Americans have NO IDEA

About the seige, before the bombardment... Israeli academic at Ben-Gurion University, Neve Gordon, has described the Israeli Siege of Gaza as an "experiment in famine". He says the siege is "not really about the bombardment of Israeli citizens or even about Israel’s ongoing efforts to undermine Hamas. It is simply a new draconian strategy aimed at denying the Palestinians their most basic right to self-determination. It is about showing them who is in control, about breaking their backs, so that they lower their expectations and bow down to Israeli demands. The Palestinians understood this and courageously destroyed their prison wall while crying out into the wilderness for international support. Instead of the expected outrage, the only response they received was a weak echo of their own cry for help."[3] (http://www.inminds.co.uk/end.gaza.siege.9.feb.2008.php)

Watch.

Palestinians have learned much from their Israeli neighbors. When it comes to the Palestinians, the world is just as prejudiced as the Israelis.

The life of a Palestinian is worth as much as how it could protect an Israeli. If the Israeli government has done one thing without prejudice, it is in choosing their victims.

Step right up to the amazing circus known as the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. Come see the way the Palestinians are forced to evacuate their homes, which will be bulldozed in order to make room for Israeli settlers. Genocide is a way of life! Come! Come see how the animals in this show dare to scream at the injustice! Who knew they could talk, let alone scream!? Come watch the blood flow in the streets all in the name of security! Remember kids, you must sacrifice your humanity in order to gain security! Do not fear the wrath of God in response to your killing of innocent people, for God has promised you this land, thus giving you the green light to kill. Kill. Kill! He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Right to defend themselves? Bah! That’s only a phrase we know! Like retaliation. Ours. Like terrorism. Ours. Like homeland. Ours. Like diaspora. Ours. Like security. Ours. Like rights. Ours. Like Palestine. Ours. Ours. Ours. It’s all ours.

Let them tell you how the world would be a better place without Gaza entirely. Destroy!Destroy! Destroy! It must be gone. Be done with them! They must disappear because they practiced democracy! We told them lies. We told them we supported democracy. Then we took away what little freedom they had left. Freedom to eat! Freedom to drink! Freedom to live without stewing in their own filth! Filth. Filth. Filthy lies!

Come give these sheep pats on the head for taking it all in stride as we tear them limb from limb. They musn’t complain, musn’t argue, musn’t fight. Musn’t. Musn’t. Musn’t.

Now watch the children cry. Watch them all die. Watch them be buried alive. Watch from the comforts of your towering skyscrapers and soothing sandy beaches in Tel Aviv. Watch from the comfort of the homes you stole from the people who still carry the keys to their doors in Jerusalem. Watch from the holiday light strewn houses in America, where we complain that we can’t afford another cup of Starbucks coffee today because of, you know, the bad economy and all. Watch. Watch. Watch.

Now be silent. Kill. Ours. Destroy. Filth. Musn’t. Watch.

Is Bush's Mom an Arab?

The only people who should have the reflexes to dodge thrown shoes are Arab children. We all have childhood stories of frustrated moms throwing their sandals at us, or chasing us down with them to do some close-up damage.

In Palestine, we call these sandals "shib-shibs". Shib-shib sounds just as funny in Arabic as it does in English-we admit it. And we deserved every thrown Shib-shib at us. We were like little devil children pushing the boundaries of sanity within our parents at every opportune moment. And inopportune moment-hence getting a blast to the head with a thrown shib-shib. The reason we had shib-shibs thrown at us and not a few slaps to the rear was because we were so bad, we'd run for our lives, knowing whatever happened once we got caught was something we had coming for a while. It doesn't help that Arab parents tend to give birth to us in multiples of 5, like rabbits. So they didn't have time to spank one, while children number 2,3,4 and 5 were running around wreaking more havoc.

By the way, Arab adults don't throw shoes at one another. We generally just yell to prove our point. And what was up with the secret service!? It's like they gave the guy time to throw the second shoe on purpose cause he missed with the first one. That was craziness!

Well, I guess Bush needed one more image to leave from his Presidency. We didn't have to think of him choking on a pretzel or his reaction to 9/11 or standing in front of the Mission Accomplished sign or fail to escape through locked doors or tell the head of FEMA he did a heck of a job when he didn't do sh*t as people drowned or give one of his many Bushisms...just to name a few.

No, we needed to see him dodge shoes. Perhaps a fittingly looney farewell to a looney Presidency.

Jellicle Cats for Evil Souls

What the hell is a Jellicle Cat? I have no frickin’ idea. I’m not even taking the time to google “jellicle cats” because I don’t care. Who knew they could make a whole musical out of people dressed up as “jellicle cats.” Who the hell knew?

I entered Fox Theatre for the first time on Saturday for a musical that literally made me question life itself.

“There is no plot,” my cousin, who accompanied me and is responsible for acquiring the tickets from a supposed “friend”, whispered in frustration as we sat before a stage of humans dressed as cats singing about…I still seriously do not know, 10 minutes into the damn thing.

“What the hell is happening? Why is this happening?” I begged to know.

To make a long story short, we sat through song after song about a gay cat that reminded my cousin of Freddy Mercury and reminded me of the transvestite from Transylvania in ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’, a fat cat (seriously, why was he there?), annoying thieve cats-one of which could have also played the gay cat, a bum cat that all the other cats treated like sh*t, and an old cat they admired for some reason-like he was some king-cat. It was a load of creepy nonsense and songs that sucked monkey brains.

Why did I go? The tickets were free and I had never been to Fox Theatre before, so I was curious. I warned my cousin about how stupid this thing looked, especially after having seen a performance from it during a Tony Awards telecast I was watching and can’t remember why.

I wondered about the actors. I wondered if they were desperate to be in anything that happened to do with theater. Then I wondered what I would compare it to. I think it would be like me writing for the local paper about the kind of grass fertilizer people in a community use. Or it would be like writing press releases for a funeral home. Do they do that? If they did, that would be the equivalent of performing in Cats.

Even though my cousin begged to leave before intermission, I insisted on following theater etiquette and staying until the intermission came to escape. Beforehand, we honestly tried not to laugh loud enough for people who were probably…what’s the word…enjoying (???) …it to be annoyed by us. I looked around to see what grown men were doing. Some were sleeping, probably forced to come with their wives after a long day of work.Some were looking around at the much more interesting ceiling décor-like I did-and some were actually, gasp, into it. Those guys probably lost their manhood a long time ago.

Btw, I’d like to give a shout out to the girl who sat in our row and actually tripped on her heels on her way back to her seat and fell into our laps, stabbing my cousin’s foot with her heel. Whatsup girrrrl?!?!

Also, I’ve been listening to a lot of my Harry Potter audio book in my car lately. And I thought that Rowling should’ve made Cats one of the horcruxes. Because that sh*t must’ve had a fragment of Voldemort’s soul into it. That show was evil and seemed to enjoy torturing me.

Anyways, good day.

Check Out My Mind, Yo

Another segment on random crap that's been going through my head:

• It's funny when the 10 year olds in my fourth grade class think Obama might be Muslim. It's pathetic when adults do.

• I would like to talk to Gov. Palin in private and see if she really talks like that. I'm just curious.

• What the hell is up with people who are still not ashamed of having supported Bush? I still see "W" stickers on peoples' cars! Are they asking for road rage? Are they unaware of the state of the country? Are they the same type of people who swim in shark infested waters to prove they don't care? I really, really would like to know what is happening in their thick skulls. Do they believe we will admire their stubborn support of Dubya?

• I also think people who voted for Bush TWICE should not be able to vote. They are obviously mentally challenged.

• If you have voted for Bush twice, you are not allowed to have an opinion on this election. Especially those of you saying Obama is "inexperienced". I hereby revoke your right to judge anyone else. Ever. You had your chance and you voted for Dumbass-in-Chief. Now the country's in the crapper. Go away. You are terrible at this "judgement of character"-thing.

• I know I'm not supposed to let politics get in the way of my friendships, but I want to punch people who support McCain/Palin. McCain-who chose Sarah "she-Bush" Palin. McCain-who is allowing these robocalls to scare people into thinking Obama is a terrorist. McCain-who is trying to tag "socialist" on Obama. I'm sorry, but no. If you are choosing McCain at this point, I have to rethink our relationship. I think we need a break.

• I was so disappointed to see John Elway support McCain. What the heck? I think I'm generally disappointed whenever anybody supports McCain right now.

• Elizabeth Hassleback needs a bitch-slap. Hold me back.

Strength in Numbers

Missouri proved there was truth to its “Show Me State” title yesterday, as an estimated 100,000 people gathered for a rally under the Gateway Arch in St. Louis in support of Democratic presidential nominee Barack Obama. When I first heard Sen. Obama’s rally was to be held beneath the historic monument, I imagined the powerful images a large crowd could produce. But not even in my wildest dreams did I fathom St. Louis would produce the largest crowd ever for an Obama rally in North America.

But I can tell you that as I looked among my fellow St. Louisans on my metro ride over to the downtown area, I could feel an excitement and feeling in the air that I can only describe as revolutionary. Looking back, I remember wondering if people in the March on Washington felt the same way. I literally felt the instantaneous recognition of change that I knew was shared by everyone around me. We all smiled at each other, barely able to hide our excitement for finding each other in such large numbers. We boarded the trains as if we were on a mass exodus from the Bush era. The Metrolink filled almost beyond capacity and the scene that unfolded as we exited the train and took to the streets of St. Louis city nearly took my breath away.

I had never seen anything like it before, and for a political event none-the-less. The urgency in the air made things even more exciting. We all knew we needed to make it in time to witness our chosen leader give his speech. The lines stretched for blocks...blocks! …in the downtown area. People were walking briskly and even running to get into the line (if they could find the end of it). We were anxious to get as near to the scene as possible. When we reached Washington Avenue, the crowd before us shuffled along at snail pace in the beginning. We barely managed to move 5 feet within the first 30 minutes.The sheer mass of people of all colors and from all walks of life was unbelievable. We couldn’t even be angry or feel stressed at the daunting task of moving forward because the number of fellow supporters only emboldened our sense of unity and purpose. A number of mothers with strollers, a father with his two young daughters, a grandmother leading her grandchildren…these were just some of the groups surrounding me. It really was a sight to behold.

When we finally reached the Arch grounds, people began to jog towards the already waiting rally goers. When Sen. Obama came out, it felt presidential. How jealous had I been to grow up and see decades old images or video of a young, beloved leader in JFK speaking to his constituents. Now, how thrilled I was to be among tens of thousands of people screaming for our own political rock star and inspiration we were truly proud of. During his speech, someone behind me laughed and said out loud in disbelief, “I’m looking at Obama. He’s right there! I’m looking at him!” Volunteers walked around passing out free bottles of water. Despite the constant buzz circulating around me, I couldn't help but feel calm with my surroundings. Perhaps because it felt nice to be around tens of thousands of people, just like me, thirsty for a sense of sanity after eight years of a leadership in Washington parched of it.

All I could keep thinking was, how could such a diverse crowd be wrong? How could black, white, Asian, Arab, Hispanic, and people of all ethnic backgrounds and colors be unanimously wrong? Surely something that brings us all together in the spirit of tolerance and change (for the better) can only be good. It was not just strength in numbers that was impressive. It was the depth of diversity. I looked around me and felt good as a human being. The brotherhood of man brought together by one leader on this day, who preaches unity with a, yes, eloquence few have ever been in possession of in our lifetime was right. As far as I’m concerned, we deserve Obama. November 4th couldn’t come fast enough.

LIVE FROM WASHU...IT'S THE VP DEBAAAAATES!

Ok. My facebook status was a little misleading. I said I would be at WASHU during the VP debates. I was...but not in the debate hall. I was in an auditorium with a bunch of other people hoping to see Sarah Palin pull out a rifle and pose in a bikini. That said, we did have the credentials to be on campus-otherwise, we couldn't be there- and photo I.D. was required. So in my book, we were pretty cool. My book is pretty thin, but it exists. Ask me about it some time and I'll show it to you (That's What She Said).

We sat in Steinberg Hall where we were to watch the debate live with a room full of WASHU Alumni. The prestigious school spared no expense.The reception area included cookies, fruit, soda, sandwiches, buttons and beads. I enjoyed the peanut butter cookies. Those were particularly soft and tasty. We took pictures with the lifesize cardboard pictures of the presidential and vice presidential candidates. We noticed a few interesting t-shirts, notably a "I'm a black Republican" t-shirt and "I'm a redneck who supports Obama" t-shirt. And they were both in the same room. Magical night.

A political science professor briefly spoke to us about the influence of vice pres. debates and delighted me by throwing in puns here and there. I like pun-tacular professors. Good times.

Pun moment of glory for this professor: Audience member asks a question. Prof. begins to answer but lights go out. Professor wastes no time in quipping, "I could be in the dark about this, but..." and we all laughed in pun glee.

I was lucky enough to procure a PALIN Bingo card from a group of strangers in front of us. Here's how PALIN Bingo works: Check off any of the number of words she is, like the robot-doll she is, likely to use during the debate. Here's what the card looked like-

As you can (somewhat) see, we could check off words such as "gosh", "hockey mom", "Russia", "earmarks" and "Gotcha journalism". The middle box has a picture of Palin's head with the appropriate words-FREE SPACE. As the night went on, I noticed that the PALIN Bingo cards were not only particular to our area. They were all over the place. Apparently this is big. Get on this, people.

Luckily for us, the room was almost completely either in support of Obama or just wanted to laugh at Palin. Here are some of the room's reactions that we got as a group:

When Joe Biden finished one of his lines with, "that's what I call the ultimate bridge to nowhere", we all errupted in cheers. We also laughed when he said he spends a lot of time at Home Depot. Gotta love Joe. Oh, and when he discussed the ridiculousness of the notion that he, once a single father, could not also feel for the struggle of the average American families just as any hocky mom apparently does, and paused to compose himself- you could hear a pin drop.

Whenever Sarah Palin spoke, you would hear a lot of frustrated sighs and "ughs". You might think I'm exaggerating, but I cannot stress how loud the groans were every single time Palin said, "in Alaska", or "in Wasila!" or mentioned "soccer moms", or brought up her "executive experience" or ignored Gwen Ifill's actual questions and insisted that she'd talk about whatever talking points she decided was appropriate. When Palin winked at the camera, I threw up in my mouth--- just a little bit. When she told Joe Biden that his school-teacher wife's "reward is in heaven", we all laughed. I mean, was she really saying these things? When she gave a shout out to the 3rd graders, you couldn't even hear her next line because, again, we were all laughing. It was like watching an SNL skit. Only it wasn't a skit. It was Palin.

I know what a lot of the strategists are saying. She did a good job. But they've lowered their standards of what a good job is, because contrary to a few days ago, she could actually put words together this time. Well bravo, Sarah. Keep up the good work. Keep speaking coherent English.

Anyways, I fought the urge to yell out, "you ignorant-f*cking-runner-up-in-Miss Alaska-George W. wanna-be! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU! You are an embarassment to women everywhere and you do not-in any way- represent me! BIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!" Yes, in that regard, I was victorious.

But in other ways, we are all still losers because she is-at this moment- spewing her hatred and fear mongering to another crowd. Hopefully this election ends without anyone seriously getting hurt. And hopefully it ends in victory for someone whose name rhymes with Marack Mobama. Am I clear enough?

By the way, we stayed after the debate and were amongst the crowd for Hardball with Chris Matthews. He is flipping awesome. He told us he thought George Steinbrenner (or was it Hank? Now I can't remember) was an S-O-B. And talked to the college crowd during commercial breaks. A highlight for the Ead sisters came when Matthews was interviewing a guest, brought up Palin's dangerous remark about moving the American embassy to Jerusalem, and asked the guest if he thought Palin was aware of the implications of this statement which goes against every former American adminstration's policies, to which we replied, impromptu, simultaneously, and loud enough to probably be heard on T.V., "NO!". This drew laughs from the crowd and a smile from Matthews. Thank you, thank you.

Anyways, I'm out to watch M-I-Z Z-O-U!

PEACE

Can't Run a Marathon, but I Sure Can Watch One!

I watched the All Star Game yesterday. I think God was testing me to see how much I really love baseball. Well, God, I really love baseball. I watched the 5+ hours despite the voice in my head telling me to get up and do something productive. But the love of baseball that courses through my veins kept me frozen in my seat for the marathon in NY City. Well, not quite frozen in my seat. The game reduced me, my sister and cousin to a couple of escape mental patients. At one point, as me and my sister did a dance-the country lookin' dance where you link arms and skip in circles then switch-, I paused from singing "this is the game that never ends!" to look over at the cousin rocking back and forth in her seat, looking like she just returned from Guantanamo Bay. I wish I were joking. But that game... just kept going...

My thoughts on...

Alex Rodriguez: I've always disliked you. I don't know what it is. I don't know if it's your hairline. Or the way you avoided giving Pujols any credit or praise when he was in the Home Run Derby a few years ago and Joe Morgan practically begged you to give Pujols a compliment. Or if it's the way you talk. Period. Or if it's the rumors between you and Madonna, or you and the stripper. Or if it's the money you make. Or the way you choke in the post season, I dunno. I just do... not... like... you.

Willie Mayes: Why didn't you acknowledge Josh Hamilton? He's not a crack addict any more! Geez.

A.L.:You're not better than the N.L. You're just lucky you don't have Gagne, Hoffman, Wagner, Lidge, or Uggla. Also, our starters are better than your starters. Your reserves don't include Dan Uggla.

N.L.:I have newfound respect for Russell Martin. Good game behind the plate. Got better with each inning. As for Dan Uggla...

Dan Uggla: Really Dan? Really? I honestly didn't think the All Star Game could give me someone new to cheer against. But those three errors and two strike outs!? I picked you to be the AL MVP, even if that's not how the voting process works. Yes, I blame you for everything. I even blame you for the bad economy right now.

Yankee Stadium: Gosh, with all this hoopla, you'd think they were tearing the damn thing down... oh...right.

Yogi Berra: No matter what N.Y.C. thinks, you're still a boy from The Hill representin' St. louis!

Hall of Famers gathering: Not complete without Stan the Man.

St. Louis All Star Game: I predict the N.L. will win. No, seriously.

Something to work on for '09 ASG: Start a petition to make sure St. Louis ASG planners avoid having country singer sing the National Anthem. We can make this happen, people!

Funny moment: Fat kid/ A.L. fan behind dugout obnoxiously cheers when A.L. pitcher strikes out N.L. batter-then immediatly screams at N.L. All Star to sign his ball from dugout. Gotta love New York.

Weird moment: Joe Buck and Tim McCarver's lips merely millimeters away from touching.

Bummer: As annoyed as I was that the game wouldn't end, I wanted to see what would happen when pitchers ran out. Let's see Bud wiggle outta this one! Come on! What would've happened!?

Holy Crap moment: The N.L. getting out of a bases loaded and nobody out jam with Aaron Cook on the mound. See also: Miguel Tejada scoops up ball, throws/falls to get runner out at first,keeping the game 3-3 in 10th.

Made up A.L. sign: N.L. just plain Uggla

Made up N.L. sign: Will lose game for food

Tidbits and Skadoosh.

Hello cyber studs, I've been gone so long because I was overwhelmed with the writing I was doing at work. I never thought I'd get sick of writing but ( gasp!) it happened. I'm back because I realized, "hey, what the hell, let's keep this simple." Shall we?

• Have you ever seen someone do something they think they're special at but they're not unique in their ability to do it. I mean, you look at them and think, "sh*t, I can do that!" Yeah, that happens to me a lot. Let's take a moment to feel outraged. Ok, let's move on now.

• Will Leitch is leaving deadspin.com! Wow, this has been a big year for him. He published a book. He got a lot of press after Buzz Bissinger's rude-dude 'tude backfired. Now he's going to be a contributer for New York Magazine. I mean, I'm talking about him in my blog. Big year.

• Adam Wainwright is headed to the DL! I'm not devastated, just annoyed. Apparently he heard his middle finger "pop" and an injury specialist from BaseballProspectus.com told Bernie Miklasz and Randy Karakker on The Roll Home (team1380.net) that this sounds like the same injury that happened to RP Joel Zumaya of the Detroit Tigers. It has some special name I can't remember, so more importantly, Zumaya was out for 4 months-which sucks, but at least it's not a year. If this injury is like Zumaya's, then the good news is it shouldn't be a long term problem for his career. This is just a sucky short term situation. Carpenter is projected to return around the all-star break. We'll see how we-as in the Cardinals and what the heck-Cardinal Nation- handle this.

• I've realized that I can be as stupid as those soap opera characters I used to yell at on TV. Yes, I fell into a soap opera trap because I lived in a third world country and clung to anything in English on TV, no matter how hideous the plot. Enter "The Bold and the Beautiful", but that's a different story for another time. Instead, I'm referring to being a person who's treated poorly but make excuses for the perps, just like those dumbasses in the soaps. I need to see myself on TV so I can see clearly or get better perspective.

• I was watching Queen's 1981 concert in Montreal tonight on DVD (don't ask) and noticed how obviously gay (not PC?) Freddy Mercury was and thought it was hilarious awesome that no one else could tell back then. It was like people in the 80's had some *special gay blind fold on. I mean, he was pretty gay. I even noted he looked like he could be one of the village people. Funny the difference 27 years makes. Now-a-days, no one except for foreign people, old people or little kids could possibly be confused about his sexual orientation. I know, my un-PC-ness is off the charts. *A wildly popular item with Arabs.

• Cubs fans think they're winning the World Series. They believe that this is their year, because, God knows, they were just kidding about the other 100 times they believed it was their year.TELL ME SOMETHING NEW! Tell me a Cubs fan believes they are the ancestor of the modern Pirates fan or that Wrigley Field is really the world's largest toilet (fact). Just tell me something....anything....besides this repetative Cubby faith crap. Thank God I've only been alive for 24 years of this bitching. I couldn't stand 100.

• I give Sex in the City-the movie- and Kung Fu Panda both thumbs up! Kung Fu Panda has me saying "Skadoosh" like a crackhead says, "just one dollar,maaaan". It's an addictively awesome word and fits anywhere. Skadoosh! see?

• I walked through our living room and noticed oversized objects everywhere. I can eat rice with our huge decorative wooden spoon, drink tea or coffee with our huge decorative tea/coffee pot or watch TV on our big screen TV. I'm sure I'm missin something. I'll be back with more. But you never know, we might have to feed that Arab GIANT that apparently lives in our basement with that wooden spoon.

• I want to kick those middle aged men who insist on calling me "sweetie" in the knee caps. And then clonk their heads together. I'm not your sweetie.

• I went to Milwaukee and tried to go to a Brewers-Astros game. It was sold out cause of Ryan Braun **bobblehead day. Here's my report: their stadium is not in the middle of downtown Milwaukee, they do some serious tailgating in their lots, and I screamed "Brewers SUUUUUUUUUCK" as we drove off. Repeatedly. **Brewers fans are known to be bobblehead whores. Seriously, every time I watch a Brewers game, bobblehead days sell out like nobody's business. SKADOOSH!

Stay in Hibernation

Cards-Cubs Weekend. What a beautiful rivalry. Thanks to deadspin, I was able to check out two blogs...

Thunder Matt's Saloon decided to respond to Cardinals Diaspora, who explained why the Cubs suck, by explaining why he hates the Cardinals. So, here's my response to Thunder Matt's Saloon comments. So goes the life of a blogger...

1. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa basically led the Steroid Era. The Cubs learned their lesson by sticking with pretty steroid-free players for the most part. The Cardinals? They promote Rick Ankiel and trade for Troy Glaus, two guys linked to HGH use.

So do you want us to drop Ankiel and Glaus? Is that what you're saying? Would you like us to go ahead and forfeit the division so you can bring more celebrities to your 7th inning stretches or have Jim Belushi caught on another ESPN camera eating a hotdog at Wrigley? Besides, Ankiel is our baby Jesus. He practically died for our sins.

2. Albert Pujols. Sure, he's a fantastic ballplayer, but he's kind of a little bitch sometimes. Remember when he complained a few years ago when Ryan Howard won the MVP over him? Remember how Pujols complained... (...)

I couldn't even copy and paste the rest of this. Are you kidding me? I'm still upset Pujols hasn't won at least 3 MVP awards. Do you understand his career numbers are comparable to Ted Williams, Joe Dimaggio and Co.? He's the most valuable player in baseball. I don't even know what to say to you. I'm sure you guys would have traded him for three Cory Pattersons by now. Your complaining kind of makes you a little bitch too. So, in all fairness, we're all capable of being little bitches who complain.

3. Tony La Russa. I'm not even going to go into the drinking thing (everyone makes mistakes). What bothers me the most about him is that he over-manages and I'm pretty sure it's just to drive me crazy. I thought La Russa was going to break Spring Training this year with 16 pitchers so he could play even more matchups, but that would stop him from pulling 8 double switches a game, wouldn't it?

I, too, sometimes am frustrated when there are eight double switches in a game. Then I remember the last eight years: we've been to the post-season in six of the last eight seasons, enjoyed three league championship series, played in two World Series and enjoyed one magnificent-yes, it's as beautiful as they say it is-World Series title. And then the eight double switches don't bother me as much. It's amazing what success does for your patience. You guys should try winning the World Series some time to see what I mean. I, mean, uh, never mind.

4. Their colors. You're primarily red. That's great and all, but there's another team in your division already that claimed that color. And guess what? They're actually called the Reds. That's dedication. You know who else has a sort of half-hearted association with red uniforms? The Astros. Is that really the level you want to be on?

Um, you're blue. Is that why ya'll are so cranky and sad all the time? Is it so when you lose you guys can say, "you look blue" to one another and crack a half-hearted smile at your puns?

5. Lou Brock. You sons of bitches...

Yeah, you guys really messed up there :)

6. Doesn't it seem like the Cardinals have a never-ending supply of pitchers that own the Cubs and then suck against them as soon as they leave St. Louis? The perfect recent example of this is Matt Morris. God...Morris used to OWN the Cubs. Then he leaves St. Louis, and the Cubs destroy him. How the hell does this keep happening???(I realize that fits under "Reasons I Hate The Cardinals" better than "Why The Cardinals Suck". So what? I don't see you writing your own list.)

Yes, your list is a why you hate the Cardinals list. I'm glad you noticed. But let me also point out that we generally don't try to keep pitchers we feel are deteriorating skill-level wise. Example:Kip Wells. So, what could be happening is we have these pitchers because they play well for us. Then they do not play well for us and we decide not to resign them. Now, I know this concept is hard for you to understand, but please try.

7. Even a Cubs fan can admit that Walt Jocketty was money. And the Cards just let him go? To a division rival? Terrible. F.

Yes, yes, I liked Jocketty too. But I think it's safe to say that anyone with 100 years of a championship drought can't judge the rest of the baseball world too harshly. I think you need to let this go and focus on your own failures. For example, keep focusing on trading Lou Brock.

8. Tony La Russa wears sunglasses at night. Who do you think you are, Corey Hart?

Cory Hart stole Tony's signature "creepy guy at night" look. So let's give credit to the "creepy guy at night" look where credit is due.

9. When David Eckstein won World Series MVP, the Cardinals rewarded him with a giant SUV. That's just about the meanest thing I can think of. David Eckstein can't get into an SUV! He has enough trouble driving a big wheel! What, would you give a bike to a guy with no legs?

Wow. I think our top priority at the time was winning the World Series and not worrying about what car Eckstein drove. Now, if this is the biggest problem you can think of, then I think it's safe to say our problems are a lot nicer than your problems. (*Also, I like the thought of a guy with no legs winning a World Series championship with us before the Cubs do.)

10. See below:

Cardinals' Diaspora also pointed out that the Cubs sucked because Jeff Gordon, who coincidentally sucks, sang 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame' during 7th inning strech. Here's how he responded...

So here's your logic:

Jeff Gordon = Suck

Jeff Gordon = Sang The 7th Inning Stretch For The Cubs

Therefore...

Cubs = Suck

Something that even Cubs and Cardinals fans can agree on is that Jeff Gordon is terrible. But ever since Harry died, the Cubs front office has been parading in pseudo-celebs to sing, whether true Cub fans or not. Most Cubs fans will agree that half the people coming in to sing the stretch have no business being there. But your logic is flawed. Because if what you say is true, then the following must be true as well:

Cardinals = Red

Communists = Red

Cardinals = Communists

Communists = Hate America

Therefore...

Cardinals = Hate America.

But I can one up him...

Cubs=Blue

Blue= sadness

Sadness=depressed state

depressed state=depression

depression=suicide

suicide=end of human life

Therefore...

Cubs=end of human life.

Thank you. Go Cards.

Think you're seeing rainbows? You aren't the only one

Attending the Cardinals game at Busch Stadium on Sunday where we hosted the San Fransisco Giants on a gorgeously sunny afternoon, my best friend's two year old daughter-enjoying the first game she'll remember (one doesn't count)-was sitting in my sister's lap, taking in the sights and sounds of this new world she had never discovered beyond the realm of television. I can only imagine what she saw; an endless array of a gazillion strangers, or our closest friends, randomly screaming, joyously pumping their fists, high fiving one another and chanting to their hearts' desire, and she joined them as if she were born to do this. She was, of course. Being a Cardinals fan is her birthright.

And she did the things baseball fans are prone to do at baseball games. Besides the previously mentioned ballpark practices, she ate junkfood beyond the recommended amount a two year old should consume in one day. Hotdogs, cotton candy, and ice cream were intermittently brought in to mingle with her chanting and laughing. It was a joy to see-someone so young and still unjaded by the atmosphere. Still untouched by the pitfalls of being a true fan who experiences it all. She probably couldn't believe we were actually all sitting outside and screaming for close to three hours. At one point she even pointed to the field and exclaimed to her mother, "Mama, my turn!" because she insisted her turn to play on the field was something we all couldn't afford to miss. I laughed at the thought of Besan the two-year-old taking the ball on the mound from Tony and then running away as the players chased her and thousands of people laughed. It didn't seem like such a bad idea.

We lost the game, but we didn't leave the ballpark discouraged by this year's team. It seems Cardinals' fans took things for granted and many of us, not me, egregiously became jaded by all the winning. We were warned before Spring Training that this year's team wouldn't stand a chance and many fans even went so far as to over-react to the national media's assessment of Albert Pujols's elbow (even though they should've known better!). These fans said Tony would be insane if he didn't shut Pujols down before the season even started, send him off to surgery and hope he makes it back by mid-season next year, perhaps when this younger/inexperienced team with a year under their belt stood a chance.

Spring came and went, Pujols continued to play and we all prepared for the worst. Then the season started and the product on the field didn't yield something that resembles what we'd expect to come out of one of the Clydesdales' behinds. In fact, they were playing exciting baseball. We lost players last year that represented the core of this decade's Murderer's Row, but those players weren't producing anymore. This year's team is running, hustling, and yes, making mistakes, but considering what we were expecting-I'll take it. I think, for the most part, Cardinal fans know this isn't a team ready to take the division title, but what we've seen so far convinces me that the road to contention isn't as long or crooked as we might have been led to believe by the "experts". I feel good about this team because I know that, sure we're rebuilding, but we're still competing. And as long as we're still competing and making dazzling plays like the one pitcher Joel Piniero made on the mound yesterday, I can live with this.

At one point, little Besan looked out beyond the stadium, pointed to the arch and said, "Look! A rainbow!" We all laughed and corrected her. But maybe if we're as insightful as Besan, we'll be patient and see the rainbow is not too far off in the distance-even if they're telling us it isn't there.

Did You Feel That!?

I awoke this morning to my bed shaking and my door rattling. At first I thought the wind was rattling my door (as will happen when the window is actually open). But when I remembered the window was shut and it occurred to me my bed was shaking, I took notice and grew frightened... especially as this went on for longer than 10 seconds. Yeah- nothing like an EARTHQUAKE TO WAKE YOU OUT OF BED!

I know people in California will think we're wusses, but let's think about this. We never feel earthquakes here in St. Louis. I realize that it's a daily occurance in Cali, but we're used to brushing off tornado warnings. The sound of tornado warning sirens going off in July is as common as the sounds of puppet-like clapping at a Cards game. Plus, we learn early here about the New Madrid Fault line that runs along St. Louis, so if anything, we're taught that the earthquakes in St. Louis are insane, kill people and we're supposedly getting another one at some point. You can imagine the frustration this caused in high school...

Students: "when?"

Geology teacher: "I can't say, but there's a big chance a major one will occur.I can't say for sure."

students: (more frightened) "But when?!"

Geology teacher: "I dunno. But the last one killed a lot of people. It's pretty scary when you think about it.

Students: Look of fear, mouths gaping. "But...but..."

Geology teacher: "So about those rocks..."

I began to wonder if anyone else felt it and checked my clock to get an exact time to help fill details in my story the next morning (it was 4:38 am) when I heard my mother, father and sister talking as they met up in the kitchen. I walked out, knowing we had all felt this earthquake, and we all exchanged our own accounts of what happened.

The (well, second) biggest thing for me is that I went to bed around 9-something pm. I know this might be normal for some people,but being an insomniac, sleeping this early is a rare occurance for me. I usually only sleep that early after flying into another country and my sleep pattern is off. I guess it's just one of those nights.

We checked the news about 15 minutes ago and they're reporting it to have centered in southeast Illinois, at 5.2 on the richtor scale. Once they mentioned it was felt in places like Chicago, my sister and I joked that we might get more media coverage now that Chi-town was victimized by nature. Otherwise, everyone would of shushed us up. Sort of like how my mom was shushing us and begging us to go to bed as we began to joke and imitate hicks calling in news stations to report their remote controls had fallen off their potbellies as they were watching their TV.

"It done fell right off my belly and onto the ground!"

Or other people, who over react (like my dad did)...

overreactive St. Louisan:"My cat was on the bed...but then it wasn't there anymore!

Police officer: "Ma'am, do you think it just jumped off?"

overreactive St. Louisan: "I haven't seen kitty in an hour!"

Police officer: (pointing to cat in kitchen) "Ma'am, is that your cat?"

overreactive St. Louisan: "Kitty! Oh Kitty!" (runs and hugs her cat)

Anyways, hope all is well and nobody's pictures fell on their heads. I just had an epiphany. When watching the news, I always ask why people who are affected by natural disasters choose to live in those types of areas. But then it occurred to me: in St. Louis, we experience tornadoes, flooding, and right now, earthquakes. We're like a Biblical story waiting to happen. Good to know.

So I bought tickets and plan on going to the Cards-Giants game on Sunday, but that's if, as I told my sister, we can make it.

Things I can say for certain right now...

• I have a very special story about Opening Day coming up ;)
• I went from despising Britney to feeling sorry for her and wanting her to get better.
• I really, really like sleeping in. Next to baseball, boardgames and BBQs,(and apparently anything else that begins with B) it's probably my favorite past-time.
• I realized a little while ago, and admitted to some friends tonight, that the first CD I ever bought was a single..."Livin' La Vida Loca". Yup, Ricky Martin. I was 14-leave me be.
• I'm patient enough to let my nails grow out, but impatient enough to bite them all off within minutes when I'm nervous.
• I hate high heels, but need them to be taller. I thought I'd be used to them by now.
• I don't love all kids. Some I love. But some-not so much.
• I don't remember why I became sarcastic, but I promise it probably started in high school.
• There are some moments in my life where I instinctually know what someone with a big secret is going to say before they finally tell me. Sometimes I wished I didn't know.
• I cried tears of joy the other day.

The Brett Favre Jersey Story

I wish I could tell you an inspirational story about getting Favre's jersey sent to me in the mail with a personal note from his truely saying something along the lines of 'to Sports Gal, you're awesome. With Love-Brett Favre', but it seems that being a girl who's also a sports fan always leaves room for stories about bums out there who think that I, a female (gasp!), could have any possible knowledge of anything pertaining to sports.

Today, I had my first gender inspired prejudiced sports moment in a while. Not the every day kind I usually get. I mean the kind that annoys me even now, at 1:25 am. Leave it to the lanky, pasty boy working at Sports Fanatic in West County Mall to make me want to punch a, well um, lanky pasty boy.

I was trying to make a miraculous last minute birthday gift possible. My guy cousin is a Packers fan. Trying to be the hero who got him a Favre replica jersey, my gal cousin and I walked into the sports store and I promptly asked lanky, pasty boy how much the Favre replica jerseys cost.

Now, I worked at a sports store for a few years. I know that if a woman, or man, walked into a sports store and used the sports clothing jargon "replica" then they probably had a pretty good idea of what they were talking about. I wasn't going to question the man or woman's sports intelligence. If a guy/gal walked in and said "I want the real thing" I would assume he/she meant an "authentic jersey". If a guy/gal walked in and said, "I want the cheaper one", I would assume he/she meant "the replica" and so on, and so forth. If I was still working at a sports store, and had even a smidgeon of doubt whether the customer attempting to purchase the replica jersey might be aware of Favre's announced retirement for some crazy reason, I would have smartly remarked on the fact that the jersey had been a hot item since Favre had retired the previous week. This being the less insulting and obvious way of making sure the customer was aware they were purchasing a retired player's jersey, of course.

But oh, not lanky, pasty boy. First, he innocently remarked, "well, that's the only one left. Does this guy fit into a 5XL?" and then as we joked that he would probably not, he immediately jumped on the "girl equals no sports knowledge" wagon and remarkably asked, "Now, you DO know he retired, don't you?" Wow, my cousin and I just stared at him for a moment before my cousin asked in heavy sarcasm, "What? He retired!?!?!?!?" and looking around in mock surprise, I sarcastically added, "Wait, is this a sports store!?!?!?!" I immediately tried to rectify the situation by saying, "yes, we do know he retired, just recently in fact. But I was assuming the future hall of famer's jersey would still be a hot commodity". Which, as it turns out, was the reason for no more Favre replica jerseys being available, as this hot commodity had quickly sold out. Makes sense, huh? Well, he didn't explain himself and probably just continued to assume we were way in over our heads. We left the store, marveling at our missed opportunity to add, "This 'Favor' guy, is it? Was he any good?" Darn.

Now, before you go attempting to defend him by saying I'm overly sensative because I am a girl or that I'm over-reacting, I want you to ask yourself this. Would lanky, pasty boy had dared ask a guy, no matter his age, no matter his appearance, whether he knew that Favre had retired? No. No he would not have. And that's what angered me. I throw my sports clothing jargon out there and he still didn't latch on. He continued to float out into the abyss that is ignorance and incomprehension.

Kind of ironic, considering he assumed I was the ignorant one. But, that's the life of a sports gal, I presume. I still marvel at how little fan credibility I receive because I don't pee standing.

The Quote That Never Disappoints

Ray, people will come Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won't mind if you look around, you'll say. It's only $20 per person. They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come.

----Terence Mann, Field of Dreams (James Earl Jones)

Pie's Injury Microcosm of Cubs' Century

Felix Pie of the Chicago Cubs, a walking punch line in and of themselves, has already given Cardinal Nation a generous gift in the department of mockery to enjoy for the remainder of the season. The Cubs official website posted a story listing the number of injuries that have befallen the team thus far. But it was Pie's injury that has everyone talking,

"The Cubs have had a variety of injuries this spring. So far, infielder Mark DeRosa was hospitalized with an irregular heartbeat, pitcher Jose Ascanio had a bruised face after getting punched in a robbery attempt, and outfielder Felix Pie missed a couple of days early because of a twisted testicle. Third baseman Aramis Ramirez remains sidelined with a sore right shoulder."

Yes, our good ol' rivals feel they haven't been charitable enough in the business of handing us Cub Jokes, our little philanthropists also have a player who got injured by way of a twisted testicle. Quite a ballsy (a-thank you) move on their part to post that over-the-top but nonetheless appreciated bit of information.

How he twisted said-testicle is unknown. How you acquire a twisted testicle, I know not. And although I am not a possessor of that bodily...um...component, I can assure you it hurt badly. Come on, we all know twisting one's ball (?) ain't fun business. "Twist" is never fun unless it precedes "shout".

Fear not! It seems he will survive the injury, but not the endless teasing that is sure to follow at every ballpark. Don't get teste, Cubs fans. You'd do the same.

And thank you God.

A Love Letter

Ahhhhh.*deep sigh of contentment* Spring Training has arrived. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Cardinal pitchers and catchers have offically reported to prepare themselves for my favorite pastime- a game that has captured my heart, never failing to find a way to break it, but never ceasing to grasp at the opportunities given to lovingly mend the broken pieces and make it whole again. There it's dwelled for what's been years, has always flourished, will reside forever and yet never, ever, outstay its welcome. Elementary but poetic, offering hope and crushing dreams, rewarding but taxing...No words better accomodate what this game means to me beyond the humbly simple, "I love baseball".

I don't know how to compare this to anything else because nothing else compares to baseball. Those unaware of its meaning see it as a ball, bat and group of overgrown children. But for those of us aware of its power, we know that it's tattooed itself into our hearts and minds.

Oh baseball. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

Baseball is the competition, the months of much welcomed warm weather often spoiled with punishing humidity, the days I'll head downtown to see for my own eyes what preparation meant to the team. It's the vendors whose voices refuse to chime in unison, the stadium junkfood that tempts all patrons. Baseball is opening day (better than Christmas), Cardinal fans stubbornly wearing red, the elegant Clydesdales boasting with tradition, organist Ernie Hays and his little jingles we've all memorized and learned to clap with like the puppets we've been trained to be. It's Albert Pujols reliably adding to his unbelievable career, Tony LaRussa's stoic dugout face (yup, even that), the endless nights I'll have something to watch at 7:10 pm and the long drives home where Mike Shannon and John Rooney mercifully keep me company. It's the unneeded but still rewarding post-game interviews that serve as a bonus to that night's win, one last chance to see today's hero taking advantage of his minute to recite as many sports cliches as possible. It's mocking the cynicism of Dan McLaughlin and thanking God for the very existance of Cardinals baseball. And who could forget the overcrowded parking garages following plenty a-post game filled with trapped fans all too eager to honk their joys in fun or their sorrows away...or so I've been told. This is what I've patiently been waiting for since that unusual last day in Pittsburg (oh how we've been spoiled). Of course, it'll be all I wait for even in the relatively short hours between regular season games (please tell me you love me back). It's in the back of my mind all the time,nestled between the area where memories-both relentlessly painful and blissful-cross paths. And it's finally here. At Last.

Clemens the Politician

I didn't watch the Congressional Hearings with McNamee and Clemens today because I didn't really care to. But I am thoroughly impressed with the great lengths at which Clemens is going through to prove his innocence. Do I believe him? No. I don't. Maybe I'm wrong because I believe he's guilty until proven innocent, but I've seen too many lying athletes to believe this one just because he shakes all the congressmen's hands.

It's odd to me that Pettitte would go on record saying Clemens told him he took HGH years earlier while Clemens insists he misheard him. I know if I were such a high profile figure with doubts about my memory, I wouldn't go on record and say I heard the 7 time Cy Young Award winner say something compromising. And the longer Pettitte has talked, the more often he has had time to retract on any of his statements regarding the allegations Clemens took HGH (with Pettitte's wife also backing up her husbands words). But he hasn't. I also think it's odd that McNamee injected Clemens' wife with HGH pior to a photo shoot for Sports Illustrated a few years ago. Did Clemens approve of this? Apparently he "didn't know" and admonished her for doing so after the fact (uh huh). Kind of odd that she would do so once, with his trainer, without him knowing. She already released a written statement saying she regrets it. Is this just one big coincidence that Clemens is the only one who didn't take any performance enhancing drugs? I don't think so. But then again, I could think wrong. McNamee could be wrong. I mean, his stories haven't all been true thus far. Pettitte could of heard wrong. We could all be wrong but Clemens. I just find that highly unlikely.

Perhaps Clemens the politician is doing everything right, but maybe that's because Clemens the player did everything wrong.

Spring Blossoms Over Bouquets

I saw this tall, burly man with army pants walking around with flowers in his hand and nearly lost it. I actually looked at the ground so he wouldn't see me laughing. I wasn't laughing because he was buying flowers for the little lady, but because he probably feared what would happen if he didn't buy flowers for the little lady. And that's what it boils down to. If a man bought his significant other flowers today and didn't tomorrow, on Valentine's Day, she would probably still be disappointed. Not because she didn't think he loved her, but because she expected him to conform to society's rules and send them Febuary 14. But, hey, if that's what romance is to you...

Side note, I heard a sad, sad statistic yesterday that 15% of single women send themselves flowers on V-Day so they don't feel left out. That's all you need to know to get a sense of what Valentine's Day represents (and that's all you need to know about those women. sheesh).

What gets me more excited than anything else is the prospect of Spring almost within our reach. I am almost certain that warm weather would make me feel 10 million times happier than any bouquet of flowers could. That's right, all I ask for is the Spring! Bring me sunshine and I'm yours forever. I can't even fathom warm weather at this point but I'm going to soldier through this Uranus-like weather. Yes, I will soldier through like a starving pup being chased by a pack of wild hyenas in a bottomless pit of crap. Happy Valentine's Day.

How I Froze to Death

What is this? This is not "cold" weather! This is "let's see how much human beings can tolerate before they're smart enough to move" weather! This is insane! Why I haven't moved to San Diego or Hawaii is beyond me.

I don't think you understand...I am an ARAB. My kind is not used to this....this thing you call "freezing your ass off cold". Don't get me wrong, I grew up in the Mid-west, but what I felt outside today? That is probably what Neptune feels like...

I ignored Pluto cause it's not a planet anymore.

I just missed Uranus! damnit!

You see? You see what the cold is doing to me? I'm making Uranus jokes!

URANUS JOKES!!!

Believe in the Power of the Superbowl Bananas!

Never underestimate bananas ever again. Their shape and most famous consumers have made them the laughing stock of fruit through out the history of man-kind. Never again...never again.

From another blog with the headline "Bananas Propel New York Giants to Upset Victory" comes this:

"But the real secret to the Giant’s success was certainly the bananas that were being brought out to inject the players with potassium in an effort to prevent cramps. The cameras panned on them during the 3rd quarter, giving the announcers some new material for their jawboning bullshit fest."

How Delicious.

Extra! Extra! UPSET FOR THE AGES

My feeling going into the game was, "I'm more of an anti-Patriots fan than a pro-Giants fan". My feelings after that game? I can't help but marvel at the classic that unfolded, from the miraculous-did you just see that?-plays (that elusive Quarterback and That Catch) to everything else in between. Those last two and a half minutes were perhaps among the longest two and a half sports minutes I have ever witnessed. That excitement left me struck to the core, fingers shaking, breath unsteady.

This was a Superbowl that any fan could not only enjoy, but revel in. Even if you are a Patriots fan, admit it. You might not have liked the outcome, but you can appreciate the entertainment it provided the rest of us. Coming from a Rams fan, you should just accept quietly. We, too, know the agony of unfathomable defeat. The bitterness of upset. The rollercoaster of emotions from the highest of the high, to ultimately, the lowest of the low. We felt like Superbowl 36 could not possibly be over when it was. We simply hadn't anticipated a loss. It was like we were just warming up when it ended. If you could've just extended time and let your beloved players fulfill their promise! But no, that's not how it works. And while the Patriots at least had their last shot with the final possession of the football in Superbowl 42, the Rams of Superbowl 36 weren't granted that opportunity. I truely believe that had the high flying Rams of '01 had their own final possession, they could've scored. I'm pretty sure every single defeated Superbowl team feels that way, so you can understand why it's hard to let go. And of course, the Rams didn't get their chance and the Patriots won. I know, I know. I sound like a bitter fan (and perhaps I am). I do realize that's just the way life goes sometimes. Your storybook seasons don't always end your way. It's just another chapter in someone else's happy ending. No matter how much you pray or scream or cry or act humbly, there is no reversal of fortunes. Just another loss to be highlighted in the football reels until the end of time.

I know the awful pain you are in, but alas, I cannot feel sorry for you. It hasn't been pretty for a few years now. Following their defeat of the Rams, New Englanders took on the role of a spoiled overnight child star. There was no graciousnous. They couldn't simply appreciate their good fortune in beating the heavily favored Rams and shut up. They had to mock us. Rams fans, on the other hand, while not perfect, will tell you they appreciate the great game the Tennessee Titans helped us deliver in '99. We felt fortunate enough to win after the season we had the year before. We appreciated it and walked off into the sunset. I never went out of my way to gloat to Titans' fans. Instead, I'd always wanted to get their perspective on that last courageous drive.

I've listened to New England's cocky fans revel in our own uncensored shock and others' misery for too long. I've watched the oversaturated media coverage of your own victories repeatedly shown until I've taken up the habit of turning away whenever I see another Superbowl 36 highlight reel coming on. I've seen New England fans gloat over one too many Superbowl (and World friggin' Series) victories to feel sorry for them. Perfection will not be yours. Not this year. The only blemish in your win-loss column happened to be the most important and largest you'd like to erase. A superbowl loss.

On the other side of that is the jubilant winner, of course-a side the New England Patriots have become accustomed to being on. I'd like to extend a whole hearted congratulations to the Giants. Rather than belittle their victory into a Patriots' loss, or say they had one too many balls bounce their way, I believe the better team won tonight. As a St. Louis Cardinals fan, I cannot articulate how frustrating it is to still hear people claim the '06 Cardinals were the worst World Series team to win and they just got lucky. But luck can only carry you so far as you allow it. Yes, the Cardinals were lucky. But every sports team that has ever won a championship has had luck on their side. Look no further than the Patriots-Raiders AFC championship, where, were it not for the "tuck rule", the Raiders probably would've been the victors. This year's Patriots would not have been undefeated until this point had it not been for luck. But although it is an important factor, you cannot win on luck alone. Winning championships are about hard work, taking advantage of the opportunities granted to you and, yes, even luck. The planets were simply aligned for the Giants.

I appreciated this game for all that was riding on it. For the supreme beings that were the Patriots and the belittled underdogs, an unfamiliar territory for a NY team, in the Giants. The game did not let down. It built and built until a climactic ending left us all breathless, a silent shock more resounding after time had run out than any screaming heard during regulation.

And how do you describe that play? The one in which Eli Manning escaped in a magician-like manner. There you saw him, about to tumble down with the Giants' season, and there you didn't, escaping and slipping through the battle weary hands of a half dozen Patriots. On third-and-5 with 59 seconds remaining, the ball sailed through the air covering 32 yards and, as if prompted by a sheer fear of God, David Tyree made one of the most breath-taking catches in modern NFL history on the biggest sports stage. With Rodney Harrison, the leader of the Patriots' Defense covering him, Tyree reached up to seal the Giants' fate, finger tips securing a football over the back of his head in an astonishing play that could half jokingly and half seriously be called back-breaking. The rest is literally history. And just like that, David Tyree will remain legend for the rest of his life no matter what happens here on out. Ask Mike Jones.

Do I feel a slight redemption for our own Superbowl loss? Perhaps. Will I sleep better tonight knowing the fans of New England can finally remember what losing in a heart-breaking fashion feels like? *smile* But is this about six years ago? No. It's about now. The Patriots lost, the dynasty has ended, the empire has fallen. Forget 19-0. The only numbers that count are Giants 17, Patriots 14.

My sister sauntered into my room well after the game had ended, still in shock, still happy beyond the smile that graced her face, and jubilantly proclaimed, "I wonder how they (Patriots' fans) are going to sleep tonight? I hope they have nightmares."

But I think it's safe to say, following one of the greatest upsets in Superbowl history, they've already had one.

Top Ten Reasons You'd Probably Play the Bad Guy on TV

The more I watch TV, the more I realize that, should I play the bad guy, no story I was involved in would have a plot. I wouldn't explain why anything was happening to the good guys, I'd simply get rid of them. Do you ever have the inclination to play the bad guy? Here are the Top Ten Reasons You'd Probably Play the Bad Guy on TV...

10.)Planning and plotting sounds like a fun job. You generally think of yourself as a creative person and this highlights that.

9.) Running away to Mexico does not sound like a crazy idea. Actually, it sounds like a good vacation. You wouldn't have to stay there forever, which is where 'planning and plotting' your way out of there would come in handy.

8.) The good guys annoy you. The bad guys do too, but only cause they won't do the job right.

7.) You've laughed maniacally for over a minute, just to see how it would sound. And it sounded pretty much how you've imagined. Um, maniacal.

6.) You secretly wonder what it would be like to rob a bank, lie to a cop, or pull money from somewhere using your computer like one of those movie-hackers (i.e. Office Space). You'd probably do something like pull a tenth of a penny from 80 million sources. That sounds complicated enough. Good planning and plotting should fit here as well.

5.)You want to leave clues to the cops with words made out of letters cut from different magazine articles. I mean, who doesn't? I'd probably give my next birthday card to someone with a note like that.

4.) You'd like to mock a cop and tell him things like "Who's playing good cop and who's playing bad cop?", "Going for another donut, are we?", "ooohh, I'm scared", "I'd like to see you try"and "when do I get my one phone call, buddy?". You'd also like to walk up to those mirrors that double as secret windows and hit it repeatedly and laugh maniacally. (See? you didn't practice for not).

3.) Everytime someone says, "Over my dead body!" you involuntarily think, "that can be arranged!".

2.)You get annoyed when the current bad guy on TV does too much talking and doesn't just kill the victim. "Just do it! Stop talking, you idiot!" you repeatedly scream.

1.)You know all the secrets and always know what's going on. Everyone keeps asking you questions, hoping you'll actually answer, and you'd revel in repeatedly giving them vague, half-assed answers. Ah, the good life.

TOP FIVE...Lamest Reasons to Leave a Team

Thank you Scott Rolen- my inspiration for this Top Five. I wanted to do a Top Ten, but it was so tedious. There are only so many lame excuses you can find to leave a team.

5.)I want my kids to have a better education in "insert city".

There aren't any major league teams in Alabama or Kentucky. Chances are, wherever the heck you play Major League Baseball, there will be a fantastic school district to put your kids in. This is not only a lame reason to leave a team, it's also an excellent way of making us resent your kids.

4.)I feel like I've done everything I need to do with this team.

Really? Is there a plane ride that involved strip poker and farm animals that we don't know about? Come now, you couldn't have possibly done everything you needed to do with this team.

3.)The fans don't like me.

It's not the fans. It's you. There's probably a good reason the fans don't like you, and if there isn't you're apparently overly sensative anyway. So in the end, the fans trusted their instincts and you proved them right. Bravo (*slow mocking clap*).

2.)They just won the Championship. I'm on their side now!

I'm looking at you, Edgar. How dare you leave us for the Red Sox. Not only did you jump on the bandwagon after they won, you jumped on the bandwagon that ran us over in the process! I'm not a big fan of guys who want in on the winning parade. Although I still love Edgar and wished he had enjoyed that WS win in '06 with us, I still can't believe that he left us for them.

1.)I don't get along with another player or coach.

Oh my god, get the F over yourself. Unless the other player or coach took your wife as their mistress and sold your kids to a circus, you are a grown man capable of doing your job-in a game you love-with the amount of money you make. I'm sure every team has douche bags and everybody learns to live with it as long as you're winning.

Thoughts for the Sports-Minded with A.D.D

• Scott Rolen is leaving us...for another manager. Wow. Can't say I didn't see that one coming, but of all things to leave us for, this is pretty high up there on the "lamest excuse to leave a team" list. Oh, great idea for my next blog! Go me! Go mind!

Rolen's out. Troy Glaus is in. I will miss the stellar defense at 3rd base. And his full speed run to home after hitting a HR-although I've missed much of that power for 2-3 years now. I will not, however, miss the injuries, the injuries, the divorce from TLR, and oh yes, the injuries. I'm ready to move on, not that I had any choice in the matter, but you know what I mean. I'm not mad at him, just tired of the injuries.

• The Patriots are still undefeated and I still want to kick Tom Brady in the nuts.
• A Manning survives to play another play-off game, and God proves he has an unusual sense of humor. And I still want to kick Tom Brady in the nuts. Only, I also want to kick Eli Manning in the nuts. You know this year is bull when Payton is going to be the Manning in those box seats cheering his "a-dur" faced, less talented, less funny brother.

...Less likeable. Sorry! I thought I was done.

• Brett Favre is possessed by, um, a younger Brett Favre. And so the Packs win. But did anyone else notice they beat the Seahawks. Yes, the team that barely beat the woeful Rams. I should've put money on this game! ARG!
• T.O. needs a box of tissues. Apparently, he really cares about Romo. Enough to defend him and cry, anyway. I could never abide a man in tears. It's like watching a fat kid cry. That makes me sad-I won't lie. Tony Romo, though, can rest assured that Jessica Simpson was well worth it (a-ha). I kid, I kid. I would never blame another woman for the downfall of a man's game. *Except Brooke Shields. Agassi totally kicked butt after their divorce.

Here's to hoping the Patriots lose the Superbowl by one lousy field goal! CHEERS!

One of the End of Time signs: Pats go undefeated...

I know, the title is very Debbie Downer of me. It's just that, um, I don't know if anyone has noticed, but I proudly hate on the Pats. Screw 'em!

I was reading this article from ESPN the magazine, begging the question of whether Belichick is actually a jerk or not. I gotta say, even though the author of that article was trying to make a point-in that Belichick is only following the recipe of success and work ethic that many famous Americans are known for-it doesn't help his case in the question of his jerkness. For example, the article cited Andrew Carnegie as someone we can model Bill after because he was apparently on "both sides of the spectrum". They both contribute and donate to charities, yadda yadda yadda, but they also are known for less than boastful situations. In Carnegie's case, steel mill strikes that ended in bloody messes. In Belichick's? Punishing and benching an all star player who had flown out to his grandfather's funeral and didn't return to the Friday practice.

Also, I wouldn't want my main defender in an article questioning whether or not I'm a jerk to be BOBBY KNIGHT, but hey, that's me. I mean, I feel I can obviously respect this little empire of success he has created, but as for his amoral decision-making skills? A-no thank you. Having read the article, I've decided he's basically a jerk who has the ability to do nice things, but wins at all costs-even his soul. Even if it means benching players who go to funerals. Even if it means starting a player with a concussion, and clinical depression as a result of that concussion, against the advice of the team doctor. Even if it means spying or shaking hands after a game like it's something only a Nazi would do. There. That's my head coach rant of the day.

I didn't even watch the Pats play the Giants.

A.) I was hanging with some friends who had only a casual interest in football (but to give them credit, they let me check the score a few times).

B.) If the Pats were going to win, which I honestly expected them to do so more easily than they had, I didn't want to see it. Call me Scrooge. Ba-humbug.

Finally, I don't know why people expect me to feel all glowy and excited about the Patriots going undefeated. I will tell you the only person I am probably happy for, and that's Randy Moss.

I have a fondness for people I feel are unfairly targeted and criticized way too harshly in the media, despite their talent and probably because they say things, or used to, that programs like SportsCenter play over and over again until until some middle aged fat guy at home sitting in his La-Z-Boy recliner with his beer-in-hand feels he can claim Moss is just like T.O. like it is a scientific fact.

So, in a nutshell, go Randy Moss! You show those beer chuggin', middle aged, La-Z-Boy know it alls.