Babod Wants Out of Oakland?

You heard it here first. Apparently, things are not going well for Raiders superfan Babod (Black Ass Bringer of Death) in the cyberspace treehouse of Silver and Blackdom. Seems that relations between him and various members of the Oakland Raiders Darkside (www.oaklandraidersdarkside.com) have been acrimonious dating at least back to last year's infamous Denver road trip and assuredly before that. After said incident in Denver, he was banished from the Darkside only to make an appearance at the Summit tailgate with a ready-made apology. After pleading for forgiveness, he was brought back into the fold.

However, relations since the offseason began this year have been definitely strained. Some point to Babod's extreme intoxication at a tailgate at one of the last home games of the year. Others note that he was never fully pardoned due to the severity of the offense on the roadtrip. Regardless, word has it that Babod is fed up with the draconian abrasiveness of the group and now wants to take his fan membership elsewhere...that is, to another team.

According to a source speaking on condition of anonymity, two teams up for consideration are the San Francisco 49ers and Kansas City Chiefs. Babod is reportedly taking a serious look at joining an AFC West team "so he can come back to haunt the Silver and Black. He was broken-hearted at first when he began to see the writing on the wall...but now he's pissed. Really pissed."

Stay tuned for fireworks, people. I get the feeling this ain't over yet--and you can bet your ass that a certain group of cyber cavemen haven't heard the last of this loquacious crazy mofo.

We’re on our way to Wollongong

We're on our way to Wollongong
Peace and joy in every bong
We're gonna see Miss Tracy
The cute little lass who writes so racy

We're gonna have fun in Wollongong
Feed Tracy's spider and get some hot cider
And just for some good measure too
We'll take a ride on her kangaroo
And when I'm done getting back rubs
She'll cook up some tasty grubs

We're gonna have fun in Wollongong
I know it, so why's your face so long
Dry those tears, Tracy's cheers
Will have me warm so can't go wrong!

Raider Nation National Anthem (Sung to the tune of Borat’s Kazakhstan National Anthem)

Raiderfornia greatest country in the world.
All other countries are run by little girls.
Raiderfornia number one exporter of porn dolls.
Other countries have inferior porn dolls.

Raiderfornia home of Acorn project housing.
It's length thirty meter and width six meter.
Judicial system a marvel to behold.
It remove 20 percent of human fuckoffs and addicts.

Raiderfornia, Raiderfornia you very nice place.
From bathhouses of Ninerville to Norther fence of Boltfagtown.
Raiderfornia friend of all except Boltfagtown.
They very gayish people with semen on their brain.

Raiderfornia industry best in world.
We invented malt liquor and cracksmoking.
Raiderfornia prostitutes cleanest in the region.
Except of course for New Orleans'.

Raiderfornia, Raiderfornia you very nice place.
From bathhouses of Ninerville to Norther fence of Boltfagtown

Come grasp the mighty penis of our leader Alholio.
From junction with the testes to tip of its face!

Letter--Marcos Breton, Sacramento Bee (2006)

Recently, I have noticed that you've been under a lot of fire by readers for your pro-minority approach to sports coverage. Many readers who followed the World Baseball Classic were dismayed by your perceived elation at Mexico beating the United States. Now I'll say this: Marcos, I can't say that I agree with some of your views, but I do applaud your perspective on the changing face of baseball and your vigilance on bigotry in sports (which occurs even in the year 2006). The people who express anger at your pro-minority viewpoint need to learn a lesson from your columns and realize that sports isn't made up of the Norman Rockwell paintings they would like to make it out to be.

Regarding Barry Bonds, I agree that most of Barry's problems and controversies are of his own doing. His personality and people skills flat out suck most of the time. But I think people dog Barry mostly because he doesn't fit the desired American image of a smiling, happy-go-lucky, carefree non-threatening black man. Babe Ruth was a heavy drinker, carouser, womanizer and sloth, yet he's not just a baseball immortal, but an American cultural icon. Ty Cobb was a malicious, mean-spirited bigoted alcoholic who played the game with abandon but was a very despicable person. Steve Garvey was a philanderer but had a carefully crafted apple-pie media image on the exterior. Steve Carlton refused to talk to the media for years but made the Hall of Fame anyway. Jeff Kent got in a fistfight with Bonds in the dugout and has one of the gruffest personalities in the the game, but people don't think about that.

So yes, I think Bonds' predicaments are of his own making...BUT...he gets more negative press and scrutiny than he would if he were a white superstar. Just my thoughts. Peace.

Mark - Thanks so much for the very thoughtful note. I really appreciate it.

Marcos Breton

RE: A life squandered away, yet celebrated

From: Mark Bryant [mailto:bryant_mb@yahoo.com]
Sent: Wednesday, December 07, 2005 2:04 PM
To: Marcos Breton
Subject: RE: A life squandered away, yet celebrated

RE: A life squandered away, yet celebrated

Alcoholism is a specific disease. It is an affliction that severely impairs the ability of an individual to avoid those "bad choices" that plague just about everyone who has lost a job, been uprooted or otherwise had life difficulties due to this illness. It was and is something beyond the control of people like George Best, Darryl Strawberry, Mickey Mantle, Sad Sam Jones and Thomas "Hollywood" Henderson. While there is no excuse for a mismanaged drunken life, people who do succumb to this disease deserve compassion and loving remembrance just as any other individual in memoriam.

It is also common knowledge that, just like in every other profession around the globe, a significant number of writers-yes this would include sportswriters-are sufferers from alcoholism. So, Mr. Breton, would you care to venture that should a colleague of yours someday fall prey to the bottle, they should be only remembered for their weakness and faults and not their accomplishments in life? Just something to think about.

Mr.. Bryant - Thanks so much for reading and for taking the time to write. I really appreciate it. I am in complete agreement with you on alcohol being a disease and never suggested otherwise. The quote you cite about bad choices was a quote within my column. But even in quotations, I didn't take it to mean that the man I was quoting - Leroy Chatfield - meant that literally. He was quoting a misperception about alcoholism, one that people often wrongly boil down to choices. His point was the Georgie was just as afflicted as the destitute alcoholics that Chatfield had known in his life. And I wanted to explore that idea in this column. Georgie had a terrible disease, one he couldn't even kick after he had been given a liver transplant. He died at 59, way too young for a man of his means. And really, Mr.. Bryant, your point about alcoholics deserving loving remembrance is well taken because my column was a form of loving remembrance. I spent most of the column waxing poetic about a goal I saw a quarter century ago - a moment I'll never forget. I loved Georgie even though I didn't know him and if they sold his jersey anywhere - I've scoured the internet to no avail - I would wear it proudly. He made an impression on me and I admired him very much. But I do think that you can love someone while also being honest about who they were and what they did. You mention colleagues falling prey to substance abuse? I've been though that, saw a college classmate get fired from his job at the Stockton Record because he couldn't stop drinking. I've also known family members - two dear uncles, to be specific - who died alone and estranged from their families because of the bottle. I still love them today and remember them fondly. But I remember them drunk too - and those scenes in my mind are much darker. Georgie was touched by the angels and had a gift but he also left a neglected son, battered and abused wives, policemen he hit and countless friends he let down, in his wake. His life was horribly mismanaged to the end. Despite squandered millions and a soiled career, he kept drinking. Even when a team of doctors basically volunteered their services to get him a liver transplant, he kept drinking. All of Britain rallied around him - just as we fans in San Jose had done the same 25 years before - and damned if that guy still didn't break our hearts. The doctors said drinking would kill him if he started again after getting his new liver, but there was Georgie - drinking again even as his gorgeous second wife left him. And what did he do the photographer who snapped the photo of him drinking again? He punched him. Georgie punched a lot of people. It's just who he was. Thanks again and I hope you keep reading the column. Happy Holidays.

Marcos Breton

I Need A Beer

6/23/08

One bright and early morning, I'm on my way into work and I pull into the 7-11 for a pack of smokes. No sooner than I pull into a parking space right outside, than I see some fuckass--errrr, street resident, errr, indigent person--standing there just licking his chops waiting to solicit my ass so he can be that much close to his drunk or fix or whatever his high of choice is.

I'm already pissed because (A) I'm on my way to the motherfucking salt mines, and (B) I don't dig giving away my hard-earned coin to some goddamned able bodied con-man standing on a corner someplace, and (C) this fool ain't got nothing better to do than hassle my ass for my hard-earned coin.

Even when I was going through that shit, I never stooped low as to beg motherfuckers. Fuck that shit.

I just did dumpster diving instead. Nice, independent work with little interpersonal contact. Interacting with people sucks shit anyway.

Anyway, I head to the store entrance, and dude starts up his tired-ass spiel of need. I'm thinking, if I give you a dollar, will you go the fuck away?

"Uhhhhh.....uhhhhhh.....I need a beer."

Fuck it.

"OK dude, you want a beer? I'll get you one. Just hold on and I'll be right back."

I go inside and buy a tall can of O'Doul's with my smokes, get a brown bag and stick the O'Doul's in it so it looks like any old normal leaded beer. In fact, it's neutered beer, but homeboy won't know this till it's too late.

I got outside, hand him the brown bag with the contents. "Uhhahhhh, thankya thankya thankya," in that inimitable goobbledygook mumbling that only drunks, junkies and retarded fucks can perfect so well. I start walking to my car giggling under my breath. I'm just getting to the door and preparing to get behind the wheel, when evidently homeboy has decoded my hoax:

"MMMMMMMMOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Gotta love street people.

It’s Free

6/23/08

On break today, I'm thumbing through Sac's Alive and Kicking music rag; it's a way to keep up on all the local bands without so much as coughing up a penny. I'm reading about how this dork went to his first rock concert in 1985 and had to leave early so his mommy wouldn't worry about him. In the process, he missed Ratt and Scorpion play. Talk about fuckin' gay. Anyway, David Jones comes sidling up to me at the paper rack in the snack shack. "What are you doing, Mark? You can't just look at that you have to pay for--"

"It's FREE, faggot!!!!!!!!!!!" I duly inform him of his erroneous assumption. OK, maybe in a pitch higher than I intended to and a couple of heads may have turned.

But fuck, it was hella funny. One bright spot in a boring ass day at the motherfucking salt mines. Sarcasticness and nastiness uber alles, baby!!!!!

The Homeless

Spring 2008

It never ceases to amaze me how callous and heartless people can be towards those who they see as worthless and society's outcasts. But for the grace of God, they would be in their shoes.

There are people, from the sanctuary of their full kitchens and stocked pantries, from the warmth of their beds and well-insulated homes who, filled with the smug, sanctimonious stench of self-satisfaction, intone: "Homeless people choose to be homeless. They want no responsibility and think they're living totally free. They choose to live that way."

Bullshit. You think a person functioning in their right mind actually would want to live this way? Dressed in the same filthy clothes day after day, scrounging from dumpsters for food and other necessities, harassed by police and strangers. You try pushing all your worldly belongings around in a shopping cart or carrying them on your back with a sleep roll everywhere you go because obviously, you have no place to store or keep them. It's like camping out? Yeah, it's all fun and games when you don't have a place to lay your head and you sleep whenever and wherever you can find a safe spot. And even then, you don't really sleep because you're in constant worry that you'll get rolled, attacked, have your shit stolen, or get your fucking throat slit by some other crazy wacko.

Yeah, that sure sounds like fucking blissful carefree hippie hoboistic lifestyle living to me.

I don't deny for a second that drug addiction, alcoholism and mental issues are a huge part of the problem of being homeless. I will readily agree that most people who find themselves in that position played a pretty good role in putting themselves there. But let's not kid ourselves and think that there's really that much difference between people who live in attractive houses in upscale neighborhoods who are slowly killing themselves with destructive lifestyles and the skid-row derelict. The bum in the army fatigues just happens to be poor, that's all. The upscale guy is in a better position, so he can get away with it. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that drugs and booze can bring a person at the top of the food chain to their knees just as devastatingly as someone on the bottom. Some of the people at the so-called bottom were once up there themselves.

Next, another canard: "I am hard working and if everyone worked hard like me, there would be no homelessness. I don't feel any sympathy for their plight."

I know a lot of people who are successful who do indeed work hard and have a conscientious, diligent work ethic. And I happen to know a lot of people who have all the material prerequisites, but in fact, they don't do shit. These are people whose parents have money and they mooch off of them, or they have some cushy job that was just handed to them. It goes both ways: there are people who are decent, hard-working individuals who would give you the shirt off their backs who happen to be on the streets. And there are lazy fuckheads who can't really be reached; they would squander every cent they had if they were given a million-dollar check. It's the combination of hard work and getting yourself in a good position to take advantage of an opportunity plus being in the right place at the right time that makes the difference.

It should not be our mission to save everyone, because only those who want help can be helped. It is, however, our responsibility to do our part to help make this world a better place. That means getting off of our asses and high horses to think about what some people go through every day in order to survive while we live in a comparative fantasyland Shangri-La. The Phil Collins hit from 1989, "Another Day In Paradise", comes to mind.

The problem in this fucked-up society we live in is that the smartest, most persevering people of strength and character often have unrealized potential and thus do not reap their just rewards. This is a society where he who dies with the most toys wins. This is a selfish, me-oriented society where people with a materialistic and superficial-centric mindset most often come out on top. Empathy is damn near nonexistent, except in cases where it's directly impacting your life.

Other than that, we sit in our nice little air-conditioned and heated fucking cocoons, sip our lattes and type mindless shit on our funky little laptops, drive our SUV's with oversized plastic shells to a place where we spend eight to five like mice on a goddamn treadmill. God forbid we actually are forced to think outside our nice little convenient lives of plasticity and think outside the box. Naw, that's too fuckin' hard. Or think about the possibility to being in places most of us can't comprehend or relate to and spend most of our waking hours working in order to be as far away from the threat of those places as possible.

Four or five years ago, I was one of those people that we love to ridicule and taunt as we're driving by seeing them hold up a cardboard sign. That we love to curse as we see them hanging out next to some store where we're going to go buy some more shit. The people that we love to crush under our feet and love to hate. I was one of those people that when you see me coming, you cross the street. You probably saw me pushing all my shit down the street on a cart. You probably either ignored me or laughed and kept driving. Yeah, I was one of those fuckin' people that you despise and try to keep away from. I don't bring this up a whole lot, and I don't like talking about it to too many people. About ten years ago, shortly after leaving the military, I was homeless, and a few years ago I was in that same spot. I was lucky enough to get my shit together, go back to school and get my degree, and find gainful employment in a career (stop laughing) that I'm still at today. No, I'm not wealthy or filthy rich. I don't have a lot of the outward signs of opulence. Considering where I've been, however, I still consider myself blessed beyond belief.

I'm not any smarter or better than anyone else. I just happened to be fortunate to (A) have a family that supported me through my trials and tribulations and (B) have some shit go my way for a change. It doesn't take much in this day and age to lose your job. Once you get sucked down into the pattern of destitution, it takes more energy just to tread water in one place than just living a "normal" life. Trust me, I know.

I've been there.

Liberals vs. Conservatives

Fuck liberals. And fuck conservatives too.

In the grand old US and A...some stupid asshat will always leave the light on for your ass...then flog it.

Because I said so, motherfucker! I am a COMPASSIONATE conservative. I will treat your shortcomings and failures with COMPASSION. I have COMPASSION for you drunkards and derelicts and dopers, so you WILL attend rehab to have repetitive phrases and quasi-religion shoved down your throat. I have COMPASSION for you that would abort your own unborn children, because after all, it's not your body and therefore not up to to decide if and how you want to live with that on your conscience. I have COMPASSION for fags, never mind that hetero relationships are at an all-time low and getting worse every day. Marriage is between a man and a woman. God hates fags. I hereby order you to worship MY God, because MY God says that He will sentence you to damnation if you refuse. I order you to live MY way life and to believe in what I believe in. If you don't, I will beat your ass into submission--with the loving paddle of COMPASSION, of course. If you are not middle class, the correct color, and of the correct lineage, then I will whip your ass into shape. Because my COMPASSIONATE way is the RIGHT way, dammit.

Compassionate DEEZ NUTS.

What the fuck ever happened to live and let live, freedom of expression and speech, to each his own and the inalienable right to basically voice and believe in whatever the fuck you please, provided it's not infringing on others?

Fuck liberals. And fuck conservatives too.

Baseball rant

4/8/08

I love baseball. It is not a flashyassed Nike sneaker saturated sport but, like other things worth getting to know, it demands a respect for its' nuances and intricacies plus a healthy allegiance for teams and players you enjoy rooting for.

I do in fact have my allegiances, which are as follows: If it ain't the Dodgers, A's and/or Red Sox, it can suck my choad.

LOS ANGELES DODGERS: Team terrific!!! Nestled in the Camelot of baseball parks in a dreamlike atmosphere. They call it Elysian Park for a reason. There are only four really magical baseball palaces left in existence: Yankee Stadium, Fenway, Wrigley and Dodger Stadium. Yankee Stadium is going to be replaced soon by a zillion-dollar jizzfest of an opulent affluent replica. The Bronx and the Bosox ballparks carry too many ancient ghouls and goblins to be really beloved. Wrigley is a shrine to baseball the way it oughta be...but the Cubs have a historical penchant for losing their asses off. Dodger Stadium is truly Camelot. Three World Series wins and four pennants within eight years of arrival on the West Coast ('59, '63, '65, '66). Three World Series appearances in the Seventies ('74, '77 and '78) only to lose to the dynastic Charlie Finley A's and the hated Yankees back to back. Two Series titles in the eighties (the only team to do so), one of them highlighted by one of the most improbable stunning moments in baseball history, the Gibson walkoff. This has all cemented the Dodger Blue claim to excellence and tradition despite only having one playoff win since 1988 and Fox fucking things up in the turbulent 90's. Only three teams have more World Series wins. Also they went over 40 years with only two managers in that span: Walter Alston and Tommy Lasorda. Despite what most numbnuts will tell you these days, continuity is a good thing.

OAKLAND ATHLETICS: Where do you start with these green and gold pimps of the East Bay? Their lineage traces back from Philadelphia to Kansas City, where interspersed with a couple of dynastic eras in the early 20th century, they fielded some pretty laughable sorry ass teams. The A's spent their relatively brief period in K.C. being a perennial second-division dweller and the Yankees' bitch (frequent trades with the Evil Empire in those day repeatedly had the New Yorkers getting the better end of the deal at the A's expense). But in 1968, flamboyant owner Charlie Finley moved his A's out west to a little town called Oakland, and baseball hasn't been the same since. The A's revolutionized the game with their bright colored green and gold uniforms and mustaches, both of which were frowned upon by baseball's conservative establishment. Finley didn't just run baseball team, he ran a circus, and the flying acrobats pulled off three straight World Series titles ('72, '73, '74). After a dormant period (as doormats), the A's revived again in the early 80's under Billy Martin ("Billy Ball"). They returned to dominance in the late 80's and early 90's, winning four division championships, three straight American League pennants and one World Series title (1989). Despite their status as a small-market team and their overdependence on the Moneyball concept, the A's have had a knack for plugging in young talent and continuing to win and compete despite losing hordes of star players.

BOSTON RED SOX: Old school franchise, old school tradition, old school fan base. I have to admit, though, a good portion of the reason I root for them to do well is because they are the anti-Yankees. And how can you not have some love for Oil Can Boyd? Luis Tiant? Mo Vaughn? Ellis Burks? I know Beantown isn't exactly easy on the brothas, but the Bosox bros they have had over the years have been among the most beloved Bosox. Just don't expect the Fenway faithful to stand en masse and yell: "I LOVE BLACK PEOPLE!", Whole Wheat Bread-style.

Hate with a deep deep passion:

SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck the Giants. Everywhere I go up here in NoCal, I'm surrounded by hate when I'm wearing my Dodgers gear. It's envy and jealousy because SF is always trying to get what we've got--mainly World Series victories and acclaim--and failing miserably on most occasions, heartbreakingly and excruciatingly on a few select occasions. It's hate, alright. Mostly by Giants fans who have never witnessed a world championship in the Gay Bay and most likely never will.

CALIFORNIA ANGELS OF WHITEBREAD COUNTY: LA Angels my ass. There is only ONE team in LA, the Dodgers, thank you very much. Did these fools think that by choosing some goofy ass unorthodox sobriquet prefix that included the CITY of Angels, that I would start liking them? Ummm, no. Bet you Donnie Moore is on the Field of Dreams right now with his nappy ass head doing what he did best...serving up a gopher balls in critical clutch situations and blowing saves like a motherfucker.

NEW YORK YANKEES: Need I say more? God I despise these fuckers. They represent everything that is fucked up about baseball, sports, and this country in general. Fuckem. Need an iconic superstar with a ridiculously filthyass contract of lucre? George is your man. Need a Brinks' truck? Need Lloyd's of London? Secret account in the Caymans? Tax exempt cash cows? Here ya go.

Take back our dicks

April 10, 2007

Sac State news:

Oooh, look. Another year, another Take Back the Night aimed at keeping those evil men away. Don't walk around campus at night or the evil male boogieman will jump out of the bushes and rape you. Make sure you eat a clove of garlic so no diabolical man with fangs will come near your stankbreath ass.

Men falsely accused of rape have their reputations destroyed in the wink of an eye. False allegations occur at an alarming rate. There is no justice for the false accusers.

When it's a man's word against a woman's in the court of law in the land of Uncle Pam, guess who usually wins? These are but a few of the reasons why I take 90 percent of what I hear come out of women's mouths with a grain of salt and about half of what I actually see them do.

I strongly urge that there be a Men's Resources Center immediately created at Sac State so that the dudes on campus tired of being viewed as a "potential rapist" and an evil man can take back their dicks and stop having the feminazis on campus shove them up their anuses. But sadly, I don't see it happening. After all, this younger generation is way too busy playing with their iPods and iPhones and shit to realize that they are going to hell in a handbasket unless they learn to stop letting the fuckin' facist feminazis run their lives to oblivion.

In other news, the Sacramento State elections for the (farcical) student government are underway. One of the stated goals for one of of the student-run parties is: Celebrate Diversity. I guess this is on the checklist to accomplish for next year as a priority. Not the fact that the president has turned this campus into a money machine at the expense of students who can barely make ends meet (if they can at all), not the fact that tuition keeps rising without any significant improvements in quality except building new shit on campus like neon green signs. Or the fact that the football and basketball teams perenially suck dick with shitass facilities being the major factor in why Sac State can't recruit worth a fuck. Do intercollegiate athletic performances and excellence (or lack thereof) have an impact on a college campus and those involved with it? You bet your ass.

Nope, the priority is to make sure we're being nice to the faggots. Let the budget go to shit, let the sports teams suck, let the place be a mausoleum of apathy, but for God's sake don't say anything unkind about the peterpuffers and carpet munchers. And let feminazism ring. Fuuuuuuuck.

shutting out

"Better I can't get out than an asshole, getting in"--Grandpa, re: security home system.

We shut out people and we become shut out from the rest of the world.

We insulate ourselves from things we don't like to recall or things we want to forget about.

diversion.

Each night when I come home, I immerse myself in a world of MY choosing...

I am JaMarcus

I am Nation as you are Nation as they are Nation and we are all Raiders
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they quack.
I'm silver and black.

Sitting at the House of Thrills, waiting for the boys to take the field.
Corporation enemy, stupid bloody sunday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your spikes grow long.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob.

Mister league commissioner sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row.
See how they fly like lucy in the sky, see how they run.
I'm silver and black, i'm silver and black.
I'm silver and black, i'm silver and black.

Yellow matter flag why , dripping from a dead ref's eye.
Slobberknocker midwife, pornographic pigskin,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob.

Sitting at an Oakland tailgate waiting for the sun.
If the sun don't come, you get a tan
From standing in the Oakland rain.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.

Expert textpert Fox network smokers,
Don't you think the Al laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty,
See how they snied.
I'm silver and black.

Seminary neighborhood, climbing up the Tower of Power.
Black hole diehards singing Autumn Wind hour.
Man, you should have seen them kicking Jim Double O Otto.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.
Goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob g'goo.

Minions of Bitchdom

4/14/08

Women cannot teach boys how to be men. Only men--true men--can teach boys to be men.

Not growler beeyotches with a plastic cock strap-on who think they can do it.

Not fakeass men who are bitchified.

These fakeasses are not men, they are spineless puppets and punks who are vaginal vermin. They've been dipped in Mommy's milk for waaaay too long and need to grow a pair. They talk a lot of hot air and a lot of shit, but in the end do not deliver the substance needed for growth. They are minions of bitchdom and need to be bitchslapped.

They need their asses kicked. They need to be slapped into reality. Reality demands that you have to kick ass to get results, not talk a bunch of motherfuckin bullshit. It's kick ass or get your ass kicked, folks. Either get on the train or move the fuck out of the way.

So all ya''lll bitches, say some shit. But you really, really, really need to check yourselves 'cause I'm tired of listnin' to you motherfuckers.

Giants’ next 40

As a Dodgers fan, I am hereby giving my forecast for the next four decades on the state of baseball in the Bay Area, more specifically, that wonderfully inept juggernaut from San Francisco which has failed to ever win a title by the Bay. Will their colossal bad luck change anytime soon? Read on...

_______________________________________

Giants next 40

2008: The Giants lose 100 games for the first time since 1985.

2009: Still out of work, Barry Bonds finds employment by starring in a commercial which airs in the Bay Area for Outword magazine. In it, he sings the Cameo hit, "C'mon baby tell me what the word, a' word up" while prancing next to a bunch of scrawny male models in his Giants uniform. The commercial becomes a smash hit. Meanwhile, the Giants have another losing season.

2010: A mysterious huge clump of white matter appears on the outfield grass at Pac Bell Park in center field. Speculation at first has it to be a big mound of spooge, then seagull droppings. It is found to be a drippings of mayonnaise mixed with Coffee Mate. The perpetrators of this incident go unknown.

2011: Struggling for revenue, the Giants announce they are renaming their ballpark "The Frisco Disco." Inside will be the world's largest disco dance floor and clientele.

2012: Mark Bryant, controversial blog writer and Dodgers fan, makes waves for writing a sarcastic story following this year's "Until There's A Cure Day" at the ballpark by suggesting they hold "Until they stop dropping the soap Day."

2013: Struggling for revenue, the Giants announce they are putting up new statues of Elton John, KD Lang and Melissa Etheridge next to Willie Mays.

2014: The Giants, with the losing seasons piling up, announce their bankruptcy and move to Sausalito.

2017: Duane Reeder, leader of the Dirty Sanchezes band and longtime Giants fan, rides aboard the Giants float during the Pride parade wearing a bikini thong and balloon hat.

2020: Reeder announces he is running for mayor but loses to Rick Winistorfer, a Frisco native. Frisco fans, meanwhile, celebrate their first winning season in 16 years.

2022: The Giants finish exactly at .500 but lose the NL West by one game to the Arizona Diamondbacks, who tie the '05 Padres for the worst-ever record by a division champion.

2023: Flush from their recent "success", the Giants enter the '23 season with high hopes, but these are soon dashed by an abysmal season in which a new low for attendance is reached. Reeder is named the new manager and the Giants announce a new mascot known as the "Saualito Sausage." The Sausalito Sausage also becomes a ballpark menu item alongside the "SF Giant" hot dog.

2024: Reeder immediately begins his tenure by putting up Barry Bonds commemorative displays, which the team had done away with following his departure. The Giants lose their first eight games, then challenge the 1962 Mets modern record for futility before settling for 109 losses.

2025: Reeder is put away in a mental institution in the midst of a 21-game losing streak for SF. After the sixteenth consecutive loss, he is seen running through the corridors of the Sausalito ballpark in diapers. It is revealed that he is incontinent.

2029: The Cubs win the World Series, making the Giants the official longest-running World Series champion drought-stricken team in baseball.

2032: The memory of a fat man in diapers becomes too unpleasant even for the long-suffering Frisco faithful, so the Giants move to Santa Clara.

2033: Santa Clara evicts the Giants for non payment. The team then funds a new ballpark in the Castro district of San Francisco, where they are enormously popular.

2035: The Giants discover that their season ticket clientele fluctuates wildly, until they discover that it is as a result of their Castro faithful dropping like flies as a result of their alternative lifestyles. They then become the first team to provide meds at the ballpark concession stands, hence their new slogan: "Buy me some AZT and cracker jacks...I don't care if I never get back"

2037: The Giants win the NL for the first time in 34 years. This euphoria is tempered drastically when they are soundly beaten by the Oklahoma City Necks in the first round.

2039: The Castro is declared a quarantined area. The Giants give up and move back to Pac Bell.

2042: San Francisco is attacked by terrorists and declared a war zone by President Rod Gray. The city becomes a no-man's land where criminals, gangs, vagabonds, and homeless people abound. The Giants give up and move to Fresno.

2044: Mark Bryant stars in the flick, "Escape from San Francisco", in which he narrowly escapes the ruins of the city. A nation is disgusted by the filth of the city seen up close.

2048: San Francisco suffers a massive earthquake and the entire penninsula containing the city sinks into the Pacific Ocean. A huge brown cloud can be seen in the water where the city once was.

Message to Uncle Pam

4/7/08

FUCK YOU

BITCH

rant 3/31/08

3/31/08

The time has come to overthrow your ass. It is well past time to wean ourselves off your destructive whore milk of estrogen, banish you to the outlands and wastelands of history's chronicles of failed experiments and toppled reigns, and assassinate the Queen of Snatch, Slutism, Seduction and Secularism.

You ascended to the throne, borne out of our weakness for obsequiousness, promising good faith. However, you have acted in less than good faith. Your deceit, lies, blasphemy, godlessness and your less than stellar stewardship has been duly noted. Your services are no longer needed. Your services are no longer wanted. You are the weakest link. Goodbye, beeyatch.

You corrupted little boys and girls with your doctrine of hate. You enslaved and imprisoned men and women with your misguided misandric teachings. You crushed spirits, alienated millions, wrecked lives, and disillusioned countless others. You were merciless in your torture and force feeding us shame. You spread your filth, greed, materialism, sloth and welfare mentality across our once-proud nation. Simply put, you must go.

I am the avenger, the sword of truth, power and justice. I will challenge and fight you every step of the way to ensure your defeat. Though you will squirm in your trademark high-pitched whine and cackle, know this: You will not survive my onslaught. I come to bring my people home. I will battle you any place, any time to free my people from your tyrannic rule. Know this: You have already been defeated. It is just a matter of time. As we all see the truth and begin to realize the depths of your duplicity, you will be exposed and stand before us naked. It is already happening. Look around you.

rant 4/2/08

4/2/08

If I am offending, rub the wrong way, chafe or otherwise piss you off, good. I ain't writing this for you. I am putting this on paper and the cyberscreen to reach those who feel like I do. This is a cathartic, therapeutic response to all my pent up frustration, anger and hate. I want you to see my anger. My seething, boiling cauldron.

I want you to glimpse the frightening level of my insanity and rage. It is what it is. I'm tired of sanitizing my sarcasm and biting my tongue. This is not pretty. This is not dressed up in Sunday clothes. This is the ugly, brutal truth.

10 years ago I was homeless

4/2/08

"Just one...How would you like to be out there, on the run?" -Richard Bachman, The Running Man

10 years ago, I was homeless.

I lived on a temporary basis in the Salvation Army trailers in downtown Sacramento. I was under the guise of a double life: returning college student by day, displaced and disenfranchised vagabond by night.

Education is not totally absent among Vagrant Nation. It is estimated that half of the homeless population have at least a high school diploma. As the saying goes, however, "the world is full of educated derelicts."

Like many people who are or have faced homelessness, I am ex-military. Shortly after my discharge in January 1998, my life took a turn for the worse as is common among those who deal with sudden and permanent life changes.

It took me eight more years (and fighting off a host of arduous challenges and issues) to finally go back to school for good, stay there, and graduate and earn my degree. I remember only too well the excruciating pain of inadequacy and inferiority. I still remember the shameful feeling of failure, the loss of self-respect and dignity.

The homeless are systematically and knowingly manipulated, violated, ignored and abused by both the government and "normal" society. This is the most powerful, prosperous, affluent and wealthy nation on earth. This is the greatest country in the world. There is no goddamn reason for anyone here—let alone those who served this country to help keep it free and safe for democracy—to be homeless. There is no justifiable reason for anyone in the U.S. of A. to have to live in poverty without a pot to piss in and a window to throw it out of.

You can take my job, my house, my money, the clothes off my back, strip me of all materialistic accoutrements that deem me worthy in your eyes. Know what? I really don't give a fuck. My self-respect, dignity and validation as a human being and as a person is not for sale. I worked too hard to get it back. My soul isn't willingly being signed over to just anyone or anything. Not any longer.

I for one am not letting this milestone go unnoticed.

Seahawks diss

One of my fellow coworkers was a big time Seattle Seahawks fan (such a breed exists?) and she relished in my Raiders' failures over the past several seasons. Thus, I was compelled to give her a mountain of shit as a going-away present:
________________________________

There is no such thing as a seahawk. A seahawk is a mythical bird that does not exist. The term "seahawk" is used as a slang term for ospreys, which are sea-dwelling birds whose diet almost exclusively consists of fish. The other closest animals that would resemble a "seahawk" would be seabirds: gulls, terns, auks, skimmers, albatrosses, pelicans. These sea dwelling birds' main function is to lead scavenging existences, punctuated by their tendency to emit copious amounts of excrement. "Seahawks" was the name given to the NFL team in Seattle that began play in 1976. The only Seattle Seahawk that is in the Hall of Fame entirely based on his performance with the franchise is Steve Largent. The only time the Seahawks made it to the AFC Championship Game was 1983, when they were whipped unmercifully by the Oakland (LA) Raiders. To wit:

1983 AFC Championship Game

Seahawks 0 0 7 7—14

Raiders 3 17 7 3—30

The Oakland (LA) Raiders have won three Super Bowls in five appearances; Seattle has made but one appearance and were beaten by Pittsburgh in Super Bowl XL, 21-10. The Seahawks have never won a Super Bowl; thus their franchise history pales in comparison to the superiority of the Raiders.

Bonds behind bars--MLB’s wet dream Part II

A satirical journalist's work is never done...

________________________________________

Giants' new home will be Federal Prison Stadium

SF to play home games on prison grounds so that Bonds can compete

SAN FRANCISCO (AP)—The San Francisco Giants proved once again they will bend over backwards for Barry Bonds, even as a criminal.

The National League team announced they will play the remainder of their schedule in a retrofitted ballpark specially built at the city's federal prison baseball diamond. Bonds, who began serving his two-year sentence on Tuesday, will thus still be able to compete in the major leagues as an active ballplayer with the chance to pass Hank Aaron's all-time home run record.

The Giants also announced that pre-game warnings will be given to fans attending the games that anyone aiding and abetting Bonds in any attempt to escape will be shot on sight. Bonds will also be warned that he will be shot by federal marshals if he attempts in any way to escape. Signs will be posted throughout the stadium.

In an unprecedented move, inmates will be allowed to attend the games free of charge provided there are no conflicts with their chain-gang details. "This will really improve and increase our fan base," Giants owner Peter Magowan said.

Stadium food will consist of items from the prison chow hall in an attempt to cover costs. A promotional item, "Soap On a Rope" will be heavily marketed to the fans.

The site will be located in the prison's main recreational area.

Bonds behind bars--MLB’s wet dream

In the 2007 season, as Barry Bonds was on his way to putting his asterisk in baseball's record books, the speculation centered on whether he would soon he swapping his Giants' orange and black for prison jumpsuit orange. Being the initiative-taking journalist that I am, I decided to create a possible scenario:

_____________________________________________

Bombshell hits Bonds and MLB

Slugger will serve two years in federal prison for obstruction of justice.

SAN FRANCISCO—Barry Bonds, the man on pace to break Hank Aaron's all time home run record this season, will have to wait a while—if he ever does get back into uniform. Currently, his uniform will be the black and white striped version.

A federal criminal court found Bonds guilty today of obstructing justice and false testimonies to a grand jury. The San Francisco Giants' outfielder was also found guilty of perjury. Bonds will now serve two years in San Francisco Federal Prison. According to the Giants, it is uncertain whether he will attempt a comeback once he is released in 2009. Bonds must serve the entire two year sentence before being released.

My alter ego

3/30/08

We eat a lot of shit that is not good for us, especially processed, prepared and fast foods with a shitload of salt, sugar, butter, sodium, cholesterol that's fried and processed. Take those things out and not as many people will be making nightly pilgrimages to Mickey D's, Taco Bell, Bugger King, Wendy's, KFC. That's the shit that makes it taste good. It gets you hooked and makes your body sort of dependent on more and more of this crap.

In moderation, people.

By the same token, I introduce to you my alter ego, Big Dick James. He has basically the same experiences I have, but he's the one with the salty, sugary, buttery, sodium/cholesterol loaded, fried and processed taste bud orgiastic extraordinaire. He's the antidote to the quiet life of desperation and mental confinement of prison without walls. He's the back of my brain telling people to fuck a duck when it's the least protocol-wise thing to do. He's my extra-crispy niggerish side. Let's hear it for Big Dick James!!!

Do we really love our country?

3/30/08

Do we really love our country? Do we take pride in the responsibility that goes hand in hand with enjoying unrivaled freedom and liberty, or do we simply just love the idea of doing whatever we think we can get away with?

Do we really live up to the phrase "God Bless America", or do we mock a higher power in an increasingly secularized America where God's teachings and principles are dismissed as irrelevant?

Do we love our ancestors, people and visionaries that came before us that helped shape this country into what it is, or do we merely cover up our past in revisionist history, warts and all?

Do we love our country enough to die for it, or do we take the easy way out and take those who defend our nation and way of life for granted?

Do we love ambition, a burning desire to get up each morning and make dreams come true with a work ethic, or are we lazy?

Do we love country's values of perseverance, ideals of self will and reliance, or do we sit and wait for handouts?

Do we love our country's promise of prosperity, wealth and power enough to protect it, or do we just love our things?

Do we love our independence, or are we dependent on our sick society's warped values?

Do we love the notion of capitalism, or do we love the strangling of corporatism?

Do we love our opulence, or do we love driving our shiny metal wagons past a street person overjoyed to not be in their shoes?

Do we love equality and justice, or do we hide behind the cloak of hate, bigotry and ignorance?

Do we love our country enough to do something about it, or do we blindingly love ourselves to oblivion?

SN&R 12/07: Raider Nation Rebuttal

Sacramento News & Review did a feature on Raider Nation in Sacramento during the 2007 season. I thought it was all right, but that it didn't really do us (NATION) enough justice. So I had to strike back in the name of the Silver and Black. I kept waiting for this granola paper to print my rebuttal so maybe I could get some pub, but they never did. What's the matter, SN&R, no balls?

_________________________________________________

RE: "Fear of a Silver and Black Planet " 11/29/07:

As a lifelong Oakland Raiders fan, I feel compelled to address your amateurish but nonetheless (somewhat) even-handed portrayal of Raider Nation with three salient points:

One: Coker apparently lifted his whole story idea from Jim Miller and Kelly Mayhew's Better to Reign In Hell: Inside the Raiders Fan Empire, hence the copious quoting from the book itself. However, he omits the book's most poignant line in my opinion: "In an era that craves order and safety, Raider Nation offers chaos and fun. In the face of the new Puritanism, 'Just say no' and 'Watch what you say,' the Raider Nation says, 'Fuck you.' That in and of itself summaries the individualism and iconoclastic uniqueness that is synonymous with true Raider faithful.

Two: Despite Coker's claims to the contrary, Sacramento is largely a 49ers stronghold and has been ever since the Raiders moved downstate in 1982 to L.A. While the Niners fan base in Sacramento has shrunk markedly in recent years due to their fall from greatness, many fans turned from the silver and black to the red and gold as a knee-jerk reaction to the L.A. betrayal. Coincidentally, the Niners emerged as a championship team at the same time Al Davis turned his back on the Bay Area for greener pastures. As a city, Sacramento basically aspires to be a mini-San Francisco and shed any vestiges of blue-collar identity it did possess. Thus, the gentrification and increased corporate atmosphere. Not to mention the freak show at 20^th and K.

Three: While Raider Nation has a black eye (no pun intended) of bad reputation amongst its' members (who range from company executives to janitors), in reality the misbehavior of a few churlish louts at McAfee Coliseum is a minority. The media loves nothing better than to paint all with the same brush, and Raider fans are no exception. Personally, I don't feel the need to dress up as a pirate or a skeleton to get on TV, but to each his own. Coker also ends with quoting the property management consultant: "I wouldn't tell any my clients I'm a Raider fan." I'm no closet Raider fan , and I wear my allegiance on my sleeve whether others approve or not. That's the whole essence of bleeding Silver and Black.

Kabbalah/Whipped Cream

Before I began to see my

KABBALAH THERAPIST,

I was a raging asshole.

BUT NOW I'M COMFORTABLE WITH THAT…

I just offer people a choice these days:

EITHER you get the asshole

with whipped cream and fresh fruit,

OR just the asshole.

THE DECISION IS YOURS…

Why We Like to Get Fucked Up

4/14/08

Why do artists, musicians, writers and other creative folk tend to have substance abuse issues.

because they see the world differently than most others do. they can create pictures, images, realms, fantasies in their heads that are grandiose in nature. they use their imaginations to spin worlds of escape. the real world pales by comparison. real people are boring and unpleasant, crude and mundane. so we need something to spice it up a little.

we see the world in hi-definition and surround sound while others view it in simple, pragmatic black and white. we see the world in ultra-holographic images of painstaking detail and clarity while others see simple, banal stick figures. we spin, spawn, make, incarnate and create. we are observers, plot choreographers, storytellers, architects.

Honoring the Sukes

Suki the Boltess almost was able to put me under her spell early in the 2008 season and have me root for her perpetually suckass baseball team, the San Diego Padres. When the Padres began the season disastrously, however, she demanded that I renounce my citizenship in Petco Nation. Too bad, because I was gearing up for trips to San Diego and treating the locals to my obnoxious noxious repertoire, Padre style:

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS SUCK!"
"BLUE, WAKE THE FUCK UP!"
"OH FUCK YESSS!! That's what I'm talkin 'bout , baby!!! Nice stroke!!!"
"God fuckin' damn you, you motherfucker!! SHIT!!!"
"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah bitch!!! YEEEE!!!!"
"IT'S TREVOR TIME, BITCHES!!!"
"YEAHHHH!!! JUST ANOTHER PADRE VICTORY, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!"

Somehow, I just never saw us as a match.

Not giving a fuck.

4/28/08

You hear all this shit these days about man-law, man-up, etc. It's like the pussification has gotten so thick we need fucking instruction guides on how to conduct ourselves? You can bet your ass our dads and granddads didn't get any written tutoring on this shit.

"How to be a man's man"

I like and do things that ARE considered man's man things.

I like and do some things that aren't.

I have learned to not let someone define for you who and what you are. If you need a fuckin book to fully extrapolate for you on how to get a life, then in my sweet humble opinion, you don't need the book, you need a fuckin' therapist.

Based on my experience, a man's man does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, within reason. And he doesn't give a fuck worrying about whether it's the right shade of manliness or not. If that isn't the definition, I don't know what is. And since I don't give a fuck, well then...

Notable Quotables

This is a magic show and we are all involved. Everything is based on making something look like something else--Peter Gent, The Franchise

What's a body bag?...It's a big rubber bag. One size fits all....They're dark inside. Uncle Sam uses them for rubbers. You see some of them, you know he's been fooling around---Thomas Harris, Black Sunday

If you don't know who you are and you don't believe fully in yourself, others sense it, no matter how much you try to front it off--Nathan McCall, Makes Me Wanna Holler

The fucking you get is never worth the screwing you take--Richard Bachman, Roadwork
In any case I wear only two colors, black and gray. These colors are appropriate for any occasion, and they go well together...I find it liberating--Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park

If at first you don't succeed, piss 'em off even harder the next time--Mark Bryant

Screw the media, they're all working for the enemy anyway--Anonymous, Military.com cyberboard

Many people would rather die than think: in fact, most do--Bertrand Russell

Fair Warning: Fear the Tiger

(WARNING AND DISCLAIMER): If profanity, excessive shock smack talking, tastelessness, explicit language, or other viewpoints and opinons which may be deemed offensive are not your cup of tea, then move on. Freedom of speech and the right to vent is strongly espoused here, as is my constitutional right to uphold views and opinions which may strongly disagree with others. In case you missed it in school, there is such a thing known as the First Amendment which protects us from censorship and thought-police intrusion, both of which are performed ritualistically by governments of fascism and communism. Last I checked, America was still a free country. Don't like it, roll on. For those who just want my published writing without all the chicanery and theatrics, go here: http://markb74.blogspot.com/

A Friendly Reminder: Fear the Tiger

© 1998 The State Hornet

© 1997 Cheney Free Press

© 1996 Defense Information School

© 1994 The Daily Collegian

© 1993 The Daily Collegian

© 1992 The Daily Collegian

© 1992 The Sacramento Bee

© 1991 The Sacramento Bee

ANY UNAUTHORIZED COPYING, PLAGIARISM OR OTHER STEALING OF ANY WORK PROCURED HEREIN WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR OF THIS BLOG IS STRICTLY PRO-MOTHERFUCKING-HIBITED. I WILL EXERT ALL LEGAL OPPORTUNITIES IN TRACKING YOU DOWN AND SUING YOUR ASS. GOT IT?

BLOG READERS: READ THIS FIRST:

You MAY quote from here. You MAY link to material here. You may NOT reproduce this material in ANY form, copy, plagiarize, alter or otherwise steal any work herein, or use for profit WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. The exception is strictly for private or personal use. As holder of intellectual property rights and copyrighted material, I WILL take legal action against you should you fail to adhere to these terms.

© 2008 Mark Bryant

All rights reserved

Letter to Brigid

"I am not so good at squelching my contempt and resentment for those who have cast me out, excluded me or given up on me. I wish I had that kind of forgiveness and forebearance. Maybe one day I will. When I go on rants, they are loud, visceral and served up nice and hot. Calculation is not one of my strong points sometimes. Maybe I should start eating more cookies n' cream ice cream and strawberries?....nahhhh."

Happy Birthday Heather

This crazy ass girl was one of my childhood friends. SHE IS BOMB. Almond Hill School O.G.'s for life. This is adapted from some cheesy assed personalized kids' birthday recording from the late seventies/early eighties (?) I'm very inventive in my satirical approach, huh?

_______________________________________

4/14/08

Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We have Bud Light!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
Weeee have Bud Light!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We haaaave Bud Light!

Happy Birthday, Heath-er!!!
Your birthday is to-day! Hey!!!

Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We have strippers!!!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
Weeee have strippers!!!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We haaaave strippers!!!!!

Happy Birthday, Heath-er!!!
Your birthday is to-day! Hey!!!

Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We have bomb bud!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
Weeee have bomb bud!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We haaaave bomb bud!!

Happy Birthday, Heath-er!!!
Your birthday is to-day! Hey!!!

Rant 4/7/08

For too long we've all bought into the ideology that the American way is the only way. We've fallen for the bullshit hook line and sinker that we are superior to everyone else on the planet. And now we're paying for it.

We've become a nation bankrupt socially, morally and spiritually.

It's not the plastic, masonry and polished wood that make up the foundation that is America. It's the human relationships and the undying spirit of freedom.

We are no longer free, however....because we are arrogant elitist motherfuckers that care about no one but ourselves.

It's not just the counterculture that has spoken about our widening disconnect. People all over are starting wake up and slowly realize what's really important.

People are not happy. People are not happy despite the 401k's, the home ownerships, the degrees in sheepskins hanging from the walls of those homes, the cars in the garage, the designerclothes, the oil sheik lifestyle we take as an entitlement.

No longer is it simply enough to just be content and happy. The monster has ratcheted everyone's expectations up to insanity in order to keep chasing an elusive dream.

And what is my dream? My dream is to find my place of solitude. Where it is expectation-free and consequently free of the additives and preservatives that make our lives more entertaining and in color but rob us of our souls and kill us.

Lose the expectations. Be simple.

Thoughts on the Air Farce, errr, Chair Force, errr, Air Force

April 2008

I enjoyed my time in blue. Other than the excessive politically correct bullshit and chick-coddling that was and is more apparent in the AF than any other branch of the military, I view it as how things should be run in the military. Efficient, clean, classy, detailed, and cool. Not to mention the kickass food. Unfortunately, too much hell-raising, drinkin' and booty calls on my part caused my early dismissal. I wasn't helped by the fact that I was stuck with a butter-bar bitch lieutenant straight out of the Academy who was permanently on the rag. We had a, uh, personality conflict that basically greased the skids for my shitcanning. I felt like the dude on "Driving Miss Daisy".

Let me tell you about her tart, strawberry shortcake board stuck up her ass self: One week we had a base-wide field exercise in which we were all getting slammed with duties and details up the ass. Our office was getting calls from civilians nonstop sqwauking about their cattle and animals being spooked by the aircraft noise. During the busiest day in the afternoon, she said fuck it and announced she was going home, and straight took off. I know rank has its privileges, but goddam! I mean, this is like, a mission going on here? That little tidbit somehow never came to light during all the time she was dogging the shit out of me.

Fuck you, Miss Buttercup. Fuck you in your whipped cream apricot pudding ass, heifer.

Duaner’s DS’s

Duane started a band after he was summarily washed out of baseball due to being a brokedick with little talent. Here I brushed up on my journalistic skills and decided to do the man a favor and give him some PR:

__________________________________________

Duaner's Dirty Sanchezes
Getting' Down N' DIRTY in S.F.

Recently, I had the dubious honor of catching up with the Dirty Sanchezes. It's no easy feat tracking them down, either. They all live in some hippie-ish creaking house in some hippie-ish Frisco district (which part of Frisco isn't?) When I pull up to the address their fearless leader gave me, I recognize it as some bungalow that's showing its' age hard. You get the feeling that a hell of a lot of counterculture aficionados have domiciled here at one time or another since the Decade of Peace and Love…the Sixties.

The fearless leader? When he pulls open the door at the top of the crumbling steps, I instantly know who he is. He's a squat body that's getting squatter and squatter. Protruding beer gut rapidly betraying him. Bald spot right in the center of his dome. Christ, it's fuckin' Homer Simpson. No, wait, it's Duane Reeder…former catcher for the Giants and now leader of this motley crew (no, not the band that put the Eighties to shame). He prefers to be called Duaner. But he's friendly just the same, and I follow him into the living room where instantly my nostrils are bombarded with a shitload of ganja, a shitload of hashish, and a shitload of incense. Needless to say, the incense ain't quite concealing the doobage so well. All the members of the DS's are lounging on couches and either toking or horseplaying.

Their music is nothing short of eclectic, if not downright strange—a mixture of ska/country/punk/new wave/white boy frat rap with of course a generous touch of indie rock. It's like eating chicken soup with beans. It will give you the runs from hell, but it's supposed to be cathartic, so hey, it's all good.

"We love to give each other…Dirty Sanchezes!" an animated Duaner is saying to me when he describes his band. "We rock it the Dirty Sanchez way because we love the vibe and we love our Giants!"

Ohhhhhhh-kay.

Duaner, of course, is the former Giants reject who lasted four seasons as a backup catcher. "Catcher", of course, has an altogether different connotation in Frisco, but I don't think it matters to him.

The horseplay gets more animated. "Dogpile!," shouts Duaner, and all the DS crew starts piling on one another right there on the rug, dry-humping each other like dogs in heat. You've got to be there to believe it. Is this gonna be Dirty Sanchez time with me being forced to watch? Evidently, they have minimal sense of decorum, however, and they slowly untangle after what seems like forever. Duaner emerges from the bottom with a smile plastered on his face a mile wide. Oooh-gah!!!

I Love Wikipedia--Dissing Duane Reeder

So...we've got morbidly obese, Homer Simpsonian, looks 10 years older than he is...and a Frisco fan with obvious perverted tendencies. The word "tool" does not begin to describe this spaz. I enjoy busting this dude's chops on a regular basis.

Duane Reeder

Duane Reeder (born 1971) is a former catcher for the MLB San Francisco Giants.

Reeder joined the Giants for the 1993 season. He was primarily a backup behind Kirt Manwaring.

Reeder was known as a wide backstop with below-average speed. He remained with the Giants until the end of the 1996 season, when he was released. He joined the Oakland Athletics for spring training in 1997 as a nonroster invitee, but failed to make the roster.

Duane now has his own band, Duaner's Dirty Sanchezes.

Trivia
*On the last day of the 1993 season, Reeder filled in for an injured Manwaring. His clumsiness at concealing signals to the Giants' pitchers, mainly starter Salomon Torres, unwittingly tipped off the Los Angeles Dodgers lineup. Mike Piazza crushed two gigantic homeruns before a delirious Dodger Stadium crowd, and the Dodgers routed San Francisco 12-1 to end the Giants' playoff hopes despite a 103-win season. They finished one game behind Atlanta.

Bay Area Baseball Report 2006

Bay Area Baseball Report 2006

Another season has arrived for Bay Area baseball fans. As usual, it promises to be full of excitement, controversy, and drama. Both the Oakland Athletics and San Francisco Giants figure to be in contention for the World Series this fall.

The two Northern California franchises have vastly different images, however. While the A's feature a young, talented squad, the Giants are a veteran, aging squad that needs to stay healthy to win.

Oakland, which survived a lousy start and narrowly missed out on winning the American League West division, will feature rock solid pitching. Barry Zito, Rich Harden, Danny Haren, Joe Blanton and newcomer Esteban Loaiza figure to be in the starting rotation. Huston Street is already a top closer.

The A's everyday lineup will feature Dodger castoff center fielder Milton Bradley, 3B Eric Chavez, and SS Bobby Crosby.

General manager Billy Beane once again will showcase his "Moneyball" brand of baseball, which emphasizes a statistical approach to the game rather than the traditional scouting methods. Consequently, the A's notably lack fleetness of foot on the bases and on defense, but typically show patience at the plate and good on-base percentages.

Since the A's lack the financial capital to land superstar "five-tool" players, this approach has helped them stay competitive for the past several seasons while developing an array of youthful talent.

San Francisco, meanwhile, while having enjoyed relative success the past several seasons, is still looking for that elusive World Series title by the Bay. The Giants will be led by Barry Bonds, who is on pace to become the all time homerun king with 48 more dingers. Going into the '06 season, he has 708 round-trippers.

Bonds has been busy this spring ducking the fallout from the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative (BALCO) scandal on the grounds that his personal trainer supplied him anabolic steroids as well as to a number of players in Major League Baseball. Bonds has repeatedly denied using steroids.

Recently, Game of Shadows, a book written by two San Francisco Chronicle reporters, has been published amid much fanfare. It alleges extensive use of performance-enhancing drugs by Bonds. He sued the authors, Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams, over use of grand jury documents and attempted to block the authors and publisher from profiting from the documents. A judge, however, denied his request, citing free-speech protections and that the lawsuit is unlikely to win in court.

As far as the on the field action goes, the Giants appear to be headed about as far as Bonds' aging body will carry them. Their 12-games-under-.500 finish is seen by most as an aberration because Bonds missed most of the year due to knee surgery.

Still, the Giants bullpen is downright suspect, the bench is virtually nonexistent, and the team seems held together by duct tape, which might make for a long, gloomy summer in The City. Here are the ages for the majority of the San Francisco lineup: Randy Winn (CF) 31, Omar Vizquel (SS) 38,Pedro Feliz (3B) 30, Bonds (LF) 41, Moises Alou (RF) 39, Ray Durham (2B) 34, Mike Matheny (C) 35. This does not include Steve Finley, 41 and Jose Vizcaino, 38, who both figure to see ample time coming off the bench.
PREDICTIONS

AL West

1. Oakland

2. Los Angeles

3. Texas

4. Seattle

NL West

1. San Diego

2. Los Angeles

3. San Francisco

4. Arizona

5. Colorado

Oakland Athletics
Established 1968*
World Series Winners: 1972, 1973, 1974, 1989
American League Champions: 1988, 1990

San Francisco Giants
Established 1958**
National League Champions: 1962, 1989, 2002

*Philadelphia (1901-54); Kansas City (1955-67)
**New York (1883-57)

K-Dub nicknames

I've got about 150 different names for this cat. All in the spirit of jocose humor, of course. Others out there have a ton of names for me, however, and they are ALL bad...

___________________________

K-Dub
K-Dubalistic
K-Dubalisticness
K-Dubalisticness of Doobage
K-Dubiousness
K-Dubiousness of Doobage
K-Dub & The Dubalistics
KW
The Dubster
Dub
The Boy Who Played The Bench For The Oakland A's
Good Field No Hit
K-Dub Sheezy Off Tha Heezy
K-Deezy
K-Deezy For Sheezy
K-Doobius
K-Deezius
K-Deezy Eazy Neezy Sheezy
K-Deezy Eazy
K-Deezy E
K-Doobity Doobage
Kevin Otizian
Kevin Worteezian
K-Dubai
K-Doobius Noobius
K-Sheezy Heezy
Kevin The Funky Otizian
Kevin The Funky Homosapien
Worteezy
Worteezy For Neezy
Shot Calla For Tha VVH
Wortezzeese (Shot Caller)
Worteezian Funk
Worteezy Off Da Sheezy
K-Deezy 4 Neezy Sheezy
K-Sheezy
K-Doobage
K-Sloobage
Utility Playa
Scrubstop*
K-Swiss
First off the Bench (for a brouhaha)
Last off the Bench (for an at bat, esp. against lefties)
Dirty Home Uni
K-Neezy
K-Heezy
K-Sleezy

*K-Dub is/was not an infielder, due to his southpawness. This was duly noted and changed.

I Love Wikipedia--My Buddy Kevin

Some more made-up-shit concocted and inspired by Wikipedia. I'm forever ribbing his ass about 1988, but he (mostly) takes it in stride.

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Kevin Wortell

Kevin Wortell (born 1968) is a former major league utility outfielder who played primarily for the Oakland Athletics.

Career

Wortell was drafted in 1986 by the A's shortly after graduation from Valley High School in Sacramento, California. He made his way quickly through the Oakland minor league system and made his major league debut on June 22, 1988 vs the Milwaukee Brewers. During his career in Oakland he was mainly relegated to backup status, although he regularly vied with Stan Javier, Luis Polonia and Eric Fox for playing time. Ultimately, he mostly saw action at all three outfield spots. He logged most of his time at center and left field.

Wortell was known throughout baseball circles as a classic "good field, no hit" player, though he made up for that with his trademark scrappy hustle and grit. His uniform was known to be always the dirtiest in the clubhouse after each game he played in.

During his seven-year stint with Oakland (1988-1994), he helped the A's win three consecutive American League pennants (1988-1990) and a World Series win in 1989. He spent his final two seasons with the New York Mets before retiring after the 1996 season.

Kevin is now an analyst for Fox Sports Net Bay Area and works A's broadcasts.

Trivia

*Wortell made the most of his limited playing time in the 1989 World Series by going 4-for-4 and driving in three runs over the four-game sweep.

*He was hitless in two at bats during the 1988 World Series.

*He made the second to last out in the 1988 World Series by grounding out to second as a pinch hitter. Dodgers pitcher Orel Hershiser then fanned Tony Phillips to end Game 5 and the Series, won by Los Angeles.

*During the early stages of his career with the A's, Wortell made a name for himself by becoming a DJ. Thus, he was placed in charge of all music in the Oakland clubhouse. He still runs his own DJ business today.

*During the offseason winter of 1989-90, he lived hippie-style out of a Volkswagen van with friends.

*In one game in May 1990, he (uncharacteristically) made two errors in a game against the Cleveland Indians. Teammates presented him with a new nickname: K-Swiss (as in glove made of Swiss cheese)

Kevin Wortell

Outfielder

Born: 1968

Batted: Left

Threw: Left

MLB Debut

June 22 1988 for the Oakland Athletics

Final Game

Sept. 29 1996 for the New York Mets

Career statistics

BA .254

OBP .368

Teams

Oakland Athletics (1998-94)

New York Mets (1995-96)