How many trampled upon minority groups can the New York Post insult in one day? At least two.
In addition to the front page headline, Page 6: "PORN PUNK GYPPED BONDS' EX"
Friday, October 5, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Oh that Stephon
Should we declare June 29 a national Stephon Marbury Reawakening Holiday? Yes, yes we should.
Q: And what of Stephon Marbury, who also helped create the Knicks' hostile work environment -- at least in the eyes of the plaintiff -- by having sex with one of the club's interns outside a strip club? What is the fallout for him?
A: He is not one of the defendants, so Marbury need only worry about the damage this episode did to his reputation -- and to his household.
But Marbury did bring a flash of enlightenment to the table Monday at the Knicks' media day, at least partly explaining his summer of bizarre behavior by revealing he has undergone a religious awakening.
"What was the highlight of my summer? When I gave myself to Jesus Christ. The day it happened was June 29," Marbury said. "What happened to me was I was able to see myself outside of myself. I was able to look in the mirror and really see myself. I saw the person who I wanted to be, and who I was looking at."
Q: And what of Stephon Marbury, who also helped create the Knicks' hostile work environment -- at least in the eyes of the plaintiff -- by having sex with one of the club's interns outside a strip club? What is the fallout for him?
A: He is not one of the defendants, so Marbury need only worry about the damage this episode did to his reputation -- and to his household.
But Marbury did bring a flash of enlightenment to the table Monday at the Knicks' media day, at least partly explaining his summer of bizarre behavior by revealing he has undergone a religious awakening.
"What was the highlight of my summer? When I gave myself to Jesus Christ. The day it happened was June 29," Marbury said. "What happened to me was I was able to see myself outside of myself. I was able to look in the mirror and really see myself. I saw the person who I wanted to be, and who I was looking at."
Monday, October 1, 2007
Oh that Isiah
NEW YORK (AP) - Former New York Knicks executive Jeffrey Nix remembered his reaction when Isiah Thomas was hired to run the once-proud franchise in December 2003.
"I know two friends of mine he owes money to," Nix testified at Thomas' ongoing sexual harassment trial.
"I know two friends of mine he owes money to," Nix testified at Thomas' ongoing sexual harassment trial.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Finally, Mahmoud enters the Zone
Here's the NY Times on the most ridiculous part of Mahmoud's speech at Columbia today:
Simple as that eh Mahmoud? I'd daresay homosexuality is as Iranian as pistachio pie buddy. He went on to deny the existence of apples, closets, and the supposed internal organ known in the West as "the spleen".
In response to a question about the treatment of homosexuals in Iran, Mr. Ahmadinejad was initially evasive, instead talking about the death penalty, which, he pointed out, exists in the United States: “People who violate the laws by using guns, creating insecurity selling guns, distributing guns at a high level are sentenced to execution in Iran. Very few of these punishments are carried out in the public eye.”
Pressed by Dean Coatsworth on the original question about the rights of gay men and lesbians in Iran, Mr. Ahmadinejad said: “In Iran, we don’t have homosexuals like in your country. We don’t have that in our country.”
Simple as that eh Mahmoud? I'd daresay homosexuality is as Iranian as pistachio pie buddy. He went on to deny the existence of apples, closets, and the supposed internal organ known in the West as "the spleen".
If your dream is to have an NBA player "message" you
Charlie Bell freely responds to chumps like $$$$ROB DOGGY DOG$$$$ on his Myspace page.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Subprime crisis got you down?
Worry no longer, because with Ric Flair in your corner, you're sure to win!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Darko rant
If only he played half as hard as he cursed. Idiot. Here's a translation of Darko's recent rant against the FIBA refs after his team lost in European Olympic qualifying.
Relationship Advice from Gilbert
This just in...Gilbert Arenas is crazy. But "fun crazy" right? He got angry with his lady for getting his dad's car all dirty:
"And then she got so frustrated with that, because she came back with, “I take care of the kids and if you want the car cleaned, you have to clean it.” So we was on 16th and Constitution and she kicked me out of the car and I had to walk all the way to the gym. It was probably a mile, but I had on smaller shoes. You know, I wear 13s, but I had on 12s because they matched the outfit I was wearing so my feet were hurting and I didn’t have any cab money to take a cab and that all played a part.
So I went on a strike.
I think all men should do this when they have a disagreement. This is Relationship 101. When you have a fight with “the other,” don’t answer their calls and don’t answer their pages. That usually gets the point across that you’re not talking to them. So, I held out for seven days. I went on strike for seven days and stayed at the gym for seven days. I slept in the gym. They got nice couches in there and it just kept me in the gym working on my knee and stuff."
"And then she got so frustrated with that, because she came back with, “I take care of the kids and if you want the car cleaned, you have to clean it.” So we was on 16th and Constitution and she kicked me out of the car and I had to walk all the way to the gym. It was probably a mile, but I had on smaller shoes. You know, I wear 13s, but I had on 12s because they matched the outfit I was wearing so my feet were hurting and I didn’t have any cab money to take a cab and that all played a part.
So I went on a strike.
I think all men should do this when they have a disagreement. This is Relationship 101. When you have a fight with “the other,” don’t answer their calls and don’t answer their pages. That usually gets the point across that you’re not talking to them. So, I held out for seven days. I went on strike for seven days and stayed at the gym for seven days. I slept in the gym. They got nice couches in there and it just kept me in the gym working on my knee and stuff."
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Polish Bus Drivers
Despite my love of the Polish people I am not above Polish jokes.
Bus Driver Fired for 38,000 Text Messages
Bus Driver Fired for 38,000 Text Messages
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
My president can beat up your president
but check out Putin's posing skills and artistic vision. A true visionary moving us forward from socialist realism to KGB realism! Those pecs didn't shape themselves!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
A Strong Michael Vick endorsement
This is a quote from Ron Artest about Michael Vick and there is no further commentary needed.
"[He] lied and then came back and apologized to everybody, I felt that was classy."
"[He] lied and then came back and apologized to everybody, I felt that was classy."
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Underappreciated and willing to take on more responsibility for a commensurate increase in salary
I recently read this biting little indictment of the Entitlement Generation. I of course am a dues paying member of said Generation. It made me laugh guiltily (a word if I want it to be dammit) at how spoiled we "unfulfilled" desk jockeys are. I'm a prime offender here, but can you think of a single friend between the ages of 22-28 who hasn't complained at length about a "lack of meaning" at their job with the implicit message that they deserve some mythical fulfilling role helping Third World toddlers in a well-paying job from the comfort of their hip but still reasonably priced apartment around the corner from the gourmet deli? I just wish the writer posted a link to the clip of the defecating horse. I bet it's hilarious!
Meanwhile: Getting worked up over a down market
By Garrison Keillor
Tribune Media Services
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
It's hard to photograph a falling stock market, so the stories about the big Dow Jones plunge showed solemn-faced traders on the floor of the New York exchange or an electronic news banner in Times Square.
The banner (what you could see of it) read, "Stocks Plummet Amid Cred," while in the foreground people crossed the street looking rather underfluffed. In other words, the story was illustrated with a picture of the story being reported. Like when your econ professor said, "This is very important," and you wrote in your notebook, "Important."
It is news when the Dow drops 311 points because it strikes a deep gong in the hearts of older guys tending their retirement accounts.
Who knows if 311 means anything at all? Traders often look solemn: their feet hurt and they drink too many martinis. But all over the United States, the fiftyish and sixtyish imagine our lives turning into a black-and-white documentary in which nattily dressed men stand in line at a soup kitchen.
I am of a generation of Americans that believes in disaster; the younger generation does not. A Harris Interactive poll of Generation Y's feelings about work shows 92 percent want a "flexible work schedule," 96 percent want a job that "requires creativity," and 97 percent want a job that "allows me to have an impact on the world."
All I can say is, Wow. Good luck. And now you know why we need illegal immigrants to do the inflexible uncreative stuff that simply needs doing right now. We've raised a generation of young people who want to be writers. Whassup? That's whassup, dude.
In the workplace, the young sit studiously at their screens observing videos of animals doing hilarious things on YouTube. Cats walk into glass doors and fall down, horses in parades relax their bowels and let loose amazing quantities of flop, and meanwhile the old guy in the office down the hall thinks maybe he should start saving tinfoil. He lives in dread of bad news: Northern Grommets will close the plant and shift production to a factory in Guangdong Province, and his position of Executive Assistant to the Assistant Vice President will turn to dust. No more free ballpoints for Bob. He sits and broods over his sad fate, meanwhile the young men and women in the cubicles are fascinated by the sex life of gerbils. After work they go to Matt's and drink like the Russian cavalry and get totally blitzed and take a leak in the refrigerator. They are working at Northern Grommets only until Steven Spielberg calls and tells them he is wildly in love with their screenplay. This could happen next week or perhaps in the fall. They are almost thirty but their clocks don't tick yet. Their ship will come and they will buy a house in Pacific Palisades and be driven to the studio every day by Felipe while Maria cleans the house and Ramon does the yard and pool.
I'm one of those old guys, trying to maintain forward progress, sure that if I slow down something will bite me from behind. I think about buying a new suit and then the Dow drops and I think, "Well, that's kind of spendy, isn't it." The old one is good enough. Shiny in the seat but I'll just remember to keep my hands clasped behind my back.
I woke up in New York the morning after the Dow fell (which was good, seeing as how I had gone to bed in New York the night before) and there was a slight chill in the air and it said: Get to work, forget about stocks, be thankful for good health, go do your work. Don't retire - you would never get the hang of tai chi anyway - keep shuffling along.
My father was a carpenter and a postal worker. He admired people who came early and stuck with a job until it got done. People who embraced work. His Republicanism was based solidly on that old bootstrap philosophy. Finish your coffee and get to work and let's get this hole dug and don't complain about the heat, it's the same heat for everybody. Stick with the job, rest as you need to, then resume.
The kids surfing and snazzing up their Web sites at work would be aliens to him, and he wouldn't have a lot of sympathy for the gloomy old guy with visions of disaster either. The people most like my dad are the Mexicans coming across the border to work hard and send money home to their families. He would understand those people completely.
Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" can be heard on U.S. public radio stations. Distributed by Tribune Media Services.
Meanwhile: Getting worked up over a down market
By Garrison Keillor
Tribune Media Services
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
It's hard to photograph a falling stock market, so the stories about the big Dow Jones plunge showed solemn-faced traders on the floor of the New York exchange or an electronic news banner in Times Square.
The banner (what you could see of it) read, "Stocks Plummet Amid Cred," while in the foreground people crossed the street looking rather underfluffed. In other words, the story was illustrated with a picture of the story being reported. Like when your econ professor said, "This is very important," and you wrote in your notebook, "Important."
It is news when the Dow drops 311 points because it strikes a deep gong in the hearts of older guys tending their retirement accounts.
Who knows if 311 means anything at all? Traders often look solemn: their feet hurt and they drink too many martinis. But all over the United States, the fiftyish and sixtyish imagine our lives turning into a black-and-white documentary in which nattily dressed men stand in line at a soup kitchen.
I am of a generation of Americans that believes in disaster; the younger generation does not. A Harris Interactive poll of Generation Y's feelings about work shows 92 percent want a "flexible work schedule," 96 percent want a job that "requires creativity," and 97 percent want a job that "allows me to have an impact on the world."
All I can say is, Wow. Good luck. And now you know why we need illegal immigrants to do the inflexible uncreative stuff that simply needs doing right now. We've raised a generation of young people who want to be writers. Whassup? That's whassup, dude.
In the workplace, the young sit studiously at their screens observing videos of animals doing hilarious things on YouTube. Cats walk into glass doors and fall down, horses in parades relax their bowels and let loose amazing quantities of flop, and meanwhile the old guy in the office down the hall thinks maybe he should start saving tinfoil. He lives in dread of bad news: Northern Grommets will close the plant and shift production to a factory in Guangdong Province, and his position of Executive Assistant to the Assistant Vice President will turn to dust. No more free ballpoints for Bob. He sits and broods over his sad fate, meanwhile the young men and women in the cubicles are fascinated by the sex life of gerbils. After work they go to Matt's and drink like the Russian cavalry and get totally blitzed and take a leak in the refrigerator. They are working at Northern Grommets only until Steven Spielberg calls and tells them he is wildly in love with their screenplay. This could happen next week or perhaps in the fall. They are almost thirty but their clocks don't tick yet. Their ship will come and they will buy a house in Pacific Palisades and be driven to the studio every day by Felipe while Maria cleans the house and Ramon does the yard and pool.
I'm one of those old guys, trying to maintain forward progress, sure that if I slow down something will bite me from behind. I think about buying a new suit and then the Dow drops and I think, "Well, that's kind of spendy, isn't it." The old one is good enough. Shiny in the seat but I'll just remember to keep my hands clasped behind my back.
I woke up in New York the morning after the Dow fell (which was good, seeing as how I had gone to bed in New York the night before) and there was a slight chill in the air and it said: Get to work, forget about stocks, be thankful for good health, go do your work. Don't retire - you would never get the hang of tai chi anyway - keep shuffling along.
My father was a carpenter and a postal worker. He admired people who came early and stuck with a job until it got done. People who embraced work. His Republicanism was based solidly on that old bootstrap philosophy. Finish your coffee and get to work and let's get this hole dug and don't complain about the heat, it's the same heat for everybody. Stick with the job, rest as you need to, then resume.
The kids surfing and snazzing up their Web sites at work would be aliens to him, and he wouldn't have a lot of sympathy for the gloomy old guy with visions of disaster either. The people most like my dad are the Mexicans coming across the border to work hard and send money home to their families. He would understand those people completely.
Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" can be heard on U.S. public radio stations. Distributed by Tribune Media Services.
Monday, August 27, 2007
WTF?
Usually the Zone is a place of giggly wonder and merriment, but alas, all is not well in the land of the Bop. Owen Wilson?#$# Dude, come on, you need a friend, you come to ME, my friend.
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