Mel Kiper…six horcruxes from death.
Somewhere, Todd McShay is polishing his wand.
Because writing an actual article would be overkill, slash because I’m lazy, I give you a chronology of thirty (yes, 30) tweets I vomited onto The Twitter during the first round of the 2011 NFL Draft.
If you’d like more of this mindless chatter, feel free to follow @alexssn (that’s me) and stay up-to-date on all the things that no one really cares about.
Without further ado…
1. You know Jimmy Clausen just took out a huge insurance policy on his laptop. #NFLDraft #Panthers
The Oklahoma City Thunder just won a playoff series for the first time in their brief, three-year history, and I’d like to take this opportunity to pay proper homage to their enormous accomplishment. Congratulations, f**kers. You earned it. Kind of.
You know what, it’s about time we took out some venom on OKC. We’ve spent all this time blaming Clay Bennett, blaming David Stern, blaming Howard Schultz. Why not let the benefactors of Seattle’s greatest heist have it for once, right?
First of all, Oklahoma City, you’ve got nothing on Seattle. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Let me ask you a question. Does anyone in that town of yours even play basketball? Anybody? Because in Seattle, we play on asphalt monuments emblazoned with the logo of OUR TEAM all over the city.
Did you get the Shrek reference in the headline? That was my way of being clever. Because as we all know, Cust’s balls rarely travel that far in real life.
Okay, enough of that sh*t. We won’t ruin the rest of this with too many words. Just observe.
Between this…
this…
Our grumpiest episode yet! And surprisingly, we managed to do it without Divish in the room. Simply amazing.
The first half of today’s show is a testament to unabashed anger, as we carry Grumpy Out The Gate thirty-two minutes deep. After the ranting is complete (Facebook, hot girls at the gym, and pickup hoops all covered in GOTG), we talk Brandon Roy (his blank is so big that you could use the cartilage from his blank to repair his knees), NFL Draft (never trust a ginger athlete), a little hockey, and close out the show with the week’s news.
Check it…
Because it’s already a boring-ass season. And you’ll actually read this…even though it’s about the Mariners.
The Rotation
Felix Hernandez, Million Dollar Baby
Oscar-worthy in every sense.
Michael Pineda, Avatar
The script is slightly unpolished, but you can look past that; the visual effects blow you away.
Jason Vargas, Major League II
On at times, off at times…the one thing you can’t deny: it has its moments.
Doug Fister, Major League III
Like Vargas, but with even more inconsistency.
Erik Bedard, Titanic
Because there isn’t always enough room on Facebook or Twitter to tell an entire story.
If you could hire a mildly-successful-but-currently-washed-up band to play your wedding at an affordable rate, would you do it? I would, and I’d hire Hanson. Then, I’d make them cover Bruce Hornsby all night.
“Look, bro. We don’t even know Bruce Hornsby. How are we supposed to cover him?”
“Don’t ask questions! This is my wedding! I’m paying you $20 an hour to be here! You’ll play what I tell you to play!”
I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t you just hire Bruce Hornsby? Well, for one thing, I’d wager he’s more expensive for events like this. We’re working on a budget here.
Plus, there’s the whole appeal factor. Hornsby’s not nearly as recognizable or exciting as Hanson. He just isn’t. Hanson could walk into a room and everyone would be like, “Holy crap! How does this guy know Hanson?” Whereas with Hornsby, the only people who’d be impressed would be churchgoers over age 50. That’s not a knock on the guy. I still like his music. But I’m weird. And I get that. So it’d have to be Hanson.
Call us quitters, if you must. We almost made it all the way through Lent without Ryan Divish. Alas, mere days before Easter, we caved.
The appendix-less Dickens makes his triumphant return to the big show as we discuss Mariners, NBA relocation, Ashley’s willingness (or lack thereof) to hook up with the hometown nine, the usual grumpiness (including the aforementioned appendix story, the tale of “that guy,” and other related anger), and, as always, the week’s news.
And don’t forget, you can always download all our episodes for FREE via iTunes by searching “Karate Emergency”.
Check it…
It’s been four years since this ad first hit the airwaves. I figured I’d take this opportunity to remind you of whimsical suckiness gone by.
The Double Play Twins. Sure, they couldn’t actually turn a double play. But they were pretty good at grounding into them.
On top of that, they did everything together. Brushed their teeth side-by-side, ate cheeseburgers with one another (Jose might’ve had one too many of those), played Connect Four, practiced the accordion, rode bicycles built for two, and probably Eiffel Towered the heck out of unsuspecting jersey chasers. High five!
Try not to let that cheery tune get stuck in your head for the rest of the day. (Jose and Yuuuuuuuuuni…)
And a special thanks to The Red Hydro for bringing this 2007 commercial to my attention. It takes a hydro to really remember the good ol’ days.
I remember when I got my first Sonics jersey. The year was 1995. I was in fourth grade, ten years old at the time.
It wasn’t the jersey I really, truly wanted. Every kid in school wore KEMP or PAYTON on his back. I wanted to wear KEMP or PAYTON, too. But I had to settle for McMILLAN. These replica jerseys — watered-down mesh imitations made by Champion — sold for forty dollars at regular price. This particular jersey, bearing the name and number of the team’s most unsung player, was on clearance, and therefore affordable enough to go home with me on this day. Thus, I became the only kid at Medina Elementary with the uniform of one Nate McMillan.
(My little brother, meanwhile, became quite possibly the only kid in history with a Sarunas Marciulionis Sonics’ jersey…it was the only jersey they had on sale in his size.)
There are some people you just don’t like.
For example, today I was playing pickup basketball when a dude that I don’t really know all that well kept fouling me. Every shot I took, he’d run beneath me, undercutting my follow-through so that I landed awkwardly. It’s one of the dirtiest moves in sports. You just don’t undercut people on the basketball court. It’s like hitting below the belt in boxing. It’s a no-no.
It’s not just that he was fouling me today that bugged me. This was the second week in a row that dude had performed these annoyingly dangerous little tactics. I had asked him to stop last week and he didn’t. So this week I didn’t ask him. I just hit him. And I told him never to do it again. Sometimes you just gotta hit people. Let that be a lesson, kids: Always keep it real.
I’ll admit I’ve been holding back. There are a lot of things in this world that I think are stupid. I don’t always comment on ‘em. Why do that, right? We all have our pet peeves. No need to air our own dirty laundry. But now it’s time to let it all out.
Note the logo to your left. That’s the logo of an upstart group called Fire Nintendo, flipped on its ass and graffitied with a red X. It’s a beacon of hope for all of us who value creative ingenuity and intelligence. Why, you ask? Great question. Let’s roll.
A few months back, this little group called Fire Nintendo made it their mission to fire Nintendo. Makes sense, right? It’s right there in the title.
This might very well be the greatest Karate Emergency in the history of Karate Emergencies.
I really need to start saying that every week.
Anyway, on this episode of KE we discuss Donkey From Shrek, athlete etiquette in interviews, the Mariners, the Mariners’ fake Twitter account phenomenon, and, of course, a comprehensive breakdown of KJR’s (Bigger) Dance.
And just a reminder, you can download every episode of Karate Emergency (for free) via the iTunes Store, simply by searching “Karate Emergency”. Check it out!
Two years ago, I wrote up a comprehensive preview on 950 KJR’s (Bigger) Dance. It was in-depth, wordy, and fairly popular for how long and drawn out it was. I broke down every matchup in extreme detail, showcasing my knowledge of attractive women and doing my very best to help my readers to victory in everyone’s favorite office pool. Overall, I give it a D-minus. Certainly not my best work, though the photos were worthwhile.
This year, I figured I’d take another crack at it. But in fewer words and with some help. Try to bump the level of quality up to a more satisfactory range.
A firm believer in the power of the opposite sex in this annual celebration of the feminine figure, I enlisted the help of three females in previewing this year’s field. Special thanks go out to Kalisa Beyer, Charmin Flojo, and Zareen Rahman for helping me put this thing together. In addition to their commentary throughout, take a look at their respective Final Fours and champions at the end of the article.
Without further ado, on to the preview…
In case you missed it, Chone Figgins (or as I call him, Donkey From Shrek) got a little upset with the media following the Mariners’ 2-1 loss to Cleveland on Saturday night. As much fun as Figgy could be if he was voiced by Eddie Murphy and hung out with ogres, he’s not much fun when he’s acting like a dickhead to people who are simply doing their jobs. And therein lies the problem.
Figgins’ attitude towards the media is a microcosm of the Mariners’ issues right now. Yes, this team is frustrated. Yes, this team is upset. But good lord, we’re one week into the freakin’ season. If you’re acting like this now, how’s it gonna be in August when the team is 75 games out of first and debating whether your multi-million dollar contracts are even worth it anymore?
And for God’s sake, who do you people think you are? If you want the media to stop asking “dumb questions,” then start winning some games. It’s that simple. You suck at your jobs right now. Isn’t it natural for people to want to know why you suck? Plus, you’re getting paid a lot of money to suck. That doesn’t seem very fair. Most of us don’t suck and simultaneously don’t get paid sh*t. Yet here you are raking in the dough and doing sucky work. That just blows. There’s really no other way to put it. It blows.
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