The young gentlepersons shown above were successfully cuntzblocked from performing at certain establishments in the Pacific Northwest, thus they’ve now taken to toiling in what appears to be a rather large (if not picturesque) junkyard.
The young gentlepersons shown above were successfully cuntzblocked from performing at certain establishments in the Pacific Northwest, thus they’ve now taken to toiling in what appears to be a rather large (if not picturesque) junkyard.
Titans QB Marcus Mariota suffered the above hit at the hands of Dolphins LB Oliver Vernon in Miami’s 38-10 victory earlier today, and the Tennessean’s Jason Wolf provides the protests from the aggrieved parties :
“I think it was BS,” Titans coach Ken Whisenhunt said about the low hit on Mariota. “I think it should be taken out of the game. That’s not the way you play football. I think it was done with the idea of trying to hurt our quarterback, and that’s (BS) football.”
“That’s (expletive) (BS) to do that to a player, to do that to a guy’s career,” Titans left tackle Taylor Lewan said about Vernon’s hit on Mariota. “That was my guy, I blocked him and Marcus threw the ball, and I saw Marcus throw the ball, and that guy jumped in his legs.”
Vernon was flagged for roughing the passer on the play and received a second personal foul for a hit on Mariota later in the game. After the final whistle, he was contrite.
“He came up to me after the game and apologized,” Mariota said, “so I don’t think it was malicious at all.”
2015 postseason bracket by reddit user soccerperson.
Longtime Dodgers trainer Stan Conte manuevered to beat Don Mattingly to the unemployment line Saturday, resigning after 9 seasons at Chavez Ravine. Though Conte is now the envy of every Dodger staffer for never having to deal with Andre Ethier ever again, he does suffer the indignity of having his last appearance at CSTB recalled. From January 15, 2005, “Giants Spill Beans On Ditched Backstop/Shithead” :
Perhaps there was more to San Francisco’s eagnerness to rid themselves of AJ Pierzynski than the catchers love of card games/distaste for meetings with his pitching staff. Bruce Jenkins of the SF Chronicle has the dirt.
One of those now-it-can-be-told stories the White Sox, A.J. Pierzynski’s new employer, surely haven’t heard: During a Giants exhibition game last spring, Pierzynski took a shot to his, shall we say, private parts. Trainer Stan Conte rushed to the scene, placed his hands on Pierzynski’s shoulders in a reassuring way, and asked how it felt. “Like this,” said Pierzynski, viciously delivering a knee to Conte’s groin. It was a real test of professionalism for the enraged Conte, who vowed to ignore Pierzynski for the rest of the season until Conte realized how that would look. The incident went unreported because all of the beat writers happened to be doing in-game interviews in the clubhouse, but it was corroborated by a half-dozen eyewitnesses who could hardly believe their eyes. Said one source, as reliable as they come: “There is absolutely no doubt that it happened.”
(from left to right, ESPN’s Dan Patrick, the moody AJ Pierzynski, and ESPN’s recently sacked Rob Dibble, who is about to learn the hard way that AJ doesn’t like having his shoulders touched by men).
I guess the important thing to keep in mind is that after the dust cleared, the Dog Faced Gremlin was no worse for wear. And yeah, I am grasping at straws to find some positives here.
(Brother J.T., Trailer Space, July 5, 2015)
It was reported a few days ago that A Giant Dog’s new album is coming out on Merge. Great news for a terrific band and a terrific label, and I don’t mean to suggest for instance, that said union never would’ve happened without Trailer Space. But given the store’s role in the band’s live development and that of their peers, we’ll never know for sure, right?
Spot Long confirmed to the local weekly what’s been whispered for a few weeks ; that Trailer Space is going Operation Shutdown at the end of the month. Hands up if you thought East Side Pies would shove out Trailer Space before the new $750,000 houses on Rosewood Ave. Much has already been written about Trailer Space’s clubhouse vibe, about Spot & the store’s cast of characters, and some of it’s even halfway accurate. What’s a little off, however, is the implication that while Spot had a pretty casual booking policy, this was in some fashion a lesser venue in the pantheon of Austin music. Sure, it’s no Saxon Pub or Strange Brew (thank fucking god), but there’s a reason why Trailer Space over the years hosted shows by Fucked Up, Wizzard Sleeve, the Barreracudas, Fred & Toody Cole, Digital Leather, Brother J.T., Unholy Two, Cheater Slicks, Obnox and countless other touring heavyweights. There’s a reason why almost every Austin band worth giving a fuck about ever the last 7 years did a lot of teeth cutting at Trailer Space (including several who eventually found themselves making real records and going on real tours, if not being lionized by Curtin’s colleagues).
(The Blind Shake, Trailer Space, March 15, 2013. Video by Ángel Delgado-Reyes)
Kind of funny how despite having a booking policy that’s compared (by Spot) to open mic night, Trailer Space still managed to host more good shows a year than countless “real” clubs with “real” bookers. That wasn’t nearly as much of an accident as you might think.
(Spray Paint, Trailer Space, March 30, 2012. Video by Ángel Delgado-Reyes)
With the possible/obvious exceptions of Max Meehan and Randall Stockton, no one’s done more to foster a sense of (gasp) community and, y’know fun for the town’s newer, better bands than Spot and the crew at Trailer Space. It’s one of my all-time favorite places to play, one of my favorite places to see a show, one of my favorite places to have someone drunkenly talk my ear off (and I’m not referring the proprietor, not exclusively, anyway).
Measuring the loss of this venue/shop is hard to calculate. Spot’s done his share of the heavy lifting, now it will be down to others to make similar sacrifices/gestures to prevent the creeping creepy Quiet Companization of The Entitlement Capital Of America. It’s absolutely hilarious that while some professional appeasers/p.r. dopes sing the praises of alleged band “incubators” (great training for Star Search, if not the launch of Quiet Company II) an actual, real fucking life incubator was baiting year-round at the corner of 11th Street and Rosewood Ave. A toast to the baiters, believers and those who got their hands (and other parts) very dirty at Trailer Space.
— The 7 Line (@The7Line) October 14, 2015
…but 3 cheers for the Los Angeles Dodgers relievers. Y’know what the 7 Line Army has in common with a real army? Both are guilty of atrocities. In the case of the former, these would be aesthetic atrocities the sort of garish, cretin-designed goods of which only the most sartorially challenged would willingly don. Can you imagine the sort of slow-witted verbal abuse the Dodgers were subjected to the past two evenings at Citi Field? From fans who’ve advocated the electric chair for one of their teammates?
Once upon a time, David Cone was accused of whipping it out in the Mets bullpen, and were he to show up at one of the 7 Line’s beer bashes at Sudsy McFucknuts, chances are he’d be greeted like a conquering hero. So what if the visiting Dodgers told the orange-covered yahoos “boo fucking hoo” or “suck on this” or anything else out of the Oscar Wilde book of quotations? If a Met player said it, you’d put it on a $55 hoodie with one of the lamest fonts ever created.
— Kerith Burke (@KerithBurke) October 13, 2015
University of Southern California A.D. Pat Haden turned Steve Sarkisian’s forced leave of absence into a full-fledged termination Monday, a day after the former Washington head coach failed to turn up for Trojans practice. Since said incident came on the heels of a August booster banquet in which Sarkisian’s drunken behavior put him on something approaching double-secret-probation with Haden, the obvious question is how carefully the former’s tenure in Seattle was vetted. The LA Times’ Nathan Fenno and Lindsey Thiry paint a picture of a man whose difficulties with alcohol were a poorly kept secret, calling the coach’s boozing, “a running joke among Washington players”.
One ex-player said that in 2009, Sarkisian’s first season with the Huskies, the coach sometimes arrived at morning team meetings “smelling like booze and [with] eyes all red, like he’s been on a bender.”
Another former player said he smelled alcohol on Sarkisian during team meetings on “one or two” occasions and, other times, noted that the coach’s eyes appeared to be bloodshot and glazed while he seemed unusually confrontational.
Two other former players said Sarkisian and other coaches regularly consumed alcohol in offices — one said the coach typically kept an 18-pack of Coors Light stashed near his desk — and that he appeared uncharacteristically loud and unsteady on some team flights.
One former player who worked as a bartender at another Seattle tavern said they bumped into Sarkisian and a team staffer in the Edgewater Hotel bar. The player described the coach as “clearly … wasted.” The other player said Sarkisian hugged him, offered to buy him a drink and was “definitely drunk.” The same player said Sarkisian drank “copious amounts of Patron” amounting to “between eight and 10 shots” over several hours during weekly visits to Citrus on Lake Union.
(above : popular recording artist Zac Brown)
Hey, at least someone’s getting Chris Guccione off the hook! The Guardian’s Dave Bry admits he’s thoroughly entertained by the dramatic events taking place during the MLB Division Series’, but pleads for someone (anyone!) to locate the residence of the person responsible for baseball’s postseason intro/outro theme tunage and “find his music collection (I imagine it will be on CD), pour gasoline all over it and set it afire.” Bry’s specific axe to grind is with MLB’s excessive use of “Heavy In The Head”, a collaboration between the Zac Brown Band and Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell, which the author protests is, “an astoundingly dumb song”.
Are you familiar with the Zac Brown Band? They’re pretty much the same as Mouse Rat, the fictional rock band led by dimwitted bohunk Andy Dwyer (played by Chris Pratt) on the popular TV show Parks & Recreation. Mouse Rat songs borrow heavily from the trembly-voiced, excruciatingly sincere music you would have heard at a frat party in the 1990s – Pearl Jam, Candlebox and Hootie & the Blowfish come to mind. They are funny because they’re so bad on purpose.
But the Zac Brown Band is not funny – they’re not trying to be bad on purpose. And they still end up sounding like a paint-by-numbers spoof of lug-headed meat-rock. Here are the lyrics to the opening verse of Heavy Is the Head:
Smoke on the water
Darkness closes in
Cold white hand
In the deep
Will drown you for your sins
Christ. If only.
While I share (to some extent) Bry’s frustrations, it comes as news to me (and perhaps most of you) that Pearl Jam were a knowing self-parody.
We’re about a half day removed from last night’s disastrous 7th inning of the NLDS in which a Chase Utley rolling tackle not only broke up what would’ve been an inning ending double play, but also managed to knock Mets SS Ruben Tejada out of the playoffs. Depending on your perspective, Utley’s either a hard-nosed vet whose penchant for physical violence might’ve saved the Dodgers season, or he’s a serial offender, reduced in the twilight of his career to earn a playoff roster spot thru goonery.
Either way, even the most ardent Mets fan will admit the situation called for some attempt at breaking up the DP, and had the aggressor been, say, Michael Cuddyer trying to interfere with a Dodger infielder, it is highly unlikely said rooters would’ve found the actions nearly as diabolical.
What none of the above explains, however, is precisely how the Dodgers were granted a 4th out or how Daniel Murphy’s flip to Tejada was considered wild enough to nullify an almost-universally observed neighborhood play. Putting aside for a moment the insanity of Cal Ripken arguing Utley’s collision with Tejada, “looked worse than it was” (tell that to Tejada, carted from the field, placed in an air cast and left to hope Wilmer Flores’ storybook 2015 has another chapter), why was Tejada’s foot on the bag worthy of review but Utley’s inability to come within a fuckin’ mile of the sack apparently has nothing to do with whether he’s safe or out? Perhaps Terry Collins was more concerned with Tejada’s immediate welfare to have the presence of mind to make a challenge of his own, but was there no thought of calling Utley out for interference and ruling the inning over? Among other targets, Metsradamus turns his attention to MLB’s video replay crew of Kerwin Danley, Paul Nauert, Brian O’Nora and Tim Welke :
Kerwin Danley, Paul Nauert, Brian O’Nora and Tim Welke are the replay officials. And they jumped through hoops to try to explain why they called Utley safe because Tejada never touched the bag even though MLB made clear when replay was instituted that the neighborhood play wasn’t meant to be looked at by replay. Their explanation was that Murphy’s throw pulled Tejada off the bag so it wasn’t a neighborhood play. Total crap. Tejada was moving towards the bag during the throw and all Tejada did was reach up for it. His line to the bag never changed, so he wasn’t pulled off anything. And yet the replay officials still never came up with a suitable explanation as to why Utley was ruled safe when he never touched the base himself because he never made an effort to do so!!!
So the replay officials will look at a toe off the base all day but nobody looks at that slide?
And neither did Joe Torre, who at least to his credit said the slide was late. I wish he would have conceded that because the slide was late, he should have been called out and so should have Howie Kendrick.
But I do applaud MLB’s ability to make stuff up on the fly to cover their own. Their own who changed the outcome of a playoff game by awarding a safe call to a runner who never had any intention of touching a base.
— Adam Wainwright (@UncleCharlie50) October 8, 2015
Actually, if the numbers are correct, there aren’t millions of kids watching. The viewership leans more towards middle-aged dudes, many of whom suffer from erectile dysfunction, hence all the advertisements directed at them (if you’re not in the 40-55 demo, that’s what all the DraftKings ads are for). There’s a strong relationship between the rights fees MLB commands and the salaries earned by deep thinkers like Wainwright. And unfortunately, Larry Brown Sports’ Greg Papke adds, “he’s far from the first to bring this up, however, as many parents watching with children probably don’t want to have to explain what, exactly, these commercials are for.”
Yes, that would be horrible, having to interrupt an inconsequential bit of television programming to have a frank discussion about human sexuality with one’s offspring. Perhaps Wainwright and Papke would prefer such conversations took place in our wonderful public schools, where our educators are fully encouraged to share all scientific findings with their young charges?
And with that, Chase Utley's history of Met-killing comes to a very quiet end.
— CSTB (@cstbtweet) October 10, 2015
Using the sort of defensive savvy the likes of Jeff Kent could only dream of, LeBron James clarified remarks from early in the week that might give someone the very strong impression he’d recently operated a motorcyle. From the Cleveland Plain-Dealer’s Joe Vardon :
In a video posted to GQ’s website Thursday evening , James told the two editors interviewing him that he owned to motorcycles and a helmet, and made separate, apparent (at the time) confirmations that he rode them.
James also acknowledged during the interview with GQ that his “team” questioned him about his ownership of the bikes, and he responded: “I’m like, “What you think I’m doing? I’m getting a breath of fresh air. I’ve got one life with this, man. So, that’s what I’m doing.”
Now, apparently, that’s not what he meant. Following the Cavs’ practice Saturday, James said: “First of all, I don’t ride motorcycles. Second of all, I was talking about my team, meaning my LRMR team and the group around me. ”
A reporter told James his answer was confusing, given his “getting a breath of fresh air” remarks to GQ. He responded: “I don’t ride them, but I own them. There’s a lot of stuff that I own but I don’t use. I got a coffee maker, I don’t drink coffee. I won four of them, don’t drink coffee.”
MLB Network on Friday offered up Bob Costas and Jim Kaat in the booth. That was an improvement. Costas messed up on the score once, insisted reliever Sam Dyson pitched the last five games of the Rangers regular season when he did not, and referred to Adrian Beltre as Albert Belle. Kaat knows pitching. But he fell on his face when after a blowup between Rangers reliever Keone Kela and Josh Donaldson he tried to play sociologist on TV.
“He’s a young kid,” Kaat said about Kela. “He came out of a tough area where he’s used to a lot of violence.” – Barry Horn, Dallas Morning News, October 10, 2015
Let it be noted that Kela is an alumnus of Seattle, WA’s Chief Sealth International High School. Said breeding ground for gangsters and thugs is also known for producing criminal mastermind Meg Tilly.
Matt Harvey’s unexcused absence from a mandatory Citi Field workout Wednesday left SNY analyst Keith Hernandez, “flabbergasted”, while the New York Post’s David Lennon called Harvey, “the Mets’ version of Alex Rodriguez”. Putting aside for a moment the manner in which one of Hernandez’ 1986 teammates couldn’t bother to attend a World Series victory parade (or that Harvey’s fondness for West Village eateries and the occasional cocktail is not exactly the same thing as being injected with human growth hormone), the New York Daily News’ Bob Raissman finds this all a bit overblown. “The same media types who had a problem with Harvey’s Citi workout no-show, or his initial reluctance to tear down the Scott Boras-inspired innings limit controversy,” reminds Raissman, “were the ones who prematurely bestowed star status on him.”
The lovefest (remember how gaga it got around here during his All-Star appearance at Citi) went far beyond his ability to throw a baseball. Those who now castigate him over such major missteps, routinely portrayed Harvey as not only a talent, but one with attitude and personality. They admired his ability to shuttle seamlessly between star pitcher and bold face gossip column item.
That Harvey was an original, one who appeared to be carrying around a chip on his shoulder while oozing confidence, turned him into a media darling. Harvey gave the Mets an identity, an air of toughness they sorely lacked and desperately needed to change a losing culture inside the clubhouse and with fans on the outside.
We are left to wonder if anyone who took part in building Harvey’s premature legend, saw any signs of this selfish, me-first side they now have such major issues with?
It would be a colossal understatement to say the Marlins’ oft-ridiculed decision to move GM Dan Jennings from the front office to the dugout last spring turned out poorly. On Wednesday, charmless team president David Samson announced they’d be moving in fences in next season (“the thought of a left fielder jumping in the Clevelander is sort of awesome to me”) along with admitting that perhaps a person with no coaching experience above the high school level was the wrong man to manage an MLB club. From the Sun-Sentinel’s Craig Davis :
“Do I regret doing what we did? I think it’s hard to say that I don’t because it did not have the desired result on the field, it did not accomplish what we expected it to accomplish,” Samson said. “So, do I regret coming to that conclusion? Yes, I do. I regret everything that doesn’t work.
As to why Jennings didn’t succeed in turning the season around, Samson said: “I think there were a lot of factors. I think the fact he was coming from the front office, the fact it had never been done, the fact that he came in the middle of the season, the fact he was responsible for both putting players on the field and then what he did with them on the field — it’s why you don’t see a general manager/manager combination because that’s very difficult.
“All this stuff that is being talked about isn’t the case,” Samson said. “There is no power struggle, there is no division, there is nobody angling to take the general manager title away from Dan.
“Everything is the same. Dan has no authority to make decisions, and I would say that Mike Hill doesn’t and I don’t. Jeffrey [Loria] as the owner has all the power, but Jeffrey hears from his group and decisions are made. That’s how it’s always been.”
Said chart smash being of course, the oft-derided, “Ironic” (1996), of which The Guardian’s Ian McCourt reminds us, “the worst part was not the moderate tempo, B major tune but that none of the things she was actually yapping on about were ironic at all. Just plain, ol’ bad luck.”
Now, if Alanis were to ever look to update that song, maybe do a more contemporary remix drawing her inspiration from the Chicago drill scene with a guest verse from Chief Keef or Lil Bibby and she needed some material to mine, then the dark lords of football might be a good place for her to start. The latest newsflash coming from whatever mountainside, brandy-soaked lair Fifa is hiding in these days is that its Ethics Committee – you got that one, Alanis? – is doing its upmost to slap a 15-year ban on Chung Mong-joon (above). Yes, the same Chung Mong-joon who has thrown his name into the hat to replace Sepp Blatter and give football a good spring-cleaning.
“I will mobilise all my experience and resources for the rebirth, the renaissance, of Fifa,” is what he said then and here is what he is saying now: “The fundamental reason why I am being targeted is that I aimed straight at the existing power structure of Fifa,” he raged, before adding that the powers-that-be did not like his thumbs up to South Korea’s 2022 World Cup bid as well as his proposal for a Global Football Fund so that all the poor kiddies out there could have a decent pitch on which to kick a ball. Won’t someone please think of the poor kiddies?
Right now though, The Fiver has no time to think about them as it’s just thinking about food and nor does Chung. He is only thinking about himself and thinking that he is going to get off these charges. “Ultimately, I will prevail and will be vindicated,” he said, putting his dukes up and getting his gloves strapped on by his trainer and brother, Chung Mong-koo. Yes that is the same Chung Mong-koo who was convicted in 2007 for embezzling £53m into a bribery slush fund. Is that irony or just plain, ol’ bad luck?
Though we’ll have to wait another week for ESPN poker analyst / Washington Post columnist Norman Chad to weigh in on the DraftKings/Fanduel insider-trading scandal, The Couch Slouch delivered big time this past weekend in denouncing the dirty deeds of Denver’s Von Miller. The Broncos LB’s “post-tackle groove,” writes Chad, “has morphed from performance art to pornographic act.”
It’s not a sack dance; it’s a hump dance. It involves a pelvic thrust, and when he has finished the frolic, I feel like I’ve just watched “Last Tango in Paris,” minus the butter.
Heck, the next time the Broncos play, it might be the first NFL game rated NC-17.
Am I saying Miller’s erotic sway is sexually suggestive? Madonna on stage in a garter belt singing “Burning Up” is sexually suggestive. Miller’s sack dance is beyond sexually suggestive — he appears to be having unprotected intercourse at midfield, which, back in the day, would draw a 15-yard unsportsmanlike conduct penalty. The league once fined Randy Moss $10,000 for pretending to moon the crowd at a Vikings-Packers game. Uh, if it’s 10 grand to pretend to drop your pants, how is it not 15 grand to pretend to drop your pants and copulate?
The postseason hopes (if not travel plans) of the Houston Astros hang in the balance this afternoon, and with that in mind, let’s once again recall a simpler time in American history when the biggest threats to public safety were not men’s rights activists, White supremacists, video game fantasists or religious fundamentalists, but instead, persons unfairly snubbed by the Astros scouting department.
In defense of the unnamed, just-fired social media functionary sacked earlier today by the Texas Rangers ; he wasn’t the only person who failed to resist the lure of negative tweets during Texas’ 50-7 capitulation at the hands of #4 T.C.U.
Following a dubious crowd-funding campaign designed to coax Steve Bartman into attending the Cubs’ NL Wild Card game against the Pirates this week, the convenient scapegoat for a 2003 NLCS collapse has announced he’ll continue to, y’know, live in hiding. From The Score.com :
With the Cubs set to face the Pittsburgh Pirates, Keque Escobedo started a GoFundMe campaign to “make up for” the troubles Cubs fans have caused Bartman and send him to the game.
“It’s nice of these people to think of Steve but he won’t be taking advantage of the offer,” Bartman’s longtime spokesman Frank Murtha told ESPN. “He’s perfectly capable of attending the game on his own, though he has no intention of being at the wild-card game.”
The good news is, (some) Cubs fans have apparently forgiven Steve Bartman. The bad news : if he turns up at a major sporting event, someone might mistake him for Jared From Subway. It’s also nice to know that despite being best known for destroying the hopes and dreams of Cubs fans, Bartman can afford a longtime spokesman. Might I suggest the money raised for his tickets & airfare to Pittsburgh instead be applied to barring Jim Bruer from Citi Field or SNY telecasts, perhaps with deadly foce?
Of his relationship with A-Higher-Power, Giants reliever Jeremy Affeldt writes, “God is for us. He’s for me. There’s this aroma that I have to remember.” Speaking of something that really stinks, Affeldt, retiring after this weekend’s final games, weighed in at Sports Illustrated’s Cauldron, selecting “5 Things I Won’t Miss About Baseball”. In addition to excessive showboating (“when you flash self-congratulatory signs after a meaningless first-inning single—or, even worse, a walk—you’re clowning yourself and not representing your club or your teammates very well”), Philly fans, Wrigley Field (“the player facilities are an abomination”) and the hassles of travel, Affeldt is really, really fed up with peeing in a cup.
It’s fantastic that the game has since been cleaned up, of course, but the situation never should have been allowed to get so out of control. In fact, because of the years of negative coverage and bad publicity, in today’s environment—despite MLB’s apparent confusion about the meaning of the word “random” when it comes to testing—any hitter or pitcher who excels becomes a suspect. And that makes them subject to more frequent testing. I get that the powers that be view this is a necessarily evil, but the practice also has real consequences.
For example, spending a weekend playing at altitude in Colorado leaves players dehydrated, so when MLB’s testing officials show up at 11:30 p.m. after the Sunday night game has ended, it’s literally impossible to provide them with the mandated urine sample. When ya’ gotta go, ya’ gotta go, but when you can’t … you can’t. That forces the player to stay in the bathroom, being watched like a hawk, for as long as it takes to do his business. There is no dignity in that, but remember: per the Collective Bargaining Agreement, failure to take the test is the same thing as failing the test.
Thankfully, the next time I pee in a cup, it will be for my MLB pension physical two decades from now.
An $10 million defamation lawsuit by a sleepy Yankee fan against ESPN’s Dan Shulman and John Kruk was tossed by Bronx Supreme Court Justice Julia Rodriguez yesterday, not the first time Sir Kruk has fallen somewhat sort of Sir Oscar Wilde. From the New York Post’s Laura Italiano :
“The announcer’s comments lasted barely longer than a minute, and did not rise to the level of defamation, which requires “extreme and outrageous conduct [which] intentionally or recklessly causes severe emotional distress to another,” wrote the judge, Bronx Supreme Court Justice Julia Rodriguez.
Rector had further argued in his lawsuit that Major League Baseball “set the stage” for others to mock and defame him by posting the clip of his napping online, allowing commenters to have a field day. But MLB made no defamatory statements directly, Rodriguez ruled in dismissing the suit.
“Clearly, nothing shown or said which can be attributed to any of the defendants during the Telecast, on MLB.com or on YouTube concerning the Plaintiff rises to the level of an act of extreme and outrageous conduct,” she wrote.
First, I want to congratulate you on having a successful blog. Second, I came across your blog while searching for Dino Costa. I’m actually a fan of Dino. I don’t agree with everything he says but he is entertaining. I do enjoy reading your pieces about him. Though, I do have a question. Who is the guy in pictures that you post in the pieces that you wrote about Dino?
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Dino Costa will be restarting his digital radio enterprise. If you want to learn more, go to www.dinocostaradionetwork.com.
I certainly hope you’re not suggesting Dino’s not nearly that good looking.
Actually, I just wanted to know who that guy is in those pictures. Is he from a TV show or something?
I do believe Dino’s made a few TV appearances — Red Eye, I believe?
Yes, I’m aware of what Dino looks like. You’re misunderstanding what I’m saying. There’s a picture of a guy that you post in some of those blog pieces about Dino that is not Dino. In one of the pics, he looks like a waiter. Who is that guy? Is he from a TV show or movie?
No, actually I’m not misunderstanding a fucking thing. My name is Mr. Running A Successful Blog, not Mr. Reverse Google Image Search Disguised As A Schmuck Dying To Spell Shit Out To You. You continue to insist the gentleman above can’t possible be Dino Costa. Why? Does he somehow look like a person who is particularly reasonable, solvent, pleasant and/or not-at-all-racist? YOU TELL ME.