Death To Twitter

Seriously, can anyone really argue against this?

Even if you Tweet, I have to believe you hate the concept of Twitter, unless, of course, you are a total Twit.

Twitter reminds me of all those social interactions you had growing up where you’d be sitting in a circle of people/friends/acquaintances and having a good conversation. Then, out of nowhere, that one kid would say something that would bring the conversation to a screeching halt.

It would go something like this:

Guy #1: Oh man, Britney Spears is SOOOO HOT!!!

Guy #2: Totally, dude. She’s smokin’.

Guy #3: Yeah! And what about Beyonce… that chick is bangin’!

Guy #4: Bro, they’d both be screamin’ “If You Seek Amy” when I walked in the room!

Twit #1: Awww yeah! But you gotta admit Bea Arthur was the original freak! Y’know?

Then, as you got older and sat through discussion groups in college, and then meetings at your workplace, you realized that the “Twit” who said the idiotic thing still existed. Except, this time, he/she took the form of your annoying classmate, coworker, or even worse, your boss.

That’s the problem with Twitter. Everyone SHOULD NOT have a voice. In fact, most people should just keep their mouth shut.

Always remember the old adage: “It is better to remain silent and have everyone think you’re a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt”. That’s Twitter.

Of course, that makes this entire post ironic, or at the very least allows one to label me the pot who calls the kettle black.

There’s too much to say about this in just one post.

Journalistic Integrity = Petty Gossip

It's official. ESPN.com is officially jeopardizing any journalistic integrity it has left. Apparently, Twitter has now become ESPN's official source for breaking news in the world of sports. Yes, I just wrote a form of the word "official" four times in four sentences.

Under the "Headlines" posted on the front page of ESPN.com, ESPN boasts: "Love tweets that McHale is out as Wolves coach". WHAT?!?! Let me get this straight. While almost 10% of Americans are currently unemployed, ESPN is paying somebody to monitor Twitter.com for breaking sports news?

FYI, the person mentioned as "Love" is Kevin Love, a backup Forward for the Minnesota Timberwolves. He is not a journalist. He is not a representative of ESPN. He is not affiliated with the media whatesover. He is a professional basketball player. Nothing more.

In previous years, when the Male Soap Opera had yet to reach its current mania, the jabberjawing of a backup NBA Forward would be considered a "rumor" or "hot tip" on a possible lead story. Now, however, in the "me me me" world of Twitter, this sort of rumor has been promoted to the level of certifiable, reportable news.

Back in the day, this sort of news would not be reported unless it came straight from team management. Instead, ESPN has now elevated the "tweets" of Kevin Love, a benchwarming Forward for the Minnesota Timberwolves, to the level of the ultimate final word as to the hiring and firing of the team's head coaches. That's right. ESPN.com wants us to believe that the Timberwolves have made Twitter - and their backup Forward - their official medium for breaking news? Why else would ESPN post this rumor as an actual news story? I'm at a loss here.

Is Kevin Love right? Probably, I guess. Why else would he "tweet" this vital information? But that's not the point.

The point is any media source with any integrity would wait to break the story until it was officially announced by management. Apparently, in today's world, it's more important be first than to maintain integrity.

For the sake of all things holy. I hate Twitter. I have no disrespect to my readers who recreationally use Twitter for fun. But, I lose respect daily for those who rely on it to feed the beast. That includes you, ESPN.

I Hate To Say I Told You So, But...

Nostradamus remains heralded as one of the greatest, if not the greatest, prognosticators in human history. This dude is controversial, but he allegedly nailed many of his ancient predictions, including predicting the death of King Henry II of France, the Burning of London, the beginning of WWII, and Clay Aiken finishing behind Ruben Studdard in Season Two of American Idol.

Something tells me that's not the first time Clay Aiken has finished behind another man.

*Disclaimer: The opinions of the person writing this blog do not necessarily represent the writer of this blog's opinions.

I mean, c'mon, either Nostradamus had the biggest set of balls in the history of mankind, or he was just trying to raise a ruckus with his bold, unfounded proclamations. I'm guessing a little bit of both.

I tried to look up Nostradamus' full name, just for shits and giggles. Several convenient sources, possibly unreliable, inform me that "Nostradamus" is a latin language form of his real name, Michel de Notredame. One of these sources also describe him as a "Christian Jew" which I find to be akin to a calling someone a carnivorous vegetarian. And for those of you who want to enlighten me about the intricacies of what a Christian Jew might actually be, save your breath. I don't care.

Anyway, Nostradamus' last name is Notredame? Notre Dame? Michael of Notre Dame? If the University of Notre Dame hired a janitor named Michael, and this janitor started waxing philosophical about the imminent destruction of mankind in 2012, would we herald him as the second coming of Nostradamus, or lock him away in a maximum security facility and throw away the key? Trick question: We would take him to TGI Fridays and buy him shots until he passed out, and then ditch him at last call and leave the bar tab in his name.

Well, Nostradamus needs to make room in his trophy case. There's a new kid on the scene: Captain Obvious. Coincidentally, The Male Soap Opera and I were both waiting at the same bus stop when Captain Obvious stopped to pick us up, but for some reason, I was the only one to climb aboard. I think MSO was too busy dramatizing (read: Twittering) the Brett Favre updates and failed to latch on to the reality of the situation.

I hate to say I told you so, but...

I only posted to let everyone know that I was right. Just a few days since I posted my opinion on the BF saga, it turns out that there actually was NO saga! Imagine that. My analysis on the issue was exactly right - that this was a single issue (not a saga) and there was only one real issue to report: the viability of BF's arm. (See earlier post). And it was spot on with respect to recent developments.

Just read these quotes and compare them to my previous post about the simplicity of the BF story. BF himself said almost EXACTLY what I wrote mere days ago.

BF was quoted in the "Lost Angeles" Times yesterday from his recent interview with Joe Buck:

"It makes perfect sense as far as coming back because it's an offense that I ran for 16 years," Favre said, adding: "I could teach the offense."

"They do have a great running back, they have a great running game,"

"I don't think you can go past anything more than the arm," said Favre, who turns 40 in October. "If that's not up to par -- and is not up to par when the time comes -- then you can't play. I went through it last year, and I gutted it out or whatever, but it affected me, and it affected our team. I can't do that again, and I won't do that again. . . ."

It's not in my personality to point out when I am right. In fact, I will openly point out when I am wrong and own up to it. However, in this case, I can't take too much credit. The handwriting was on the wall. Anyone with any bit of common sense could interpret this story and see it unfold from a mile away, yet the Male Soap Opera kept shoving it up our butt, almost in a desperate ploy to demand our attention at a time when there was nothing actually newsworthy enough to warrant that attention.

Yes, I told you so, but don't give me too much credit. You don't need to be Nostradamus to predict the obvious.

The Male Soap Opera, Starring Brett Favre

Let’s start with the definition of Irony (A word frequently misused in place of the word “coincidence”), according to the Mirriam-Webster Online Dictionary: “Incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal and expected result”. I claim to be fed up with the media for shoving the Brett Favre Saga in our face, yet I choose to write about it, thus shoving it in your face. I recognize and apologize for that.

Segue to my next point. Definition of Hypocrite, according to Mirriam Webster Online Dictionary: “A person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or opinions”. Okay, fine. I’m a hypocrite. I can deal with that. I’ve been called far worse. I hereby resolve to give up hypocrisy. But only for Lent. And I reserve the right to be a hypocrite on this blog. And I reserve the right to spit in the face of proper grammar and sentence structure. And that’s because I choose to, not because I don’t know any better.

*Blog Note #1: I would like to make a Proclamation. Brett Favre shall henceforth be mentioned only as “BF”. The way I figure, he and Terrell Owens, a.k.a. “TO” are the main characters in this ridiculous reality show we call the Male Soap Opera, so they deserve the same type of nomenclature. More importantly, I fear the prospect of typing “Brett Favre” over and over. Seriously, try typing “Favre” about 20 times. How many times did your fingers make you type “Farve” instead? It’s unnatural.

*Blog Note #2: We’ll deal with Male Soap Opera co-star Chad “Johnson” Ochocinco’s moniker later this season when he finally decides to throw his annual hissy fit. I expect it to happen about the time the Bengals lose to the Steelers for the 345th time, and management changes his uniform number to 86. In fact, let’s make it official: I am now officially accepting suggestions, so feel free to let me know what you think.

Part 1: Why we don’t care about the BF Saga.

Ostensibly, the purpose of this blog (at least in part) is to attack the stories of the sports world that are irritating me (and a good chunk of all of you reading this). The problem is that the media inundates us with drama instead of actually telling us why we should actually care about the story. They assume and expect we should care merely because they are telling us. Naturally, we would expect them to inform us why we should care. But, they’re not. And yet they continue to insist we care. (See “Definition of Irony” above).

The real rub is that the majority of sports media repeatedly follows the formula, expecting us to care while never changing their formula. Segue (again) to my next point: Albert Einstein’s definition of insanity was famously quoted as “doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” Interesting. The sports media keeps cramming the same BF drama down our throat over and over and yet they expect us to sit on the edge of our seat and listen with rapt attention? Insane.

More proof that I’m right? Today I caught a few ESPN Talking Heads gathering up the nerve to actually bitch and moan about the BF story and its perpetual inanity. The sports media are now – get this – groaning at themselves over how tired they are of this BF nonsense! It only took, what, 5 years of this crap?!?! Give me a break. (See “Definition of Hypocrite” above).

Part 2: Why we should care about the BF Saga.

Easy Answer: We shouldn’t. And we probably don’t.

Actual Answer: I can think of one reason you should (below). And you still probably won’t.

I’m not saying that you’re actually required to care, but if you had any single reason to care at all, this should be that reason: whether or not BF can win games for the Minnesota Vikings.

I believe he can, if his arm is healthy, and if so, he should come back to the NFL. More importantly, the question is whether he will singlehandedly blow games for the Vikings. Probably yes, but only if he is forced - or chooses - to put the team on his shoulders every week.

This is why B to the F and the Norsemen of the Scandinavian Peninsula are playing this silly game of grab-ass with each other. They are a perfect match. The Vikes run a familiar system and don’t require BF to carry the team. BF requires a familiar system (so he can lollygag his ass into training camp at the last minute), and because he can’t carry a team anymore (and he knows it). There’s also the distinct possibility that BF needs the Vikings because he’s a shameless drama queen who can’t seem to remove himself from the media spotlight and the Vikings provide his last ditch chance to fill that need for his ego.

In turn, if the Vikings actually expect to advance in the playoffs and have a chance at a Super Bowl victory (and you better believe they do have the talent), the Vikings need a QB who knows his asshole from his bellybutton. They need someone who has the experience to run an offense without shouldering the burden of also being its lone ranger. Someone who’s not Tavaris Jackson or Sage “The Rage” Rosenfels. Someone who’s confident enough to know that he can win it all, in the right situation, but too smart to admit that he can’t do it alone. That’s Bee Eff.

It’s as simple as that. There you go, one story – not a saga - that could’ve been reported and let sleep until REAL news surfaced about the issue.

Instead, we are forced to endure stories every single day of whether or not BF's family members booked a hotel room in Green Bay for the Vikings game, or whether his biceps tendon is vulnerable to the crippling radiation of Kryptonite, or whether his Aunt Bea enjoyed a successful pap smear, or if he was pleased with his service at Jiffy Lube during last Wednesday’s oil change on his Ford F-150 Extended Cab Super Duty Diesel, or whether or not he will employ the services of said pickup truck to “work the land” on his farm in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, or finally - the one thing we are really dying to learn – how many interceptions did BF throw in that epic-yet-slightly-homoerotic game of Mud Football from the Wrangler Jeans commercials?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Up next: A smorgasboard of commentary on recent news: Playing catch-up on The Kobe Face, Lebron's Non-Handshake, why the NBA is ridiculous, and anything else that tickles my fancy.

Also: Didn't get to the Tony Reali face. We'll do it next time.

Restoring Sanity to the World of Sports Analysis

The "Talking Heads" on popular sports radio stations, television networks, newspapers, and the internet have forced us to read, listen to, and tolerate the repetitive barf they have been spewing for far too long. It's a Male Soap Opera. Manufacturing drama out of each and every little event that happens in the sporting world and feeding the egos of the sports figures and franchises that we all love - or love to hate.

I suppose it's not always their fault. They all work hard and are forced to deal with the pressure of ratings and deadlines in order to keep their columns and shows popular and well funded by advertisers. I would submit, however, that a byproduct of this system is that they are forced (or choose?) to keep regurgitating the the same opinions and the differing viewpoints on issues that are so mind-numbingly irritating that I'd sooner eat a spoonful of my own sh*t than listen to it again. Then again, I guess we could all just turn the channel and save ourselves the grief, but what fun would that be?

I can't promise that I won't feed the drama. But I promise that I won't manufacture it. I'm going to react to it. Tell you why it's ridiculous. Tame the shameless drama being shoveled into our faces by those getting paid to tell us what - and who - is important in the world of sports. I'm going to challenge how we should really be reacting to this drama, while actively lamenting the fact that our traditional sports media outlets have been sentencing us to this analytical charlatanism with the same alacrity employed by Judge Alvin "JP" Valkenheiser when condemning unsuspecting felony offenders to the merciless justice of "Mister Bonestripper" in 1991's "Nothing But Trouble". (See link below).

Bonestripper Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enUo-1TjdEs

You better believe I'm serious. I went cold turkey from the Male Soap Opera for just over 3 years because I just couldn't take being force fed the opinions of these goons ad nauseam. In a related matter, I was also preoccupied by more important matters at the time. But, now I'm roped back in and thus we are all forced to suffer together. After all, misery loves company.

Next up:

This may seem like a cop-out, but it's fitting. My biggest gripe with the Male Soap Opera is the constant coverage of idiotic stories that I would love to forget. So, why not just jump into the biggest drama to exist in all of sports: Brett Favre. Why the hell is he being shoved into our lives again and why should we care?

Trust me. I have a take on this that (1) you haven't heard before, and (2) I'm not sure that I even agree with.

Also:

Why Tony Reali can't stop making that "face".