Queen of the D-Listers, in All of BRAVOland: Kathy Griffin

The following blog has been enhanced with photos of dudes who look like Kathy Griffin.

Kathy Griffin has a joke that goes like this:

"Here is my perspective on the Taylor Swift/Kanye West incident.  Which has become a global incident, that even the President has weighed in on. Which is so genius because the President actually called Kanye a 'jackass', which is kind of funny. . . Alright now (talking to the audience) tonight is going to be a multi-media event, so I actually brought a picture of myself with Taylor Swift, because you should know that I know her (apparently shaking hands with someone on the Red Carpet means you 'know' them.)  So she's a gorgeous girl, and blonde, and on the cover of magazines and stuff.  Alright, lemme just say this, I think that that Kanye West thing was the greatest thing that could ever happen to her.  She owes him such a muffin basket, are you kidding? I would kill to have somebody do that to me.  I would give 50 Cent a million dollars to do that to me. . ."

The funny part is Kathy, is that you kinda have to win an award before such a thing can ever happen, and furthermore you kinda need the million dollars.  Also, you forget that, unlike you, Taylor Swift actually has talent, and therefore doesn't need an incident like that to catapult her into stardom (but apparently you do.)  Seeing as how you can't help but totally suck, perhaps you should keep your mind on more pressing matters. Like: where's the next pay check gonna come from?  Because you are entirely unfunny, and actually quite annoying.  In fact, your act has become such a shitfest, that the only way you can muster out laughs from anyone is by making fun of your mother for being an alcoholic. Yeah, that mother of yours, who, by the way, you whored off to the Bravo Network, and they took her in and actually turned her into another D-list 'star,' such as yourself.

To your own mother. . . how could you?

But then again, you know what they say:

Misery loves company.

Kathy Look-A-Like #1:  Which one is the man, which one is Kathy?

The fact of the matter is that Kathy pisses off a lot of celebrities.  Mainly because they feel this talented hack has no real right saying anything about them, even in jest.  But the celebrities aren't alone here, lots of television shows actually feel the same way.  She's banned from appearing on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, Late Night with Conan O'Brien, Live with Regis and Kathy Lee, The Late Show with David Letterman, The Ellen DeGeneres Show, and The View (twice.)  Namely, Kathy Griffin equals bad ratings, unless apparently, its on a lame network targeted towards only a small audience.  She's so horrible, she can't even promote how horrible she is on late night talk shows, and thats all late night talk shows do: promote celebrities.  She was also banned from the Apollo Theatre for making some off hand remark about Kate Gosslin, and was fired from an appearance on Hannah Montana after Griffin made some joke that involved Miley Cyrus running around flashing people her green bra and posing topless.  It is also rumored that she is banned from ever being on CNN because for two years straight she has managed to slip profanity into a live broadcast.

She's kinda running out of networks. . .  So she's taken a little break from it banging on celebrities.  Like I mentioned before, now she spends a lot of time degrading her mother in front of complete strangers:

"My mom drinks like a rapper."  Kathy on her Mom liking Hennessey.

"Around Christmas I usually just give my Mom money in an envelope, like a drug deal."  Kathy on her inability to find the right gift for her mother. (Here's an idea Kathy, kill yourself, it'll stop her embarrassment.)

And by break I mean, a little one.

She has her own television company named Inappropriate Laughter, named after the retarded guffaws of audience members who actually laugh at her jokes.  In reality, its just an offshoot of the Bravo Network, seemingly the only syndication that will even broadcast her face.  With this company she's produced unfunny special after unfunny special, and namely her reality t.v. show My Life on the D-List.

The show actually won her an Emmy, which was more like a consolation prize for years of mediocrity and being treated like a complete loser.  Don't get me wrong, she still is, she just has an Emmy now.  And yes, for being the biggest loser in Hollywood.  Which I guess, is something to be proud of.  It gets better too, because when Kathy did win, she had to taint the whole thing, as usually when you win, you're required to say something.  So Kathy said this:

"Now a lot of people come up here and thank Jesus for this award.  I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus.  He didn't help me a bit.  If it was up to him, Cesar Millan would be up here with that damn dog.  So all I can say is suck it, Jesus, this award is my God now."

Kathy Griffin Look-A-Like #2:  Which one is Carrot Top, Which one is Kathy Griffin?

Naturally she was kidding, but she really pissed of the Catholic League. Generally, people don't like it when you tell their god to 'suck it.'  Some called it straight up hate speech, and even was big enough to pick up the loaded sights of Bill O'Reily, who called her a "pinhead."  It was later edited from subsequent showings on E!, as pissing off an entire demographic of potential viewers is not anything any television syndication wants to happen, so Kathy was swept under the rug.

Swept under the rug, but she still has Bravo.

Aside from being the Queen of Bravoland, Kathy Griffin has actually appeared in nearly 50 television shows, including X-Files, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Hollywood Squares, The Simpsons, and Ugly Betty.  She has also appeared in an Eminem music video, and has been in over 30 movies (all parts under a minute or less.)  Kathy has also done 11 comedy specials, and two comedy cds (the second of which being a holiday comedy cd, though the only mention of any holidays is in its title: Suckin' It For The Holidays), all of them using the term 'comedy' rather loosely.  

These days, she's having an on and off again relationship with Steve Wozniack, one of the co-founders of Apple computers.  Yeah, its weird.

Apparently she's even written a book.

That's even weirder.

Kathy Griffin wouldn't be around if it wasn't for that bastards over at the Bravo Network.  Her career outside of Bravo has consisted of small parts in television shows and movies, usually casted as The Woman Walking Outside, or the Gas Station Attendant.  Rarely does she ever have speaking lines, because having to look at her is bad enough, if she were to open her mouth, you'd change the channel real quick.

But its different on Bravo.

For some reason the gays just love her.  And as such, like Lady Gaga, she probably won't ever die, no matter how annoying she gets.  Look, everyone knows its okay to be a dick sometimes and make fun of celebrities, but you kind of have to be funny, otherwise it just comes out as jealous hate speech. . . Which is exactly your problem Kathy.  You've said some things that have just come off as stupid and moronic, and furthermore failed attempts at humor.  There's a reason you're stuck on the D-List, because you suck and have practically burned every bridge available, with your 'humor.'  You've even been kicked off of The View.

You've also turned your mother into a Bravo phenomenon, ass you've paraded her around not only on your lame as reality television show, but also during your stand-up performances.  You've packaged her as a box-wine guzzling alcoholic, and apparently you don't have any problems with that, and neither does she.  In fact, mommy dearest put out a book with you, entitled "Tip it!:  The World According to Maggie Griffin."  Oh I'm sure its full of great drinking anecdotes, like the time 60 year old mommy got shitfaced and shit her pants.  Oh box wine is so funny, isn't it?

Kathy Griffin Look-A-Like #3:  Which one is Kathy Griffin, and which one is Harland Williams in drag?

Oh and Kathy, I totally love your website by the way, and yes, I totally entered the contest for the chance to meet you in person.  Cross your fingers, everybody!

It is for your inability to recognize how horrible you really are, that iR declares Kathy Griffin, blindly retarded.

Kathy Griffin states as her influence: Joan Rivers, Don Rickles, and Johnny Carson.

Kathy Griffin has actually been a New York Times Best Seller. . . I give up.  Really I do.

Kathy Griffin is a staunch supporter of Best in Drag, a competition in Los Angeles, and has hosted it for 5 years.

Kathy Griffin supports gay marriage: because 65% of her audience is gay. I said it.

Kathy Griffin placed 17th on Oxygen's 50 Funniest Women Alive.

Kathy Griffin has a penis, and its bigger than mine.  Not much of a feat, but anyway. . .

Kathy Griffin is partially blind in one eye, LASIK fucked her up.

love, iR.

Danielle Staub: Crazy Psycho Bitch

What's baseball?  I'm so pretty.  Aren't I pretty?  Tell me I'm pretty.

When gay marriage was a hot topic, Danielle Staub not only claimed that she was gay, but that she was an active member of the community, and for over thirty years.  She claimed a relationship with another woman, but wouldn't come out completely about the details, and furthermore never really 'came out,' stating that she wasn't exactly sure, despite being a staunch supporter of the gay community. . .

When The Real Housewives of New Jersey was dieing down, Danielle Staub made herself a sex tape with some young dude she happened to be dating at the time.  It wasn't 'leaked,' or at least it wasn't packaged that way, as Hustler published the whole damn thing.  Sick pay check Mrs. Staub, pretty sure sex for money, by definition, makes you a hooker.

When other wives of the reality show were getting more coverage, Danielle Staub had herself a little breakdown, and managed to piss everyone off so bad that her hair was pulled, and she was "assaulted." Now, she's trying to sue the whole damn cast of the show.

To put it simply, Danielle Staub is a dumb, dumb, dumb attention whore.

I mean like really dumb. . .  If she and Jessica Simpson were on an episode of Jeopardy, the winner would be she who lost the least amount of money.

Danielle Staub is the type of whore who walks into a room and demands the attention of everybody.  I mean, everybody.  The problem is, these days she's a little too old for such antics, and you can tell it really gets to her.  From bitching to her teenage daughters like she's just one of the girls, to the extensive plastic surgery and constant attempts to deny nature, you can really tell its getting to her, and as such, she's doin' her best to make sure nobody ever, ever, forgets her.

Even if this means everyone remembers her for being an utterly retarded crack whore.

You see, Danielle Staub was in this book "A Cop Without a Badge," that apparently was full of lies about her, so all these years later, she wrote herself a book so that she may 'straighten' everything out.  That is to say, she used her star power to get herself a ghost writer and have some shit publishing company produce her ramblings in some vile hopeless attempt to turn a profit.  The most retarded part is that this book, written in response to all the lies told about her, is called "The Naked Truth."

And its full of fucking lies.

For instance her ex-husband Kevin Maher, is trying to sue the pants off her for defamation; that the claims that he "beat her into a cocaine stupor" are totally false, and that the cops never arrested him, and that further "[he's] never spent a day in prison in his life," like her book claims. Now the average person could assume that perhaps these are just the words of a scorned lover, looking for the opportunity to score some cash from a big fat cash cow. . .  But this would be the assumption of a person who has never really seen the retardation that Danielle Staub is capable of. . . She's exactly the sort of retarded bitch who would claim something like that; something easily refuted by documentation and real evidence.

Any day now, Danielle is gonna claim she's been raped by aliens on Mars. . .

But you see, Danielle lives in her own little world, of buttercup toadstools and chocolate milk waterfalls. . . No wait, soy milk waterfalls - chocolate milk is fattening.

Kevin aint the only one either.  Her ex-boyfriend, you know, the one she did that sex-tape porno with?  Well, he's saying that all the details regarding their sex-tape porno have been stretched a bit, by Mrs. Staub. Apparently, the whole damn thing was her idea.  Surprise, surprise.

One in the same.

Danielle Staub herself has said:

"You either love me, or you hate me, there's no in between with me."

Lemme rewrite that for yah babe, make it more accurate, yah dig?:

"You either pretend to love me, in which case you hate me after I sleep with you, or you just straight up hate me, in which case you probably have a brain.  There's no in between with me."

There yah go, yeah... Yeah... aint that better?

Yeah, cause you're certainly retarded Danielle.  I mean you put out this tell all book, I assume to get people to talk about you, and when they did, you threw a total shit fit about it. You were surprised to find that people chose to ignore all that bullshit about you being a victim, and instead concentrated on your faults:  the coke, the prostitution, etc. . . Really? You were surprised by all of this?  Oh man, life is a real bitch when people you've made to be your enemies find it difficult to feel sorry for you and just talk shit.  Yeah, a real bitch. . .

Way to go.  I guess, if you act shocked, it didn't really happen right? Even though you were beggin' for that cock. . .

Recently, Danielle has found that perhaps her reality t.v. career will, indeed, one day dry up, so she's done her best to try and expand out as much as she can.  She's gotten into music (as of course, according to her, back in the day she use to be quite the singer) and produced herself a single with a respected female artist (who she claims to be her girlfriend, sometimes. . . when its convenient.)

It debuted on Bravo, and was introduced by the Devil himself.

And if I could, stretch out these five minutes of fame. . .
Anyone else find this video disturbing?  I mean The Devil is sitting there in the dark with a glass of liquor in one hand, and he's smiling like a mad man.  Pretty sure its cause Danielle sold him her soul.

Danielle looks deep in thought. . . but really thats just that mixture of tequila and prescription pills she had this morning.  Either that or she's finally feeling the affects of silicone poisoning. . .  Of course the song was just another attempt to sap away attention and bring it upon herself.  How popular it is, I don't know, and in fact, even those in the business of knowing about such things don't know how popular it is, either.  I mean, thats the first time you've ever heard it right?

Cause who really watches bravo, I mean really?  The Real Housewives of New Jersey is so bad that even die-hard reality t.v. show fans don't really like to talk about it.  This reality show, coupled with MTV's Jersey Shore makes New Jersey appear to be a really, really scary place, where the dumb youth there grow up and become dumb adults who are just as addicted to drama and themselves as they ever were as ego-driven teens.  The very latitude and longitude seems to attract them like flies, almost as if they were driven there magnetically, or instinctively like a flock of birds trying desperately to out-fly the winter always at their heels.

These days, Danielle Staub has a whole website dedicated to her, and her ego.  Aside from constantly stroking her, the site also provides information for Danielle Staub fans (all 200 hundred of them, all currently living in Danielle Staub's head.)  To the right of the site, you can keep up with her retarded ramblings (thanks twitter,) and the site also features an online store, complete with "Danielle's Mafia" tee shirts, and "The Naked Truth" boy shorts.  I mean, we're talking some real classy stuff:

Godfather rip off logo'ed t-shirt for only 25 bucks?  Hell yeah!

The site also keeps up with her appearances, and guess what?  She hasn't had one in months. . . Guess its time to start some more shit, Danielle.

We'll be waiting.

Danielle Staub is gaining enemies, and at a rapid rate.  No one really cares though, everyone is just a tad bit tired of her bullshit.  And rightfully so.  She's that person in your life that is over dramatic about everything, and just loves drama and all of the attention.  She's made worse in that there are cameras around her, which entitles her into believing that people actually care about her and her life.

Maybe ole' horsey face still thinks she's on Broadway or something, or the big star of the show that everyone comes to see.

In a way she's right.  People tune in to see her do retarded shit, and on that show, she's got a shit ton of competition.  Like that chick, Teresa Guidince, in 10.5 million dollars of debt. . . the one that likes to flip tables when she's pissed off, and claims to have a very active sex life, even after squirting out four children.  Or Caroline Manzo, the enforcer of the show, who'll bust your ass if you look at any of her family wrong.

Danielle Staub look its your daddy:

And so, it is for these reasons that iR declares Danielle Staub, infinitely retarded.

Gary Busey is Bat Shit Crazy

It is just writing.  You should try it sometime.  Its really nice sometimes. Just let it go.  No, I never met Gary Busey, or his ex-wife, don't be silly. No, none of this ever happened.  But its really nice sometimes.  You should try it.

Look:

A weekend with Gary Busey is a harrowing experience.

For instance when I first met him he asked me if I wanted a mixed drink: I assumed he meant alcohol so naturally I accepted his offer.  Imagine my surprise when he came into the room kicking a jug of milk with one foot and kicking a can of chocolate syrup with the other.

"What the hell are you doing Gary?"  Yes, even I was surprised by how crass I was being.

"Mixing chocolate milk."

"What the hell do you mean?  They're in two separate containers. . . how is such a thing--"

"What?"  He then came real close to me, close enough to allow me to peer into his Godless crazy eyes.  He smiled like a demon, with those Goddamn choppers of his, making me fear he'd bite my nose off like some ornery parrot, but he just stared at me.  "Just because they are separate, doesn't mean that they're not together!"

"No Gary, actually thats exactly what that means."

"What?!  What?!"

"Fine no drinks Gary, no drinks."

"Fine, no fucking drinks."

He then produced a groan similar to one made by a dieing animal, or a man about to succumb to a seizure; the mind screams and the voice tries to say so many things at once it simply groans, before the eyes flicker and the body twitches.  Quite frankly, its one of the most sickening sounds a person can hear, and anyone who has ever heard it before knows what it does to you, and what rotten waves of sickness come up your spine in tingles of pure electricity. . . Yet with Gary its different, he does it so often that the sickness eventually subsides and no longer makes you want to wretch, but instead makes one want to punch him.

Which is why Gary has those fake horse teeth of his.

He told me, he pulled me in real close and told me, the bastard.

"See these?"  Chomp, chomp.  His left eye squinted, he looked as if perhaps he was shitting his pants.  He then told me.

Listen:

"Boy, you do know, that when you look an animal in the eye as you eat it, you can take its soul and let it nourish you forever. . ."  Before I had time to ask just what the hell he was talking about, he continued, but not before jutting out his right arm and shaking me by the shoulder violently. "It'll nourish you forever. . .  I was at some bar and some bastard thought perhaps he could impose himself upon me."  MAD MAN SCREAMS. "Yeah, thought he knew a thing or two about me.  But listen, what you don't know is almost exactly what you know, only more dangerous. . . " Again, before I had time to ask what he meant he continued.  "Now you're a star in the galaxy.  There are many stars around, but there are no stars like you.  You haven't died out yet, you still burn pure.  And thats a good thing. . . And if you take the energy from these stars, gather em up, you can really make fire.  And thats what this bastard did, right on my teeth. The universe is eternal, unlike all things in it."

He smiled.

"Wait, so how did you lose your teeth?"

He frowned, disgusted.

"Why, I just told you Goddammit!  Are those ears of yours clogged with ignorance?"

The thing is, Gary was right.  You'll see.

"I guess so Gary, I guess so."

Other people will give you a decipherable story, you know one with an actual linear plot line, like the one his ex-wife, Judy Helkenberg told me days later:

"Gary, as you probably have noticed, has a bad cough.  Or we called it a cough anyway.  If anything, its more like a mind cough.  Or a hiccup.  A wildman whoop."

"A goose dieing."

"So you've heard it.  Yes, well back in the eighties, Gary had himself a bad motorcycle accident.  You know its funny, I miss that noise. He wasn't wearing a helmet or anything, and it severely injured him.  The doctors feared it gave him brain damage, and rightfully so.  I think it did.  I really do.  Everyone thought it did too.  Everyone except Gary.  He thought it just brought down the barriers, the guards, but we know better. He said it just made him impulsive.  Made him say things and do things most people think, but never do.  Well, he was at this bar, and he just starting his outbursts.  He was yelling all over the bar, dropping stuff on people like he was saying something real revolutionary and important.  Well after awhile, this guy got sick of it, and the two got into it, and well he just about knocked all of Gary's teeth out."

"Wow."

"Yeah."  She seemed very sad.  "Yeah, but it was all the accident you see. . . I don't know why you're here, I assume to write some article about Gary, but would you please do your best not to defame him?  I mean, he's really got some brain damage going on up there.  After the crash, he never was quite the same.  At least now the doctor has him on some medication, but sometimes he forgets, and he goes off. . . Be kind to him, won't you?  Won't you?"

Gary was right, I was ignorant.  Lots of times thats the case.  Media just isn't fair.  They spin things a certain way and people take it for the truth. People just don't like investigating further, it isn't in their interest.  Its easy to assume certain things.  Its easy to assume.

"I won't."  I said.

She was very grateful.  She tried to offer me coffee, but I don't drink that stuff.  So she tried to offer me some sponge cake, but I told her I don't like sweets either.  I left her with a thanks and a promise to do right by her ex-husband.  When I got back to Gary he was launching golf balls into a nearby lake.

HIIIIYAH!  The white ball took off and disappeared into the clouds, and as gravity had its way it came down and plopped into the water like a dead fish.

HIIIIYAAAH!  Another and another. . .

"So I Gary I spoke with your ex-wife. . ."  I said.

HIIIIYAAAAH, another.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, Gary."

HIIIIIIYAAAAAH!  Another.

"So how bout that motorcycle accident?"  I asked, I knew it was kind of a douchey move.  But work is work.  Yah dig?

"What about it?"

"You tell me?"

He stopped whacking balls.  Instead he took his nine iron and chucked it into the lake HIIIIYAAAAH.

"She tell you how it changed me?"

"Yes."  I said.  "You think it changed you."

"Hardly.  It takes years to make mountains you know.  It takes years to make sand.  And there's no one anywhere who can say that the sand is any less than the mountain."

"Oh yeah?"  I had no idea what he was getting at.

"Yeah, you ignorant boy?  Sand, although finite can be stretch across the stars and measure Godliness."

"Yeah Gary..."  This was all pointless.  "I gotta get going."

"Then go, boy."

"Bye Gary."

"Hello is no different from goodbye."

"Sure Gary, sure."

I stopped.  I left and took the notebook I had been writing in and took it home with me.  I placed it under my bed, and after a few hours and a couple of drinks, I returned to it and tore every damn page out.  It was some asshole story about how Gary likes to eat paint, and how Gary likes to paint with chocolate pudding.  About how Gary doesn't like horses, he prefers bulls.  About how Gary's got his own line of clothing, modeled after shopping bags.

It was a real rotten piece.

Just tore it up and burned it.

Sorry.





Gary Busey has gotten a real bad rap in the media.  Yeah, he's fucking crazy, and at times fucking retarded, but unlike most celebrities, this isn't because he's stupid.

His brain is damaged.

That motorcycle really did him in, kind of like Bob Dylan, but even more so.   Even still, Gary Busey has amassed himself quite the career.  He's done more than a hundred movies, and has done at least one every year since 1971.  All these movies, and all anyone can say about him is that he's bat shit crazy, and thats not entirely his fault.

If you ask me, that makes Mr. Gary Busey pretty damn bad ass.

He's also been in television, most recently Entourage, which has depicted Gary as bat shit crazy.  And guess what, Entourage is kind of right about that.  Although recently, his doctors have found that his accident did indeed cause brain damage (before that they were just fearful of it,) and Gary never really wanted to acknowledge it (who the fuck would?) but these days he's taking medication to keep all the chemicals in his head right.

If anything, Gary's a really nice guy.  He's fucking cool too.  Being friends with Hunter S. Thompson just further proves that.  Sure he looks like he fell asleep next to a giant set light, but he's all in all, a good guy.  I say it, so it is so.  Despite being crazy, he's done far more better work than any other actor who's been labeled "sane," and that fuckin' says something.

It is for these reasons, that iR declares Gary Busey, inspirationally retarded.

love, iR

Lindsay Lohan Goes To Jail, and Is Shocked By It.

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LeBron James and The Cleveland Massacre

The original reads:  When I look at myself, I'm not representing LeBron now.  I'm representing the league, the city of Akron, the city of Cleveland. . . I'm not going to disappoint anybody."

Now that LeBron James is in Miami, the throngs of retards who followed this long debacle can finally change their dirty drawers and wipe the drool from their mouths.  Ridiculous, if you ask me.  The whole God damn thing, as hoping for LeBron is much like praying for your guardian angel just as you're about to be swallowed whole by quick sand: even if he does show up, you're still fucked, as theres nothing he can possibly do.

Next years champs are already envisioning their gaudy championship rings, and guess what?  They won one last year.  To assume the mere addition of a young kid dumb vain enough to get 'Chosen 1' tattooed on his back would be enough to beat out a hardened, veteran team with arguably one of the greatest players in the game, and arguably one of the greatest coaches in the game, is not only irresponsible, but downright retarded.

Lakers three-peat.

Have a nice day King James.

But I digress:

Now that this whole thing is done with, it leaves the idea of fantasy wide open.  This is how it would have gone, had I done it, and not King James:

Weeks of frantic calling between Dan Gilbert, owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers, and LeBron James have led to this:  mass homicide. . .

News of LeBron shopping around made Dan rather nervous, and after each visit with a different team, Dan would call LeBron like a jealous girlfriend, demanding just how many times he was copulated, and by whom.  (Was it that bastard Isiah Thomas?  Was it?)  Naturally like any jealous girlfriend, the more LeBron went out, the more suspicious Dan became, and with the passage of time, Dan's franticness only swelled inside him, making him feel much like a balloon.  By the time the balloon was ready to pop, LeBron had just about made up his mind as to whom he wanted to go steady with.

Frantically, Dan Gilbert sought the help of Frank Jackson, mayor of Cleveland. . . 

While LeBron was getting stroked by the New York Knicks, Dan was making the call to Frank Jackson:

"He's cheating on me dammit!"  Dan said.  "Dammit it all to hell!"  He seemed as if he was sobbing, if not due to anger than to total sorrow.  "He's gonna leave me. . . The bastard is gonna leave us!  The city of Cleveland, all of us, every last one!"

"Calm yourself, Dan."  The Mayor replied.

"This is bad for everybody!  Even for you Mayor Jackson, even for you!  The economy will go down the shitter!  Tourism will drop from five thousand visits a year down to only two, or by God, only one thousand. . . They'll hang you my friend!"  Dan was yelling into the phone, due to a certain frenzy only jealous girlfriends can have when their man is just about to scoot out on em'.  "You'll forever be known as the mayor who let LeBron get away!  Do you really want that Jackson?!  Do yah?"  Jackson didn't say anything, so he continued.  "Well if that's what you want, then you can just sit back and watch your city turn to shit."

"Dan. . . -to shit-. . . Dan . . . -to shit mayor-. . . I'm with yah, but what is it that you propose?"

Somewhere over the country in a private jet LeBron James listens to Kanye West, because he's fucking cool, he's the 'Chosen One.'  He texts and flirts with teams.  Below, Mayor Jackson and Dan Gilbert organize a plan.  Miles off, a dead body floats peacefully down the Cuyahoga River, out of downtown Cleveland and out to sea.  The Post-LeBron Era's first casualty. . . Days drift on by, as the city of Cleveland goes about its daily business.  LeBron is the topic in every bar, and broodingly the entire drinking class of Cleveland sips and waits.  LeBron meets with more teams.  The media runs with it, hook line and sinker.  Dan Gilbert chews a bloody finger.  Mayor Jackson makes calls and throws about some political weight.

As the media announces that LeBron James is done courting and has final decided his next team, all of Cleveland assembles for a rally held by Dan Gilbert and Mayor Frank Jackson.  Everything is going according to plan.  LeBron meets with t.v. people to make his announcement.  Gilbert smiles, sitting next to Mayor Jackson at the podium.  The square is full of people. Jackson speaks:

"Beautiful people of Cleveland. . . As you probably know, King LeBron James' contract ran out with the Cleveland Cavaliers, and lately he's been shopping himself around."  Boos rose up from around the podium, producing a smile on Frank's face.  His arms stretch out like a marrionette.  

The people of Cleveland stand and listen.  LeBron sits down, in Los Angeles, preparing for his announcement.  Dan Gilbert wipes sweat from his brow.  Jackson in Cleveland continues:

"Now, now, settle down settle down.  We all know that LeBron is our hometown hero, our hometown boy.  Selflessly he took on the job of helping this great city of ours, and has done much for us.  Don't you think for a second now that, he's about to skip out on us now. . . Not after all we've been through together. . ."

The camera comes to life, LeBron begins to make his announcement.  An interviewer begins:

"So you ready LeBron?"

"Sure am."  LeBron replies.

While Jackson continues to speak to the people of Cleveland.

"But just in case he does have some inklings of going elsewhere. . . Mr. Gilbert and I have decided to give him a little incentive to stay here in Cleveland. . ."

And the people listen.  And the camera in Cali whirls away:

"Its been a real nail biter, LeBron, you get much sleep?"

"Not enough."  LeBron laughs.

LeBron laughs and over in Cleveland Jackson continues:

"We've decided that we'll. . .reaching into his pocket. . . kill one Clevelander. . . pulling out a gun. . . at a time until he BAM, one dead. . comes BAM back BAM to us. BAM BAM."

Each explosion of sulphur and blue flame equaling death, one loud blast at a time.  And the interviewer in Los Angeles:

"So LeBron, BAM, where you BAM, BAM, headed BAM next year?"

"I've dec-BAM-ided to BAM take my talents BAM to South BAM Beach Florida, BAM to play BAM for the BAM Miami BAM Heat."  Lebron says, plainly.

 And the next day, when the sun peaked up out over the tops of the buildings in Cleveland, Jackson was still shooting away, his feet ankle deep in a sea of spent casings.

"Until he BAM comes BAM back BAM to US!  BAM BAM."  He fires and fires and keeps firing when the clip is empty.  The devoted Clevelanders are still there, either too devasted to live without LeBron or too stupid to get up and get out of there.  They wait for Jackson to reload.  Dan Gilbert nods on and off.  LeBron pulls out his cell phone and makes a phone call:

It rings.  Jackson reloads his gun, his cell phone rings.

"Hello?"  LeBron says.

"Hello?"  Jackson says.

"Its LeBron, I'm sure you've. . ."

"Oh LeBron!"  Jackson laughs and puts the phone down for a second.  "Its ok everybody!  Its LeBron, prolly calling to come back!"  He puts the phone back to his mouth.  "Prolly wantin' to come back huh LeBron?  You heard about the people we been killing down here for you, huh, LeBron?  I know the last thing you would want is to hurt the people of Cleveland.  I know I know.  The King is back!  He's back!"

"Uh, no.  I'm going to Miami."

"Miami!  What?!"  He couldn't believe it.  "But were killing Clevelanders out here.  Don't you know?"

"Don't you know?"  LeBron askes.

"What?  What?"

"I don't give a fuck about Cleveland."

And then hangs up the phone.

This whole LeBron James hub-bub was just a little too much.  For one, Cleveland shouldn't have baptized LeBron in their waters and made him a homegrown boy so to speak.  They shouldn't have given him the title of not only King, but 'Our Lord and Savior,' for not even LeBron can save you Cleveland. . .  Never give an athelete such adoration: its sure to go to their head.  Especially if they're young.

And now that he's gone, why, my word, may I be the first to say 'welcome back to obscurity' Cleveland.

But its not really all your fault.

LeBron shouldn't have taken up the title himself.  But I guess he really thought he could carry you guys through the muck and give you something to be proud of.  LeBron shouldn't have dragged this whole thing out either, everybody already knows everything about every other team, certainly LeBron did, so why did he have to have all of these damn meetings?

What can yah give me suckkas?

LeBron isn't really all that surprisng.  The guys been bred to play basketball, much like a thorough bred horse (if he breaks a leg we just may have to put him out of his misery) so it isn't really that surprising when he does the stuff that he does.  I mean LeBron had a fucking beard in the fourth grade for Christ's sake.

If anything, he's done nothing but destroy his name, destroy his relationship with an entire city (thats fuckin hard to do,) and give himself that 'prima donna' prefix that no basketball player really ever wants. . .

But LeBron doesn't seem to mind.

And it is for that reason alone that iR declares LeBron James, shamelessly retarded.

After LeBron left Cleveland, Dan Gilbert was so butt hurt he put out this letter to all of Cleveland.

LeBron's pre game ritual includes tossing crushed chalk up into the air. . . because he's the Chosen One and everything he does is fucking cool... yah hear me?

LeBron actually has a film made about his life called More Than a Game.

LeBron will be on the cover of Backstabbing Liar Monthly next month.

LeBron is only 25. . . only 25.

6 ft 8 inches, 250 pounds.  I told you, he's a thorougho bred.

Signed a 90 million dollar shoe contract with Nike before he even debuted professionally.

LeBron was an All State wide receiver in high school.  Shit that explains a lot.

THE LEBRON JAMES OFFENSE:

Drive the lane, be sure to carry the ball.

Run over opposing players.  Don't worry about the foul, the Chosen One never fouls anyone.

love,

iR

Carlos Zambrano: Just Another Whiney Pitcher

Baseball use to be a game of true heroes: of regular Joes who had jobs on the side and were generally well respected by everybody.  They didn't have to worry about wandering the streets in fear of being recognized and mauled for autographs or photos or anything like that, or even worse, the wrath of some die hard fan of an opposing team just set on sticking it to em good.  They were average in nearly every way:  some were alcoholics, smokers (tending to smelly cigars during batting practice right before a game - heavy lumber on one shoulder and a heavy cigar like a wet slug sticking out of the corner of the mouth), big eaters and light sleepers (all the women you see.)  Just a couple of brutish stoned faced American boys, playing a pure American game on fields so nice, by God: it must be American.

Simple everyday men, who despite being so mortal, so God-damned plain, managed to do great and amazing things, and in doing so managed to rouse in fellow man the capabilities of flesh, in a game that made them legends.

But its not like that anymore.

There are no more legends to be had, not in the modern game.  None of the type that Kevin Costner likes to jerk himself off with -- there aint no Field of Dreams with a tall corn fringe on the edge of a ball field through which baseball greats - like actors through a curtain - appear to play the game of ball. No, not anymore.  Just a dusty diamond with a spotty field full of ragweed, lined by a rusty fence sure to give anyone who touches it a case of 'the lock jaw,' and all the players running around the field just so happen to be nincompoops.

And cheats. . .

And crybabies. . .

Like this guy: Carlos Zambrano.

Carlos (center) doing what he does best: bitchin'.

Like so many Chicago Cub pitchers, perhaps due to the teams historic inability to produce a team capable enough to win the World Series, Carlos Zambrano was touted as the next big thing for the organization when he first appeared: that rocket of an arm that would, by strength alone, pull the rotten team up out of a dreary dream state, almost as if they were drowned, and pick them up, dripping like drowned rats to plop them peacefully on a much drier promised land:  The World Series.

Yet:  this never really happened, and has yet to happen. . . and now big old Carlos Zambrano, "Big Z," is thinkin' about retiring.

Why did it never happen?

Because he's no hero, like ball players of old, he's just a crybaby, look:

After 1st baseman Derek Lee missed a sharp grounder for a lead off double, Zambrano laid into Lee, feeling as if he should have gotten it.

This latest outburst, which only happened a couple of weeks ago, gave Carlos Zambrano and indefinite suspension from the team, and when he does come back, he'll be saddle bagged with relief pitching duty. . . But all of this is no new thing to Zambrano, he's had a history of flying off the handle.  He's done it all, from tossing a ball into left field after he received an unjust call, to slapping his teammates, destroying bats, talking shit about his own fans, and uplifting Gatorade dispensers.  He's even gone so far as to use every umpire's favorite motion, that simple movement that displays not only absolute power but bitter disgust: that -YOU'RE OUTTA HERE- motion all umpires use when they throw out a player.  After disagreeing with an umpire and getting throw out of the game, Zambrano felt it fit to show everyone just how much power, and bitter disgust he had too, because he then proceeded to use that same motion: YOU'RE OUTTA HERE and attempted to throw out the umpire, and stared at him with so much authority you would think the roles were reversed.

Needless to say, he didn't succeed.

He didn't succeed and has given his organization a whole lot to think about.  His retardation is no doubt shameful, and bad for the city and the team, yet management faces a calamity: the damn bastard still has 2 years left on his contract, and with a no-trade clause to boot.  Its a real pickle'n'that well, you see, that means they can't get rid of the ole' lard ass, not'n'less they feel like waiting for his contract to run out.  And you can damn well guarantee that when the cows do come home, he'll ride the pine and pitch a few innings of baseball, and still get paid the big buck, still get paid as much as any heavy handed hide hurler.  This will make him, no doubt, the highest paid reliever in the game, and that my friends, is so retarded I dare not venture to think about it.

Despite Zambrano's bitchiness, it is not a unique quality for the modern day Major League Baseball pitcher to posses, for once again, the heroes of the past have faded out into obscurity, sullied by the great shit stain that is modern baseball.  There have been many pitchers who have fallen under such a title, of 'utter overpaid douchebag' like:

John Rocker, who famously described New York City as a real shit hole that resembles 'Beirut,' and is home to 'AIDS infested queers,' jailbirds, women who produce many offspring at young ages, and worst of all the foreigners!  'The biggest thing I don't like about New York are the foreigners.  You can walk an entire block in Times Square and not hear anybody speaking English.  Asians and Koreans and Vietnamese and Indians and Russians and Spanish people and everything up there.  How the hell did they get in this country?"  Oh yeah, and he's done much in securing his image as a racist retard. . . These days he's trying to start a "Speak English" campaign, yelling racist remarks at other hotel patrons, or literally spitting on foreign products. . . oh and he's a cheater too, in 2007 his name was found on a client list that sold human growth hormones.

Odalis Perez, who when isn't giving up six runs a game and stinking up the place, often enjoys temper tantrums that are so stereotypical you would think he spent all his days watching kids pout.  He includes all the usual outbursts, short of torrents of tears, and loves most to stomp around the field and destroy things.

Kevin Brown, who's bitchiness can be chalked up as 'roid rage,' as the guy had more fuel pumping through his veins than a race car on race day.  This guy had an anger problem that was further compounded by a racing heart and testicles that were shriveling by the very second.  Oh and when he's not on the field, he's just as big of a loose handle, as in 2006 he allegedly pulled a gun on his neighbor after he accused him of dumping dead foliage in his yard.

Roger Clemens, who's such a great guy he cheats in the game of baseball and cheats in the game of love.  The ultimate Diva, during his career Roger complained about a whole lot of things, the most pathetic of which was the fact that he had to carry his own luggage through airports.  He's also criticised Fenway Park, calling it a 'subpar facility,' and has had more than his fair share of bouts of racism, including this little gem:  "None of the dry cleaners were open, they are all at the game, Japan and Korea."  (Clemens on the World Baseball Classic.)  To top it all off when his career was waining Roger announced retirement, then retracted it, then announced retirement, then retracted it, only to finally retire and have everyone call him a little whiney-ass-diva.

And then there's always Wild Thing:

But he wasn't much of a baby as he was just a bad ass.

Oh man, God know's its really tough getting paid buttloads of money to throw a baseball.

Oh man, and some people will say, well you know, money doesn't by you happiness.

Oh man, and I'll respond by saying, well you know, surely lots of money and a job that is basically a game should bring you hapiness, and if you can't even do that, you just suck at life.

Seriously Big Z, I'd like to live you life just one day.  Put up a horrible pitching performance in front of a crowd that isn't use to winning anyway, and then throw a big old temper tantrum (most 35 year olds can't get away with this,) and then go home to your big old house, just so I can shit in your five thousand dollar diamond encrusted jacuzzi.

Oh and I would do it...

The retardation here is astounding its so vast.  If anything the whole baseball thing is just further proof that shit is getting worse, all the time.  How is it that these guys have to cheat, and still suck more than Babe Ruth, a man who'd walk up to the plate with a t-bone steak in his back pocket, and a head full of liquor? 

Because the game is evolving.

Yeah all you rich assholes like George Steinbrenner who basically OWN all of baseball have really turned a sport that once was wholesome and turned it into a giant ball of whiney bitch retardation.  You've spoiled players with money and now they've come to believe they're something special: and they haven't even done anything special yet. . . You're paying them to shit down the throats of every player who played the game legitimately.

And it is for these reasons, and the lack of remorse you show for your outbursts, that iR declares Carlos Zambrano, shamelessly retarded.

love,
iR