Future Google searches for “Vermont Noise Scene” will pull up at least one compelling example.
Future Google searches for “Vermont Noise Scene” will pull up at least one compelling example.
I’d still sooner buy a case of these than ever watch “Draft Day” from start to finish (link swiped from Kevin Kaduk)
If you thought ESPN’s inevitable/overdue dismissal of baseball analyst/gender studies non-expert Curt Schilling would lead to the 20 year MLB vet keeping a low profile, well, no such luck. On Wednesday, Schilling taped an appearance on Breitbart’s Sirius/XM “Patriot Forum” program for broadcast the following morning in which he raised the specter of an alleged double standard at Disney-owned ESPN. From Newsday’s Neil Best :
“It was apparent to me early on that if you wanted to go off topic as a sports person you had to go off topic left, or you were going to get in trouble,” Schilling said.
“Some of the most racist things I’ve ever heard have come out of people that are on the air at ESPN. They’re some of the biggest racists in sports commentating.”
Asked to clarify his remarks after the show, “You listen to Stephen A. Smith, and Stephen A. Smith was the guy who said that Robert Griffin didn’t play quarterback for the Redskins because he’s black. No, Robert Griffin didn’t play quarterback for the Redskins because he [stunk].
“. . . Tony Kornheiser compared the Tea Party to ISIS. I don’t know any planet where those are sports topics. But I don’t care. It’s OK. I think those conversations need to happen. But as soon as you go to the flip side, the right side, there are repercussions for not talking about sports.”
The part that seems to escape Schilling notice is that Smith and Kornheiser, for all their myriad faults, were hired and are actively encouraged to express personal opinions are part of their on-air jobs. Had, for instance, Kornheiser taken the opportunity to take shots at the Tea Party during his Monday Night Football tenure, it’s pretty likely he’d have been removed from the airways.
In which Rangers D Dan Boyle ends his 2015-16 season by channeling Ryan Leaf (as opposed to, y’know, Bobby Bo) in refusing to submit to the questioning of NY Post castigator, Larry Brooks.
While SB Nation are justifiably proud of their minor league team name generator, the site’s writers were careful to point out that New Orleans’ Pacific Coast League franchise is currently holding a contest to do, well, what SBN’s robot is fully capable of :
In 1993, professional baseball returned to New Orleans when the Zephyrs arrived from Denver. Through attendance records with the opening of Zephyr Field, to a pair of league championships and the city’s first national professional sports title in 1998, the team never had a name that reflected the community it represented.
We want YOU – the fans – to help us re-name the team as we commemorate a quarter-century in New Orleans in 2017. Submit your entry in the form below, and tell us why you think your name would perfectly represent everything that makes New Orleans great. The winning entry will receive two to four (2-4) full season tickets for 2017, a ceremonial first pitch with pre-game recognition, on-air interview during a game’s radio broadcast, a 20-person suite rental, and Honorary Bat Boy Experience for child (if applicable).
It’s a fun idea, but I’m pretty certain my entry — the New Orleans Eyehategods — probably isn’t gonna win.
Nick Stevens’ outrage knows no off-season.
We’re all adults here. We all know about the hawks and the hornets (thank you, Chris Paul), but were you aware Atlanta’s mascot, Harry The Hawk, is recovering from a nasty spill suffered during Game 2 of the Eastern Conference playoffs against Boston? The following press release, circulated by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution’s Helen Oliviero, suggests the Hawks front office (to say nothing of the medical staff) has come a long way (well, not really) since determining the product wasn’t appealing enough to white people.
Harry has been limited to strict “nest rest” in hopes of having him back in the lineup for a possible Game 5 in Atlanta on Tuesday, April 26, according to the Hawks.
“This is a serious blow to our roster for these crucial games on Friday and Sunday. We are asking for all of our fans to send their thoughts and prayers for Harry’s speedy recovery,” remarked Steve Koonin, CEO of the Atlanta Hawks in a press release.
In lieu of flowers or cards, the Atlanta Hawks are requesting well wishes be sent via social media with the hashtag #GetWellHarry.
…or, if you prefer, proof that even the all-time greats can make spelling mistakes. The Milwaukee Record’s Justin Kern retells the tale of former acquaintance Joan, who during her tenure at the offices of a Los Angeles-based law firm during the early 1980′s, had a rather unique brush with fame :
Joan had a hot car and cool attitude and expensive shades. She was a young badass working in music, which she adored. Joan really dug Prince, especially those first hits. So, professional courtesy was one thing, but if there were a chance to meet Prince, she would take it. Further, she had a teen niece back here in Milwaukee who counted “The Artist Then Currently Known As Prince” as her fav. Joan was already the cool aunt for living in Los Angeles, in every way different than Milwaukee. Giving her niece a document of this cool via Prince himself meant a teenage lifetime of adulation and appreciation.
As Joan told it, Prince came to the office with his team of suits. Everything on the paperwork side of things was quick and orderly. Then, with it all wrapped up, Joan slid next to Prince and pulled out a copy of his 1979 self-titled album. She said he was sweet but brief. She introduced herself, then asked, “My teenage niece, Darlene, loves you. Can you sign a record for me to send to her? Can you write, ‘Darlene, Stay Sweet—Prince’?” She said Prince was courteous—”from the Midwest,” as she explained it to me—and quickly scribbled on the album, writing a nicety on a mass produced picture of his own face. Joan thanked him, and the parties parted, this time without any party. Joan said she mailed it out that day in the hurried splendor of a surprise gift given. She made no mention of his outfit or height, nor of his legal team’s possible use of dyed-purple giraffe blood.
A few weeks went by when Joan got a call at her office desk from her brother. He had finally wrestled the Prince LP from his teenager daughter’s hands and got a look-see at the famous autograph. Prince wrote what? The eyes of a father of a teenage girl do not miss such things. From Milwaukee, he called his hot-shot L.A. sister to complain.
“Joan, you idiot, did you read this before you sent it?” the brother yelled. “He wrote, ‘Darlene, Stay Wet—Prince.’”
Despite promising everything from permanent relocation to ratings domination upon his March hiring as as morning host/program director for St. Louis’ KFNS aka 590 The Fan, the most recent incarnation of Dino Costa’s patented brand of egomania and angry-white-male hate fuckery has come to a speedy, if not thoroughly predictable conclusion. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch’s Dan Caesar reports that Costa is leaving KFNS effective tomorrow, failing to maintain even two months of steady employment after alienating co-workers and making things a tad squeamish for benefactor Randy Markel, he of cowboy fetish emporium, Chuck’s Boots.
Caesar writes that Costa — still ensconced in his Wyoming rumpus room — is unwilling to continue doing a show for KFNS if Markel sells or turns stations operations over to a third party. Markel for his part, claims no such deal is in place, yet doesn’t seem especially tearful at being denied Bonkers From Yonkers’ oratory skills.
Markel said Costa won’t be back. Friday “will be (Costa’s) last day — if he’s even on,” Markel said. “I’m not about to drive up to Wyoming and make him go on the air. I don’t even know where Wyoming is.”
And Markel said he is tired of the tumult with Costa, who has made personal attacks against many people in print, on the air and in social media.
“I like Dino, he’s like your crazy brother you have to bail out of jail,” Markel said. “I believe in Dino. He’s very talented. But it’s the BS (he said the words, not the letters) that comes along with him that’s hard to take. He came into this area with a scorched-earth mentality and it just didn’t work. It’s the way he wanted to do it, I wasn’t about to stop him. You hire somebody to do what they do, he tried it. It didn’t work. … It was a constant uproar. Me for one, I’m tired of the drama.”
In the summer of 1984, I was employed as clerk/bag security schmoe at the Copley Square location of Strawberries Records and Tapes, the New England chain store owned by Morris Levy (who may or may not have been the inspiration for “The Sopranos” Herman “Hesh” Rabkin). This was a pretty wild time for the music business with a plethora of blockbuster albums by veteran acts competing for shelf space. In the wake of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’, industry expectations were sky-high for The Jacksons’ ‘Victory’, to say nothing of Bruce Springsteen’s hotly anticipated ‘Born In The U.S.A.’. But both would ultimately be overshadowed (in the aisles of that Strawberries, anyway) by Prince’s 6th album, ‘Purple Rain’.
The store’s buyer loaded up on ‘Victory’ LP’s to an insane degree. THOUSANDS of the fuckers, overstock crammed into every available corner of the store’s back rooms and behind countertops. As you may or may not remember, the album was poorly received, the subsequent stadium tour (co-promoted by New England Patriots exec/heir Chuck Sullivan) bombed and well, the staff of Strawberries had boxes of ‘Victory’ hanging over their shoulders all summer long.
‘Born In The U.S.A.’, was of course, another story. Huge critical acclaim, immensely popular videos (even if the Boss was pissing on the flag, see above), and most importatly, the store had enough stock to satisfy demand, but just barely.
‘Purple Rain’, however is where things got crazy. The film wouldn’t open until late July but the album dropped in June, weeks after “When Does Cry” had pretty much blown everyone away. Despite the fact we had real-live-human beings walking into the store several times a day asking when ‘Purple Rain’ would be out (amongst them, the J.Geils Band’s Peter Wolf, who lived across the street) our store’s manager, for reasons known only to herself, determined that Prince Rogers Nelson was some product of hype and a couple hundred copies of the year’s most eagerly awaited album would be enough.
We blasted thru the available stock within a couple of hours of the doors being unlocked. Customers were outraged, apoplectic that the record they already knew would be the soundtrack to their summer wasn’t available.
An edict came down to tell aggrieved consumers that while we were out of stock on ‘Purple Rain’, we could, however, furnish them with copies of Newcleus’ ‘Jam On Revenge’, which just so happened to be released by the Morris Levy-owned Sunnyview Records.
This suggestion did not sit well with inconvenienced Prince fans. I’d previously not been cursed at in the store before, save for the time Monoman came in to yell at me about a middling review for The Lyres’ ‘On Fyre’ in Matter Magazine (“you should be in prison,” Jeff said…and he was right!). Let’s just say this was my one and only experience being on the retailer end of the Great American Bait & Switch and either I wasn’t very good at it…or Newcleus were way, way out of their league. Maybe a little of both.
So there you go. The music business when it still existed. Needless to say, ‘Purple Rain’ was great, some of us saw the movie twenty times or more and that was the summer Prince went from merely being super popular to the sort of megastardom that caused geniune panic & anxiety in Copley Square.