Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Monday, April 14, 2008
[ Big Daddy Drew ] 4/14/2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
In this week's draft we're ridding the world of our most hated songs. The rules are simple: you pick a song, and it vanishes from your life. Once a song's "artist" is selected that entire "artist's" catalog comes off the board. Which Elton John song will it be?!
The draft order is as follows (minus Punter because he was busy olling up aces over kings and check-raising stupid tourists):
1. Maj: Hotel California by The Eagles
If you need any further explanation then you could also use brick to the head. This is a bigger sure thing than LeBron, Griffey, and Peyton combined.
2. Flubby: Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison.
If you hear this song at any public setting where alcohol is being served, you can be assured that in a matter of moments a gaggle of drunken women will soon be assembled to sing an off-key rendition of the chorus. SHALALALALALALALALADEEDA!!! Fuck you very much, Van Morrison. Ya drunkass mick.
3. Caveman: Benny and the Jets by Elton John
Trying to decide between this plodding monstrosity and the childish bullshit of "Crocodile Rock" is no easy task, but I think I hate "Benny" slightly more.
Ape: If for nothing else, the fact that Berman has referenced it.
4. Drew: Another Brick In The Wall by Pink Floyd
I fucking hate this song. I fucking... just... GAHHHHHHH I hate it so very much. Not only does it employ a children's choir, but that fucking choir sings in the most obnoxious English accent humanly possible. Hearing it in my head right now makes my teeth hurt.
Maj: I think they were the same kids from Satisfaction.
5. Ape: The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney
This is possibly the most cornball song ever wrought. From shimmery production to a chorus that goes:
The girl is mine
The doggone girl is mine
I know she's mine
Because the doggone girl is mine
You can forget Jackson bleaching his skin and raping kids and McCartney marrying a one-legged harridan who tried to take all his money. This tarnished their legacy far, far before that. And possibly worse.
CC: Great pick. I fucking hate that song.
Drew: Can I still take a song from Wings, or is all McCartney out the door now?
Maj: Sorry Drew, no Band on the Run for you.
6. Ape: Bitch by Meredith Brooks
In the Lillith Fair milieu of the girl songstress fad of the late '90s, this stood out as the most fake-controversial-yet-palatable-for-mass-audiences-bullshit around. The song's message: deal with my flightiness and refusal to adhere to rational thought! Because we're women! We're allowed to be vacuous contradictions! But not you stupid weak men! RAWR!
Also, for all the mainstream dipshit DJs who'd introduce the track with "Oh my God, a song on the radio with the word bitch as the title? Tres outre!"
7. Drew: Paradise By The Dashboard Light by Meat Loaf
I'm still traumatized by groups of drunken women in college re-enacting all eight and half minutes of this god-awful piece of shit. Especially the STOP RIGHT THERE! part. God, it's just so fucking terrible I can't even put it into words. And some asshole at the bar will ALWAYS put it on, without fail. The goddamn thing never ends. Fuck you, Meat Loaf Aday. And fuck you, Phil Rizzuto. Holy cow, this song blows.
8. Caveman: You're So Vain by Carly Simon
If it made my pet peeve list, it's making my most-hated song list. It's got all the same the faux-femme empowerment of "Bitch," charged with extra bitterness and irrational justifications for being a cunt.
9. Flubby: American Pie by Don McLean
So bye, bye Miss American Pie
When they play it, people say it, until I wanna die
Don McLean I hope those royalties can buy
A coffin if I meet you, guy
That one was on just about everybody's board. Great value pick.
10. Maj: Piano Man by Billy Joel
Fuck you, Billy Joel. You're the fucking devil.
11. Maj:Shiny Happy People by REM
What the fuck is that song all about? I'm convinced that they were just trying to annoy the shit out of me.
Drew: Ooooh, anything by REM is a solid choice
Maj: And they say I don't know anything about white people music...
Flubby: Losing My Religion was a late round pick on my board
Caveman: Wow, I totally forgot about REM. "Losing my Religion" was probably the first song that made me want to hurt people.
Drew: Yeah I fucking hate that song. Stand too. Guhhhhhhhh.
Caveman: God, we could do an entire draft of awful REM songs.
12. Flubby: Fergalicious by Fergie
Maj: That's an actual song? I thought it was a commercial for Vagisil or something.
13. Caveman: Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves
I hate this song. I hate every movie that this song gets used in. I hate scenes where people dance to this song. I hope Katrina and the Waves all die horrific, grisly deaths.
Maj: Like drowning in flood water?
14. Drew: Silver Bells> by Bing Crosby
My least favorite Christmas song. I don't care who sings it, I fucking hate it. One time, at the gym, they played an emo version of it. My least favorite holiday song sung in my least favorite genre besides country. My heart turned black.
Flubby: Ooh, I could do a whole draft on xmas songs. Starting with "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime" by Sir Paul.
Maj: I would have picked all Christmas songs, but Ufford wouldn't have any of that.
15. Ape: Kokomo by The Beach Boys
This song single-handedly kept me from getting into music until almost my teens. I can't even begin to enumerate the number of ways I hate it. But, I was just given one more not too long ago: it inspired possibly the worst parody song ever. And they play it all the time at the stupid divey karaoke bar I go to. This song was a No. 1 hit? Proof positive of America's cultural bankruptcy. Fuck you, Mike Love.
Holy shit, nobody drafted We Built This City!!!
Add your picks in the comments, but play by the fucking rules! That means waiting ten selections before picking another song. And no picking "anything by [blank]" because that's something Drew would do because he's a dick who has most certainly not listened to all 7,431 shitty Grateful Dead songs.
(HT: Mondesi's House)
Name: Vernon Gholston
Nickname: Unknown (meaning I don't know).
Suggested Nickname: Unknown (at least until he says otherwise).
Body Type: After his pro day one NFL coach told KSK (on the condition of anonymity), "that kid's body makes me harder than an enema from my Puerto Rican nurse." And that coach was Monte Kiffin.
Early Aspirations: Before football Vernon was a pre-teen body builder. Meaning yes, even a pre-pubescent version of Vernon could kick the living shit out of your pathetic blog reading ass.
Speed: Big Ten-ish.
Muscles: Medium twitch.
Urine Sample: Intensity.
Stool Sample: Steamy.
Who Wants Him: Oakland. But to be fair, they also shown interest in a panda who is purported to have been trained to play right guard.
Who Will Take Him: St. Louis. Because fuck Chris Long, that's why.
Immediate Impact: Bone crushing.
Down the Road: A locker filled with enough steroids to stock a Mexican pharmacy.
Previously on Better Know a Draft Pick...
You probably saw Drew’s eloquent remarks on Deadspin yesterday regarding Rick Reilly’s uninspired commentary about the sports blogosphere, followed by Drew’s subsequent deconstruction of the viewpoint of that “privileged journalist.” Despite being a bit light on homoerotica, Drew’s piece was, as usual, very good.
Too good, really.
Too often we bloggers look at the criticisms of the mainstream press as opportunities, as chances to prove that we are somehow deserving of our audiences, of being in the conversation. Often, this results in an overextension of prose and an overuse of reason. I SHALL SMITE YOU WITH COHERENT, THOUGHTFUL ARGUMENTS! And so we're left with a well-bundled acknowledgment of their bitching and moaning that those types don’t really deserve.
Drew may as well have been reading poetry to a pig yesterday. Reilly is a third-tier fuckhead that’s not worthy of a rational counter-argument. You know what he’s worthy of? Getting handcuffed to a bike rack and shit on. Literally speaking, he deserves a response in kind. And so, I present a little something I'd like to call Rick Reilly Gargles Cocksnot.
Rick Reilly thinks the Concorde is ruining the legacy of trans-Atlantic travel.
Rick Reilly thought Monty Python and the Holy Grail was “just okay.”
Rick Reilly speaks fluent Spanish, but finds it beneath him.
Despite having great access for the Masters, the excutive council at Augusta National insist on denying him entrance to any of the washrooms on the grounds, leaving him only a shallow latrine near the second fairway.
The council has also forbidden women from using this latrine. Mr. Reilly thinks this is bogus, but enjoys the amenities of the club too much to raise any sort of fuss.
Rick Reilly fucked Christine Penner. And loved it.
Rick Reilly is still unsure how those nets are keeping the moles out of
Rick Reilly thinks that, despite Tiger Woods’ Thai heritage, Phil Mickelson is tangier.
Rick Reilly’s nose is 0.017 inches (0.04318 cm) longer than his penis, so we’ve heard.
Rick Reilly wasn’t going to test Sammy Sosa's pee for steroids. He was just parched.
Rick Reilly owns two three-year-old chocolate Labrador Retrievers named “Blackie” and “Is Killing College Athletics.”
Rick Reilly once caddied for Michelle Wie without uttering “Me love you long time,” but later commented privately to friends about how well she added up her scorecard.
Rick Reilly credits his “humerous” style to former president Ulysses S. Grant.
Rick Reilly keeps 2 ounces of cocaine in his ass at all times, just in case Lawrence Taylor drops by.
And it’s not even in a bag. Gross!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
[But Favre conceded he might have a tough decision to make if, say, Green Bay called and asked him to come back because of team injuries.
"It would be hard to pass up, I guess," he said. " . . . It's only speculating. I think the world of that team. I had a lot of fun, not only this year, but over my career. Those guys I played with this past year, a lot of young guys, a lot of fun."]
Tramonto: First we must agree on terms.
Peter King: Name your price.
Tramonto: $25,000 Starbucks gift card.
King: Outrageous. I won't go above 15.
Tramonto: It is a deal.
King: Excellent. I need you to eliminate this one.
[Hands over photo]
[Tramonto drags on cigarette]
Tramonto: I see.
Of what interest is this man to you?
King: Yours is not to ask why, yours is to do and make him die!
He is no one. His life merely is an obstacle to bringing back my Bretty Boy.
But show him mercy. Make it fast. He is, after all, a white quarterback playing for the Packers. His sin is only bestowed upon him by circumstance. Perhaps in another life, he could have been worthy of my admiration.
Tramonto: It is done.
[King laughs girlishly and begins clapping frantically]