We gather here tonight to say good-bye and pay tribute to the Twitter feed of Wayne Gretzky's daughter, Paulina. Why has Paulina's Twitter feed gone away forever? Well, the media is reporting that ol' Wayne might be the reason. Apparently, The Great One--more like The Great Wuss--felt that some of the photos his 22-year-old daughter shared on her Twitter feed were more than a little inappropriate. Hence, no more shots of Paulina Gretzky in various bikinis or in tight-fitting dresses with strategically-placed cut-outs dancing at assorted clubs or planking on mailboxes. All gone. Forever. Stupid Wayne Gretzky.
Luckily, the internet makes it impossible to get rid of anything completely, so we still have these memories of Paulina Gretzky to keep us warm during the cold winter months. Thanks, internet. And, more importantly, thanks, perverts. Because of your tireless efforts, the world will be able to continue enjoying photograph's of Wayne Gretzky's hot, scantily-clad daughter for decades to come.
You can see even more pics from this collection right here.
When asked by reporters how he thinks fans should prepare themselves for this Sunday's Patriots-Chargers match-up, quarterback Tom Brady said:
...start drinking early...[g]et nice and rowdy. 4:15 game, lot of time to get lubed up. Come out here, and cheer for the home team."
And America fell apart. The seas boiled over and rivers turned to blood. The sky turned black and the earth quaked, reducing buildings to dust, turning formerly alive people into crushed corpses. The Devil arose from his throne in Hell, entered our world through a vast portal, and tore Heaven from the skies, squishing the heads of angels and cherubs in his diamond-sharp teeth. Then the Earth exploded and everyone died.
Don't remember any of that? That's because NONE OF IT HAPPENED! Tom Brady encouraged football fans to drink a couple beers and have a good time. That's all. Some people, including members of the Patriots organization, acted as if it were the end of the world however. Stacey James, vice president in charge of media for the Patriots, assured those affected by Brady's atrocious sentiments, that the handsome quarterback was simply reminding people to "stay hydrated, drink a lot of water, be loud, [and] drink responsibly."
Shut the fuck up! He wasn't telling people to fill up their commemorative Patriots water bottles at the tap before skipping down to the stadium through a field of wildflowers. He was encouraging Patriots fans to drink. Drink beer. Shitloads of it.
What are we, a nation of born-again toddlers? Is there one person in these United States who doesn't fully understand that football and rowdy drunken behavior go together like fried chicken and waffles? Like John Locke and Ben Linus? Like me and Child's Play movies? Beer and football are cornerstones of this great nation and you've got to have your head up multiple peoples' asses (or one big fat guy's ass, if that's easier...actually, that's probably a lot easier, isn't it?) to not know that. I'm not saying you gotta do a keg-stand every time you hear the opening chords to that awful Hank Williams Jr. song, I'm merely pointing out the fact that to not recognize the companionship shared between American football and beer is to admit that you are a lunkhead of the highest, and thus dumbest, order. Just STOP ALREADY!
Former Broncos quarterback and current dumb old geezer, John Elway, is all bent out of shape about a punk band no one has ever heard of using his surname as their band name. Seriously, John Elway? There aren't enough activities scheduled at the old folk's home you gotta jerk these punk kids around? As far as I know they aren't besmirching your dumb name in any way, so why don't you find a hobby, like, I don't know, building ships in bottles or something equally pointless bored, old geezers devote their limited time to, and let these dudes try their luck at making a name for themselves in this world.
To be fair, there are plenty of Elway's star athlete brethren who have a legitimate reason to be angry with the current crop of punk rock hooligans trying to succeed on the music scene today. Here is just a list of just some of the current bands named for famous athletes:
-Michael Jordan's Hairy Balls
-Skip Hall is My Gay Lover
-Patrick Ewwwww-ing
-Muggsy Bogues Raped Me!
-Romo Homo
-Lee Trevino AIDS Scare
-Shaquille O'Queer
-The New England Patri-Assholes
-Kerri Strug's Cock
-Larry Bird & The Murdered Hookers
-Drew Brees' Coke Habit
-Jake Delhomo
-Michael Phelps & The Aching Dolphin Buttholes Band
Tonight when the NCAA men's basketball tournament comes to a close, audiences will once again be treated to a montage of college basketball highlights, accompanied by the David Barrett penned "One Shining Moment." This collection of inspirational clips coupled with Barrett's singularly cheese-tastic masterpiece has been an NCAA tradition for the past 24 years. Why, you ask? Well, I don't know exactly, in fact, I was made aware of the song's existence for the first time last night when my wife suggested I use this very blog to discuss the current controversy surrounding it. That's right: there is controversy surrounding "One Shining Moment." No. I'm serious.
For those of you who are not familiar with the song, here is last years NCAA montage. Don't feel like less of a man if you are moved to tears, apparently that happens to most individuals who watch the montage religiously every year. Keep in mind while listening that Barrett was inspired to write "One Shining Moment" while watching Larry Bird run up and down the court one magical night. Yes, friends, here now for your listening and viewing pleasure is the only song ever inspired by Larry Bird.
Yep. That just happened.
Listen, maybe I'm being unfair. I don't care for college basketball, in fact, I tend to agree with The Best Show's Tom Scharpling who refers to it as "play time." What's so great about college athletics in general? They don't mean anything. They're a distraction; a waste of time that could be better spent, I don't know, pressing leaves into a photo album or organizing one's porn DVDs.
But, OK, some people dig it. They get the March Madness something fierce. If I'm being honest, I get it. When football season rolls around I get pretty stoked. I'm there in front of my TV every Sunday afternoon with an open bag of something greasy and a 2-liter of Sierra Mist in my lap, screaming obscenities at the screen, and calling for Jake Delhomme's head. Though that won't be an issue this year. Oh, yeah!
Sorry. I digress.
If your alma mater is in the Final Four (That's a thing, right?) or something, that's great. I think a lot of college basketball fans though never went to the colleges whose t-shirts adorn their lumpy, pretzel-dusted bodies. That's weird to me.
What's even weirder--and more on point--is the flack over this year's version of "One Shining Moment." For the past several years, it's been the late Luther Vandross's voice singing "One Shining Moment," but this year viewers are going to get a new version sung by American Idol failure/Oscar-winning actress, Jennifer Hudson. Big deal, right? What college kid even knows who Luther Vandross is anyway? I'm not even sure I know who Luther Vandross is. He's the guy who used to go to restaurants and order three meals at at time, right? That's what I heard anyway.
Some people aren't happy with this change, like this young man:
From NPR.org
Chris Chase writes for the college basketball blog The Dagger. "If you saw her perform at the Super Bowl a couple years ago, [Hudson] stretches out the songs, and it's just very, very sappy," he says.
"The song 'One Shining Moment' is sappy in and of itself," says Chase. "Teddy Pendergrass [one of the three previous singers to perform the song] brought a machismo to it. Now with Jennifer Hudson, it's almost as if CBS has surrendered to the schmaltz."
I don't think Jennifer Hudson's tendency to "stretch out songs"--whatever that means--will make "One Shining Moment" any sappier than it already is. Have you listened to the lyrics, Mr. Chase?
The ball is tipped and there you are you're running for your life you're a shooting star And all the years no one knows just how hard you worked but now it shows... (in) ONE SHINING MOMENT, IT'S ALL ON THE LINE ONE SHINING MOMENT, THERE FROZEN IN TIME
"Running for your life?" Is this the NCAA Championship game or some kind of death race?
If anything, I feel sorry for Jennifer Hudson. She has to sing this awful song and keep herself from cracking up. Why don't you get over it, Mr. Chase. Or, here you go, when CBS fires the montage up tonight, mute your TV, push play on your Discman, and let the smooth, dulcet tones of Luther Vandross give you the NCAA boner you feel you so richly deserve. Freak.
Hey, Austria, I don't know how ya'll build snowmen over there in the Old Country, but in America our snowmen got torsos and rumps. I don't know about this freaky goblin snowman ya'll tried to pass off as an Olympic mascot way back in '76. There's nothing right about a snowman head with arms and legs growing out of it. I don't care how damn big its smile is.
Before I forget: Upon discovering the existence of the '76 Winter Olympics' terrifying mascot, I penned the following joke...
Q. Where does an Austrian snowman go to purchase overpriced polo shirts?
A. Schneemann Marcus!
Feel free to use that at your next '76 Winter Olympics-themed party.
5. The Snowlets-Sukki, Nooki, Lekki, and Tsukki (1998 Winter Olympics, Nagano) These four misshapen lumps of fail represent the four major islands of Japan. Though I conducted several lengthy searches of the internet, I was unable to find the person (or persons) responsible for the monstrosities displayed before you, so I will go with my original assumption that they were created by an armless Japanese orphan raised in a dimly lit basement forced at gunpoint to draw four owls, an animal he had absolutely no knowledge of as he had never once been allowed to leave his basement prison, nor been given access to either books or a television on which to view nature documentaries.
Someone really should put the Snowlets out of their misery. Nobody wants to look at that.
4. Roni (1980 Winter Olympics, Lake Placid) Look, it's not that I don't like the idea of a raccoon in ice skates, I do. It's just...well...Roni looks kinda like a pussy. That's all.
Wikipedia describes Magique as a "man-star/snow imp." What the hell is a man-star? Whatever, France.
2. Hidy and Howdy (1988 Winter Olympics, Calgary) Believe it or not, Hidy and Howdy are NOT a product of Texas. I was as surprised as you are. Let's forget the fact that holding the Winter Olympics in Texas is probably impossible. Don't you just get a whole "Texas vibe" off these two? I do.
I thought Canada was better than this, quite honestly. Teddy bears in Western wear? I've never been anywhere near Texas in my life, but that's exactly what I think of when I think of the Lone Star State. Go ahead. Next time you run into me ask, "Hey, Matt, I'm thinking about vacationing in Texas next summer. What do you think I should expect?" and just see if I don't answer, "Human-sized teddy bears in Western wear prolly." I guarantee I will.
Hidy and Howdy are supposed to represent Canadian hospitality, but I've never wanted to run away screaming from something more in my entire life.
1. Hakon and Kristin (1994 Winter Olympics, Lillehammer) Here they are--the worst Winter Olympics' mascots of all time, Hakon and Kristin.
Now, I don't hate children, in fact, they have a lot of qualities I admire, but choosing two children dressed in traditional Norwegian garb to represent the Olympic Games to the world at large is super boring. I mean, Hildy, Howdy, and Roni are pretty lazy choices, but they're still anthropomorphic animals, and that trumps children every time. You gotta have pretty big balls to unleash something as anti-whimsical as Magique on the world, but Norwegian kids, well, that's just pathetic. I'll take any of these mascots (even, regrettably, Schneemann) over these two brats any day. For shame, Lillehammer.
Dude, the mascots for the upcoming Winter Olympics in Vancouver are sweet! You've got Quatchi, a sasquatch who longs to be a hockey goalie; Miga, the half bear, half killer whale sea beast that I can only imagine possesses an insatiable lust for blood under its adorable exterior; and Sumi, the winged bear-fox-orca creature thingy. There's even an unofficial sidekick: Mukmuk, the Vancouver Island marmot (not pictured). I assume Mukmuk is around to keep these other vicious combo-beasts in check, I mean, mixing a bear and a killer whale together is just asking for trouble.
But Vancouver hasn't cornered the market on super sweet Olympic mascots. No, there have been tons--well, at least four--totally awesome mascots who came before. And here they are in order of awesomeness.
4. Powder (2002 Winter Olympics, Salt Lake City) Powder was just one member of an Olympic power trio which also featured Copper, a coyote who apparently represented the concept "higher," and Coal, a bear representing "stronger." Powder, as you may have already guessed, represented "faster." Put them together and you get higher, faster, and stronger or how one feels when he or she is baptized into the Mormon church.
3. Neve & Gliz (2006 Winter Olympics, Turin) You know why I love Neve and Gliz so much? Because they are walking nightmares. Imagine being a child in Turin in 2006. You're in the Olympic Village with your parents shopping for commemorative pins or something, and suddenly Neve and Gliz come bursting out of nowhere, eerie grins plastered across their blank white faces, cavorting and waving. You'd freak the hell out! "Mommy, what are they?" you might cry into your mother's perfumed bosom. "What do they want?" It's a safe bet your mother, nor your father, nor anyone else in the immediate vicinity could accurately describe to you what exactly Neve and Gliz are and realizing this, well, I wouldn't be surprised if an all out riot of sheer blind panic broke out in the streets of Turin.
Neve and Gliz are, in fact, an anthropomorphic snowball and ice cube respectively, and while they are horrifying, they seem friendly. Like, I don't honestly think Neve and Gliz would actually ever hurt anybody on purpose.
Also, the 2006 Winter Olympics were held in Turin? How did I not know this at all?
2. Schuss (1968 Winter Olympics, Grenoble) I like Schuss for the same reason I like Neve and Gliz: he defies all explanation. The very existence of Schuss makes the idea of humanoid ice cubes okay somehow. Schuss is obviously a skier of some kind. He's wearing skis presumably, plus his name is a skiing term, so, you know, duh.
It's Schuss's giant globe head, bright red face, and googly fish eyes that intrigues/horrifies me. Who is this Schuss and where did he come from? Is he from some distant star sent to France in the late 1960's to impart some kind of ski-centric message to the world? Is he crazy, because, let's face it, that smile doesn't exactly scream "I'm perfectly sane. Promise."
Whatever Schuss is he is the second coolest Olympic mascot of all time. And I'm not even holding the fact that he was creating by some French chick against him.
1. Vučko (1984 Winter Olympics, Sarajevo) It took me a while, but I eventually figured out why Vucko here appeals to me so much. See, he kind of resembles one Mr. Chester Cheetah, which triggered the pleasure centers in my brain because I am a diehard fan of every Cheetos variation currently available to the public. Also, his muzzle sport of looks like a dick and balls, and as a man with both of these appendages in my boxer briefs, this appeals to the manly stud who resides inside of me, makes a rare appearance every Sunday during football season, and magically disappears once again.
You might be interested to know that Vucko beat out a mountain goat, a chipmunk, a lamb, a porcupine, and a snowball to become Sarajevo's official Olympic ambassador to the world. I think the right choice was made, but wouldn't it have been kind of awesome if the porcupine was chosen? I think so.
NEXT TIME: THE 6 LAMEST WINTER OLYMPIC MASCOTS OF ALL TIME
Growing up in Michigan, I was a huge Pistons fan. Just think about who was on the team back then: Isaiah Thomas, Joe Dumars, Dennis Rodman, Vinnie Johnson, Bill Laimbeer. Awesome! Chuck Daly led the Pistons to repeat championship wins (though he failed to fulfill the challenge put forth in the hit song "Three-Peat Beat") with skill and class unmatched by anyone else in the NBA. He also led the Dream Team to Olympic gold in 1992.
Well, this year’s 2009 NCAA championship in basketball for men is officially over, and it’s time to review the most interesting part of that great tradition: the governors bets! This years bet is doubly exciting because it’s most likely maybe the first time the governors of both the winning and losing basketball squads have ever been women! And women are catty. I know because women are always telling me how mean they are to each other. They make TV shows about it. Ann Coulter’s a woman, right? She’s so mean! So what humiliation must the Michigan female governor endure? Here’s what NC Chief Exec. Bev Purdue’s website has to say:
“The governor from the losing team’s state must be photographed wearing the winning team's jersey and hat while dining on local food from that team’s state. The governor of the losing team will also donate $100 to a food bank in the winning team's state." Wait, what? That’s not humiliating at all. So Gov. Jennifer M. Granholm of Michigan has to wear a UNC jersey (it doesn’t have spikes or poison fibers in it or anything) and eat some delicious pork BBQ, probably accompanied by an assortment of sauces and sides representing the three geographical regions of this great state. She’ll probably enjoy it and not bleed at all.
Does this strike anyone else as a little weak? Where’s the hair-pulling? The humiliating song-singing? The fat jokes? Nobody has to shave their head, walk around naked, or say they’re a bad girl? For shame. Remember the good old days of gubernatorial sports betting, like when Indiana Governor Mark Button had to kiss Wisconsin Governor Stan Hinton on his naked bottom? Remember when legendary dustbowl-era Oklahoma Governor Buck Grungler peed in then California Governor Jeb McAllister’s Kellogg's Corn Flakes brand cereal? What about the time New Hampshire Governor Steve Yorkie fondled Massachusetts Governor Harley Randel’s genitalia while his wife and 400 reporters watched? That was in 1894. Remember Gov. Jerek literally eating poo from a Wisconsin milk cow? Gov. Lester shaving himself bald and sticking his head up the birth canal of a Florida matinee? Gov. Ward doing intercourse with a South Carolina pig while wearing a Gamecocks jersey and eating shrimp and grits? I supposes in this new era where government is open to all, including those with (sigh) compassion, tact, and shame, we’re just going to have to get used to less-entertaining political sports bets, but that shouldn’t keep us from remembering the glorious days of yore when a man could force another man to lick his filthy anus because a sports team he had nothing to do with competing in a sport he most likely didn't understand won a game he probably didn’t even watch.
You can see even more pics from this collection right here.
When asked by reporters how he thinks fans should prepare themselves for this Sunday's Patriots-Chargers match-up, quarterback Tom Brady said:
Former Broncos quarterback and current dumb old geezer, John Elway, is all bent out of shape about a punk band no one has ever heard of using his surname as their band name. Seriously, John Elway? There aren't enough activities scheduled at the old folk's home you gotta jerk these punk kids around? As far as I know they aren't besmirching your dumb name in any way, so why don't you find a hobby, like, I don't know, building ships in bottles or something equally pointless bored, old geezers devote their limited time to, and let these dudes try their luck at making a name for themselves in this world.
Hey, Austria, I don't know how ya'll build snowmen over there in the Old Country, but in America our snowmen got torsos and rumps. I don't know about this freaky goblin snowman ya'll tried to pass off as an Olympic mascot way back in '76. There's nothing right about a snowman head with arms and legs growing out of it. I don't care how damn big its smile is.
These four misshapen lumps of fail represent the four major islands of Japan. Though I conducted several lengthy searches of the internet, I was unable to find the person (or persons) responsible for the monstrosities displayed before you, so I will go with my original assumption that they were created by an armless Japanese orphan raised in a dimly lit basement forced at gunpoint to draw four owls, an animal he had absolutely no knowledge of as he had never once been allowed to leave his basement prison, nor been given access to either books or a television on which to view nature documentaries. 
Look, it's not that I don't like the idea of a raccoon in ice skates, I do. It's just...well...Roni looks kinda like a pussy. That's all. 
Magique? Really? MAGIQUE???
Believe it or not, Hidy and Howdy are NOT a product of Texas. I was as surprised as you are. Let's forget the fact that holding the Winter Olympics in Texas is probably impossible. Don't you just get a whole "Texas vibe" off these two? I do.
Here they are--the worst Winter Olympics' mascots of all time, Hakon and Kristin. 
Dude, the mascots for the upcoming Winter Olympics in Vancouver are sweet! You've got Quatchi, a sasquatch who longs to be a hockey goalie; Miga, the half bear, half killer whale sea beast that I can only imagine possesses an insatiable lust for blood under its adorable exterior; and Sumi, the winged bear-fox-orca creature thingy. There's even an unofficial sidekick: Mukmuk, the Vancouver Island marmot (not pictured). I assume Mukmuk is around to keep these other vicious combo-beasts in check, I mean, mixing a bear and a killer whale together is just asking for trouble.
Powder was just one member of an Olympic power trio which also featured Copper, a coyote who apparently represented the concept "higher," and Coal, a bear representing "stronger." Powder, as you may have already guessed, represented "faster." Put them together and you get higher, faster, and stronger or how one feels when he or she is baptized into the Mormon church. 
You know why I love Neve and Gliz so much? Because they are walking nightmares. Imagine being a child in Turin in 2006. You're in the Olympic Village with your parents shopping for commemorative pins or something, and suddenly Neve and Gliz come bursting out of nowhere, eerie grins plastered across their blank white faces, cavorting and waving. You'd freak the hell out! "Mommy, what are they?" you might cry into your mother's perfumed bosom. "What do they want?" It's a safe bet your mother, nor your father, nor anyone else in the immediate vicinity could accurately describe to you what exactly Neve and Gliz are and realizing this, well, I wouldn't be surprised if an all out riot of sheer blind panic broke out in the streets of Turin.
I like Schuss for the same reason I like Neve and Gliz: he defies all explanation. The very existence of Schuss makes the idea of humanoid ice cubes okay somehow. Schuss is obviously a skier of some kind. He's wearing skis presumably, plus his name is a skiing term, so, you know, duh. 
It took me a while, but I eventually figured out why Vucko here appeals to me so much. See, he kind of resembles one Mr. Chester Cheetah, which triggered the pleasure centers in my brain because I am a diehard fan of every Cheetos variation currently available to the public. Also, his muzzle sport of looks like a dick and balls, and as a man with both of these appendages in my boxer briefs, this appeals to the manly stud who resides inside of me, makes a rare appearance every Sunday during football season, and magically disappears once again.
