  In your face sobriety.  And in your face fashion, I know the NKOTB ripped jeans look is going to come back.  Umm, victory?  Yeah, victory.

1:00 pm:  Off the ice.  Now this is where the rubber meets the road when it comes to curling.  Is this a sport where after the game everyone ices down?  Or is it a sport where everyone gets drunk after the match ... err, game?  Tussle?  Whatever.  Bottom line, do people get shitty after they run around on the ice?  Answer:  affirmative!  People are rolling all over the lodge with glasses of wine that rival 32 oz Powerades.  We go for a pitcher of Natty Ice.  Yeah, you read that right.  Natty Ice mother fucker.  These cats know how to throw down.

1:18 pm:  The rest of my crew is at one table.  I start heading over there, but some old dude, Joe, starts talking to me.  I'm like, fuck it, I'll humor the old dude.  Three minutes later I realize that this dude is the shit.  Apparently he busted his ACL in a football accident, and needed a new sport.  His girlfriend at the time, now his wife of twenty years, was into curling.  He tried it out, and he was hooked.  This dude was fucking awesome.  Kind of making fun of everyone, but also saying how this sport is pretty legit, and how he's glad that it's growing.  He's pounding a "glass" of wine that is in a pint glass.  This cat is the shit.  My friends are looking over at me, trying to get me to join them.  Screw that, I'm hanging out with the Hugh Heffner of the American curling circuit.  Joe and I keep talking.  He convinces me to come back.  I tell him that I'll be more sober next time.  He says, "well I wouldn't do that."  Winning.  Yes, winning.


1:30 pm:  Some middle aged chick confuses me for some member of the club who just won the worlds.  Part of me wants to correct her.  The other part of me wants to go with it.  Guess wich part won out?  So I tell her, "yeah, the Worlds were pretty intense, I really wasn't sure how I was going to do."  She asks how I approach the game.  I keep things generic.  I say, "it's like anything else, you just have to focus on what your coaches tell you, and trust in your own ability."  She beams like I just saved her puppy from a fire.  She says that her daughter (who is a smokeshow) is out on the ice, teaching a class, and that she would love for me to go out there and help her.  I say, "Ugg, I wish I could, but I'm wearing jeans, I just can't get out there like this and do the game justice."  She says I should come back and give her daughter a lesson.  It takes literally everything I have in me to not lose my mind.  But I am a professional.  I keep my cool.  I say, "well I'll be around, we should set that up." 

1:52 pm:  Time to hit the road.  I'm sufficiently drunk and have just realized that I am bleeding from both knees and can't move three fingers on my left hand.  90% sure that those injuries are due to falling.  The other 10% is acknowledging that this may just be due to the fact that my body is trying to tell me to stop drinking.

1:58 pm:  In the car.  Great day.  Curling is actually pretty friggin' awesome.  If you have done it, you know it's awesome.  If you haven't, take my word, it's a real sport with real players.  USA!  USA!  USA!


3:05 pm:  We make it back to my neck of the woods.  We have decided to have a darty* at my place for the college basketball games coming up that day.  My brother, Mail Man, and I stop at the liquor store.  Two 30's of Bud Light, a handle of Thompson whiskey, and a pint of So.Co. later and we have a good looking darty* ahead of us. 


* Don't know what a "darty" is?  Well, my friends, it's a "day party."  A darty, if you will.  It's a real thing.  Look it up.  Or don't, and just come to our next darty.  Live free or die kids.

Awesomeness of the Day

Can you feel that?  Can you?  Ya know what that is?  It's Wrestle-friggin-Mania, son!  WrestleMania 27 is this weekend, you Jabroni!  WrestleMania may be the most electrifying sporting event ... nay, most electrifying thing ever created IN THE WORLD! Need proof? Look in to the past, 'cause Stone Cold SAID SO!

Awesomeness of the Day

Baseball starts tomorrow.  Get to know the most interesting man in the world.

Bait-And-Switch: Moron Style

Jose Canseco gets punchy, sends twin brother to fight in his place

Having a twin sibling in your life comes with many well-known benefits.

Jose Canseco reportedly tried it over the weekend down in Miami and Ozzie Canseco — his 46-year-old twin brother previously best known to baseball fans for this baseball card and 65 career at-bats with the A's and Cardinals— ended up fooling nobody.  The scheduled fight with Billy Padden never went down and the Miami Herald reports that Ozzie left the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino escorted by police officers.

OK, so this is a few days old.  But it's still awesome.  I mean, really Jose?  You shagged a fly ball by headbutting it over the fence for a homerun.  You have been on more lame reality shows than New York from Flavor of Love.  And you wore this ridiculous shirt http://thewifehatessports.com/wp-content/gallery/mlb/jose-canseco-pointless-seethrough-shirt.jpg.  But this takes the cake, you crazy son of a bitch.  You hired your brother to box for you?!  Amazing.  Completely amazing.  And not only that, but when the organizer of the event refused to pay your brother, you started bad mouthing him for flaking on the contract?!  Wow dude, wow.  But ya know what?  I can't blame a guy for trying.  Who would want to get his head kicked in when he can get his look-alike to do it for him?  Which got me to thinking.  Who else should call in the doppelganger to do their shit for them? 

Former Cincinnati guard, Steve Logan and DMX:  Steve, you got arrested for something?  Send in DMX.  A jury would convince him before he was able to start barking and yell "DMX!  DMX! WOOF WOOF!  DMX!"



Chris Bosh and a raptor:  Tired of being the third wheel?  Send in the raptor, who is used to being third best behind the T-Rex and most other dinosaurs.



Jokim Noah and the ugliest dog in the world:  Sick of being made fun of for your shitty ass free-throws and jump shot?  Send in this weird ass dog.  I'm sure he's been called worse.



Pau Gasol and the Geiko Caveman:  Yeah Pau, you're a huge pussy.  But so is the Caveman.  He gets all sensitive anytime they say "even a caveman can do it."  I'm sure that he can replicate your demeanor.


Nancy Grace and Jareth the Goblin King:  You're both weird as shit.  It'll work.  Though I do feel bad for Jareth, because he was pretty awesome.


Tyler Hansbrough and Beeker:  No one really knows what either of you do at this point, so no one would bother asking questions.


Michael Jackson and an ape from Planet of the Apes:  Well Mike, you're dead.  Soooo ... I guess this doesn't make sense.  But you do look like one of these apes.

Awesomeness Of The Day

Richard Simmons Makes Me Want To Die In Plane Crash

Richard Simmons Stars in Weird New Airline Safety Video

By Lindsay Robertson, The Set | Monday, March 28, 2011, 10:44 AM

Have you been missing '80s fitness guru Richard Simmons, and his always-chipper, upbeat attitude? Don't worry, he's back, in the form of New Zealand Airlines's new in-flight safety video spokes-dancer, of all ridiculous things. I guess if the idea here was to get flyers to actually pay attention to the in-flight video, whether they know who Richard Simmons is or not, mission accomplished! But when Richard gets to the morbid, "in case of emergency" stuff, the video starts to resemble a bad "SNL" sketch more than anything: 


Yup. They did it. They win. Yeah, this thing is terrible and makes me want to kill myself. But that's gotta be what air lines are shooting for, right? I mean, we all fly. We fly all over the place. But we all know that if shit hits the fan, we're fucked. And usually there is some video before we take off telling us how to save ourselves. Awesome, if we're in a free fall and rocketing toward the earth like a scud missile, then I'll wrap a bag around my face and bank on the four people in isle 21 to guide us to safety. Nope. I know that we're all going to die. But where the air lines have been missing out is the fact that most of us want to live. But not with this shit. Throw a Richard Simmons flick at us, and I for one want to die. Tell me that you don't want to die after seeing this action. You can't, because you do. You do want to die. So good work, air line that uses this thing. You have convinced everyone on the flight that either you land us, or, if you don't, everyone is cool with being dead. I mean Christ, this makes you want to crash on the take-off. I mean, that doesn't happen that often, but this crap would make me pray that the plane goes down in the first minute of taxiing on the runway so that I can minimize the amount of time that this video can roll around in the old brain noodle. Good job, air line video. You have made all of your customers want to die on take-off. Slow clap.

Awesomeness of the Day

Soon there will be a new Drinking With Ricky.  It will chronicle my adventure curling with an olympic curler.  To gear everyone up for that, here is a pretty solid Awesomeness of the Day.  This is a morning show's attempt at playing Wii Curling during the 2010 Winter Olympics:

Ricky Is Going Curling

It's Saturday morning, which means I'm about ready to start drinking.  Today's adventure?  Yup, curling.  I'm going curling today.  Clearly pregaming while I type this post.  Wish me luck, I'll keep you all posted.

MORTAL KOMBAT!!!

You see this thing?  Tell me you didn't light up like a God damn Christmas tree when you saw this shit.  If you don't know what I'm saying, you're old or suck. You're welcome in advance for how awesome this is.  GET OVER HERE!!! 

Side note, who else thought that they were going to screw?




And while we're being great, the top 10 fatalities of all time.



And, while we're stil being great, the fatalities from the new MK.

Awesomeness Of The Day

Are the Religious prone to Obesity?

Study found regularly attending services was linked to raised risk in middle age

WEDNESDAY, March 23 (HealthDay News) -- New research finds that people who frequently attend religious services are significantly more likely to become obese by the time they reach middle age.

After adjusting their statistics to take into account factors such as race, the researchers found that 32 percent of those who attended services the most became obese by middle age, Feinstein said.

By contrast, only 22 percent of those who attended services the least became obese.

Well, I mean, why not be fat if you're religious?  I mean, you go to heaven with a bunch of gold and virgins when you die, right?  Why not speed up the process?  Listen, I think that when we die, we're just dead.  No golden gates.  No escalator to the top.  No seventy virgins.  None of that bull shit.  But if you're into that stuff, why not be fat while you're down here?  It's heaven man, you're not going to be fat in heaven.  You're going to look awesome and get to play PS3 and hook up with a zillion Mila Kunis's all day.  Fuck it, live it up while you're sacrificing the only good sex you'll ever have premarital sex, booze, and gambling and crap.  Ya know what isn't a sin?  Buffalo Wild Wings, that's what.  So live it up all ye faithful.  Expedite that heart attack.  Live the dream. 

Awesomeness Of The Day

Chris Brown Melts Down After Tough 'Good Morning America' Interview

Here we go again: The kinder, gentler Chris Brown hit a serious snag on his road to redemption today by reportedly flipping out on the set of Good Morning America. His fit of rage was allegedly set off by a series of questions regarding his physical altercation with Rihanna in 2009 (he was later sentenced to anger management classes and community labor in exchange for a guilty plea to assault). According to TMZ, Brown had an off-camera meltdown following his performance and interview with Robin Roberts, smashing a window in his dressing room with a chair and sending shattered glass falling onto the streets of Manhattan. Brown was also shouting so loudly backstage that he scared hair and makeup people and security had to be called.
(http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/amplifier/88717/chris-brown-melts-down-after-tough-good-morning-america-interview/)


Damn Chris, get your shit together.  What?  Oh, no, I don't give a shit about you going all crazy after the interview.  But when the hell did you turn in to Dennis Rodman?  Jesus man, you look like shit.  Who the hell told you that those tattoos were a good idea?  Mike Tyson's guy?  Holy hell.  And that hair?  Dude, get your shit together.  Tiger Woods and Dennis Rodman rocked that look.  That's how you're repairing your image?  Come on man.

Awesomeness of the Day

Sumo Wrestler Confirms Everyone's Belief That Anyone Can Run Marathon

Sumo Wrestler Becomes Heaviest Man to Ever Finish Marathon

The heaviest person to ever complete a marathon weighed 275 pounds. Add that weight plus the total weight of a great long-distance runner (about 120 pounds) and you'll get Kelly Gneiting.

Gneiting, a three-time U.S. sumo champion, tipped the scales at 400 pounds when he began Sunday's Los Angeles Marathon. Nine hours, 48 minutes, 52 seconds later he crossed the finish line and set the Guinness World Record for being the heaviest person to ever complete the 26.2-mile race.

The 400-pound American jogged the first eight miles of the race and walked the last 18, often stopping at intersections and stoplights because he was well behind the 13-minute-per-mile pace set by race organizers. He says he became delirious after mile 10 and only realized he hit the 15-mile mark when a friend gave him a clean pair of socks.
(http://sports.yahoo.com/olympics/blog/fourth_place_medal/post/Sumo-wrestler-becomes-heaviest-man-to-ever-finis?urn=oly-wp14)

And there you have it.  A 400 lb. dude walked his way into the record books and completed a marathon.  Confirmation, once and for all, that anyone can run a marathon.  Guess what all of my friends who have ever set out to run a marathon have done?  They've run a marathon.  And I know, I know, it's hard.  It's really friggin' hard on your body.  Ya know what else that would be hard on my body?  Eating 200 pennies, but that doesn't mean I couldn't do it.  I mean, good for all you marathon runners.  It sounds like a lot of fun.  But I'll pass. 

Also, how 'bout this dude, lose some weight.  Instead of being the fattest runner, maybe you can be the guy who lost a few lbs and didn't get diabetes and die.  Just a thought.

Squirrel attacking residents of Vt. neighborhood

BENNINGTON, Vt.—A Vermont neighborhood is being stalked by a renegade gray squirrel.

Several people in Bennington say they've been attacked by a squirrel over the last few weeks.
Kevin McDonald tells the Bennington Banner he was shoveling snow when the squirrel jumped onto him. He says he threw the animal off, but it twice jumped back onto him. A game warden says there have been other reports, too.

One woman is being treated for exposure to rabies, but Vermont Public Health Veterinarian Robert Johnson says there's never been a case of a squirrel passing rabies to a human.

Johnson says it's possible the squirrel was raised as a pet and lost its fear of humans. He says the squirrel might "go ballistic" when it encounters people it doesn't recognize.

Apart from how ridiculous this whole story is, I love the Public Health Vet. Robert Johnson's analysis of this.  "It's possible the squirrel might 'go ballistic' when it encounters people it doesn't recognize," and that "it's possible the squirrel was raised as a pet and has lost its fear of humans."  Dynamite breakdown Doc.  Maybe he's a pet, maybe he doesn't like people, blah blah blah.  Yeah, sure, maybe.  Maybe he's a daemon squirrel.  Maybe it's not a squirrel at all, and really just a super small ninja.  Maybe it's a ghost.  Come on Johnson, get your shit together.  Stop making shit up.

Also, how soft is Vermont?  That's the shit that you're dealing with up there?  Earthquakes are flying all over the place.  The Middle East is a mess.  Sink holes are popping up every other week.  And Vermont's issue is mean squirrels?  Come on Vermont, be better.

Drinking With Ricky: Southie's St. Patrick's Day Parade

This post marks the first in what is sure to be many in a series I am calling "Drinking With Ricky."  And by "many in a series," I mean that I'll probably do spots like this somewhere between zero and a hundred more times.  Could be anything, really.  The idea here is to give people a first hand look at some of Boston's better drinking events by providing something of a running journal of the event.  Today's installment, Drinking With Ricky: Southie's St. Patrick's Day Parade, gives all of you not fortunate enough to be there yourself a look at the shit storm that was yesterday morning/day/afternoon.

8:56 am:  My brother, who hasn't woken up before noon since high school, is bouncing around the apartment like an eight year who just snorted a pixi stick.  I'm in bed, not really feeling it.  Was out day drinking for the games yesterday/last night.  Don't know if I'm up for the parade.

8:59 am:  Fuck it, I'm ready for the parade.  A college budy of mine is having a party at his place on East Broadway.  Perfect.  I's on.

9:15 am: Run over to the gym for a quick workout.  No, not to stem off the effects of a day of drinking whatever I can find and eating pizza from Alfredo's until I fall down.  Have you ever drank right after a workout?  Best kind of drunk.  That's science.

10:48 am:  Showered up.  Make a run to the liquor store.  Not open until noon.  That won't do, can't show up to a party empty handed.  There's gotta be something in my fridge.  I was right.  Fill up a Whole Foods bag with a sixer of PBR, three Busch Lights, one Bud Heavy, four Sam Irish Reds, and two Twisted Teas.  Off to Southie.  Boom.

12:20 pm:  Finally make it to the party.  Not exactly a rager yet, but the potential was there.  Two kegs, two handles of Jameson, and a table that could handle about four hundred flip cup players.  Things are looking good.  My Whole Foods bag of goodies goes over well.  In somewhat of an upset, the Busch Lights went pretty quick.  I'm pretty sure that the Bud Heavy was immediately used as a door stop.  I started with the PBR's.  Three tall boys later, I was on the beruit table.


1:18 pm:  Just lost three games in a row.  That's a new low.

2:00 pm:  The parade is an hour in.  It's nice outside, so I decide to check it out.  Three feet out the door a Storm Trooper throws a green necklace at me.  Didn't see it coming.  Hits me in the neck.  I cough and drop my beer on a girl.  She's not pumped.  She calls me a dick.  I just start yelling, "kill yourself, just fucking kill yourself."  In hindsight, that may have been an overreaction. 


2:11 pm:  A dude throws up on the sidewalk.  The chick who I told to kill herself starts yelling at him, "kill yourself, just fucking kill yourself."  She turns back and says to me "fuck yeah!"  Good.

2:19 pm:  She and I just got destroyed on the beruit table and she tells me to kill myself.

3:30 pm:  I'm hungry.  I go to the kitchen.  There are five cupcakes, two regular pancakes that were made five hours ago and are now in a cereal bowl, and five other  pancakes that are for some reason pink, and are in a different cereal bowl.  I eat all of it.  Believe it or not, I don't regret any of that.


4:05 pm:  Some tall dude comes up to me insisting that he give me money for the kegs.  Mind you, it's not my party and I haven't thrown in any  money for the kegs.  I'm about to say, "don't worry about it dude, I'm just here for the party like you are."  I don't say that.  Rather, I go with "like $5 will be awesome."  Score.

5:00 pm:  Flip cup time.  Dudes vs. Chicks, obviously.  We win the first few games easily.  Then the chicks start mounting a comeback.  Like the seasoned vets we were, we don't bat an eye.  We just keep playing until we're done, and then celebrate like we just won the fucking World Cup.  The girls are so confused that they start to think that we actually won.  Mind fuck achieved.  Dudes a million, chicks zero.




5:45 pm:  Time to get the shit out of there.  My brother shows up with his crew.  We go outside to get a cab.  Surprise, no cabs.  But then a short bus starts rolling down the street, blasting top-40 music like it's going out of style.  Driver opens the door and says, "goin' Boston?, $10 each, round up, round up!"  Confused and drunk, I say we'll give him $7 or call the cops.  Yeah, I know that doesn't make any sense, but it was my move at the time.  He shakes his head and starts to shut the door.  I throw my leg in there, figuring that would slow him down.  He kept driving.  I take a digger.  I'm a little confused.  But he stops again, we get on the bus.  I don't really know what happened, but I'm on the bus.  He starts blasting "Fuck You."  Everyone is singing.  But the song keeps skipping.  Doesn't slow us down.  We just keep yelling "FUCK YOU" like it's our job.  A dad with his young daughter tell us to stop.  I did not see him until then.  That's what he gets for hopping on a gypsy bus.  The bus drops off somewhere in the North End.  I live in Fenway.  I have a ways to go.  I stumble around looking for a cab.  Again, no cabs.  Green Line time.  Gross.

6:10:  Finally catch a E train to get me to the Symphony stop.  Golden.  I sit down next to an old Asian women who immediately gets up when I sit down.  Good call out of her.  The odds on me puking on her were even.  Jokes on her though, didn't puke AT ALL!  Make my stop.  Go to Whole Foods.  Buy ice cream and a coffee cake.  Eat them both when I get home.  Pass out.  Wake up 14 hours later and go to work.  No shower.  Championship.

Happy St. Patrick's Day kids.  Until next time, this was drinking with Ricky.

Awesomeness of the Day

Top Ten Fictional Athletes Of All Time

We did 6-10, with a few upsets in there.  Now, 1-5.  Boom goes the dynamite.

5. Kenny Powers - I'm the man who has the ball. I'm the man who can throw it faster than fuck. So that is why I am better than everyone in the world. Kiss my ass and suck my dick... everyone.


4. Happy Gilmore - Another multi sport superstar.  Ok, yeah, you're right, he wasn't that good at hockey.  But he could skate, which is more than you can do, you fucking naysayer.  Also, he tried to murder a dude with his skate in junior hockey.  That's some MMA shit right there.   You little son of a bitch ball! Why you don't you just go HOME? That's your HOME! Are you too good for your HOME? ANSWER ME! SUCK MY WHITE ASS, BALL!


3. Crash Davis - Here is is people, your Bull Durham love.  He hit like three thousand minor leauge homeruns, and played 21 days in the majors.  That's some dedication, kid.  And he was banging Susan Sarandon before Mother Lover made it cool.


2. Ricky Vaughn - Yeah, I get it, the whole Charlie Sheen was here and gone faster than the XFL, but this isn't about Sheen.  Vaughn was the man.  He was that crazy relief pitcher before we had the crazy relief pitcher.  I may even go as far to say, he made Brian Wilson.  Fact!


1. Rocky Balboa - It's not even close

Awesomeness of the Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day

This will most likely be all from me today ... for obvious reasons.

Remember, liquor then beer, you're in the clear.  Beer then liquor, that'll work too.

FUCK the Donald Sterling ... Seriously, FUCK Him

Players Chip in to Save Coach's Life After Clippers Decline Medical Coverage

Seven years ago, former Los Angeles Clippers head coach Kim Hughes was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and the ensuing aftermath will change the way you feel about several NBA types significantly.

Up until Tuesday afternoon, the only functional knowledge I had of former Los Angeles Clippers head coach Kim Hughes was that he was, in fact, a former Los Angeles Clippers head coach, and that he once touched his elbows on the rim in a lay-up line at a high school tournament in Illinois, which really impressed my father.

Beyond that, nothing. Until Tuesday afternoon, when Howard Beck brought this column to Trey Kerby's attention, and he brought it to our attention. And now we're passing the feel-good savings on to you, in the form of an anecdote that reveals that NBA players Corey Maggette(notes), Marko Jaric(notes), Chris Kaman(notes) and Elton Brand(notes) all chipped in to pay for expensive life-saving surgery for Hughes, after the Clippers organization (read: Donald Sterling, noted worst person in the world) declined to cover the costs.

Declined to cover the cost of a surgery that would save their employee's life. While playing rent-free in an often sold-out arena in America's second-biggest television market. Unyieldingly evil.

Gary Woelfel has the original story:

"Those guys saved my life," Hughes said. "They paid the whole medical bill. It was like $70,000 or more. It wasn't cheap.

"It showed you what classy people they are. They didn't want me talking about it; they didn't want the recognition because they simply felt it was the right thing to do."
Hughes said he will be forever grateful to Brand, Jaric, Kaman and Maggette. In fact, Hughes said every time he runs into any of them, he thanks them from the bottom of his heart.
Maggette said that was indeed the case, laughing how he has repeatedly told Hughes over the years it wasn't necessary.
"Kim thanks me every time he sees me; he does that every single time," Maggette said smiling. "I've said to him, 'Kim, come on. You don't have to do that. You're good.'

No, you're good, Corey Maggette. You're pretty fantastically good. And so are you, Marko Jaric, Elton Brand, and Chris Kaman.

And Donald Sterling? You remain a terrible, terrible person.

Holly fucking shit.  Seriously Donald Sterling?!?! Seriously?!?!  You are a real piece of work.  You fuck up a basketball team, year after year, that has the potential to be a great franchise.  OK, I'm over that part of your fucking waste of a life.  But now you, a fucking millionaire a dozens times over, refuse to cover this guys medical costs?  Fuck you in your fucking ass.  No, not even your ass.  Cut-Fuck you in the back of your skull.  Too much?  Nope, just right.  This guy is the worst human in sports.  He makes Marge Schott look like Mother Teresa.  Not only is he intentionally ruining an NBA franchise, but he'd rather have a former employee die than cover $70K.  That fuck-nut probably spends that much on Cambodian prostitutes.

Thank God for good people like Brand, Maggette, Jaric, and Kaman.  They knew what was right, and they stepped up.  Kim Hughes deserved better from the Clippers as an organization, at least he got what was right from current and former players.  Next time there is a labor dispute between owners and players, remember this.  No, not all owners are cunts like Sterling, but there are far more players like these four out there than we realize, and there are more dicks like Sterling out there than we know.

Awesomeness Of The Day

Boston's Worst Athlete - Sox and Celts Semi Finals - VOTE

The results are in.  Well, they're in enough for me to move on to the semi finals of the Sox and Celts worst athletes playoff.  We have a heavyweight battle between Roger Clemens and Antoine Walker, and a welter weight ninja fight between Edgar Renteria and the Dice.   The choice is yours:


Here we have Clemens hanging out with another champion of steroids, Sylvester Stallone, and Antoine Walker most likely about to eat his own finger.







And here we have Renteria throwing a bow staff at an unsuspecting Dice-K.

March Madness Bracket Advice - Overrated/Underrated

You know I love the overrated/underrated lists.  Here is my advivce when it comes to your brackets, which are due tomorrow (don't forget to sign up for the Drinking Past the 7th pool http://tournament.fantasysports.yahoo.com/t1/group/116962?ng=1 ), in an overrated/underrated format:

Overrated

• Duke ... Duke sucks
• Number 12 seeds ... yeah, they've won a game in just about every tournament in the last hundred years, but it's not like every 12 wins.  And when they do, they usually lose next round.  Don't get caught up in that noise.
• Big East teams ... they always flame out, they just do.  The Big East is always talked about as the best conference.  Yeah, ya know why?  They have 11 million teams.  They always flame out.  I'm not saying a Big East team can't win, I'm just saying don't get mesmerized by the Big East name.
• Having a great player that is white ... how did Miami of Ohio do with Wally?  Or 'Cuse with Gerry?  Nothing past the first weekend.  Ipso facto, don't take BYU after the first weekend.  That's science.

Underrated

• The Big 10 ...  the one rule I have when it comes to brackets is to take Big 10 teams as far as it makes sense to take them.  It's ALWAYS the most underrated conference.  If you are wondering about a Big 10 team, take them.
• Temple ... I don't care who is on the team ... Eddie Jones, Pepe Sanchez ... doesn't matter ... they get shit done.
• Senior guards.
• Being there the year before ... no one makes the final four after a year out of the tourny (sorry UNC and UConn) ... so I guess maybe Duke doesn't suck.

So with that in mind, I give you my Final Four:  Duke, Ohio State, Kansas, and Florida.

Yeah, I know.  A lot of chalk.  Think you can do better?  Fill out a god damn bracket and prove it.  Boom

Hugo Chavez Wants To Destroy Venezuela

Hugo Chavez's Latest Target in Venezuela: Breast Implants

"President Hugo Chávez’s political movement has found a new target: golf.   After a brief tirade against the sport by the president on national television last month, pro-Chávez officials have moved in recent weeks to shut down two of the country’s best-known golf courses, in Maracay, a city of military garrisons near here, and in the coastal city of Caraballeda."

"For Mr. Chávez, however, imported whiskey is no joke. He has made it clear that there is little space for Scotch in his “Bolivarian revolution,” once describing oil executives as 'living in chalets performing orgies, drinking whiskey.'"

"President Hugo Chávez is known to have expressed little patience for imported leisure pursuits like golf or Scotch whisky tippling. Now he has reserved some ire for another practice that is beloved in Venezuela: breast augmentation surgery."

(http://newsfeed.time.com/2011/03/15/venezuela%E2%80%99s-hugo-chavez-latest-target-breast-implants/)

Seriously dude?  You were friggin' ousted from power in a coup d'état in 2002 and your whole fucking country went on strike for like three months.  Are you trying to get yourself assassinated??  No golf.  No whiskey.  No boobs.  I'm not even Venezuelan and I'm fired up.  Take golf away from me, and I'm pissed.  Take away boobs, and things are going to get ugly.  Take away whiskey?  I will fucking murder your whole fucking family.  Not even kidding about that last one.  But take away all three?  You have a death wish dude.

Top Ten Fictional Athletes Of All Time

I was going to do the best hockey movies of all time.  Then I realized that I would just end up writing about The Mighty Ducks for like an hour, so I decided better of it.  Instead, lets count down the best fictional athletes of all time. 6-10 now, 1-5 tomorrow.


10. Ricky Bobby - I'm just a big hairy American winning machine, you know?  Yeah, Ricky, we know.  And now we pray.  Dear Lord baby Jesus, lyin' there in your ghost manger, just lookin' at your Baby Einstein developmental videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colors. I would like to thank you for bringin' me and my mama together, and also that my kids no longer sound like retarded gang-bangers.




9. Ivan Drago - Yeah, he was a bad guy, but what a friggin' bad ass.  He was a machine.  And he was that good while fucking that chick from Flavor of Love?  Are you kididng me?  The guy would have rulled the world if that stupid chick wasn't in his ear.




8. Forest Gump - His legs busted through those metal braces like they were made of Swiss cheese, so you knew he was strong.  But to dominate not one, not two, but three sports?  The guy was a fucking monster.  No one else can dominate cross country running, football and ping pong that way.




7. Sky Davis - Doug Funnie had them.  I wanted them.  Air Jets.  If you don't remember Sky Davis and his Air Jets, then either your childhood was before I care to hear about, or your childhood sucks.




6. Mike Tyson - Almost bizarre to a point where it's not believable.  I mean, from best fighter in the world, to rapist, to ear eater, to tattoo face guy, to movie star, to fat coke head, to talk show guest of the year?  Yeah right ... What?  This fucker is real?  And he's still alive and doing crazy shit?  Bull shit.

Happy Birthday Ruth Bader Ginsburg!

Happy 78th birthday, Justice Ginsburg.  You don't look a day over dead.

Awesomeness of the Day

Finders Keepers ...

Funny.  Too funny.  But, sadly, the flier had to come down shortly after Michael Vick was told that it was probably "too soon."

Just In Case You Haven't Seen It Yet ... Worst Bully Ever

Tufts Pretty Much Guarantees A Cluster Fuck This December

Risque race is too risky, Tufts decides

College head calls an end to traditional Naked Quad Run

By Peter Schworm and Jenna Duncan

Globe Staff and Globe Correspondent / March 15, 2011

 

For decades, bright leaders of tomorrow at Tufts University have found respite from their high-minded pursuits in the noblest of college traditions: streaking around the quad in a madcap dash through a cold December night.

But to the chagrin of nudist revelers everywhere, college administrators have called a stop to the alcohol-fueled antics, saying the annual student celebration has gone too far.

In a sharply worded column published in yesterday’s Tufts Daily, university president Lawrence Bacow said the Naked Quad Run has become an increasingly unruly and dangerous event that puts students’ lives at risk.

“Given that we can no longer manage the run, we cannot allow this ‘tradition’ to continue,’’ Bacow wrote in the student newspaper. “Even if I did not act now, NQR would end some day. The only question is whether a student has to die first. We cannot allow this to happen.’’

But students expressed disappointment at the loss of a cherished tradition they said created many classic college moments, a burst of semester’s end bonding before the final exam crunch.

“There are not that many shared experiences for students,’’ said senior Ben Gittleson, who reported Bacow’s decision for the student newspaper. “This is one of them, and a quirky one at that.’’

Gittleson and other students said most participants, though certainly not all, are sober, and annoyed that inebriated students had ruined the fun.

But Bacow said “alcohol fuels’’ the run, and many students need to drink “to fortify themselves to shed their inhibitions and run in subfreezing conditions.’’
(http://www.boston.com/news/education/higher/articles/2011/03/15/risque_race_is_too_risky_tufts_decides/?p1=Local_Links)


Want to pretty much guarantee a drunken shit storm?  Tell college students that they can't do the drunken shit storm that they've been doing for years.  Telling these kids to stop doing this would be like telling a six year old to stop picking his nose.  You don't tell him to stop picking his nose, you just let him get bored with it.  Tell him to stop, and the next thing you know, he's digging straight to his brain.  You know what's going to happen this winter when naked day rolls around?  You're going to have 10,000 kids running ass naked through Somerville, headbutting each other.  This is going to be like end of days shit.  Straight up The Day After Tomorrow.  I put the over/under on hospital visits at a thousand.

Awesomeness Of The Day

UConn Will Not Win National Championship

Yup, Kemba Walker is a beast.  Yup, he's going to have a good NBA career.  But nope, he won't be leading the Huskies to the Final Four.  It has nothing to do with him.  It has to do with the fact that he just battled through a gauntlet of a Big East Tournament, playing five games in five days, carrying seven freshman teammates on his back.  UConn made that run running on fumes alone.  During interviews today Walker himself said that he couldn't feel his legs during the championship game.  He's exhausted.  And I wouldn't be so sure of this if I hadn't seen the exact same scenario play itself out five years ago, when Gerry Mcnamara did exactly what Kemba did ... except Gerry only had to win four games, not five like Kemba.  And how did 'Cuse do after that magical run in the 2006 Big East Tourny?  They busted out before the second weekend.  So sorry UConn fans, I'm rooting for you as I was rooting for the Gerrys five years ago, but you can't do what 'Cuse did five years ago or what UConn did this past weekend, and then fight through the NCAA tourny.

And yes, this whole post was really just an excuse to throw in this Gerry Mcnanara 2006 Big East Tourny highlight reel.

Boston's Worst Athletes: Red Sox and Celtics - VOTE!

You read about 'em, now vote for the worst Red Sox and Celtics.  Athletes bios here http://drinkingpastthe7th.blogspot.com/2011/03/bostons-worst-athletes-red-sox-vs.html

Reason No. 1,783 Why The WNBA Is Dumb

So anyone can say dumb stuff on Twitter.  I get that.  But if there was no WNBA, we wouldn't have to deal with this dumbass.

New York Liberty guard Cappie Pondexter has apologized after causing an Internet uproar with comments on her Twitter account that were deemed insensitive toward victims of the Japanese earthquake and tsunami.

On Saturday, Pondexter tweeted: "What if God was tired of the way they treated their own people in there own country! Idk guys he makes no mistakes."

She later tweeted: "u just never knw! They did pearl harbor so u can't expect anything less."
Pondexter also used used the racially derogatory term "jap," when referring to someone who was offended by her comments.
(http://sports.espn.go.com/new-york/news/story?id=6215398)

She later appologized, but what the fuck?  Forgetting for a minute that she uses "their own" and then "there own," later in that same sentence, is she fucking serious?  What the fuck are you talking about?  "Can't expect anything less"?  Like we all should have seen this coming or something? 

But do you know what is just so friggin' ironic about this that I can hardly stand it?  Pondexter went to Rutgers and was teammates with the women that Don Imus called nappy headed hoes.  Really  Cappie, you stupid shit?  You were closely connected to a huge media fire surrounding ignorance, and then you come out with this?  Get your shit together.

Boston's Worst Athletes - Red Sox and Celtics Edition

Boston.com is currently running a march-madness style bracket in order to determine Boston's best athlete.  Well that's easy.  It's Tom Brady.  No real point in even doing the rest of the bracket.  It would be like having a bracket to determine the best Baldwin brother.  A waste of time.  What would be more fun is a bracket of the Boston's worst athletes.  We'll start with eight today from the Red Sox and Celtics.  We'll later do the Bruins, Pats, colleges, etc., and work our way down to Boston's worst athlete.  Read about the Sox and Celts, figure out who the worst is, and you'll be able to vote later today.

Roger Clemmens - What a fucking dick.  He's a lying piece of shit who tried to murder Mike Piazza with a sawed off baseball bat.  And when approached by fans for his autograph, he would ask for $20.  Get over yourself you fat goat.



Johnny Damon - That limp wristed caveman didn't have an arm, acted like an ass-hat, and couldn't throw an empty bottle into a trash can.  And no, I'm not just pissed that he went to the Yankees.  Ask anyone who knows me.  I hated that fucker from day one.  He had good range in the outfield but Jason Giambi could have tagged up from first to second on a shallow pop-up on Damon's pansy arm.  And he was even overrated at the plate.  Don't believe me?  Baseball-Reference.com, one of the most comprehensive baseball statistic sites out there, shows Damon as a comparable hitter to Steve Finley and Willie Davis.  Sure, he was a decent player, but for fuck sake Sox fans, get over him.





Antoine Walker - The C's could have taken Steve Nash or Kobe Bryant over employee number 8.  Instead, they took this fat toad of a small forward who, despite the fact that he knew how to rebound, seemingly refused to do so.  Rather, he jacked like ten 3's a game and made two.  But don't worry, after those two he did that vomit inducing seizure of a shimmy shake.  Gross.



Len Bias - Quitter.





Eric Montross - He looked like a tired albino woman and he played worse than that.  The top ten pick lasted two season in Boston, averaging about 8 points and 6 and a half rebounds.  You're seven fucking feet tall.  Get more rebounds than Rondo!



Edgar Renteria - Before Boston?  Hall of fame numbers.  With Boston?  Like, 400 errors, only 8 homeruns, and the most strikeouts he's had since he was a teenager.  After Boston?  Hall of fame numbers.  Give me a break.



Dice-K - The fact that he's here has nothing to do with his pitching.  It has to do with the fucking circus that came across the Pacific with him when he came to Boston.  Trying to make it to Fenway during that first year when he was on the Sox was like trying to make it through the streets of Tokyo while Godzilla was attacking.



Pervis Ellison/Vin Baker/Michael Olowokandi - I know that you're thinking one of two things.  Either you're thinking, who the hell are these guys?  Or you're thinking, why are they on the list?  They aren't even good enough to be bad.  As to the former, I don't blame you for not knowing them.  As for the latter, yes they are.  Ellison was the first overall pick in a draft that featured Sean Elliott, Glen Rice, Shawn Kemp, Tim Hardaway, Mookie Blaylock, and Vlade Divac.  All of those guys turned out to be good, if not really good, pros.  But no, Ellison went number one to the Kings.  Eventually he ended up on the Celtics' roster.  He's a huge bust, and he played for the Celtics.  Baker drank away more talent than Mickey Mantle and Charlie Sheen combined (not because he had a lot of talent, but because he drank everything away).  And Olowokandi is Pervis Ellison incarnate.  He was the first pick in the draft and was taken over players like Vince Carter, Paul Pierce, and Dirk.  And, like Baker and Ellison, he wound up on the Celtics.  Huge wastes of talent who the Celtics paid.  Losers.