Hardaway in '08

"If you don't get your figner out of my ass, I'll fucking kill you."

It's official. Tim Hardaway has thrown his hat in the ring with the likes of John McCain, Sam Brownback, Rudy Giuliani and Mike Huckabee for the GOP presidential nomination in 2008. I wasn't aware that the patriarch of the UTEP two-step had an interest in becoming the leader of the free world, but with his initial public statement it's clear that he's actively courting the conservative vote, leaving no doubt where he stands on divisive social issues such as, say, homosexuality. Let's have a look-see at what the former NBA star turned politician had to say yesterday regarding gays:

"You know, I hate gay people, so I let it be known, I don't like gay people and I don't like to be around gay people. I am homophobic. I don't like it. It shouldn't be in the world or in the United States."

Whoa.

While I don't personally agree with the above remarks, I do give credit to Hardaway for implicitly declaring his intention to capture the Republican Party's presidential nomination in a rather unorthodox manner (in an interview with Dan "the Bastard" le Batard on a Miami sports radio talk show) and for making perhaps the most candid statement in political history.

In a later interview with a Fox affiliate in Miami, Hardaway did, however, display some political savviness in attempting to perform a bit of damage control

"Yes, I regret it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said I hate gay people or anything like that. That was my mistake."

Ah-ha, although Hardaway is indeed a novice politician in terms of years, his choice of words proves his political shrewdness. Notice that he did not actually say he doesn't hate gay people; only that he shouldn't have said it--pure genius. What better way to court the right wing of the Republican party than by unabashedly proclaiming your hatred and fear of gay people, declaring that our great nation is no place for such repugnancy, and then following that up with a faux-apology that functions as a "wink-wink" to the conservatives and a display of humanity and compassion to the rest of the nation.

Tim Hardaway is a GOP dream; not only is he black (which brings the previously democratic-leaning African-America populace to the right side of the aisle), but he hates gays too.

Beat that combo, Sam Brownback!

Beirut!

Here's a survey that we can all relate to. I'm not sure if anyone even reads this rag, but those of you whom I suspect read this will be swept back to the days of "I'll take a re-rack," "Drink, bitch," and the saddest words ever uttered in sports, "I didn't even get to shoot."

It's a national beirut/beer-pong survey. The nostalgia is almost overwhelming.

In case you're retarded, the above picture is of the Lebanese capital, Beirut. Since I think calling "Beirut" "beer-pong" is a traveshamockery, I couldn't in good conscience include a picture of the beer-game "beirut" above without actually typing "beer-pong" into google's search thing. I may be on the verge of becoming a blood-sucking lawyer, but I'm not about to compromise my steadfast beliefs jsut to show youse a picture as cool as this. I mean, seriously, I would totally have burnt down 1610 Pine street if I could show that picture to my illegitimate grand kids in 5 years.

Incidentally, is there a better nut than the pistachio? The answer is a resounding "fuck no."

It's Not Like Being Accused of Having Herpes Is Stigmatizing or Anything

Whew. What a relief; it turns out that the wrestling team at Valentine High School in Omaha, NB doesn't have herpes. Thank god.

In other news, it is cold as fuck in NYC today. I still don't understand how anyone lives in climates that have seasons. Granted, I kind of dig snow a little, but when the Pilgrims rolled up with their small-pox blankets and funny outfits, wouldn't they have gotten the fuck out of the northeast when they walked out of their cribs and it was like 20 fucking degrees?

Gut Reaction

Superbowl XLI is in the books; Peyton says goodbye to his little friend; that game was "meh."

The following are instant, unadulterated reactions to tonight's game from your correspondent:

--Is it really necessary for the NFL to refer to the Superbowl with Roman numerals? I'm putting the over/under on how many people actually know what the fuck "XLI" means at 2% of the watching public ... and I'm taking the under. Why can't we just refer to the Superbowl by the year in which it was played. I know that in the 2000 Superbowl (excuse me, Superbowl XXXIV) the Rams won and the Titans came up a yard short and I spilled a bunch of beer on the Mule's dormroom floor during the game and Crackhead John got punched in the face more than once by Big Dan and some random Pike rush showed up and ate all the microwavable taquitos, an act which directly led to Crackhead's imminent and unfortunate demise. I associate these occurrences with that game not because of some lame-ass Roman numerals, but by the year. So let's be done with the X's, L's and V's already.

--Isn't Peyton Manning guilty of a false-start on every play that he's in shotgun with that little step forward of his? Goddamn NFL conspiracy.

--Rex Grossman sucks.

--Prince's halftime show was actually kinda okay ... I think.

--Either I wasn't drunk enough or they didn't ignite enough pyrotechnics during Prince's "set", but the lackluster second half surely has something to do with the lack of smog that needs to descend on the field for a competitive and dramatic ending to the Superbowl.

--The Bears really aren't that good. This means that the NFC totally sucked ballz this year.

--Phil Simms is a douche of a "color guy."

--Considering the Colts are clearly God's team led by a "christian coach," was there any doubt they'd beat a team that starts a guy named Muhsin Muhammad at wide receiver?

--I busted out my Crayola 64-pack and then crunched the numbers, and I've found that not only is Tony Dungee the first black headcoach to win a Superbowl, but the coach of the losing team is also black. Holy fuck!

--The commercials were awful. The only good one (and it was pretty freakin' good) was the Bud Light slap yer face one. Nice work. I was kind of hoping for a sequel to the Dodge robot wars, but instead we got that super-weird Godzilla/Mighty-Morphin Power Rangers thing for the GPS device. Fart.

--Bears kicker Robbie Gould pronounces his last name "gold"--no f'n way; the "U" is in there for a reason.

--That game was kind of weak sauce.

That's it for now. No more football for 8 months. At least we don't have to wait two more excruciating weeks for the Pro Bowl. My prediction: 27-23 NFC.

Do people actually watch the Pro Bowl? I have never seen even a second of it. I'm that cool.

Seriously, though, doesn't Arthur Blank Look Like a Pedophile Who Probably Runs an Amusement Park for Little Kids

Mike Vick was exonerated Monday from marijuana possession accusations stemming from his inexplicable reluctance to relinquish a secret weed compartment waterbottle at Miami International Airport. Hooray! While I was kind of hoping the Dade County DA would have pressed charges so that we could spend the next two weeks listening to the ESPN hacks debate whether Vick's apparent drug "abuse" and possible conviction warranted his relegation to second string duties, this is clearly a better result for it proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that pedophile amusement-park operator and Falcons owner, Arthur Blank, wrote hefty checks this weekend to the Miami DA's office, the TSA and Roger Goodell to keep the face of the franchise off the police blotter. You may be innocent in the court of law, Mike Vick, but the court of public opinion is in session and you're gettin' the chair.

The evidence? Vick unwilling to give up secret weed compartment watter bottle emitting marijuana odor. Works for me.

Good thing Vick doesn't play for the Bengals; somehow things just don't work out so well for those guys.

Is this evidence of a conspiracy to get the Bengals back to their mid-90's heyday involving a double secret alliance between high-ranking NFL brass and law enforcement personnel around the country? I think it is.

We all know the NFL is full of conspiracies, right? I mean, there's no way two black coaches could ever make it to the superbowl ... puh-leeeze.

It's Gonna Be 1985 All Over Again

It's championship weekend, and it's time to make picks that I'm quite sure will be dead wrong.

New Orleans Saints at Chicago Bears (Bears -2.5)

As of this moment, the good folks over at the weather channel are predicting snow for late Sunday afternoon at the spaceship. If this forecast indeed comes to fruition, the Saints may be in a bit of trouble. However, the once-feared Bears defense is a shell of its former self, particularly against the run ever since Tommy Harris went down, which means the Saints will look to drop an enormous Deuce and flash some Bush all over the Bears front 7. Could get a little messy.

If there's snow on the ground, I give this one to the Bears: 23-17

No snow, Saints expose a weak Bears defense: 27-17

















New England Patriots at Indianapolis Colts (Colts -3)

Ah, yes. Nothing like a Sunday night AFC championship game played in a fuckin' dome. Fuck you, Colts.

I think this one's pretty simple. Brady has a 10-0 career record in domes. Manning throws a late pick, and the Patriots show that it doesn't matter who the fuck is on their team as Gostkowski pulls a Vinatieri and ends the game with a 42 yarder.

Pats win: 27-24

By the way, shouldn't the Pats totally go back to these uniforms?

Gimme That!

As I'm sure you're all aware, Miami Internatioal Airport security personnel confiscated a water bottle from Falcons QB Michael Vick prior to his boarding an Airtran flight destined for Atlanta. The water bottle had a hidden compartment that allegedly smelled of marijuana and contained a "substance." Hmm. Criminal charges have yet to be filed against Vick, but Falcons owner, Arthur Blank, and the rest of the dirty-bird's brass are pissed--and rightfully so. 3 years ago Blank signed Vick to a preposterous $137 million contract, at the time the NFL's richest. We here at Calmner'n You Are don't think Vick's that great a QB. The m'fer can sure as shit run around the field with the best of 'em, but in terms of Vladimir Putin that ball where it needs to be, Vick ain't worth the un-flushed log a' shit fermenting in my crapper.

Frankly, though, I can't get mad at Vick for smoking the weed. Everyone does it, especially pro athletes. If I signed a contract for anywhere near $137 million, you can be damned sure I'd be smoking weed all the time, which, for better or worse, wouldn't even be that much more of a frequent occurrence than it is now. (Ir)regardless, while Vick probably doesn't deserve the vitriol being spewed forth by the likes of racist Falcons fans and ESPN, he should be chastised by the stoner community for what amounts to nothing less than sheer ganja-stupidity.

Mike Vick should be charged with the following weed stupidity crimes:

Weed Stupidity Crime #1: Reckless Weed Storage
Oh how I pine for the days when you could strut through airport security with an enormous bag of weed in your pocket. Damn you 9-11 terrorists. You not only ushered in a seemingly endless era of ridiculous foreign policy defined by an amorphous "war on terror," but you made it difficult as shit to get contraband of any kind onto an airplane. Fuckers.

Nowadays, if one has the audacity to bring weed onto an airplane, he must make sure that if he's "chosen" to be violated by an overweight TSA 'broad at the security checkpoint, she won't discover his stash and convert his roundtrip ticket from JFK to Runaway Bay to a non-stop, one-way boarding pass to lovely Guantanamo Bay.

If you absolutely must travel with any form of contraband, the easiest method of transport is the ole' tape-job. Ya' know whatcha' fuckin' do? First, wear baggy pants. Second, if you're a dude, tape the bag to your nutz (if you're a crazy broad, either stick it in your underwears, or tape it to your leg). That's it.

While those employed by the TSA are not rocket scientists, the hidden compartment trick doesn't fool anyone. C'mon, Mike, we all know you and Marcus didn't just start smokin' yesterday.

Weed Stupidity Crime #2: Stash Violation by a Rich Dude

Mike, you're really fuckin' rich. There's no reason why you should need to bring whatever weed you were smokin' in South Beach back to Atlanta. And if you've got a connection problem in Atlanta, get Ludacris on the horn; I'm sure he can help you out.

Weed Stupidity Crime #3: Rich Dude Carrying Own Supply

If you're rich like Mike Vick, I'm sure you travel with your "homies." And if you're rich like Mike Vick, you can afford to have a member of your posse carry your contraband for you. The point here is that if you're stupid enough to try and carry weed onto a plane, at least have the presence of mind to make one of your crew carry it for you ...

Weed Stupidity Crime #4: It's a Fucking Water Bottle, Dumbass!

This one's not exactly a weed-crime, per se, but you've got to be stupid nonetheless to be guilty of it. Unless you've been living in a cave for the last year (speaking of caves, you've got to try some delicious cave-aged gruyere--sicknasty), you know that the TSA has a hard-on for bottles of liquid passengers attempt to bring on a plane.

This is a stupidity double-whammy of sorts. First, we've got Vick attempting to bring a waterbottle onto a plane. Not sure what the thought process is on that one, but it's pretty effin' stupid. Then we've got the hidden compartment trick ... in a water bottle. Ugh.

The long and the short of this is that Vick will get blasted in the media and likely will be forced to enter a drug-treatment program to treat his "addiction." The real story, though, is that Vick is a moron.

Moral of the story? Sure. $137 million can buy you a shitload of weed, but evidently not enough to warrant disposing of your hidden compartment water bottle before you attempt to pass through security at notoriously drug-unfriendly Miami Fucking International Airport.

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Paulie Walnuts phrase of the day: "Malignant Cunt"

In season 4 of the Sopranos, Paulie has put his mah, Nucci, in Green Grove, a high-end retirement home. Sadly, Mrs. Gualtieri has difficulty making friends and is effectively shunned by the community, led by Minn Martone and Cookie Cirillo, old friends of Nucci. In a meeting between Paulie and Cookie's son, Chucky, who Paulie knows from his childhood days, Paulie presses Chucky to get his mom to be nicer to Nucci--it is at this point that Paulie refers to Minn Martone as an instigator and a "malignant cunt." Well said, Paulie.

So, the next time you feel the need to utter a "dirty slut," "filthy ho'" or "stupid bitch"--try a "malignant cunt" on for size. Fits nice, right?

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For all you Rose Hill Drive fanatics out there, ever wonder what the band would sound like if it played the Band of Gypsies album in full? If so, then you might want to give this download a test drive (hey-oh!). Thanks to the guys over at Hidden Track for the heads up on this sick show.

Read what author of Hidden Track's weekly edition of "Grousing the Aisles," Scott Bernstein, had to say about this show here.

Lastly, if you're a music fan and not checking Hidden Track on a daily (if not hourly) basis, you're as stupid as Mike Vick.