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Jose Canseco Debuts New Role As Charlie Brown’s Teacher

Jose Canseco muscle bat

When my brother posts something on Facebook I tend to take a look. He has a dry sense of humor that is rather infallible. So something named “Canseco Knows Best”  tagged by my brother with the comment “Important Information for Humanity” got my attention.

It is 48 minutes I’ll never get back. That is one important thing I’d like to share.

I have some other feedback. Read more…

NHL Lockout: Are We Looking at Another 2004-05 Implosion?


As of 12:00AM, EST no CBA has been reached between owners and players in the NHL.

Hockey fans everywhere breathe a collective sigh of, “Shit!”

We’ve done this before. The epic fail of the lockout 2004-05 resulted in an entire season of hockey being lost. But more importantly, it resulted in a spiral of a sport which was just reaching a pinnacle of popularity. There is no question that the lockout of 2004-05 had hugely detrimental results for the NHL and for the popularity of professional Hockey. The hard-working, seemingly everyman image of the NHL became one of prima donna money squabbles and general ultra-rich dude skullduggery.

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Where’s the Respect for the Phoenix Coyotes?

Phoenix Coyote Mike Smith

The Phoenix Coyotes have long been the redheaded stepchildren of the NHL. Berated, derided, bemoaned and largely ignored by NHL media proper, the only news you ever hear about the Coyotes is that their fans suck and that they are moving to Canada (I’m giving you the stink-eye, Winnipeg).

Never projected to even win a game in the regular season, the Coyotes surpassed all successes in franchise history with their performance in the post season. Third round, anyone? Pretty good for a bunch of guys, who according to the media, can’t hold Crosby’s jock to the laundromat. To add insult to injury, constant speculation as to whether the team will have an owner has lead Shane Doan (team captain) to consider offers outside of the Coyotes.

Now, with Phoenix once again being threatened with losing the team, the media piles on with doomsday predictions of Mike Smith, crapping the bed due to staff changes in the Coyotes lineup.

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Cocaine’s A Hell Of A Drug


Ivan Calderon, the 105lb former boxing bad-ass apparently likes blow. I said, likes blow, not likes to blow. Get your mind out of the gutter. Read more…

Fantasy Football, Week One — Or, What Would Neil Rackers Do?

I’ve never really been into fantasy sports of any kind.

I haven’t, I should say, until this year, when I decided to make up for years of blissful ignorance and throw myself headlong into not just one (or even one variety of) fantasy football experience, but four.

I have always been an all-or-nothing sort of person, and it turns out that after listening to my fantasy freak friend go on about her very favorite hobby for three seasons, the curiosity was too much to take.

(And so was the peace of mind, apparently.)

I started to get nervy about it in my mind. “Hey, I could figure this out,” my nervy mind thought. “I have been to one whole NFL preseason game, and I’ve watched several on tv.”

I was not interested in leaving this thing unconquered.

So I did what any good combination slacker/overachiever would do: I printed out a lot of lists of statistics and names and teams and positions. I made lists of guys I wanted to snag for my teams, learned some new terms, and had some heated GCchat time with a fellow new person to the league just before the draft, wherein we took turns saying, and I paraphrase, “OH MY GOD I DON’T KNOW WHAT IN THE HELL I’M DOING! What does this MEAN? I am not drunk enough for this!”

(That last line isn’t paraphrased at all. I remember that one pretty well.”)

But I was still feeling pretty good. I felt that I knew some solid choices that I wanted to make, and I felt reasonably sure that even a person of my feeble football knowledge could read CHARTS, for God sakes. I’m an EDUCATOR. I own MANY HIGHLIGHTERS.

So I settled in, engaging in ridiculous, hilarious banter with the other people in my league, kind of learning to navigate mastering the website, and even feeling a little bit satisfied. I got a decent running back or two. I picked a solid quarterback.

And then I hit the wrong button and picked a kicker — Neil Rackers of the Houston Texans — accidentally. I learned that this was an error based on the string of giggles coming from the draft chat, and the request of a few people that I return next year because it’s not like I was going to pose any kind of threat.

And then I learned a few days later that my first-string QB, Peyton Manning, was almost immediately put on the injured list for a series of neck surgeries. AND I picked a running back — Arian Foster — who has the hamstrings of my grandma, may she rest in peace, so HE was off of my list for the first week.

And it was an ugly week.

But I will say to the haters that my new friend Neil Rackers, playing a Peyton-less, shell-shocked Indianapolis, and my not-too-shabby backup QB Joe Flacco (Go Ravens!) helped me be in last place by only three points. This is saying something given the lackluster performance of the rest of my team. There really isn’t any guarantee that this week will go any better, but thanks are due to my head-to-head opponent and supposed friend, who not only beat me by many, many points, but rechristened my team NiceRackers.

And I have to admit that this has been a lot of fun so far. Foster is supposedly back tomorrow, so we’ll see if my Texans tag team can get me out of the basement. It’s really too bad I don’t own a Rackers jersey yet, but forget about any other deities — around here these days, it’s WWNRD.

Really. What Would Neil Rackers Do?