Friday, August 19, 2016

OLYMPICS: What happens when that French hurdler dude who false-started has to go back to France and tell people about what happ'd?

Nice head. 

This past Tuesday (or Monday, or it could've been Sunday, I dunno, I can't be held responsible for remembering these types of things), French hurdler Wilhem Belocian false-started in the opening heat of the 110-meter hurdles and was immediately disqualified from the eventending his Olympics experience before it even started.

If you didn't see Wilhelm's gaff, you can watch the clip here. Or you can just skip it entirely. Doesn't matter to me what you do. I already got your pageview, and in the world of #blogging, that's all that counts.  

But poor, poor Wilhelm. It was so sad. And pathetic. And he knew he screwed up the second he heard that buzzer, proceeding to flarf around in a haze of disbelief, with his hands on his head, wondering how he let that happen. Then, as he made his way off the track, he just crumbled to the ground, crying and slamming his fists in frustration. Embarrassed, ashamed, with no one to blame but himself.


Wilhelm's false start epitomized that whole ABC Wide World of Sports agony of defeat thing perfectly. You know, when that ski jumper wiped out and plummeted 50 feet to his death. But this was worse. because at least that guy died. Wilhelm now has to go back to France and explain himself to his idiot friends and family.


WILHELM: Nope. My name is Claude. Claude Giroux.

SOME DUDE: Yoooooooo, Wilhelm! What's poppin' mon ami? It's me, Carl! Carl DeLafleuve!

WILHELM: Oh, hey Carl.

SOME DUDE: Yo, didn't I see you in the news recently?

WILHELM: All right, Carl. Catch ya later my man.

SOME DUDE: Yes. Yes! You were in the Olympics!

WILHELM: Great seeing you, Carl! Hit me up on LinkedIn, aight?!

SOME DUDE: That is so cool, man. That is just so, so cool. The motherfreakin' Olympics! Pole vault, right? I don't know how you guys do that, just run down the track and then BOING.

WILHELM: Hurdles actually.

SOME DUDE: Yes! Hurdles. That's right. Run and jump. Run and jump. Dude, that must be exhilarating.

WILHELM: Yeah, I'm gonna walk out of this store now, Carl.

SOME DUDE: I remember in high school you were ALL ABOUT IT. Like, with the training. Constantly, with the training. I remember asking you to come out with us and you were always like, "Sorry, bro. I gotta wake up at 4am to train."

WILHELM: It was 5:30, but ...

SOME DUDE: And we were like, "DUDE. We got these Dominican chicks lookin to wile out."

WILHELM: I'm an early riser in general, soooo, 5. 5:30. Anywhere in the 5 o'clock hour really.

SOME DUDE: I slept with four women that night!

WILHELM: I sleep in a hyperbolic chamber.  

SOME DUDE: You'd always be eating that broccoli, too. So much broccoli. What'd we used to call you? Broccoli Boy?

WILHELM: It was asparagus.



SOME DUDE: I always doubted you man. But you showed me. Wow. The Olympics. How'd you end up doing in Rio by the way?

WILHELM: What are you doing these days, Carl? Still selling life insurance?

SOME DUDE: Baguettes. Baguettes and pastries. But who cares about me, man? You raced at the Olympics! What's it like? How's it feel to RACE? To be out there, in the blocks, nervous as hell, knowing you worked your whole life for this moment. And then BOOM! Off with the wind.

WILHELM: That's a very good question, actually.

SOME DUDE: You get that medal, dawg? You get that medal? How'd you finish up?

WILHELM: Well, it's not about how you finish, is it?

SOME DUDE: Good point. Good point. It's about the COMPETITION. It's about leaving everything you have out on that track. About the sacrifice. The determination. And just running -- and jumping! lol, can't forget about the jumping!

WILHELM: Sometimes you can forget about the jumping.

SOME DUDE: Hahahaha, yeah. Fuck the jumping! 

WILHELM: So Carl, you don't know where I can get a shotgun around here, do you?


WILHELM: To blow my brains out. That's why I want to get a shotgun. To blow my brains out all over this parking lot. 

SOME DUDE: Aw man. Great seeing you, Wil. I know you're modest as hell, but I'm gonna go home now and pull your race up on YouTube. 

WILHELM: I mean there has to be a shotgun store around here somewhere. 

SOME DUDE: Wait, I can probably just watch it right now on my phone! 

WILHELM: Wellllllllll, probably best on an actual computer. Bigger screen. No buffering. 

SOME DUDE: No no no, I'll pull it up right now. 



WILHELM: I jumped the gun! I got disqualified. 

(more silence)

WILHELM: I didn't even get to race. I did nothing. 

(sounds of little French birds chirping in the background)

WILHELM: I literally didn't do anything. I took a plane ride to Rio. Walked around for a little. And then flew back.

(so many birds)


(cheep cheep cheep)

SOME DUDE: You wanna go fuck some Dominican chicks with me?

WILHELM: Ugh, I can't. I chopped my dick off immediately after the race. 

SOME DUDE: You can borrow one of my extra dicks. I'll give you a loaner. 


Friday, August 12, 2016

Olympics Week 1 Wrap-a-dap Dap-Up

Yo, check out Rowdy Gaines!
Holy fucking shit. 

We did it. After five days of sitting on our couches, we are all now experts on synchronized diving.

“Aw man, gotta tuck the leg there or it’s a six tenths deduction.”

This is a car commercial.

“That's a nice car.”

On Wednesday, I overheard a woman at Jiffy Lube call Michael Phelps the “most decorated athlete of all time.” And while that’s true, and she is using the proper nomenclature, only a person who takes their car to Jiffy Lube would use that kind of nomenclature. (And only a person who writes the world's dumbest blog would use a word like nomenclature.)

But that's ok!

Because people are into the olympics! And that's fun for everyone. So seeing as I am a horrible, horrible person (who completely made up that story about Jiffy Lube), might as well make fun of some stuff.

This fucking guy 
bracelets dot com

Ugh, we get it, dude. You're proud of your wife. And don't get me wrong, she's incredible. But always with the screaming and the flexing and the the pure unadulterated joy? It's disgusting. Also, you gotta wonder why he's ALWAYS alone in the crowd, without friends, without family. I mean, you don't really have to wonder, do you? It's pretty obvious: it's the man bun and OH MY GOD I just noticed that he also has a cross hanging around his neck. Let's end this paragraph exactly how we started it. Ugh.

Aron Baynes's Hair
Anyone happen to have a Getty Images password I can borrow?

Aye aye ayeeeeeeee. Aron, what are you doing? I mean, we know what you're doing. You're doing something outrageous to distract us from your insecurities, and some other part of your bod that you're not comfortable with. The bushy beard. The twirly bird haircut. I understand. I do this every day -- with my glasses and my funky sneakers -- all in an effort to take attention away from my 47-inch dork (which I conveniently cram inside my own asshole at all times).

What the freak is 361º? 
You're not gonna believe this, but you're about to get some real, actual information from TVMWW. 361º is a Chinese sporting goods company and the official uniform provider of the 2016 olympics. The brand started in 2003 (that's not interesting, I don't know why I included that) and lists its main rival as that Li Ning company, the Chinese shoe brand that sponsors Dwyane Wade and Evan Turner and no matter how many times you type the words Dwyane Wade into a computer that D-W-Y move will throw you off every time. Anyway, the 361º refers to "meeting the athlete's needs for professional functionality, plus an added degree of innovation and creativity," which is probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard but then again here I am writing a blog while the Chinamen who started 361º are ROLLIN IN YUANS (it's Chinese currency! I looked it up!).

Swimmers wear sneakers? 
Honestly, I'm ready for a little something more out of the swimmers when they're announced before the race. A couple of British dudes have done stuff -- I saw one guy dab -- but it's time to ham it up, do the Hulk Hogan hand-to-your-ear thing, raise the roof, lick your own nipples, lick someone else's nipples, chop off your SOMETHING.

How bout those little diver dudes with their little bathing suits? Have you ever seen more defined pelvic bones? 
After 4.2 billion years on Earth, men are finally showing more skin than women. I remember some chick I hooked up with in college told me that her favorite part of a man was where the pelvic bone met the hip. I'll tell you what, I gave her my pelvic bone! No I didn't. I massaged her feet for like an hour and then threw up in a trash can. Once again, this story is like 34% true (basically I once heard a girl say the word "pelvic bone").

Ryan Seacrest, my man, there can't be one person on this earth who has actually logged onto Facebook Live to see what the fuck you're up to. 
That being said, I support you.

I apologize for not talking about Aly Raisman's butt or men's indoor volleyball (which is by far my favorite sport) or Rowdy Goddamn Gaines, but I gotta go do some stuff!

Track and Field starts tonight!

Hit it, Ja!

Friday, July 29, 2016

A Letter to my Younger Self (Philly Sportsfan Edition)

This is not me. This is Dave Winfield,
who I did a book report on in 4th grade. I think I got a C. 

Evster's note: This post was deemed TOO HOT for CSNPhilly, so I'm posting it here instead. 

Dear Evster,

You know that girl in your English class with the enormous yogg yoggs?

Jenny Rothstein.

Of course you know her. In first grade, she barfed all over her desk and tried to scoop it up with her shoe. Still, to this day, you call her Pukeahontas. Well, be nice to poor Jenny, because in three years, she’s going to be DOWN FOR WHATEVA.

Get your thrills in now, Evster, because victories in the future will be few and far between. In 1990, you will get your first taste of heartbreak when Eagles’ owner Norman Braman fires the greatest coach in Philadelphia sports history (for winning). Two years later, another punk-ass billionaire will trade away Charles Barkley—for a white guy, a bag of Fritos and this clod:

These moves will change the way you look at sports forever, Evster, introducing you to the notion that no matter how much you love Philly teams, or how many caricature tees you own, it’s the owners, and the owners only, who are in control. They will buy and sell your heroes like cattle. They will charge $12 for nachos. They will promote Rich Kotite, draft Shawn Bradley and omg wait til you see Shawn Bradley he’s like a total human suck machine.

Cherish the Gang Green defense and the Thump and Bump Sixers, because once they’re gone, sports will go limp. No longer a place where third-string linebackers are paid to injure kickers. Or heckling fans are thrown through plate glass windows. You’re entering an era that prohibits taunting (seriously!) and protects quarterbacks (ugh). In hockey, you’re not even allowed to blast a guy in the brain anymore. Sad!

In 1993, your sadness will reach a whole new level as Joe Carter will crush your soul with a bat. At first, you will blame Mitch Williams (and you should), but years later, after you’ve matured and gained perspective, married and settled down, you’ll realize that he’s just a flawed human being like anyone else, and you will forgive him. Don't. The guy is a dorf. So is Curt Schilling. And even though Darren Daulton has hair like a horse, he’s a LOON. Even Nails, good ole adorable Nails, cuckoo! cuckoo! These men are not heroes. They are simply men. Although the jury’s still out on Mickey Morandini.

Later that year, you’ll meet a tall, string bean of a kid in Lower Merion High School’s gym. You and the string bean will go on to become good friends, and you’ll hook up for alley-oops in front of packed gyms all over the state. You will soon lose your virginity (LET’S GO), not to the string bean, but to an older chick who has an affinity for no-look passes. In the years to come, the string bean will go on to achieve bonkers success (like, super duper bonks, like, I can’t even explain it) and haters (that’s a word for people who hate stuff, dumb, I know, but it kinda works) will constantly ask you annoying questions about him.

“Was he always such a prick?”

“Do you think he raped that chick in Colorado?”

“Did he ever try to rape you?”

Tell them he was your friend. And that he was always nice to you. And that he, like everyone else, is just a person. People won’t quite understand that, but it’s important to remember. Everyone is just a person. Everyone gets diarrhea. You will get it a lot. You will even start to enjoy it.

Dorf, Dorfburger and Dorfenstein pose for a pic. 

In 2004, or 2005, I dunno, you lose track of years when you're older, and shin hair, the Eagles will light up the league—and it will be glorious. Sadly, their quarterback (a moonwalking space cadet who you will sort of love, and sort of hate) will barf during the Super Bowl™. Like, literally, during the game, onto the field. The Eagles will lose (obviously, I mean the guy friggin’ barfed all over himself) and later that night you will start experimenting with drugs. Do them. Do them all. Try every flavor of Ben and Jerry’s. There are now so many.

It won’t be until 2008 that the city tastes another championship, and even that one will feel sort of lame. It’s baseball, which is fine, whatever, but in the years to follow, you’ll meet countless Philadelphians who named their dogs Chase. These people are nutsos. Stone cold nutsos.

By 2012, you’ll be unable to focus on sports for more than eight seconds at a time, or do anything really, thanks to a virtual chat room called Twitter. I realize that none of those words mean anything to you, but let me tell you, this thing will RUN YOUR LYFE. You will spend your days typing out words on a miniature telephone/space machine for the sole purpose of getting complete strangers to tell you how funny you are. This thing will CONSUME you. And probably ruin your marriage (although right now, you are making a concerted effort to use it less, and “be present” with your wife, especially when the two of you are watching your favorite TV show, The Bachelorette). Twitter will be by far the worst thing ever created. It’s the best.

In 2016, the world will turn to shit. The Sixers, Eagles, Phillies and Flyers will all finish in last place. But then the Sixers will draft the greatest player in the history of the world. I’m telling you, Ev, wait til you see this guy pass the rock. He’s like Magic Johnson without the AIDS.

Oh, by the way, Magic Johnson gets AIDS.

And AIDS is a thing that kills people.

But not Magic. Because he really is magic.

So is Jenny Rothstein. Be nice to her, Evster. Invite her to a Dead Milkmen show. Because if you don’t, and Jason Eisenstadt does, he will never, ever shut up about it.


- The Evster

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

The Bachelorette: Will JoJo Be the First Bachelorette to Bang FOUR DUDES Instead of Three?!

This show is so goddamn disgusting.

First of all, I'm not calling hometown dates "hometowns." That's not even a word. And you don't get to become a world famous local online celebrity/television personality by using words that aren't words. You get to be one by talking about people fucking.

Besides, that's what hometown dates are all about. They're about JoJo choosing who she wants to fuck -- because anyone who makes it to next week gets to fuck a person on national television. Actually, three people. JoJo gets to fuck three people next week on three consecutive nights. That's called a "triple bing-bong."

It was bullshit of Chris Harrison to postpone the rose ceremony for another week, but it doesn't matter because nothing matters because Scott Baio was the featured celebrity speaker at last night's Republican National Convention. Also, we already know who JoJo is picking (to have sex with).

Forget about the smokescreen with Luke, she's going to fuck Luke. No two human beings have ever had as much intense raw passion when they kiss as those two. They're going to have a great time fucking. I'm happy for them.

Aaron Rodgers' brother is gonna make it through to the fuck round too, only because why wouldn't you want to have sex with Aaron Rodgers' brother. God bless him.

Mr. Boringpants is too boring to fuck. Besides, his dad has a goatee.

And Robbie the Blow-drying Blow-dry Guy has rock-hard abs, so JoJo will want to fuck him as well -- just so she can taste those rock-hard abs, getting on her hands and knees in front of him, hovering over his stomach, letting little dabs of spit trickle down into his stomach crevices, and then taking her nipples and slowwwwwwwly dragging them over his skin, watching the saliva stretch from his abs to her nips, while Scott Baio's 2003 movie Dumb Luck plays in the background, which you can watch now for only $2.99 on Amazon Video.

Good doggie.

Honestly, I'm a little surprised that Aaron Rodgers' brother is still in the mix. The guy admitted last week that he's a picky eater. And then this week he takes JoJo to his old high school?! Ugh, if I were to take a lady to my old high school, it'd be like:

"Okay, this is the bathroom where me and Jamie Schwager used to take a shit. And this is the bathroom where a kid once took a shit on the floor. And this is the bathroom where I used to wash my dick in the sink just in case Lisa Gramberg wanted to give me a hum-job after school (she didn't). Great school, huh?! Let's go check out the metal shop. I gotta take a shit!"

I guess the real benefit of hometown dates is getting to meet the families, and deciding who has the most blatant case of mental illness. When my wife and I were first dating, and it was getting pretty serious (fucking), she asked her mom what was truly important when looking for a spouse. Her mom said "finding a man whose family doesn't have a history of mental illness." Seriously. That was it. That was the only thing that mattered. Turns out, the Monskys turned out squeaky clean on that one!


Of all the people we met last night, besides the guy with the goatee, it seems like Robbie the Blowdrying Blow-dry Guy might have the most screwed up family. So dramatic. So Florida. And owners of this sassy umbrella!

Shoulders so wet. 

Plus, after JoJo told Robbie's mom that she was falling in love with him, and "not to tell anyone," Robbie's mom went right to the camera and spilled the beans. That woman is a maniac. Did you see she was wearing a half zip-up blue fleece? Or wait, that was Captain Boringpants' mom. Either way, nutso boom buttso.

The only ones who came out looking good last night were Luke's horses. Those were some truly beautiful beasts.

Maybe that Argentinian dude from last week will fuck them.

That guy might actually be Scott Baio.

Thursday, June 16, 2016

O.J.: Made in America Part III -- Joe Bell Needs His Own DocumentaryImmediately

"My name is Froggy Frog Voice! You know who I am, god dammit!"

Let me let you in on a little television secret that you might not know because you're not a world-famous local celebrity/television blogger who has appeared on multiple podcasts and radio shows and was once recognized by a fan in a South Philly bar after COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY blowing up the bathroom. 

The next-door neighbor is always the funniest person in the show.

From the earliest days of TV, the next-door neighb has supplied comedic relief for the bigger, more serious and annoying stars. Think about it. On Leave it to Beave, there was Eddie Haskall. On Laverne and Shirls, it was Lenny and Squiggy. Family Ties had Skippy. The Cosby Show had Kenny aka Buddddddddd. And now today there's guys like Leon from Curb (and yes I know that he's not technically a next-door neigb, he lives with Larry, but whatever, he's still a houseguest. Stop being annoying.). So it should come as no surprise that Joe Bell aka Froggy Man McGee aka Captain Froggy Voice aka Kermit the Frog Jr. Jr. continues to steal the show night after night after night. 

Last night, the dude was on the screen for a grand total of mayyyyyyyybe 90 seconds, and it was by far the highlight of the episode. The story he told about AC protecting OJ in high school was straight-up bizarre, not because AC was ready to take a bullet for the Juice, but because that was one of the most fucked up practical jokes I've ever heard in my entire life. 

For those of you who didn't watch last night -- because you were out Tindering, or reading a stupid book about dragons -- I'll break it down for you. And by the way, I do not want to do this. I do not want to have to describe to you what happened in the previous episode because you're too good to pay for cable. This is not some recap website. This is a blog offering social, political and sexual commentary. I can't be wasting my time catching you up to speed because you needed to go to bed because you have a JOB. Whatever, here's what happ'd. 

Basically, when OJ and AC and Frank the Frogman were in high school, some teenage idiot brought a gun to school. Not a big gun. Not like a big, freaking gun that you'd use to, oh, I dunno, slaughter 49 innocent people at an Orlando night club, but a little pistol, the kind you'd shoot off at the start of a relay race. But still, a gun, that could kill someone, with bullets. 

Anyway, with the gun in their possession, Froggie Frog Frog and his buddies decided to play a practical joke on OJ where basically they were gonna walk up to him and pretend that they were going to shoot him. Now, I'm no prude. I have held a gun once, and been in a car with a guy who shot a gun out of his sunroof (which is an unbelievable story by the way, and one that I'll share with you when the person who shot the gun is dead). And I understand practical jokes. I get it. You set up a scene and pretend it's real, get a person allllllllllll riled up to the point where he's bugging out, and then BOOM! Ashton Kutcher jumps out of the bushes and yells "YOU GOT GORPED! YOU GOT GORPED!" And everyone laughs and the guy who got gorped breathes a huge sigh of relief and noogies are exchanged and then you all stand around and have a deep analytical discussion on why Mila Kunis would marry such a complete doorknob. 

But this, this was no practical joke. 

This was a group of idiots pretending to KILL THEIR GOOD FRIEND. 

A practical joke would've been something like giving OJ a can of peanuts and when he went to open them a gun popped out. Or planting the gun in OJ's locker and telling the principal that OJ was planning on murdering his girlfriend. A practical joke would've been pretending the gun was a dick and slowwwwwwwly sliding it into your mouth, feeling the cold steel on your lips, then dragging it in and out, lightly tapping it on the end of your tongue, pulling it away, watching the saliva stretch off the end, then jamming it deep inside, more saliva, now drizzling out of the side of your mouth, your heart rate increasing, unsure of what's coming next, staring down the barrel and now that I think about it I'm not actually sure I know what a practical joke is. But I do know that teenagers are idiots. And that Joe Bell and his friends lived a much more exciting childhood than I did. Even though when I was 13 a woman moved into the house next-door to me and for the first two weeks before she got curtains she used to undress right in front my bedroom window. It was incredible. I hope one day one of my friends murders someone some I can tell that story on camera. 

Anyway, Joe Bell is the best. AC is the man. And Marcia Clark's hair looks FANTASTIC these days, doesn't it?!

You go girl. 

Bout time you figured that shit out. 

God bless. 

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

O.J.: Made in America Part Deux -- Piece of Shit Power Rankings and my Top 5 Favorite People in this Doc (so far)

This movie was called A KILLING AFFAIR!

OJ Simpson is a piece of shit.

There were a bunch of other takeaways from O.J.: Made in America Part Deux -- like OJ Simpson being a complete piece of shit, and OJ Simpson being a total toilet piece of shit, and the fact that ESPN (a station that at one point in time broadcasted lumberjack competitions) showed footage of a teenage girl getting SHOT IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD AND KILLED -- but the ultimate takeaway from last night was that OJ Simpson is an abusive, womanizing, egomaniacal, insecure piece of shit who murdered his ex-wife and her Jewish boyf in a jealous rage.

If we were to compile an O.J.: Made in America Piece of Shit Power Rankings, the Juice would obviously come in at #1, followed by:

#2 -- that cop who beat up Rodney King and then was all GIDDY AND SHIT after being found not guilty, smiling for the cameras like he was accepting one of those giant checks on behalf of the Big Brothers and Big Sisters organization. What a colossal piece of shit.

#3 -- Mark Fuhrman, ugh, Mark Fuhrman, who still after twenty years has not learned to shut the fuck up. Furhms claimed that the only reason Rodney King got the shit beat out of him was because the LAPD was banned from using choke holds, as if cops were just strolling around South Central putting motherfucking gang-bangers in the Camel Clutch, and then going off on their merry ways.

#4 -- Police Chief Darryl Gates who ABANDONED HIS POST during the Rodney King riots. How is that even possible?!

#5 -- And coming in hot at number five is the guy who threw a brick at Reginald Denny, the truck driver who got, well, basically blasted in the head with a fucking brick.

By the way, that guy who hit another man in the head with a brick, Damien "Football" Williams (what a stupid nickname by the way), was later convicted of mayhem and misdemeanor assault and sentenced to 10 years in prison. In 1997, he was released for GOOD BEHAVIOR, but in 2003, he received a life sentence after he KILLED A HUMAN. 

I was 15 years old when the whole Rodney King shit went down, and of course I was aware of it, I remember the whole "Can't we all just get along?" thing, especially Damon Wayans making fun of it on In Living Color. I remember the fires spreading during the riots and the looting and wondering how people could carry giant 19" televisions with such ease. I remember watching Reginald Denny getting pulled out of his truck and HIT IN THE HEAD WITH A FUCKING BRICK. But at 15, I wasn't really aware of the gravity of the situation. Or maybe I was. I can't remember, it was 24 years ago, but at 15, I was mostly interested in jacking my dork, playing basketball, jacking my dork some more, rubbing my dork against various mattresses or boxsprings or mailboxes, and then trying to jack it completely off my body. So last night was truly re-eye-opening. I spent a good thirty minutes just staring at my television in awe while Rocky Road ice cream melted in a puddle in front of me. That 911 call with Nicole screaming in terror while OJ beat her in the background was fucking horrible. Whether or not I jacked my dork immediately after the doc is simply RUMOR AND HAPPENSTANCE, but I'm not denying that it didn't happen either.

Look, as much as this blog is about examining the male-female dynamic through the lens of television, it's also about jacking dorks. It's mostly about jacking dorks. And despite the fact that this OJ film is sad and incredible and amazing and horrifying, there are also some unbelievable characters in the film worth taking about.

So let's break down...

The Evster's Top 5 Favorite Humans We've Met in the Doc (so far):

#5 -- The Reverend from A.M.E. church

I apologize for not knowing this dude's name, I googled to try and find it but failed, but this guy is friggin' incredible. He opened the night up by talking about "the last, the lost, the least and the looked over," a phrase that I will absolutely be using in every post I write about the Sixers from here on out. And his reaction to the Rodney King verdict, with a single tear streaming down his face while he told reporters he felt "utter pain" was heart-wrenching. I love that man like a brother. Even more than a brother. I literally can't stand my brother. He gave me so many typewriters as a kid (that's the move where you pin someone down by sitting on their arms and then tap your fingers HARD against their chest over and over). It's pretty much the ultimate move and I can't believe it was not incorporated by Greg The Hammer Valentine.

#4 -- Danny Bakewell's ring

What is that? A seashell?

When they show flashbacks to the 90s of Danny Bakewell, look for the ring! He's been wearing it forever. I wonder what the symbolism is. I wonder where he got it. It's also incredible that he wears cufflinks and one of those metal thingies that goes behind your necktie. I wish I had the confidence to rock shit like that. I have trouble wearing these sharp green Kermit the Frog Puma sneaks I recently bought with navy blue laces. I also have trouble wearing men's underwear. Danny's beard/hair combo is also fantastic.

#3 -- This Video of Roy Firestone

I actually don't like Roy Firestone, I think he's a massive weenie, but you have to watch this video to see what he's up to these days. He's a singer, impressionist AND comedian. It's MIND-BOGGLING.

#2 -- Joe Bell

OJ's frog-voiced childhood friend stole the show again last night, with maybe the best line of the doc, telling OJ, "You are breaking the laws of God!" I could listen to this guy talk about anything. I swear, he could read the phone book and it would be the #1 most downloaded podcast on iTunes. We can make this happen.

#1 -- This Guy

I've never.
Have you ever?

I mean, have you ever in your entire life?

What a world we live in.


Part 3 airs tonight at 9 (or you can watch ALL THE EPS whenever you want on ESPN Watch). You can also listen to a Fresh Air interview with Ezra Edelman and Jeffrey Toobin (he wrote a book about OJ) here. It's friggin' great. 

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

OJ: Made in America -- Part 1 -- Lotta Signs This Guy Was a Sociopath!

Sixty cents!

Look, let's get one thing clear right off the bat: there's gonna be spoilers in this post. And I recognize that sounds ridiculous, because, I mean, c'mon, we all know what happens in this story (OJ fucks a dog!). But all I'm sayin' is that this doc uncovers some unbelievable shit that's probably best discovered in real time, and not in some shitty recap on some shitty blog that comes and goes as it pleases.

That being said, you've been warned. So if you watched Part 1 and wanna keep reading, go for it. But if you're a dumb fucking idiot who still hasn't watched OJ Made in America, abandon ship now. Or don't. I don't give a shit. I really don't.

JK, I do.

I care so, so much.

More than you will ever know.



I'll give a little buffer for those who still haven't bailed.


OJ fucked a dog?!?!?


Who knew?!

Absolutely amazing.

It all makes sense now!


Let's start by talking about that opening scene. WOWZERS.

I'm talkin' about OJ's parole hearing (which was absolutely fascinating). Specifically when the dude asked OJ what he does in prison on a day-to-day basis.

Hearing OJ explain his duties as a porter -- mopping floors, cleaning up on the unit -- and then quickly moving on to working in the gym -- rubbing down the equipment, disinfecting the sweaty, disgusting weight room  -- was so, so, so sad. And I don't mean "sad" like SAD SAD, like he was one of those children in Slovakia who was born without feet, I mean, pathetic. But also sad. Because the whole thing is just sad. Even hearing his excitement about coaching a team in prison, and how proud he was that his team of old heads beat the youngsters. It's all sad. Especially the two people that he chopped up in his front yard. And he really chopped them up.

But that first 90-second scene perfectly captured OJ's fall from grace.

And then when that dumb white bitch asked him about his first arrest in 1994...

I get it. I understand that it's probably protocol for those stupid parole officer people to ask prisoners about their first run-ins with the law. I'm sure she asks that question to all of the inmates she faces on a daily basis. But she could've had a bit more tact. She could've been like, "Hey, OJ, look, we all know what happened in 1994. You cut that lady up. And that other dude. I mean, it was the biggest case the world has ever seen. I legit watched the whole thing. I even bought a t-shirt. Nice shirt! And I know you've talked about it and thought about it ad nauseam, but I have to ask about it, so, let's just go over this real quick. It says in 1994 you were arrested for the first time. Can you talk about that please? I loved your work as Nordberg by the way. Is Leslie Nielsen's nose really that big? I'm a fucking asshole by the way."

But no. Instead she just threw it out there like a big, dumb, white person. And OJ was right to be pissed. He was right to be taken aback. But still, his response? That sharp, "Are we really gonna talk about this?" with a look of disgust. You could sense real anger inside of him. And I know, he's a murderer, so obviously we all have our antennas up and looking for that hidden temper, for any sign that he's the sociopath we think he is, but that first scene was just brilliant, and set the stage for the entire 47-part story that Ezra Edelman is going to tell. Former football player and super celeb with an unbelievably smooth chest, who goes into a jealous rage and kills his ex-wife and her boyf in cold blood, and eventually becomes a lowly prison janitor who coaches some weird prison sport that he doesn't name (basketball? football? shuffleboard?!??!) .


Joe Bell's voice?

Have you ever heard a person speak like that? Do you think he's always talked like that? He must have. He must have had that same froggy voice as a kid. I can't believe he doesn't have a nickname. Like, Froggy Man Johnson. Or Bob Froggenstein. I grew up with a kid (named Dickdog) and he had a ridiculously raspy voice, and that was literally his whole identity as a child. Anytime he spoke it was hilarious. He eventually grew out of it, and is now married (to a woman!) and speaks like a normal person. But still, Joe Bell is incredible, and it seems like he's been waiting 20 years for someone to come find him to talk about OJ. I tried to find him on Twitter. I failed.

Ummmmmm, uhhh, okay, OJ just stole AC's girl in high school? And married her?!

What kind of raging lunatic steals his best friend's girl? I mean, Tony Parker fucked Brent Barry's wife. So maybe it happens more than we know, but still, the signs that OJ was a colossal piece of shit were evident from his teenage years.

And yes, granted, every teenager is a colossal piece of shit, but OJ was obviously a total fuckface too.

Plusssssssss, OJ's dad was gay?!?!?!? 

I'm not saying that's a make-it-or-break-it detail, I'm not even sure what a make-it-or-break-it detail is, all I'm saying is that that could explain some stuff. Specifically OJ's abusive past and overall misogynistic ways. Also, the story itself was incredible. The fact that his dad came to the door in a robe. And the other guy was in a robe! I feel like robes are an essential part of living in San Francisco. It's so cold there! Yet not tooooooo cold, but just kinda perfect for robes. I own a robe. I love it. I'm also gay.


Or at the very least forced himself on her. Ripped jeans??!?! How does one rip another person's jeans? By raping them, that's for sure. Jesus fucking Christ that was a big bopper right there. Can you imagine not watching this doc and hearing this information from me on this stupid website?!?!?

I used to work with a lady who wore ripped jeans to work and I constantly told her it was inappropes. She showed off her entire thigh and stuff. She always responded by saying "who gives a shit" but I'm telling you it was bizarre. She also went on vacation to Las Vegas. She might have been crazier than OJ.

Lastly, the Electric Company. What an incredible, incredible nickname. 

Because they "turn on the Juice." Brilliant. But even more incredible was how charming and personable OJ seemed to be. The consummate professional. The perfect teammate. Even how he put 3,088 yards on his offensive line's bracelets and not 2,000, because that's how many yards they gained as a team. That's some real next-level, sweet-talking charm and manipulative bullshit right there. What a guy. I honestly love him.


I think that's about it for part one. I'm gonna try to write recaps for each part of this series, but let's be honest here, there's no way I'm writing recaps for each part of this series.

Anyway, go fuck yourself. I don't owe you guys anything. Also thanks for reading.

Part 2 is tonight at 9pm on ESPN, and they're re-airing Part 1 at 7pm.
Part 3 is on Wednesday.
Part 4 is on Friday.
Part 5 (the final part) is on Saturday.

I know that because I have it all written down on my calendar.


This is a Star Wars calendar and has a picture of the new Darth Maul guy above it, whatever his name is. Kylo Ren? That's his name. I know his name. I was embarrassed by the calendar, that's why I didn't capture that part of it in the pic. How could this possibly be interesting?

Monday, April 25, 2016

Game of Frones S:6:E1: Five Reasons This Show is Bullshit

Do you think that's real dirt on her neck? I don't.

I know, I know, the red hot Fire Lady showed off her San Antonio Saggers -- and we'll get to that, we'll certainly get to that -- but there were a few other things that are worth discussing from last night's season premiere of GAME OF FRONES.

I think I'm going to start capitalizing GAME OF FRONES whenever I write the words GAME OF FRONES. It just seems like the right thing to do. Kind of like when you say the word WOWZERS. Not like you ever say WOWZERS, but if you did (and you don't), you would never just say the word wowzers. You might say WOWZERS BOWZERS. I know I would (and just did). Honestly who gives a shit. Who gives a shit about anything anyone ever does on this stupid planet.


I read a review this morning in the NEW YORK TIMES (that's another one worth capitalizing) that basically just recapped the episode for anyone who didn't see it. I mean, that's not why people read recaps. It's not like you wake up in the morning and you're like, "I missed GAME OF FRONES last night! Oh well, forget about On Demand, I'll just read the recap." No. You want insight. You want ANALysis. That's why you come to TVMWMWMWWWWW. At least that's why I think you come here. I seriously have no idea why you come here.


It's for my world famous hard hitting GAME OF FRONES breakdowns. So let's break some stuff down. Ugh, it took four paragraphs to introduce this post. That's way too long. OMG STOP COMPLAINING.

That Jon Snow "TRAITOR" sign was a piece of shit. 

Most obvious font I've ever seen.

Dude, this show has a multi-million dollar budget. They can do all sorts of ill shit. They've made dragons and castles and chicks with webbed feet. You're telling me they couldn't make a more realistic-looking "Traitor" sign? It's all crooked. And dumb. And looks like one of those "KEEP OUT" signs you might see at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World. Does that ride even exist? It must. Look at that font. What a stupid font. Fonts are very important. I like Garamond.

Theon and Sansa would've died walking through that freezing cold river AND YOU KNOW IT. 

I don't care how many dicks you've had chopped off, there is no way anyone could walk through such freezing cold water without dying immediately. But Theon and Sansa just gave a couple gasps and next thing you know, they're shivering under a tree. Stop it. I stepped in water in my socks during my Passover sedar Friday night and didn't shut up about it all night. I legit took my socks off under the table and tried to warm-squeeze my foot during the Four Questions. It didn't work. Once a sock is soaked, it's soaked. This television show is dumb. So is matzoh. JK I love matzoh. I don't know why I just said that. I'm sorry, matzoh. I am currently apologizing to matzoh.

Yooooooooo, the Pineapple People! 

I couldn't find a good picture of the Pineapple People I wanted to show,
but here's a picture of these Pineapple People (who are now dead). 

They fucking sliced and diced, didn't they?! Jesus Christ. It's like, even though on this show mofos are constantly jamming sticks in people's throats, you're still never prepared for a lady to jam a stick through a guy's throat. And that lady didn't even jam a stick in the guy's throat, she jammed it through his skull. That seems a bit far-fetched. Dragons and midgets and a guy turning into a bird, I can believe in that, but you can't jam a stick through a man's brain. That's just science. Or maybe you can. What do I know? I'm just a world famous local celebrity who was asked to appear on Philadelphia sportstalk radio last night.

Only three retweets? C'mon. 

Regardless, apparently the Pineapple People are not called the Pineapple People (they're just called people from Dorne) and those three chicks who jam sticks through people's skulls are called Sand Snakes. It's amazing what you can learn from the NEW YORK TIMES.

Anyway, I googled the word Pineapple People and this is what came up:

That's definitely a pineapple person.

Poor guy.
I can't stop staring at her foot. 

Sure, the Fire Lady's titties were saggin' and laggin', but the real highlight was seeing her va-jinn jinn jinner. 

It's not every day that you see an old lady's va-jinn jinn jinner. In fact, I don't know if I've ever seen an old lady's va-jinn jinn jinner. That was really somethin'. And I was totally cool seeing it, but they really pulled one over on us didn't they? Flashing the word "nudity" up there during the opening HBO title slide thingie and then holding off 'til that final scene. I would say that I was disappointed, and at the time I was, but looking back it was obviously amazing. So thank you, HBO, for pushing the envelope. It's nice to see Liza Minelli working again.

I kinda wanted to see the Dothrakis fuck that chick in her butt. 
You know you did too. 

Happy Passover.

Yo for real, I was on WIP Sportstalk Radio last night. This dude Andrew Porter hosts a show on there and follows me on Twitter and liked my 700 Level post about Carson Wentz so he asked me to go on the air to talk about it. I have no idea how the interview went because no one I know listened to it. I did talk about sending dork pics on the internet though. So there's that. You can listen to it here. And you can read my Carson Wentz post here. Or you can check out this frog dog. That's probably the better move. It's a frog dog. When have you ever seen that before?