Last week for Clutch Magazine (while I was adjusting to living in the Big Bad City of NYC), I penned another story on Evelyn Lozada and her newly estranged, soon to be divorced hubby, Chad Johnson. Recently Johnson decided to deal with his break up by getting a tattoo of his future ex-wife's face on his leg. To put it mildly, this sounds incredibly ill-advised. For this post I touched on the romanticising of violence and pain out of love, when it's the one you love doling out that violence and pain.
From MediaiteLast time I checked (and hey, I could be wrong), professional bowtie wearer Tucker Carlson wasn't a member of PETA who was against all forms of animal mistreatment and believer in the animal rights math of rat = chicken = dog = person, but apparently he thinks pro-footballer Michael Vick should have been executed for his role in a dogfighting ring he ran. But since we don't do capital punishment for people who torture and kill animals (just people who torture and kill people), he did 19 months in prison instead. For some reason, serving time in prison isn't enough of a punishment for crime for Carlson. Apparently prison is supposed to be a permanent scar, not about punishment or reform, but about marking a person to walk the world as one of the damned in a separate caste system.
Someone alert Martha Stewart to give back that TV show! She's an ex-con!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009 at 1:30PMin SportsSnob
Guest blogger Jonathan Pitts-Wiley has a theory about NFL footballer Larry Johnson and his recent use of the other F-bomb on Twitter -- he's a man of letters and means! Why, don't you know that sometimes a "fag" isn't a fag but something a tad more European? It's all just a big, fat misunderstanding! Pitts-Wiley of the blog Pitts Indeed hilariously explains.
Considering how controversy-anemic the NFL is, I don't see the owners approving the Limbaugh-Checkettes bid to buy the Cardiac Cards ... I mean, the St. Louis Rams. (Did I just tell my age?) With the players' union coming out against the bid that tells you that despite how controversy-anemic athletes usually are (talking to you Stephen A. Smith) even they have drawn a line when it comes to Rush "NFL looks like Crips and Bloods to me" Limbaugh.
Now, because he's never met a controversy he didn't like, the good Rev. Al Sharpton has thrown his two pennies and some change into the fountain to take his turn at the great game of "This Idea Sucks and Here's Why!"
Controversial conservative yakker Rush Limbaugh expressed interest in purchasing the St. Louis Rams last week as part of a larger group seeking to own the beleaguered team. It seems I wasn't the only person horrified by this proposition, as several NFL players and now the head of the players' union has come out against the notion of Limbaugh owning any part of the team.
The Snob is a big fan of good music. Even when it's not sung in English. Especially if it falls into the soul/R&B/jazz continuum. Last year I discovered South Korea's answer to Usher and Justin Timberlake, pop singer/actor/model/pop n' lock enthusiast Rain, and his song "Escaping the Sun" on of all things, The Colbert Report. I went to Amazon.com in search for it, knowing full well it would be an import and cost way too much money. (I wanted for months to buy UK's The Servant's self-titled album, but then Amazon decided to stop teasing me and put it up for download.)
Anyway, long story short. Amazon does not have the Rain album that contains this song. This is worse than when I had to move heaven and earth online to get Mayumi Kojima's "Hatsukoi" after I heard it in, of all things, a Nintendo commercial. I suppose I could stop being lazy and do some serious internet crunching to find the damn thing. Learn enough bootleg Anglicized Korean to determine which site will hook me up and which will just infect my hard drive with malware, pop ups n' porn.
Why can't it be easy to find like Japanese Pop's Pizzicato Five or Asian American sample/hip hop mashup Cibo Matto? The man is doing songs with Omarion of all people! There is a demand. Meet it, marketplace!
But if anyone out there in Snob World knows how to hook a Korean pop loving sista up with some Rain that is not the bitorrent malware file from hell, I'd appreciate it, because, seriously ...
I need this song in my life.
That said, the Los Angeles Lakers beat the shit out of San Antonio Friday night. It was not as sweet as when the Lakers beat the shit out of Utah. Because I live to watch the Jazz lose, but it was nice to see my fake Laker boyfriend is hot half-black Jewish incognegro Jordan Farmar and the rest of the second string get a chance to run around like little kids because the Lakers were up by 26 in the fourth quarter. They went on to win the game by 30 points after Luke Walton, perpetual whipping boy in our household, drained a three from downtown.
I'm just glad the Cavs didn't make it to the Finals, because if they had and if the Lakers make it there I'd be torn between Farmar and my fake Cavs boyfriend Daniel Gibson, who people insisting on calling Boobie because that's what the brother's mother calls him. Stop insulting my fake Cavs boyfriend. He has a first name, you emasculating TNT announcers.
BTW: I totally love men who can shoot a three in the clutch. I'm still dreaming about Reggie Miller talking shit and raining threes on them. It's sad that a dude that talented has zero rings.
Eva Longoria's "desperate" ass took Tony Parker from me, so I don't have a fake boyfriend on the Spurs anymore. Not that there would be any scenario where I would not root for the Lakers, fake boyfriends or no. I've loved them since Magic Johnson. I love them up or down. I made it through Kobe Bryant's rape charge and Bryant throwing a hissyfit before the season began. I was down even during the pre-Kobe, Shaq years which were craptacular considering "hack a Shaq" was en vogue (is it ever NOT en vogue?) and I had to watch him destroy the team through his inability to get two at the foul line.
I just love the Lakers. The Lakers and the NFL's Dallas Cowboys, are the only teams I've ever given a damn about. (I know I'm from St. Louis and hence contractually obligated to back the Cardinals, but ... ahem ... fuck the Cardinals.)
I know my teams of choice not beloved by all (mostly because they're so arrogant from having legendary franchise histories behind them). But I love their chest pumping, nose thumbing, king-of-the-world asses. Confidence is sexy and they got sexy by the Escalades.
And it was awesome. Super Bowl 42 was awesome. A nail biter. The Patriot's perfect season is irrelevant. All the Brady brilliance blah-blah-blah. Spygate. The genius of the NFL's own version of a James Bond villain, Bill "The Madman" Belichick. The NFC's Giants have returned peace and orderliness to the football universe. Don Shula's Dolphins perfect season of '72 remains a singular act.
I'm actually not a big Giants fan. Hell, I'm not a Giants fan at all. But I love the Dallas Cowboys. And if Tony Romo and TO couldn't make my day by denying the Patriots another Super Bowl, the New York Giants will do.
And gap-toothed lover-man Michael Strahan is running about, like a child, filled with unbridled joy! Nice job, lesser Manning. Nice job.
Saturday, September 8, 2012 at 11:17AM
Last week for Clutch Magazine (while I was adjusting to living in the Big Bad City of NYC), I penned another story on Evelyn Lozada and her newly estranged, soon to be divorced hubby, Chad Johnson. Recently Johnson decided to deal with his break up by getting a tattoo of his future ex-wife's face on his leg. To put it mildly, this sounds incredibly ill-advised. For this post I touched on the romanticising of violence and pain out of love, when it's the one you love doling out that violence and pain.
