Recent Posts





November 21st, 2014 by Paul Nardizzi

Last week I hard some local radio guys talking about the city of Boston sending in a bid to the USOC to host the Olympics in 2024. My first thought was that I was fairly certain the Special Olympics had already been held in Boston, but sure, why not take it on again. It was then that I realized they were talking about the Jim McKay, Bob Costas, NBC Olympics, where every athlete has a back story in which they are competing for a lost loved one, or for having overcome some affliction such as depression or their own virginity. Yes, those games. The ones that bring the whole world together on the largest athletic stage, so we can all lock arms in unison, sing each other’s anthems and cheer on one another’s teams. Yes, cuz in Boston, we’re real good at treating the other teams’ fans like family. A violent, dysfunctional one at that. Perhaps the USOC should, before they make their final decision, attend a Bruins home game vs. Montreal, when the men of that city descend upon Boston for what amounts to a bloodletting in the streets.

The reports indicated Boston’s bid was bolstered by their terrific response to the Marathon bombing. I knew there had to be a silver lining in there somewhere. The other bidders are now trailing us because none of their road races have been sneak-attacked and blown up? If being bombed is such a flashy item to the committee, why don’t we just forget all the United States’ bids and plop the games right in downtown Baghdad? Hell, the torch is already lit, the ground has been razed for construction and the marathon path through the market area is well worn from all the Iraqi’s fleeing.

How exactly did the Boston group impress the USOC I wonder. Did they roll one of those miniature cities out and take to it with a long pointer. “We had a breach here, and another one here, were taken by surprise right here, shit ourselves in this region here, they avoided us in here, four hours later we shot up the town down here, and then while we were looking up in this area and about to quit for the day, Joe Blow noticed his boat was bleeding and….. we pretty much handled it from that point.”

Don’t get me wrong, the first responders did a great job after the Marathon bombing, but in the end it was a guy in Watertown with a boat docked in his yard who ultimately found the terrorist. I’m pretty sure he didn’t spot the terrorist thug and shout, “Allrighty, bring on the Olympics!” In fact you could have spotted the police three clues at that point, 1- Water , 2 – Boat , 3-Town, and they would have been scouring the harbor and the lower Cape for weeks while Dzhokar slowly starved and bled out in the stern of a Starcraft.

In an attempt to impress the committee on the Los Angeles bid and in effect catch up to Boston, L.A. is now considering ways get their first responders and local police into action. One idea being tossed about is exhuming the remains of the late road kill Rodney King, placing said bones behind the wheel at a traffic light, dropping a concrete block on the gas pedal and then standing back to see if the dead Rodney can have the same lightning rod effect that the live one had.

Has anyone on the USOC ever been to Boston in the summer? If Bud Greenspan were still alive in ten years, most likely he’d have opted to stay home for the 2024 Boston games and narrate the action from the couch. “It is Saturday August 11th, the finals of the Olympic Marathon. The temperatures are in the high 90’s; steam is rising from the manhole covers in Boston as onlookers wonder if the entire city has simultaneously taken a steaming dump. For Olga Ritola of Finland, the heat, and the Boston dialect would prove to be too much.”

Olga- “ I got off to a good start, but was waylaid when ceiling tiles from the roof that was built by the same company that did the Big Dig came crumbling down on top of me. I regained my balance, but once again stumbled as lane 4 was occupied with large pot holes and much to my surprise, a toll. I ate clam chowder the night before, it was about then that the salty soup took its revenge. Despite full blown code red diarrhea and a twisted ankle, I soldiered my way back into second. A red faced man in the crowd wearing a Sox hat shouted to me that I was F-%$$# retarded. Taking his inspirational advice, I ran even faster. I was making the final turn when another spectator shouted “You’re wicked pissah.” I wasn’t sure if I was now leaking out front, so I felt around my crotch just long enough to cost myself precious seconds and finished out of medal contention. To this day I still don’t know what the man meant.”

If in the end Boston ends up with the bid, I’m sure I’ll be one of the suckers in line buying up tickets to this once in a lifetime event. The Summer Olympics offers up some great sports viewing. It will be nice to watch a professional basketball team actually win a home game in Boston, to view a boxing match without hearing the background noise of metal coins as they drop into a plastic bucket. We may even get to witness a ball room dance where the male isn’t stumbling up to his partner after five shots at the bar and saying, “Screw dancing honey, lets go out to my car you large titted freak.”

One man who will be happy with a Boston Olympics is New England Patriots owner Bob Kraft. Olympics tend to drive up the need for new venues, so Bob could finally be looking at his own shiny new soccer stadium. Of course that is ten years away. If Bob were really doing the math on this project, what he should do is forget about waiting on the Olympics and drop the stadium in the heart of Southie. If he gets any pushback from the people there, simply sway them over to his side by proclaiming, “It’s not a stadium, it’s going to be a 50,000 seat Irish bar.” And if the Olympics do come to Boston in the summah of 2024, we’ll all be better served packing into Kraft’s Irish Lager House and getting hammered while the rest of world figures out how to get around town for fourteen days.

Tags: , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)


June 5th, 2013 by Paul Nardizzi

THE Spurs will meet the Heat in this year;s NBA finals, a few stories coming out as we head to Game 1, Roy Hibbert made some anti gay comments before Game 7 Eastern Conference Finals vs the Heat, ironically in that game 7 the Heat made him pay for those comments by surrounding him with something homo phobic men can’t deal with– double teams. Jason Collins who earlier this season announced he was gay, stated he was interested in playing for the Spurs earlier this year. He changed his mind when he learned the team name was Spurs and not the Sperms. His interest in the Miami Heat waned when he learned the coaches real name was Spoelstra and not Sploogstra The NBa Hall of Fame put out an announcement that if the Heat win, they will ask Lebron to donate a headband, Wade his kneebrace and David Stern some of his celebratory DNA from the post game party. If the Spurs win, the Hall has requested a pair of Tony Parker sneakers, a Gregg Popovich clipboard, Tim Duncans’ razor stubble and a video of David Stern during his drunken post game rampage. Greg Popovich was offered a ton of money to become the spokesman for Proactiv, but turned it down when he found out he would have to legally change his name to Greg Pop a zit. When Proactiv dropped Popovich, a company with a new skin product made Greg an even better offer, that companies product is called Chicken Pock Scar Facial Goop and Epoxy. Pop is the last person in the league you want to high five, according to reports, when prompted to give me some skin, he often hands the requestor large dried up chunks of his face Lebron has requested that the media no longer refer to his squad as the Big Three., he prefers the trio to be referred to as “The Big One, along with two other schmoes.” Top ten excuses Lebron will use if his team loses. 10 They rested players earlier in the year, so we didn’t know who was good. 9 My ass hurts. 8 Jason Collins announcement threw me off. 7 I said “ not one not two not three…. So I was right- not two!! 6 My headband was cutting off circulation to my brain. 5 Birdmans tattoo ink ran in the shower so I got poisonous ink in one of my cuts. 4 Legendary NBA coaches, Pat Riley, Phil Jackson Red Auerbach,. my coach: Eric Spoelstra 3 Did I mention my ass hurts? 2 I was tired from the Olympics 1 I caught Greg Popovich fooling around with my mother.

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)


May 31st, 2013 by Paul Nardizzi


5 Bacary Sagna : Looks like someone placed a wicker basket on his head and then fastened it to his cranium with 5 inch hex screws.

4 Mario Bolatelli : bleached look makes the striker’s head look like a caramel dipped bon bon.

3 David Luiz: Ridiculous looking bird’s nest could be better utilized by farming the abundant strands out to bald footballers like Landon Donovan and Thierry Henry.

2 Gervinho : First time this player strolled across my Tv, I thought I was watching a a rerun of the Martian Chronicles. Didn’t Captain Kirk kill this guy on board the Enterprise in the episode titled Spock’s Brain? . I can’t tell if he is going bald or his hair line is actually pro-ceeding and will eventually move down and cover his entire face. I would prefer the latter.

1 Marouane Fallaini The only known hairdo to post an undefeated record against the comb. This industrial strength mop of keratin looks like a sea anemone that washed ashore after getting shellacked by an oil spill. I swear one of these days the ball is going to get stuck in his ‘do, allowing him to be the first player ever to carry a ball into the goal using his hair.

The N.Y. Jets have to be the most poorly run franchise this side of Jack in the Box. Currently they have five stiff quarterbacks working out with the team. Apparently Rex Ryan and company are trying to assemble a pitching staff. There are so many Q’s printed on the roster, head coach Rex Ryan is going to confuse the list with a Dairy Queen menu and order up a pallet of Frosties. Geno Smith, the rookie second round pick, has been told he will be given every opportunity to win the starting job. In other words, if you can prove you can avoid running headfirst into your own lineman’s rectum and then fumbling the ball back towards your own end zone, you’re pretty much taking all the snaps.



FIFA held its annual UEFA Champions League final on Saturday, with Bayern Munich winning 2-1 vs German league rival Borussia Dortmund. Borussia came out the aggressors early on, playing with a World War II fervor that led to several scoring chances. Both goalies were spot on, and if it weren’t for Gus Johnson’s announcing, it would have been a classic. Gus announces a soccer match as if it’s no different from any of the sports he announces. For example in football its common to shout, “There’s a flag,” or, “This one’s coming back!” In soccer, one does not need to shout “It’s a yellow card!!!” A 15 yard penalty in football sucks for the team being marched backwards. In soccer a yellow card should actually be green, since the ref is essentially saying, “I will allow you to do that again before tossing your ass outta here for good.” Gus also screams every time a ball is crossed into the box, as if that is a rare play that should cause us all to get our underwear in a bind. Scoring is rare in soccer, flip out all you want when the ball goes in the net, but you don’t need to scarf down a case of 5 hour energy vials and scream for 90 minutes, “He gets by a defender! It’s a throw in for Bayern! He heads it, its passed back to the goalie! It’s!@## halftime! Halftime’s over!!! Here they come for the second half! The score is 0-0!!!! And the fans are going not so crazy!”

When Dortmund scored to make it 1-1 Gus shouted, “We got ourselves a ball game!!” Unless Gus was fiddling with his nut sack at the time, I see no need for this comment, nor do I completely understand why he needs to yell. Could someone at Fox explain the intricacies of Gus’s microphone in relation to my volume button? My neighbor called me at halftime and requested that I ask the black man in my living room to tone it down a bit. When has anyone ever used the term ball game for soccer? That would be like watching a pitcher’s duel and saying, “We got a real barnburner out here on the rink between these two gridiron giants!” A ball game is played with bats and gloves; soccer is a match that takes place on a pitch, and it would help if it were announced by someone with some cadence. I should also mention that due to soccer’s penchant for low scores, someone at Fox should alert Gus that when the score was 1-0, that was not exactly a situation where we didn’t have a “ball game.”

I feel bad for the color guy sitting next to him. Hi eardrums have to bleeding after the 30th minute, by the 90th he probably staggers out of the booth feeling like he’s had his hearing canals ruptured by a pressure cooker bomb. Just once I want to hear him go off after Gus bellows, “A cross played in!!!!”

Color Guy: Really? #@$$$% Gus, I’m two frigging feet away from you; you’re going to cause me to go deaf before I reach 40. Although given my job as your color commentator, that might actually be a blessing. And to boot that cross was clearly going over everyone’s heads anyway! Relax, take some Ritalin and I’ll wake you up on the rare occasion the ball goes in the net.”

The final goal of the game was scored in the 88th minute by Munich’s Arjen Robben. It was a nice goal which showcased Robben’s quickness and allowed him to finally shed his choker’s label by scoring a big goal in a meaningful game. But the goal should not have happened, since clearly Bayern took the restart a good 10 yards ahead of where the foul took place. This drives me nuts when refs complain back at me when I complain about teams that do this. Oh really, so the spot doesn’t matter, then why have a spot for the pk? Just place the ball wherever you want it, no big deal right ref? I’ll just drop it on the six and rip one home, appreciate the tip. Goal kick sir? We will just take it from midfield, thanks ref for pointing out that the laws of the game should be bent to assist your team. Is that a yellow card you are showing me? I will just rip it out of your hand and light it on fire with a bic lighter, since I don’t see the word ‘no’ nor the word ‘bic lighter’ anywhere in the rule book. In fact I don’t see the words rock or head trauma either, so when you get out to the parking lot I will just stove your skull in with a large stone in accordance with the rules.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)

Weekly Rant

May 2nd, 2013 by Paul Nardizzi



NBA Do you think the gay population is happy Jason Collins is the first team sport athlete to come out, or would they have preferred someone who ahem, isn’t completely awful at his trade? I think there are about 350 players in the Association who could carry that torch a little prouder than a fat assed layup blowing 12th man off the bench. In fact didn’t we all sort of prophesize this watershed moment when we watched him play and yelled “I think he blows.”

The Lakers were dusted in 4 games, and its now time to assess their future. Kobe will be coming off a major injury, and Dwight Howard has to be leaning towards leaving town. The rest of the roster looks like it has been carpet bombed by a B - 52. Steve Nash can barely drive by my wife, Gasol has a quarter of a tank of ethanol remaining and the rest of the cast makes me wonder if Mitch Kupchak swapped D league rosters with the Maine Red Claws. Can’t say I mind, I detest the Lakers, I will enjoy watching them get trounced for years to come. Tanking it won’t be easy either, not as long as the ultra competitive Kobe is on the team.

Does anyone out there like Blake Griffin’s game? He is the ultimate regular season player, out running his man for easy dunks, hitting short turnaround shots when being guarded by someone who doesn’t want to get physical. But the playoffs are more about half-court sets, and easy baskets are at a minimum. In this series Blake looks like the guy at the Y who you choose last and then move heaven and earth to make sure he plays on the wing and gets limited touches. Here’s an absurd theory. It seems as though the smoothness of a big man’s game is often matched (or in Blake’s case not matched) by the smoothness of his skin. Here are five awkward gangly NBA players who also happen to have skin that could double as a burlap sack. Duncan, Blake, Pau Gasol, Marc Gasol and Dirk. Compare those facial ruts with the countenances of fluid players such as Carmelo, LaMarcus Aldridge, Kevin Love, Chris Bosh and David West. The Clippers are done unless Blake gets on the Proactiv program in the next two hours.

NFL Nice job on all those mock drafts you ESPN dunces. Hours spent coming up with these futile lists, only to have them blown up in the 18th minute of the draft, could be more well spent applying axle grease to Mel Kiper’s head, implanting a personality into John Gruden or getting Ron Jaworski’s overbite retracted using steel wires and a monkey wrench.

Tim Tebow is a free agent, having been given his release by the New York Jets on April 29th, 2013. I’d still like to see some team give this guy a shot, similar to what he got in Denver. I have seen too many QB’s suck down the stretch of games. Tebow has something a lot of these guys don’t, an ability to get things done when it matters most. The Jets gave him 77 snaps, which is akin to telling a hooker to get in your car for the sole purpose of having her hold the wheel while you drive down the road pleasuring yourself.

The Jets have to be the most poorly run franchise this side of Jack in the Box. Now they have five stiff quarterbacks on their roster. There are so many Q’s printed on the roster, Rex is going to confuse the sheet of paper with a Dairy Queen menu and order up a pallet of Frosties. Think of the time that will be wasted giving all these QB guys snaps in camp. Most teams have three QB’s , and it’s considered a waste of the team’s time splitting snaps with a noodle armed 3rd string sub. To prepare for the onslaught of QB’s, the Jets have ordered up an extra 400 footballs and large marine nets to keep all those errant tosses from going out into the street.

NEWS The feel good story of the week was Chad Johnson taking a homeless guy out and bankrolling him for the day. This obviously puts him in the news, in the hopes of course that some team gives him a shot. Cuz teams are always scouring the police logs looking for washed up wife beaters who spend their spare time sleeping in cardboard boxes with winos and heroin addled gypsies. If Chad wants to get in the news with a feel good story, how about getting a little more current and try spooning Jason Collins at a seedy Motel 6?

IDIOTS This week’s biggest idiot goes to the imbeciles who bombed the marathon. Obviously bombing anything qualifies you as an idiot, but take a close look at what these morons did. They exploded not one, but two bombs and killed a grand total of three people. That’s akin to diving on top of an orgy and crawling out the bottom sucking your thumb. More people die from running marathons than the total number these mulyaks took out with their pressure cookers. You know you’re dealing with numbskulls when the trail of bomb residue leads you to the accessory aisle at Kitchen Etc. I was watching this unfold and actually thought to myself, these clowns are making me hungry. What other weapons did these two have in store? Possibly a Crock Pot Cannon and a Wok powered Uzi? Get down! He’s got a muffin tray and he’s headed right for us! I can envision these simpletons returning to headquarters after another botched attempt. How did the mission go guys? “I burn 3 women with waffle iron. Slap woman in face with spatula and shove man’s nipples into Nutra Bullet. Take break for lunch, then have brother stick small boy in privates with Tritan Spork.”

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)


April 25th, 2013 by Paul Nardizzi


1 K.C. A boring draft kicks off with the choice of behemoth OL Luke Joeckel. The draft room suddenly smells like deer antler juice.
2 Jacksonville Who cares. Maybe a punter , since the one they have is one of the leagues most overworked players.
3 Oakland Oakland kicks off the post Al Davis era by choosing DT Shariff Floyd
Shariff promptly tweets “!!@#$# damn”
4 Philadelphia Eagles protect the dog killer with OT Lane Johnson.
5 Detroit The Lions take DE Ezekial Ansah, who will get to the QB, but unlike Ndamukong Suh, doesn’t follow up the sack with a kick to the quarterback’s nuts.
6 Cleveland The Browns take OLB Dion Jordan. Jordan retweets Shariff Floyd’s tweet .
7 Arizona The Cards take Alabama OT Luke Warmack. Most of the country is now asleep.
8 Bills puke all over themselves and choose QB Ryan Nassib. Hall of Famer Jim Kelly drives off the road and dies in a burning wreck.
9 Jets choose LB Barkevious Mingo. Rex Ryan excuses himself so he can go clean himself up in the men’s room.
10 Titans The Tits choose CB Dee Milliner. Milliner asks the commissioner if he can get a mulligan.
11 Chargers choose OG Jonathan Cooper. Most mock draft experts are now 2 for 12 and being handed pink slips.
12 Dolphins choose OT DJ Fluker to protect Ryan Tannehill, thereby giving Tannehill more time to survey the field and realize he has no targets to speak of.
13 Jets wet themselves upon realizing they can pick again, and muff the pick, choosing Tavon Austin, a speedster who will run down the field, then futilely try to run back up to the field to catch a wobbly skeet hurled out of Sanchez’s hand.
14 Panthers Safety Kenny Vaccaro from Texas will be drafted to shore up a sucky secondary. He will fail.
15 Saints will choose OLB Jarvis Jones. Jarvis will hold out of camp until he is compensated as the other members of the defense, with salary plus bounty money.
16 Rams, Given the Rams have chance in the division for the next decade, they choose not a person but rather an object: obtaining the rights to the Notre Dame video tower that failed to stay upright in the 2011 Indiana windstorm. The Rams promptly invite Jim Harbaugh to come as a guest and watch one of their practices.
17 Steelers choose ND TE Tyler Eifert.
18 Cowboys choose DT Sheldon Richardson hoping he is the next stud D lineman out of Missouri. He is not even close.
19 Giants replace Osi with Bjorn Werner despite no history of Swedes or German born Bjorns ever doing anything well in the NFL other than cheering.
20 Da Bears replace their LB departures with LB Alec Ogletree.
21 Cincinnati Bengals, fresh off another offensive playoff disaster, shore up the O with RB Eddie Lacy.
22 Rams use their second selection to choose FS Eric Reid.
23 Vikings choose WR Justin Hunter to replace Percy Harvin. Akin to puking all over oneself.
24 Colts with a suckass D in place the horse shoes go corner back and take Xavier Rhodes from Florida State. Don’t let the “Rhodes” part fool you, this kid skipped class about 85 percent of the time, which at Florida State counts as perfect attendance.
25 Vikings choose former internet hoax sucker Mante Te’o. Te’o receives the call that he’s been drafted, and promptly hangs up saying, “I ain’t falling for this stuff again.”
26 Green Bay chooses Safety Matt Elam.
27 Texans choose WR DeAndre Hopkins.
28 Broncos choose CB Desmond Trufant as its rumored he can follow simple instructions such as “do not let anyone behind you!!”
29 Patriots choose Datone Jones of UCLA.
30 Falcons reach big time and take DJ Hayden, fresh off chest surgery.
31 SF takes SS Jonathan Cyprien due to his strong play and more importantly his views on gay marriage.
32 Ravens bring round one to a screeching halt, replacing LB corp departures with Kevin Minter.

Tags: , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)


January 7th, 2010 by Paul Nardizzi

Tiger Woods now has to deal with the fact that a sex tape of he and one of his partners is out on the market. Unlike the Paris Hilton video and the Pam Anderson boat trip hammer-a- thon, Tiger’s romp is rumored to be a lot less of a turn on. The love making sounds are drowned out by the clattering of Tiger’s giant teeth up against the enamel of his partner, Elin Nordgren is behind the door screaming, “How long does it take for you to show that maid how to turn down the darn sheets?”, and of course there is Tiger’s caddy standing bedside telling him what to do.

Chad Ocho Sinko promised to change his name back to Chad Johnson if cornerback Darrelle Revis out played him last Sunday night in the NFL final regular season game. Game set match. Chad took the pipe in the contest, in fact he was so bad he should consider changing his name to Mrs. Revis. I’ll admit that Ocho has been fairly entertaining during his career, but this Twitter thing is out of control. He twitters so much, I seriously wonder if he leaves time to shower and spit shine his teeth. I understand he wants to be entertaining, but at what point do you lose focus on the game itself? Bengals should bow out quietly this week.

Dan Snyder hired Mike Shanahan yesterday to be the new head coach of the Washington Redskins. This is Dan’s 7th hire in 10 years. The NFL’s Rooney Rule requires every team to interview at least one black candidate for a head coaching job. What someone needs to tell Snyder is you don’t have to apply the rule every year. Snyder says he believes Mike is a good fit, which more or less means that Snyder’s foot fits perfectly up Shanahan’s ass.

I’m a little tired of hearing the following statement this past week after learning Patriots wideout Wes Welker is out for the season. “The Patriots should have done what the Colts did and took their starters out in a meaningless game.” The Colts pulled their starters late in the 3rd quarter of week 16. If the Patriots did what the Colts did, Wes Welker would have hopped up from his knee injury, and hobbled around the field for 2 more quarters until Bill Belichick walked out and put him out of his misery with a rifle shot to the heart.

Bill Belichick seems to think the poor field conditions were what led to Welker’s injury and publicly blasted Houston after the game. Strange, coming from a guy who routinely waters down certain areas of his home field to make life tough on opponents. A familiar sight an hour before home game kickoffs is Bill urinating all over the field with a trail of empty Flomax boxes scattered behind him. Gillette Stadium doesn’t exactly have a flawless track record either. Remember the game at Gillette after the field was used for the MLS title game? Place looked like it was carpet bombed by a squadron of B52’s.
One thing the Patriots did not do in their final game is play fantasy football and go for all sorts of goofy team records like the Colts did last Sunday. Tight end Dallas Clark caught his 100th pass of the season, it was a seven yard loss but who cares about playing the right way, let’s get in the records books. I’m surprised Dallas didn’t run the pass backwards into his own end zone so he could join Jim Marshall in the pantheon of NFL’s biggest dumbasses. He could have followed that up by pile driving the football into his own rectum, snapping a photo of it, Twittering it over to Ocho and waiting to see how the gold plaqued simpleton responded to that celebration later in the day. Then Dallas could have walked off the field and murdered his coach; an NFL first that even O.J. never touched.

The Colts were far from done by the way. Peyton glanced at the chalkboard, saw another meaningless milestone hen scratched on the board by Jim Caldwell, then proceeded to hitch up his panties and throw a bunch of one yard hitches to Reggie Wayne so Reggie could tell his grandkids he caught 100 passes in 2 seasons. Yippee. How did the Colts even know these records were available that day? Was Peyton in the huddle saying, “Toss right 67 slot. Let’s get this ball to Pierre so he can become the 89th receiver in Colts history to catch a pass in January from a crew-cutted redneck with a total of three n’s in his first and last names. On four.” Right after that play Peyton three a pick, securing a victory for the Bills and a win for Peyton in his Yahoo Survivor pool. Then the Colts set another record by becoming the gayest team in NFL history, barely edging the 2006 Colts. Then they hit the showers whereupon they set a record for the warmest water temperature ever in a locker room, the most baby powder ever applied by a group of athletes, and the most loving, heart felt post game speech ever.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)

Tiger Redux, and Hot Stove %$$#

December 17th, 2009 by Paul Nardizzi

Tiger Woods just won’t let up, the latest gossip is he is linked to a doctor who is under investigation for HGH. Tiger can claim that the slew of women he’s been linked to were merely exercises to help him improve his grip, but this HGH thing will be harder to explain. The doctor is from Canada, Tiger lives in Florida. Right around the corner in other words. How did Tiger even know this guy existed? I know several Floridians, and when they require medical assistance, they don’t turn to their wife and say, “Can you please hand me that Canadian phonebook? It’s right next to the Moroccan Yellow Pages. I’m having chest pains, I‘m going to fly a foreigner in to take a looksy. No one around here knows anything about hearts. I’ll use the private jet, it’ll save me from forking over the 25 dollar co-pay. He should be here by the time rigor mortis is setting in.”

Jerry Jones and the Cowboys are once again folding their tents in December. One thing Jerry forgot to install when he built his plush new stadium is an area where his players can vomit during the match.

An ad came on during last week’s Patriots game for some new drug, and as always the ad informed us of all the potential side effects. However this drug’s side effects made Schindler’s List look like a leaflet. Since when is sudden death a side effect? According to this ad, the drug will cause you to not only have headaches, nausea, chest pains, foot aches, diarrhea, tuberculosis, VD, mumps and shingles, it also causes you to go on killing sprees, commit adultery, road rage, cruelty to animals, and turn up buck naked in a dumpster at 2AM. It can lead to divorce, tardiness at work, global warming, your underwear band snapping and your toilet over flowing during a cocktail party. You may experience bleeding of the anus, rupture of the colon, bankruptcy, if you’re really unlucky it may result in a sudden desire to have carnal relations with barn animals.

Quick Celtics question; how long is this team, which is one of the best in the NBA, going to hang on to players like Brian Scalabrine? Seeing him on the court is akin to going to a five star restaurant and seeing Pop Tarts on the dessert menu. I remember back in the 80’s during the Bird Mchale era, the Celtics had quite a few good stiffs on the bench. Not bad ones, good ones. You rarely see any out there anymore, which is fine, but every once in while Doc Rivers shoves Scal onto the court. What’s even worse is the other coach counters that move by shoving his white guy out there and shouting, “Checkmate.”

The winter baseball meetings are going well for a few teams. I’ve never attended the meetings, but after scouring over the early deals, I’m left to wonder if the Red Sox, Yankees, Phillies, Angels and Mariners are the only teams who showed up. Maybe they have one big table where all the good teams sit, and then the Royals and Pirates and all the other suckbags go down into the hotel basement, sit at a small children’s table and trade Topps cards. Occasionally Hank Steinbrenner has to go down there and yell, “Quiet down in here, we’re making deals upstairs, many of them involving your players! I’ll let you know who we fleece from your ranks after we finish dinner. No one cares about Mike Gonzalez, just release him and pipe down already. And finish your Happy Meals, my revenue sharing paid for those things.”
MLB is a joke; and that joke’s punch line gets longer and longer every year. Ok, so every team could use a good centerfielder, but the Yankees, already the best team in the league, go out and get the best one available? The Red Sox have the best starting staff, so they of course go out and obtain the top free agent starter. MLB should consider changing the division names from East, West, and Central to Top Flight, Second Tier, Section 8, and Life Support. When the Yankees win a title, aside from handing out winner’s shares to the clubhouse guys, they should consider handing out cash to all the other teams who help stockpile their lineup. The other teams at these winter meetings must feel like they’re playing Risk and they’re down to their last plastic army guy. They make moves that don’t even require their teams’ attendance at the meetings. Why fly out to Indianapolis for the purpose of saying, “Ok Hank, you done? Granderson huh? Not bad, not bad, we thought about doing something there, but Curtis is going to be 64 in about 30 years so we decided to stick with our guy. Good ol’ what’s his name, I have it somewhere here. Irish kid. Anyway, our move? Good. Where are you going Hank, I sat through your moves. First off, we’re going to slide a few of our triple A guys down to Single A, they’ll all be notified by mail, most likely bulk rate. We’d like to release our second and third basemen to free up some lunch money, we’re also going to option our lefty reliever, and then we’re going to use that extra capital to tender our backup bullpen catcher a one year deal for 150 grand. Next year what do you guys say we hold these meetings at my house?”

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)


December 9th, 2009 by Paul Nardizzi

As more info on Tiger pours in, it appears that the Worlds’ Greatest Lover had women stashed all over the place. The Wood Man played the field the way you or I play the game of Risk, globally. Typically I don’t allow my children to watch the news, but I’ve let them in on this story since it’s a great lesson in geography. It started with a couple of girls, in a matter of hours there were ten; at the rate he’s going, we’ll save more time just mentioning the women with whom he did not have sex with in the past. As the list continues to grow, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m on it. I did cross paths with the Wood Man at the Country Club in Brookline a few years ago, and I have to say the rest of the day is blurry. All I recall is being in the woods, my hair getting yanked, and then driving home wondering where I placed my pants. Probably just a coincidence though.

The latest rumor is that Tiger impregnated a female golf reporter over in England. I can imagine what that voicemail sounded like before the ##@! hit the fan and Elin discovered his secret life. “Hi, it’s Tiger, my wife might be calling you. You have to change the name of the baby, it’s too obvious. Tiger Cub is going to blow the lid on the whole thing, do me this huge one please. No, I think Tigress is not going to work either, and Tigerling is pretty much the same thing. How about Lefty, that’s a nice name, or Jesper, yeah that’s good, let’s go with Jesper. Okay, gotta run, Elin is coming up the stairs with another golfing tip.”

The latest police report on the “car accident” states that Tiger’s wife informed police Tiger had consumed alcohol, and was also on Vicodin; no doubt to eliminate the pain from the golf clubbing. The cops cited him for careless driving. Are you %$$ kidding me? Careless? I drive carelessly every time I get behind the wheel, yet somehow I don’t leave a swath of destruction behind me. What would the cops have cited him for if he killed someone, not using his turn signal? Driving with the radio too loud? Look at his entire evening, and tell me where careless fits it. His wife assaults him with a deadly weapon, so the sex craving clown inhales a vial of pills, sucks down a vat of Chivas, and then proceeds to careen around the neighborhood plowing into a utility device and a tree; at which point the cast of Reno 911 shows up, finds the idiot passed out face down on the pavement, and says, “That’s gonna cost you fifteen dollars Mr. Woods. You can pay that when you come to. Very careless.”

Can you imagine what would have happened if you or I pulled off a stunt like that? The cops would have arrived, awoken us with a flurry of kicks, jammed a bag of coke up our rectum and then exclaimed, “Well looky here boys, we got ourselves a dope peddler.” Meanwhile our club wielding wife would have been subdued with a taser gun, knocked to her knees with a blackjack to the skull, and left lying naked on the front porch while vultures pecked at her cerebellum. Careless woman!

I feel bad for Tiger’s wife, but I also feel bad for the golf writers who have to follow this guy on tour. When Tiger gets in front of the mike after his next tournament, and says “I got lower on the shaft and tried to get the ball to spin and dip like I did in Tulsa last year,” the writers are going to be jotting down and wondering, “Is he talking about the golf match or are we still on that other thing?”

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)


December 3rd, 2009 by Paul Nardizzi

Tiger Woods had a solid weekend for himself. And before you go off on me, saying, “You’re just piling on because he’s black,” let me stop you right there. I am not piling on because he’s black, I’m piling on because he’s Thai. Every race has its own steroetype, but the folks from Thailand have coasted along for years without any sort of black eye on their personage. Till now. The most famous descendant of that country, with one crank of the steering wheel (and several downward tugs of his pants zipper), has now placed an onerous distinction on his fellow countrymen; namely that Thai folk cannot keep their pants on.
Tiger initially tried to weasel out of the mess, claiming he was in a minor accident, and that his wife came to his rescue. We now know the only thing his wife was trying to rescue was the car. If you’re going to lie, you gotta do better than the story he came out with after the accident. First of all, he claimed he was heading out at 2am. For what, an early tee time? Or was he heading out to search for Nicole Brown Simpson’s murderer? Then he smashes into a hydrant and follows that up by tagging a tree. The last guy to pull off that combination was 94 years old, and he had two bodies strewn across the windshield blocking his view. I don’t know about you, but when I hit something, I generally get out to survey the damage, thereby eliminating the potential for me to plow into a bunch of other shit. Tiger told the cops he mistook the gas for the brake. Seriously? It’s not like you’re driving around in a piano, there’s only two pedals down there, pick one Mozart. It seems fairly obvious to me that if you’re driving a car and it suddenly accelerates towards a tree while water gushes out of a water main behind you, you should TRY the other frigging pedal.
Tiger claimed his wife came to his rescue by smashing the window so he could climb out of the vehicle. Okay, first of all, how did your wife know you were out driving? Is she a zombie? Was she at the door blowing you kisses as you pulled out of the driveway at the crack of 2? Is this a common scene in the Wood’s household? Was Woods waving back saying, “Bye bye dear, I should be back around 3:56. Love you. Where am I going? Ummm, for breakfast. I love dem eggs. Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m cheating on you or anything, look at me! Ooops, one of my seventeen cell phones is ringing, gotta grab it, don’t wait up. And stay out of my drawers!”
The fact that his wife ran out of the house with a golf club seemed strange as well. The scene had I was just beating him with this written all over it. A golf club is not typically the device one uses to free someone. The only scene more ridiculous would have been if she ran out to save him while clutching a vial of hemlock in one hand and a castration kit in the other. If I ever see my wife coming towards me with a golf club, I for one will not be uttering a sigh of relief.
The whole story is screaming domestic violence, but the cops are not going to pursue it. That’s spelled Pur$ue by the way. I think the cops are dropping the ball on this one. Last time there were signs of domestic violence in a famous athlete’s house, the end result was murder and a mad chase down the highway in pursuit of a white Bronco. Based on Tiger’s ability to operate a car while being pursued, a lot of innocent people could get run over.
I just hope the announcers aren’t phony when he returns to the course. Tell it like it is in other words. “Tiger is two up on hole fifteen. Good lie, not like that one he told after the accident. He’s going three iron here. That’s the very same club his wife used to mash his skull in back on Thanksgiving! Is it me or is the shaft slighly bent? Still a bit of dried blood on there too and what appears to be a piece of tooth. There’s a shot of Tiger’s wife, how long you give that marriage Bill? Boy does she look pissed. That other chick was smooooo-king. Maybe our cameraman could pan the crowd, see if she’s lurking out there somewhere.

The other shoe will drop when Tiger starts losing sponsorship deals. So far no company has dropped him, but who wants to buy a car whose spokesman is a skirt chaser? Maybe they could change the the promo so instead of Tiger driving a Buick down some ocean view drive, the ad depicts the ability of the car to accelerate away from a deranged broad running down the road waving a frying pan. Tiger could then wink at the camera as he pulls a pair of panties out of his glove compartment. Doubt it, but it’s worth a try. Tiger is also the face of many video golfing games. He may lose those contracts, but maybe his face will pop up on the next version of Grand Theft Auto. Lots of sex and rape in that game. If Tiger does lose any major deals, look for other companies to step in and fill the void. For example, Band Aids is a good fit right now, as is Giant Glass Windshield Replacement, Geico Car Insurance, and AstroLube.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)

Vince Dry Heaves

December 1st, 2009 by Paul Nardizzi

The Pats rebounded from that devastating loss to the Colts by hammering the Jets at Gillette Stadium.  Rex Ryan was contrite after the game, and praised the Pats for outplaying his squad.  Then he retreated to the locker room so he could whittle a coffin for his team.

Now that the Titans are on a roll, fools are again starting to believe that Vince Young is for real.  Are you kidding?  Who have the Titans played?  No one. And while they have won four straight, Young has tossed the rock for an average of about 115 yards a game.  Young makes the forward pass look like a scientific experiment. The Titans PR team has gone out of their way to dress up Vince’s numbers so fans won’t understand how mediocre he is.  On Monday night for example Vince led his team to a 20-17 victory.  He completed two laterals, four pitches, 23 handoffs, and caught 17 shotgun formation snaps.  Vince successfully broke 72 huddles and created numerous playing opportunities for his punt team. In the passing department, Vince threw for over 340 feet, including four tight spirals, six wounded ducks, and seventeen wobbly-assed chuck heaves.

The Steelers choked on the pipe last Sunday, falling in overtime to the suckbag Chiefs.  Big Ben took a blow to the head, and appeared to be bereft of his senses on the sideline. Ben doesn’t look like a Rhodes Scholar when in control of his faculties, so no sane team doctor was going to make the decision to insert the addled fool back into the contest, especially considering he was on the sideline pouring smelling salts on a bucket of French fries. Ben’s injury left the game in the unsteady hands of Charlie Batch. Yes, Charlie friggin Batch. Then Batch got hurt avoiding the rush so he could hurl an incomplete pass into the stands (to his credit, the fan was wearing a Steeler jersey), leaving the Steelers completely undermanned at QB.

Big Ben said he’s going to play this week, and that the blow to his vagina was no big deal.  When informed that the blow occurred to the skull region, Ben said he wasn’t able to obtain the license plate on the flying saucer, but his attorney was looking into whether or not he was abducted and subsequently raped by aliens.   When asked what day it was, Ben replied, “It’s the sixth Sunday in ordinary time.”  Then he rubbed Vagisil on his privates and headed onto the practice field. If I were the Ravens, I’d send 11 men at Ben, twist him silly; then have a field day with whatever dolt the Steelers have at 3rd string.

How about those fantastic Thanksgiving Day NFL games? Would it be too much to ask for the Detroit Lions to step aside next year on Thanksgiving so the rest of the country can hold their food down? People are literally stuffing their bellies with carbs, then ambling to the TV in the hopes of seeing some talent on display, only to discover that the Lions have actually out-eaten them and are now stumbling around in some sort of Tryptophan haze down on the field. The Lions did not win a game last year, yet they were actually a better team because that Lion squad at least knew it sucked. This pack of nitwits takes the field with an arrogance that borders on ignorance. I know Stafford is a rookie, but does he know that NFL corners can see where he is looking before he throws it? He threw one on Thursday that was so bad, I thought the corner was going to signal fair catch. There are bad interceptions where you see it and remark, “Oh, he should have thrown that one away.” But Stafford makes throws that make you wonder if he’s fixing games or playing under the influence of ether.

The Raiders didn’t exactly make dessert any easier to digest either. The Raiders are so bad, my dinner guests not only left early, they told me to go %$$ myself. The Raiders quarterback is a guy named Gradowski. No idea who he is or where they got him, but if he’s playing for Tom Cable he probably possesses the ability to take a punch to the face. The final game of the day was between the Giants and Broncos. The game was televised on NFL Network and had “refund” written all over it. The Giants flat out blew, and although you could credit the Broncos for showing up, try keep in mind they were home and therefore actually live there.

Something smells fishy on the women’s side of track and field. Caster Semenya, an 18 year old from South Africa, has been blowing away the field in recent sprinting events, but a sex test on the runner now reveals that she/he/it has both male and female characteristics. The other women in the field are requesting that Caster run with the men, but there are opponents of this idea, who state that Caster belongs in the female races. I have a third option….. kill it. I know you’re thinking hey, that’s murder, you can’t do that! But it’s not murder. If you take the life of something that is neither a man nor a woman, that falls under the category of hunting.

The 100 meter dash is a bit of a racial event anyway. Think about it, a white guy fires a gun and eight black men run for their lives in the opposite direction. Then they break through the yellow tape so it looks like they’re escaping the crime scene. Sometimes you see a guy grab his leg and stop running; the announcer says he pulled a hammy. Give me a break, that guy got shot.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments (0)