“I’d like to cancel the order. In fact, I have some equipment I’d like to sell.”
I’m almost tempted not to write about the Dodgers, because each day adds a new wrinkle. And wrinkles aren’t the kind of shit that makes anything look better. At first it was the good news: “Slimy” Steve Soboroff has left the team. His role seemed to mainly talk up what a great guy Frank McCourt is to the entire world. He couldn’t find a lot of interested parties and, seeing the financial documents, conveniently left his job…on a Sunday. Remember that, because…
MONDAY, Frank files for bankruptcy. That’s bad. Frank has no money. Bud wisely nixes Frank’s mysterious Fox Sports deal since court documents show Frank planned on taking half the cash from a multi-billion dollar deal and sharing it with his wife. This was, you know, to pay their legal fees. Fees encountered in a divorce proceeding.
The Dodge then hit Minnesota, unknowingly on “Get a hit, get an RBI for free” night. That’s good. Hey, I’ve been there, Twins fans. We were swept by Dusty Baker. We slept knowing the slow process of Bud taking over the team was at hand. But the wheeler-dealer had one more math problem on his sheet.
If you had to choose between these two loans, which would you take?
A. 7% interest, no fee
B. 10% interest, $4.5 million fee
Now, since you are smart, you’ve chosen A. But how good are you at losing money? How good are you at spending money you don’t have? If you are a champion of bleeding money (yours and others), well, you choose B. And you use that as evidence that all is well. Paychecks WILL be sent out on Thursday. No forfeits for the next few weeks! This is a good choice if you are a complete and utter moron. Or, Frank McCourt. Remember this folks, because there will be another “deal” soon, where he’ll save the day by overspending and trying his hardest to show you how he saved!
“Change the Channel”
A recent trip to Las Vegas enlarged a shocking trend. It was the furthering of television show slot machines, and that all of this was at the expense of table games. Want to try “Paradise Poker?” Oh, I bet you don’t like the odds. But check this out, a Password Slot! Match 5 Marty Allen’s in a row and win 16 cents! Who’s Marty Allen? Well, it’s someone whose likeness we got for cheap! Looks like the single deck black jack table is all full again. How about this $50 minimum multi-deck table? Oh, I see you’re a Fantasy fan. Then you’re really going to like this Lord of the Rings slot machine. Can you find the ring? If so, match 3 for the bonus!
Some of this, to me, is sweet justice to casinos. The actual gamblers are avoiding games that are so tilted toward the house it’s not worth it. So, while the high limit folks continue to have their own section, the rest figure they might as well be entertained while losing (or possibly making) money! It’s unnerving, walking past tables with attentive dealers. Checking, and checking again, and again, their chips and cards. They are completely ready. Quietly, they eye the moving clientele.
"What, you’re not good enough for this game? Oh, you’re wondering where the bowling alley is, Megabucks? It’s next to the food court. (sigh) What time do I get off?"
Happy St. Patrick’s Day in June?!
Upon returning, it’s been another cruel start to the summer out here. It’s even crueler near the beach, where I make deals. You’d think that would be idyllic: summertime, beach, and Lowenbrau. But each day in Santa Monica is met with temps and weather fit for March Madness, not summertime gold. By months end, 28 of the 30 days will show below average temps. The average? 72-75 degrees. That might not mean a lot to YOU, but I didn’t buy beer brats and kool-aid because I thought it was March. It’s because it’s fucking SUMMER. Of course, it will be 88 in November, and we’ll rejoice. But is there ever a season where you want it to be what it should be like summer?! Of course not. We gotta heat up. Ah, Potsy’s box o BBQ sauces has arrived. Get that grill going.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Looking backwards
(editor's note: recently we received a bundle of old ticket stubs and newspaper clippings from Western Wisconsin without a return address. A note inside indicated "This autta (sic) give you guys some idea of what we're talkin bout. Don't trust a Holy Roller! Truthfully, Dee Louis" We've scanned and posted the safe-for-work version of the clippings)
So, this happened. In what was my first trip to The Meadows, we decided that we had definitely gambled enough and were now in the mood to watch D-talent football players fall down without tackling. The final score of this game was 12-9. All field goals. And there were like 10 misses in there too.
We did get to drive through the absolute armpit of Las Vegas to get out to the stadium though, so all was not lost.
That's Wayne Terwilliger's autograph. He'll outlive us all.
"Hey man, you know where I can cash this? Better yet, you got 60 cents for the bus?"
What would happen if I brought this back now? They probably wouldn't bat an eye. What's the oldest one of these you think they've accepted at the Plaza? There has to have been a bum out there who found a winning Keno ticket from like 1967 who brought it to the cashier and she didn't even flinch.
The color coding. The "to do" list (note that "Get Up" is on there). The commentary ("Isiah vs. Larry, I wonder who will win"). The analysis. It's all here folks. The main nerve of Las Vegas.
.
Let's take a small break.
Phones. Come and get em.
Nope.
Sports! Brought to you by cigarettes.
Pro-tip: If you look like you're in the first stage of a world-class goiter, you might want to avoid posing for a picture holding a sausage link. And Brent, if you are a grown-ass man with braces, you might want to just dial the smiles down until you see the orthodontist.
I'll pass.
So, this happened. In what was my first trip to The Meadows, we decided that we had definitely gambled enough and were now in the mood to watch D-talent football players fall down without tackling. The final score of this game was 12-9. All field goals. And there were like 10 misses in there too.
We did get to drive through the absolute armpit of Las Vegas to get out to the stadium though, so all was not lost.
That's Wayne Terwilliger's autograph. He'll outlive us all.
"Hey man, you know where I can cash this? Better yet, you got 60 cents for the bus?"
What would happen if I brought this back now? They probably wouldn't bat an eye. What's the oldest one of these you think they've accepted at the Plaza? There has to have been a bum out there who found a winning Keno ticket from like 1967 who brought it to the cashier and she didn't even flinch.
The color coding. The "to do" list (note that "Get Up" is on there). The commentary ("Isiah vs. Larry, I wonder who will win"). The analysis. It's all here folks. The main nerve of Las Vegas.
.
Let's take a small break.
Pro-tip: If you look like you're in the first stage of a world-class goiter, you might want to avoid posing for a picture holding a sausage link. And Brent, if you are a grown-ass man with braces, you might want to just dial the smiles down until you see the orthodontist.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Take my team, please
Picture this: you're broke (oh, that's a stretch). Long ago they stopped taking the NPR membership money from your checking because it was giving you overdraft fits. You've gone down the ladder and ended up permanently at Aldi. The bus don't charge insurance. Within this situation, would you buy a t-shirt with your favorite sports logo on it? If you said yes, is it because it would make you feel good? That part of the price would go to boosting the team, possibly giving them enough money to sign that big free agent, the one last piece to push the team over the top? Would you go to sleep at night like The Gambler, convinced you had broke even, and that you were now emotionally AND financially invested in The Team?
Are you the Governor of Minnesota?
In 20 years every team is going to be Green Bay. They'll sell it to the communities in different ways.... but civic ownership will be widespread. They'll put a stadium in Lilydale or whatever, and the conditions will dictate that the "people" will own the team. Of course, the "people" will then elect their leaders to run the administrative functions (so they can get back to watching GREENWAY!), and the wool will go over the eyes. They'll sell "shares" or whatever, and Keith of Keith's Kettle will be first in line to plunk down 250 dollars a pop, so that they can hang it in a frame in the basement with their PBR taps and the drum set that has to stay in the closet. We'll monetize our pride, and the guys will really feel like "our guys". Everyone will have a team, and they'll pass the championships around like a turkey leg. Everyone gits a bite.
All of the sports are capitalist to various degrees, but for the first time ever, they've been able to convince Dumb Mouthbreath that they indeed are doing it all for him. That's the perfect marriage with politics - the grand idea that a rich, famous, handsome man has the interest of a fat, lazy slob in mind when he makes decisions in his life. "I'm on your side, union workers!" he says, as he eats a meal that costs more than 2 months rent in the Marcy Holmes neighborhood. And we all buy it, because we're very very dim. "Hey, that guy fights for the little man!" Yeah, he learned to fight for the little man at YALE.
It makes sense, then, to fight this war in the public arena, as though a mass of people in the United States has ever been able to exact any kind of change other than general social adjustments. "If we show up to this rally, perhaps they'll keep the team in Arden Hills!" Yeah, except not. They'll bring these battles, be they Labor or Stadium, out to the public square and let everyone Talk About It. Then, at the end of the night, the cigars will be lit with hundred dollar bills and Deals will be made. The rally-goers? Back home for CBS' Monday Night Bonanza. Ah, order.
I suppose it's a tricky position to convince people that they aren't as dumb as they are. It's got to be a terrifying position... prop up the ignorance of sports fans who believe that by spending money on things, they will be a part of it (Hey, I own alternative energy stock, does that get me to the front of the line when they launch the ships for a Colder Earth?). But that's our world. Take someone's money, tell them they've done a Good Thing, and cash that fucking check with the quickness.
It's simple. If you drive between Minneapolis and St. Paul, your car will likely be ruined due to the immense amount of potholes. The pavement buckles and splits constantly due to 6 months of the year being frozen, and a month of days filled with 18 hours of sun. So, when it comes time to dole out money to fix these various roads and civic projects, I suppose it makes perfect sense to spend hundreds of millions of dollars to upgrade the roads leading to and from the proposed stadium site in Arden Hills (a city I became aware of 2 months ago). Just double it down, invest it all in the team, hoping to holy hell that we'll be able to celebrate a championship like the New Orleans Saints and that will make us forget, if even for a moment, that we live in hell. That's what we're aiming for.
So please, fair Gold patrons, come and take this team. Put these people out of their misery. Wrench it from their plump hands so that they can wake up in the morning and not think about what Ben Leber is having for breakfast. Maybe we can get back to life for awhile, and then in 10 years you can bring back the Minnesota Wilderness, or whatever.
We need a break. We need the money.
Are you the Governor of Minnesota?
In 20 years every team is going to be Green Bay. They'll sell it to the communities in different ways.... but civic ownership will be widespread. They'll put a stadium in Lilydale or whatever, and the conditions will dictate that the "people" will own the team. Of course, the "people" will then elect their leaders to run the administrative functions (so they can get back to watching GREENWAY!), and the wool will go over the eyes. They'll sell "shares" or whatever, and Keith of Keith's Kettle will be first in line to plunk down 250 dollars a pop, so that they can hang it in a frame in the basement with their PBR taps and the drum set that has to stay in the closet. We'll monetize our pride, and the guys will really feel like "our guys". Everyone will have a team, and they'll pass the championships around like a turkey leg. Everyone gits a bite.
All of the sports are capitalist to various degrees, but for the first time ever, they've been able to convince Dumb Mouthbreath that they indeed are doing it all for him. That's the perfect marriage with politics - the grand idea that a rich, famous, handsome man has the interest of a fat, lazy slob in mind when he makes decisions in his life. "I'm on your side, union workers!" he says, as he eats a meal that costs more than 2 months rent in the Marcy Holmes neighborhood. And we all buy it, because we're very very dim. "Hey, that guy fights for the little man!" Yeah, he learned to fight for the little man at YALE.
It makes sense, then, to fight this war in the public arena, as though a mass of people in the United States has ever been able to exact any kind of change other than general social adjustments. "If we show up to this rally, perhaps they'll keep the team in Arden Hills!" Yeah, except not. They'll bring these battles, be they Labor or Stadium, out to the public square and let everyone Talk About It. Then, at the end of the night, the cigars will be lit with hundred dollar bills and Deals will be made. The rally-goers? Back home for CBS' Monday Night Bonanza. Ah, order.
I suppose it's a tricky position to convince people that they aren't as dumb as they are. It's got to be a terrifying position... prop up the ignorance of sports fans who believe that by spending money on things, they will be a part of it (Hey, I own alternative energy stock, does that get me to the front of the line when they launch the ships for a Colder Earth?). But that's our world. Take someone's money, tell them they've done a Good Thing, and cash that fucking check with the quickness.
It's simple. If you drive between Minneapolis and St. Paul, your car will likely be ruined due to the immense amount of potholes. The pavement buckles and splits constantly due to 6 months of the year being frozen, and a month of days filled with 18 hours of sun. So, when it comes time to dole out money to fix these various roads and civic projects, I suppose it makes perfect sense to spend hundreds of millions of dollars to upgrade the roads leading to and from the proposed stadium site in Arden Hills (a city I became aware of 2 months ago). Just double it down, invest it all in the team, hoping to holy hell that we'll be able to celebrate a championship like the New Orleans Saints and that will make us forget, if even for a moment, that we live in hell. That's what we're aiming for.
So please, fair Gold patrons, come and take this team. Put these people out of their misery. Wrench it from their plump hands so that they can wake up in the morning and not think about what Ben Leber is having for breakfast. Maybe we can get back to life for awhile, and then in 10 years you can bring back the Minnesota Wilderness, or whatever.
We need a break. We need the money.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)