I suppose this means Papa John doesn’t have a vulgar mouth.
I suppose this means Papa John doesn’t have a vulgar mouth.
I do not know the identity of SB Nation’s PFT Commenter, but not for the first time, I find myself in awe of his or her insights. Covering the Super Bowl 50 festivities in San Francisco, the pseudononymous sage was not overly awed by the lavish parties (“Im not an art guy. Painters make me angry because they dont work at a job they hate and are therefor not contributing anything to society,”), nor were the media’s creature comforts spared the trenchant analysis (“giving a thousand journlists 7 toilet stalls is like trying to invade Normany with a army consisting of Mike Tysons first 6 opponets and the Cleveland Browns,”). But given the big game’s proximity to Sillicon Valley, “I came up with a couple ideas for a app. Maybe I could strike it rich while Im here,”.
First one is basically Tinder for people who hate Cam Newton. It allows people who complain about Cam Newton to connect online and perhaps spark the begining of what could be a beautiful relatonship based on a mutual distrust of Cam Newtons antics and me-first demeanor.
The first rule of thumb when you have a app is you need to drop a vowel out of the name no matter what. Chip Kelly has been meeting with Sillicon Valley thought-leaders to figure out ways to learn from there success and I’d be shocked if by 2017 Chip Kelly hasnt changed their named to the Ninrs. Your going to see that offense operating 20% faster and blowing past the NFC west- which has the highest ratio of vowels to consinents in the entire league. Its all about matchups.
Recepton was luke-warm from people that I spoke with, but then I realized that the people who design apps dont have a clue about what app users really want. Its basicaly like if you named Antonio Cromartie chairman and CEO of Durex and expected record profits. We spend all this time talking about monopolys well have you ever noticed that all the people who make apps are the ones who are intelligent enough to know how to design them?
Except it didn’t work. And the advice is 16 years too late, besides. Who the hell’s in charge of these headlines?
Many years removed from winning WWE reality show “Tough Enough” and a brief (weren’t they all?) tenure as the promotion’s Hardcore Champ, Chris Harvard aka Christopher Nowinski’s 2nd act as a concussion activist has been noted in this space previously. On Thursday, Nowinski gatecrashed the NFL’s annual health and safety press conference, and gave NY Giants co-owner John Mara an earful (“the NFL’s attempt to prevent that study from being funded was frankly a slap in the face of every family suffering from CTE right now…that study in itself was delayed by at least nine months by the games the NFL tried to play”). Mara, for his part, did his best to take offense (“we’ve been involved in this business in my family since 1925″). From the New York Post’s Paul Schwartz :
Nowitnski said the NFL’s interest in concussions and brain trauma reminds him of watching a Big Tobacco documentary about the indiscretions of the tobacco industry.
“I disagree with that,’’ Mara said. “Listen, I respect him, but my God we spent a lot of time talking about this. This is not for show as far as I’m concerned. I, myself, spent a lot of hours in those meetings, both in the Competition Committee and in the Health and Safety committee. We’ve committed a lot of money for research. For me it’s not a game. It’s not for show. It’s to find answers to these problems.
“This is our business. We have a lot of young men playing this game that we want to try to protect. This is not for show. This is serious business.’’
Sunday Times picture editor and When Saturday Comes contributor Dermot Kavanagh is attempting to raise funds for the publication of “Different Class : Fashion, Football & Funk The Story of Laurie Cunningham”. Cunningham, one of the first black players to feature on England’s national squad, is recalled thusly by Kavanagh :
In a time when racist chants and bananas thrown at players from the crowd were common, Cunningham’s time at Leyton Orient and West Bromwich Albion changed how black players were perceived and paved the way for a new generation of black English footballers, but his name is largely forgotten today.
I have sketchy memories of watching Laurie Cunningham playing football for West Bromwich Albion on Match of the Day in the late 1970s when I was in my early teens. To my young mind he was cool and exciting and scored seemingly effortless goals while running rings round flat-footed defenders on muddy pitches. But just as soon as he had arrived he vanished and I didn’t think about him again for decades.
His parents arrived from Jamaica in the mid-1950s and settled in Finsbury Park then one of the poorest areas in the country. A tough and vibrant neighbourhood strewn with bomb-damaged houses from the War, it was home to a large black population by the end of the 1960s. As a boy he loved to dance and draw and grew into an exceptional athlete. A quiet and self-contained teenager who took care to dress well, he found expression in the fledgling soul scene that emerged out of pub back rooms and Soho dives. His simple grace and superb balance stood out as much on the dance floor as it did on the football pitch. A team mate from his first professional club Leyton Orient says of Cunningham “one of his major things was to be different, he didn’t want to be around footballers, he wanted to talk about fashion, dance, cinema, we’d go to the West End or go and have a look at the clothes on the King’s Road.”
Once upon a time, cantstopthebleeding.com was one of the nation’s top sports blogeterria (blogoterrarium? blogtoxcity?) destinations, appealing to the friendless and socially challenged. As the nu media wars wore down, the site retreated into near dormancy, maintained by an automated system devised by the same brilliant minds behind the Atari Jaguar.
I’m not sure how familiar you are with the phenomena of “artifical intelligence”, but about 8 years ago the cyborg in question began organizing an annual free show in the middle of March at a respected Red River venue. From day one the event was sponsor free and impervious to the crony-heavy network of booking agents, garbage labels and the like. In short, it made no sense whatsoever but since the bill is always super hot and there’s no cover, hardly anyone complains.
Past participants have included but not been limited to Complete, the Homosexuals, Tyvek, Spray Paint, Protomartyr, Obnox, Golden Pelicans, The Muffs, The Blind Shake, TV Ghost, Puffy Areolas, The Spits, Endless Boogie and far too many examples of yes-you-totally-blew-it-by-going-to-see-the-Oh-Sees-for-the-50th-time-instead. This year’s lineup is no different, except perhaps in that it is THE GREATEST EVER.
The phrase “impossibly prolific” was invented to describe Dan Melchior. To call him one of underground music’s most creative minds is to give way, way too much credit to underground music. His body of work is nothing short of dizzying and the city of Austin has done absolutely nothing to deserve his visit.
USA/Mexico were meant to play last year’s show but King Coffey attempted to rearrange the features of a speeding automobile with his body. You should see what the other guy looked like! Devestation Inc. w/ Craig Clouse (Shit & Shine, Todd), King (Butthole Surfers) and the newly ensconced Nathan Cross (Marriage).
Snooty Garbagemen is the 3-headed monster led by the monstrous guitar virtuosity of Houston’s Tom Triplett (OBN III’s, No Talk, Homopolice, The Real Energy, Hamamatsu Tom, Crime Wave). Their summer 2015 12XU debut LP won wide acclaim from sources as disparate as NME, Grantland and people who actually know something about music.
Austin’s Xetas have shook the foundations of this building so many times before in their 2-year tenure, it’s a miracle club management haven’t sent them an invoice. Their second LP, a followup to 2015′s ‘The Redeemer’ (12XU) lands sometime later this year.
Ace guitarists who combine influences both trad and avant are a dime a dozen these days and with apologies to Freddie Blassie, I wanna know who’s handing out the dimes. That said, Dublin’s Cian Nugent is an astonishing talent ready to bring some badly need CLASS to this dumpster fire of a rock show, and a mere hour or so spent with his recordings for No Quarter and Woodsist will spell out W-H-Y (with apologies to Discharge).
Holotrash/Goner Recording artistes Black Abba (New Orleans) feature individuals you surely already know and love but nobody’s coasting on pedigree here. This is not the Westminster Kennel Club for fuck’s sake. Their 2015 Gonerfest appearance was so diabolicaly good, it took me 3 months to remember to ask them play this show.
Austin quartet Lung Letters are well on their way to setting some kind of record for breaking microphone stands, and that’s not to say they’re an especially unpredictable band. Quite the opposite, really, if there’s no microphone stands broken, you’re probably entitled to a refund. Though anyone asking for a refund at a free show is really a poster child for “entitled”, don’t you think? Pure goddamn brutality featuring persons you’ve admired from afar in bands like Flesh Lights (Jeremy), The Dead Space (Jenny), Total Abuse (Duncan) and A Giant Dog (Graham).
I briefly considered asking Miami’s Rat Bastard to arm wrestle Dan Melchior for the title of “hardest man in the underground”, but in light of the super shitty box office receipts for “Over The Top”, we’re just gonna keep it to music (of sorts). Rat’s rep as an all-time boundary pusher via Laundry Room Squelchers and To Live & Shave In LA is well established, but teamed with comrades Lisa Cameron (ST 37, Venison Whirled) and Jonathan Horne (Young Mothers, Plutonium Farmers, Ichi Ni San Shi, White Denim) it’s fair to expect something truly historic. NO PRESSURE, RAT.
The show is free. You cannot bring your dog.
Bill Romanowski on how he'd stop Cam: I would hit him as hard as possible then try to choke him under the pile.https://t.co/nIuvWGVc2i
— Bleacher Report (@BleacherReport) February 3, 2016
The following press release comes to us courtesy of Aggronautix, who’ve previously enthralled the collector community with multiple G.G. Allin bobbleheads :
thanks to underground fiction’s most talented scumfucs, GG is cast in a series of adventures that truly befit his outlaw spirit. In these pages, GG Allin is a secret agent, engaging in cult-smashing missions in exchange for dirty sex with George and Barbara Bush. He’s a shit-eating, spaceship-piloting and time-traveling savior of humanity. He’s an orisha, called upon to save prisoners from ‘roid rage mutant guards. He’s one half of a deepfried onion ring ouroboros with his soulmate John Wayne Gacy. He’s thousands of clones living inside your giant robot body.
“Blood For You” is a 190 page 8.5″ x 5.5″ book edited by MP Johnson and Sam Richard and published by WeirdPunk Books.
OK, that’s not exactly what Carolina analyst Eugene Robinson had to say to the Super Bowl-bound NFC Champion Panthers, but given his 1998 arrest the night before SB XXXIII (in which his Falcons were soundly beaten by John Elway’s Broncos), that’s pretty much the gist of it. Robinson wouldn’t tell the Charlotte Observer’s Joseph Person exactly what he said to the current Panthers squad, but you can make an educated guess :
“That’s the first time I heard that story. I didn’t know anything about it,” tight end Ed Dickson said. “It says a lot that he would open up and say something about it. Because a lot of people would hold it in and not even talk about that moment.”
Robinson played 16 years in the NFL, winning a Super Bowl ring with Green Bay in 1996.
“Him being an ex-player, him being in that moment, he wanted to make sure nobody else would be that guy again,” Dickson said. “That’s huge.”
Panthers receiver Brenton Bersin knows Robinson well and was familiar with his arrest. He said it was a powerful message.
“He was basically saying don’t mess up,” Bersin said. “And don’t let the hoopla and all the stuff that’s available to you, you don’t have to be doing all that stuff.”
Putting aside for a moment the fact that Las Vegas doesn’t have an NFL franchise and more than a few around the league are queasy at the prospect of games being played a stone’s throw from legal sports betting, the Las Vegas Review-Journal argues that building a new football stadium is “an urgent need”. That a plan for a combined NFL venue/new home for UNLV football is the brainchild of local billionaire / neo-con turd Sheldon Adelson bothers the paper’s editorial board not one iota. Sheldon’s not just a loyal subscriber, he’s the publisher!
Las Vegas will be unique among the cities Mark Davis considers for the relocation of his team. Everywhere else except Los Angeles — the Raiders could be back in play there after Friday’s news that the NFL is upgrading its commitment to keep the Chargers in San Diego — Mr. Davis will have to work out a stadium financing plan that will be contingent upon a Raiders move, with the NFL and the Raiders providing some funding. The Las Vegas project proposes a public-private partnership, with about one-third of the funding from private investors and two-thirds from tax revenues. While the financing details are far from locked down, it’s evident that Las Vegas Sands and Los Angeles-based Majestic Realty — whose president, Edward Roski Jr., owns the Silverton — are prepared to pay part of the bill. UNLV should be able to provide a philanthropic component to the plan.
The location is about as good as it gets, on a huge plot of vacant land recently purchased for $50 million by UNLV (via donation), a transaction we previously championed for just this purpose. The proximity to the resort corridor and to UNLV offers countless benefits to both.
This stadium is the missing piece of tourism infrastructure in Las Vegas, more important than any other proposal, including the expansion of the Las Vegas Convention Center. We have previously endorsed that expansion, but for years, we’ve also aggressively called for a viable stadium plan. The stadium is the valley’s most urgent need to expand the tourism, travel and events dynamic. A large, multipurpose venue would create the most economic impact for Las Vegas right now, more than any new hotel or additional convention space.
In case you missed it, Florida State recently settled out of court to the tune of nearly one million dollars with former undergrad Erica Kinsman. Kinsman, who accused FSU QB Jameis Winston of rape in 2012, sued claiming continued harassment denied her of rightful opportunities under Title IX. Either The Sports Reporters’ Mitch Albom considers this a frivolous charge or simply believes victims of sexual assault shouldn’t, y’know, CASH IN. Because it’s a such a lucrative thing, being sexually assaulted.
— Odell Beckham Jr (@OBJ_3) January 31, 2016
(EDITOR’S NOTE : the following was first posted on February 8, 2004. Since our archives from year one are on permanent vacation — or so it seems
— you’ll just have to take my word for it. No one in their right mind would boast of republishing this recipe on an annual basis for 13 fucking years if it weren’t true . Of course, no one in their right mind would watch a pattycake NFL exhibition game when they can watch Paul Giamatti getting peed on John Scott’s big moment in the spotlight – GC).
Excuse me for having to spell this one out for our European readers. Pro Bowl Sunday is a BIG event for Americans. All over the country, families come together for Pro Bowl Parties. Advertisers pay hundreds of dollars to televise commercials featuring their newest products. Each year on Pro Bowl Sunday, battered womens’ shelters report the number of victims admitted to their care decreases by two percent, testament to the calming nature of the contest . If the NBA All-Star Game is, in the words of Michael Wilbon, Black Thanksgiving, then the Pro Bowl is sort of like Yom Kippur for Gambling Degenerates & Football Obsessives of All Races.
In this household, the Pro Bowl’s importance is matched only by that of the NHL Skills Competition (skate-sharpening, carrying Eric Lindros off the ice) and the entire NASCAR calendar. And with that in mind, here is CSTB’s Award Winning Pro Bowl Chili Recipe :
750 g of Sainsbury Lean Minced Beef
1 jar of Uncle Ben’s Hot Chili
simmer the minced beef in a wok or non-combustible container until brown.
drain the fat in a colander.
remove half the beef and serve to CSTB’s Proofreader (allow some 20 minutes for cooling or you’ll be very very sorry)
put the other half of the beef back in the wok, add the contents of the Uncle Ben’s jar.
go watch NFL Countdown for 30 minutes
serve over a bed of white rice (if you don’t have any white rice, you can always try to cut the taste by swallowing without chewing)
Serves 1 – possibly two if you can get anyone to come over to your house for the Pro Bowl.
You kick me out your strip club, you getting robbed…..I know what yall thinking(soft ass aint robbing no body) I would like too inform all the big ballers out there,im the reason BIG strip clubs #fingerprint now hahaha..I’ll order $80,000 worth of ones,throw about $40,000 of it too the strippers,sneak the rest out the club…have one of my #teammates sign that bill….wake up the next day,call #americanexpress(my card was stolen at the strip club last night,and these charges aint mines) with a (no questions asked policy)once they see its not ur signture,they refund you ALL your money back lmaoooo soooo I got the $80,000 I spent back..PLUS the $40,000 I took out the club… #aintnotrickingbihh strippers gave me that vagina on the house,it cost me nothing hahahaha #howyoudoing #ranoffontheclubTWICE #smartniggashit #greatinvestment #KOD’S #MAGICCITY just call it a club appearance fee lmaooo
Kind of amazing to think that once upon a time, Gilbert Arenas’ unfiltered thoughts made him the toast of blogosphere and mainstream media alike. In the present day however, beyond the reach of NBA discipline, Arenas has segued from creepy WNBA critiques to taunting Flint’s poisoned water supply victims to finally, serving himself up as a perpetrator of credit card fraud.
On the same day that Dr. Bennet Omalu of “Concussion” fame opined that O.J. Simpson suffers from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, Stanford Medical Center Professor Professor of Anesthesiology, Perioperative and Pain MedicineEd Riley (above) tells the San Jose Mercury News that despite what he deems “substantial risk” for professional footballers, he’s ok with his son suiting up for Whitworth University.
Riley, who played quarterback for Whitworth, veers from the hard-line, anti-football sentiment in the medical community. He isn’t convinced that a limited football career — high school only — poses a greater long-term risk of brain damage than other activities favored by adolescent boys.
The only known data on the topic is hardly current: It’s from a Mayo Clinic study on high school players in Minnesota in the 1940s and 50s. The study found no elevated risk for degenerative neurological disease, although the lack of facemasks in that era likely limited the number of helmet-to-helmet collisions.
“You have to put it in perspective,” Riley said of high school football. “There’s risk, but no more than doing other things.”
Could adding four years of collisions in college football elevate his son’s chances for brain damage down the road?
“Clearly, there are risks,” Riley said, “but it’s a risk that for him is worth taking.”
Thomas Micklethwait is considered a heroic, larger than life figure in this household. He’s already a living legend (SORRY, LARRY) for his tenure in The Hex Dispensers and subsequent introduction of astonishing brisket, ribs, sausages and world class sides to the former Trailer Space region via Micklethwait Craft Meats. Many of us have gazed longingly at the inner gatefold of ZZ Top’s ‘Tres Hombres‘, but how many have possessed the skill, patience and appetite to re-create this historic album art and then consume the entire spread?
Our thoughts this evening (well, mine anyway) are with the family, friends, teammates and fans of ten year big league veteran Walt Williams, who died this past Saturday at the age of 72. Saddled with the nickname “No-Neck” due to his particular posture, Williams would later become the inspiration for New York’s New Weird America poster children the No Neck Blues Band (CHECK SOURCE BEFORE PUBLISHING)
…at least not very loudly, as I have a splitting headache.
Mets fans should be pumped that the Mets have retained Yoenis Cespedes, a player so valued he quickly became expendable to three previous teams? – Phil Mushnick, New York Post, January 25, 2016
Well, in a word (fuck) yes. Putting aside (!) Cespedes’ prodigious output for the Mets during the 2015 season’s final 55 games — an offensive tear so dramatic, some actually raised the notion of the outfielder’s MVP candidacy — there’s something deeply disconcerting about the innuendo here. If Cespedes is truly the uncoachable clubhouse cancer Mushnick and others in the media (none of whom, by pure coincidence, seem to be of Cuban descent) seem to suggest, why would the Mets dream of having him back, let alone at $25 million + for next season? Why would the Nationals, already praying Jonathan Papelbon is hit by a bus, offer a guaranteed 5 year deal to a player of such poor character?
Could it be that Cespedes’ teammates, managers, employers and people who’ve paid to watch him every day have a more informed opinion about what he really brings to the table, pro and con?
Mushnick would have you believe that on 3 separate occasions, other teams couldn’t wait to rid themselves of Cespedes. Never mind that that A’s flipped him for the highly coveted Jon Lester (or that their offensive production went straight into the toilet once Cespedes left town).
OK, Alberta’s greatest export (or one of ‘em). Archie Gouldie, aka The Mongolian Stomper, passed away yesterday at the age of 71. A contemporary of Ronnie Garvin, Paul Orndorf, Billy Robinson and Jos Le Duc, Gouldie held the NWA Southeast Championship 11 times during his run in Tennessee.
It probably won’t come as a huge surprise to you that a man who has spent 40 + years writing and performing some of the most desperate, unhinged and genuinely menacing music in American rock history doesn’t have much of a safety net. But there you go ; a couple of weeks ago, Sonny Vincent (Testors) awoke to news his son, daughter-in-law and grandson had been horribly injured in a gas explosion. They’re in intensive care and Sonny’s not able to monitor their care without a helping hand from his friends around world.
Information about a February 6 Austin benefit can be found at this link. I know there’s other stuff happening that night, but some of those shows are the shortest of walks away. If you cannot attend, donations are being accepted here.
The 2016 Cannabis Collaborative Conference kicks off February 3 in Portland, and former Trail Blazers’ fixture Cliff Robinson is one of the featured speakers. Portland Business Journal’s Andy Giegerich writes that Robinson hopes to “rebrand” himself at the event, said rebranding being (of course), UNCLE SPLIFFY.
“It’s an opportunity for me to get out there and tell people a little bit about myself outside of basketball,” Robinson said. “People in Oregon know me as a basketball player, but I want to distill the stigma around cannabis, the misperception that athletes and cannabis are incompatible.”
In at least one sense, that’s spot on: Robinson agrees that football players or others who engage in contact sports might do well to treat themselves with cannabis as opposed to prescription painkillers.
“Cannabis is definitely a more positive alternative to pharmaceuticals at the end of the day,” he said. “Those are synthetics. I’m talking about something that’s natural that can bring the outcomes you’re looking for, be it for muscle tension or relaxation or preparedness. There are a whole lot of different things that are beneficial.”
While Robinson wouldn’t venture a guess as to how many NBA players use marijuana, it’s logical to assume the number is substantial.
“When you talk about guys playing on a professional level, there’s a lot of physical and mental stress that comes with that, and to have something available to you that has health benefits, I don’t see the issue with it myself.”
WFAN host and ratings juggernaut Mike Francesa has been with the station since it’s 1987 inception ; he’s helmed the late afternoon drive slot since 1989, and while most of those years were working alongside Chris Russo, the former’s only solidified his grasp of the #1 spot since going solo. On Wednesday, Francesa announced he’d be leaving the airwaves at the end of 2017, leaving a gigantic hole in the NYC sports radio landscape. While the New York Post’s Brian Terranova advances the candidacy of fellow Murdoch employee Katie Nolan, the Daily News’ Bernie Augustine believes an uncanny Francesa impersonation by former WFAN producer Greg Giannotti might be criteria of some sort. Since both Augustine and Terranova predict the eventual return of Russo, wouldn’t it make sense for WFAN to consider a more economical option, particularly one from a motivated performer who won’t simply phone it in? Am I really the only person who wants to see Sour Shoes get the gig?
a) claim you left iPad at Strange Brew already logged in to Facebook
b) you misquoted yourself (h/t Charles Barkley)
c) simply forgot to write, “I’m 100% against all of this” at the very top of the post
d) lay very, very low until your guy at Life Or Death P.R. has had a full opportunity to review the above and formulate a plan.