So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my new favorite television show, “Yo Momma.” I, for one, have been telling “momma jokes” for the past twenty years, except that I stopped about fifteen years ago, when I a) outgrew them, and b) started to fear that I would insult someone whose mother was either deceased, or who was, in reality, really, really, really fat. But I also retired from telling momma jokes for another reason. I couldn’t foresee a situation in the near future where I’d be provided a forum for telling momma jokes; a forum where I could earn as much as $500 for insulting the mother of a person I didn’t even know (unless momma jokes are taxed, in which case, make that $300). Instead, I decided to go to high school, as you can probably tell by the mathematical equation I just solved in like, two seconds. But high school was an obvious mistake. If I had held out just a little while longer, I could have appeared on the MTV show “Yo Momma,” hosted by (who else?) Wilmer Valderrama (who...

1988 Topps Phillies Leaders Here is one of my all-time favorite “team leaders” cards, because it shows two Phillies’ stalwarts - Mike Schmidt and Kevin Costner - doing just that...leading. Of course, these two guys weren’t leaders in the “rah-rah” sense, or even the statistical sense (if so, Juan Samuel would have certainly replaced Costner). They led more by example. Or, just by squatting. “This is how you squat, rookies! Now get me some sunflower seeds!” Schmidt was overheard saying shortly after this photo was taken. (To which Costner replied, “Yeah, listen to Schmidtty!”) It is only appropriate that Topps sampled the “dream sequence” borders for this series, because when I was young, I used to see this card in my sleep, mainly because there were at least four in every pack. It remains uncertain as to how, exactly, Costner got his hands on a Phillies uniform, although this was around the time of “Bull Durham” and “Field of Dreams,” when Costner had convinced himself that he actually...

Garth Iorg, 1986 Topps Garth Iorg was probably the most talented of the Iorgs, baseball’s “first family” even before the days of the Boones, Alous, or Griffeys. His father, Thor, was a relief pitcher for the then Milwaukee Braves from 1962-1963 (and would later go on to manage the Class A Harrisburg Hooligans). He also has a half-brother, Jamaal Iorg, who served as the backup left fielder for Garth’s AL East rival, the Red Sox, from 1984-1986. Actually, Iorg has a real brother, Dane, who – and this is 100% true – has two World Series rings. Look it up. As evidenced from this photo, Garth Iorg was the only major league player at the time who was allowed to hit without wearing a batting helmet, because, as one former AL umpire who wishes to remain anonymous, put it, “He had a head like a bowling ball.” Garth’s lack of power in 1984 (one home run) can be attributed to the fact that, at the time, steroids were not readily available. Had they been, Iorg would definitely be in the Hall of Fa...

If my math is correct, and I think it is, the New York Knicks are not making the playoffs this year. In fact, the 2005-06 season has been THE low point of the past few years, which is saying a lot considering the last few years have prominently involved Scott Layden, the knees of Antonio McDyess and Allan Houston, and a 300-pound Clarence Weatherspoon. You may be asking yourself, “Why the heck is he devoting an entire column to the Knicks, especially when the baseball season just kicked off? I stopped thinking about the Knicks like, four months ago.” And you would have a point. However, when you think about it, this season has been truly special. In an amazingly awful kind of way. I mean, if we’re so quick to celebrate greatness, why can’t we celebrate greatness in the realm of total, unabashed failure? After all, this a team that lived by the motto, “Rock bottom is only a game away” all season long. In fact, I think there was a sign above the locker room door with this saying, and the...

I'm adding a new feature called "Classic card of the week," where I'll profile some of my favorite baseball cards of lore. The first installment is below.

Willie McGee 1994 Topps “Gold Series” Also known as the infamous “Willie McGee glamour shot,” it took the photographer a reported 17 takes to get the appropriate “quiet confidence” look you see here. McGee was actually the father of popular TV personality Steve Urkel (little known fact), yet somehow managed to carve out for himself a nice little pro career. Believe it or not, Willie led the National League in hits (216) AND average (.353) in 1985, bringing the retail value of this card up to a whopping two cents (it has since gone down). So if it looks like Willie is wiping something from his lip in this picture, maybe he is – the sweat of success. Or it could be mayonnaise. Did you know? Willie McGee was not the father of popular TV personality Steve Urkel! It’s true!

Our office is slowly but surely succumbing to the latest advances in technology. Of course, no one is mistaking us for the CTU headquarters on “24,” but, in our defense, we DO have a microwave oven, which is more than I can say for “24,” because I have never seen Jack Bauer eating a hot pocket at 9:15 in the morning. One thing that needs to be understood is that our office is very old skool (the “k” is on purpose…act like you know.) The premises is littered with machines and devices that were outdated as of 1979, but some of those machines are actually still in use, like our manual paper cutter (injury free for 3 years now, mainly because nobody really has that much paper to cut). Our heating and air conditioning system pretty much shows up when it feels like it, and I doubt we will ever enter the scary world of “direct deposit,” because electronic transactions are an unknown, and should be approached very carefully, if at all. But, that said, we are making strides. Our recent entrance...

If my wife and I take up smoking pot, then we will officially become hippies. We have already given up meat. Well, at least for Lent. Yes, my wife and I are using the most holy of Catholic seasons as a “trial run” to figure out whether or not we can give up meat on a full-time basis. After all, Jesus hated meat. (He was mostly a bread and fish kind of guy…ba, dum, ching!) Almost two weeks into our endeavor, I am fairly certain that we can do this, sporadic hankerings for a bacon double cheeseburger notwithstanding. Actually, that sounds pretty good. I am not sure if we can do this. Let me also say that the news of our quest has been met with increased skepticism, and much hatred. Upon hearing that we are aiming to become vegetarians, people that we otherwise believe to love and trust us have reacted as if we pooped in the trunk of their car, and didn’t tell them for two weeks. “What?!…Why?!” I am fairly certain that people’s disdain for our meatlessness has less to do with their concer...

I have not yet written about college basketball this year, and I’ve only had the opportunity to watch a few games here and there. With March Madness on the immediate horizon, and with every sports fan in the nation cramming to learn about as many teams as possible heading into their office pool, I would not want to come across as an expert in the field, or even, OF the field. However, please let it be known that before I got married, I would consistently stay up to watch the midnight games on ESPN, and there was nothing you could tell me about the WAC Conference, or any other conference for that matter, that I didn’t already know. Now, most of the college ball I get to see is during commercial breaks of random reality television shows where people I’ve never heard of are dancing, or ice skating, or trying to lose two pounds in the span of seven weeks. That said, I’ve brought in an expert to consult us all on this year’s NCAA Tournament – the one and only Dick Vitale! Dick is extremely ...

Today I am going back to Old Navy to return a pair of pants. I am not exactly sure what compelled me to purchase these pants in the first place, besides the fact they were on the sale rack and were technically my size. But they are tight. They are very tight. They are extremely tight. They are also khakis, and when I initially tried them on at home, I am fairly certain that, to an imaginary person who was standing 20 feet away, I would have appeared as someone who was not wearing any pants at all, and who was also naturally hairless with no genitalia. I can tell within a nanosecond of trying on pants whether or not they are going to be too tight, which makes the fact that I don’t just try them on in the store all the more inexplicable. But I hate trying on pants in stores. It strips away at the remnants of my masculinity. In fact, not too long ago, while in Kohl’s, my wife made me try on pants, and accidentally sent me to the women’s dressing room. You would think that would be impossi...

Looking around, no one seems to be that excited about the upcoming World Baseball Classic, which isn’t that surprising, considering very few of the players themselves seem interested in participating, as evidenced by their refusal to participate. Apparently, nobody wants to get hurt. And I’m not talking about feelings getting hurt, as in “I just couldn’t cope with losing to the Dominican Republic when WE invented this sport.” I’m talking about groins. Which begs the question: Are there bigger party-poopers in the world than baseball players? I think not. Now granted, while I believe the idea of a World Baseball Classic is a great one, the planning behind this inaugural event makes little sense. For starters, why is this Classic being held one month before the regular season, thus ruining spring training, and providing us with a tournament full of rusty athletes who are trying to moderately represent their country while at the same time, trying not pull a hammy? Wouldn’t it have made mo...

I’m just going to go ahead and put this out there – I want to be traded. I know, I know. I don’t actually operate within a field that can cater to such requests. And, I really like where I’m at anyway, to be honest. But still – I want to be traded. I don’t care where either. Send me somewhere where I can write captions for brochures advertising toaster ovens. Send me where the weather is warmer, so I can write outside. Send me where the weather is colder, so I can buy those popular furry boots. Send me somewhere that I can be reunited with a former editor, with whom I had a great working relationship in some past life. Send me closer to home, because this particular part of New Jersey scares me. Send me where we can win…NOW. Win what, you ask? I don’t know. Just trade me. And if you refuse to trade me, I will continue to churn out mediocre columns in my sleep, like the one you are currently reading. Now, if this were, say, professional sports, this request would immediately be followed...

I am very good with dates. For example, say I am at the bank, and I am filling out some paperwork alongside another person who is doing the same, and this person asks me the date. After a few seconds of pensive thought (which often includes looking at what date I put on MY deposit form), I will always tell them the date. And at least 8 times of out 10, I am right. Call it a gift. Unfortunately, I am not as keen at the assignment of EVENTS to various dates. This is especially odd considering that I was a history major in college, which, quite often, constituted the act of matching up dates with events. I made up for this area of detriment with my inherent ability to bullshit my way through any 18-page paper thrown my way. My dates may have been off, but details are often irrelevant when you are waxing poetic about why King George III was legitimately insane. (Sample: “King George III of England was born simply ‘George’ sometime around the time of Jesus. And let me tell you – that guy wa...

Last year, before Super Bowl XXXIX, we encouraged the females to ask “Big Time Sports” some football-related questions, in order to prepare them for the big game. It was a huge success, even though none of the women who took part in my poll actually watched the game, instead opting to go in another room and gossip about the hot topic at the time, which I think was whether or not Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey were EVER going to have a baby. Mystery solved. Nevertheless, it bothered me that, after all of the fun we had with football-related questions, none of the women managed to watch the game. I felt duped. Used even. So I wanted to delve further into why, exactly, the women still avoided watching the Super Bowl last year. I gathered up the usual suspects, and implored them as to their reasoning for not watching the biggest football game of the year. And lo and behold - every single one of them responded the same: “I always feel bad for the loser.” Being a veteran of Super Bowl parti...

When my sister and brother-in-law gave my wife and I a paid membership to Costco for Christmas, I initially thought it was a nice gesture. But then I realized it was not very nice. Not very nice at all. It was a rainy day last Sunday when my wife and I went to Costco to activate our Costco membership, and to also potentially shop for Costco-related items. I decided to get a shopping cart, because it seemed like we were in for the long haul. I was surprised to realize that Costco shopping carts were much larger than the shopping carts I was used to. Ya’ know, the kind of carts you only see at stores that carry puny-sized items that come individually wrapped, like toothbrushes. There are friendly “bouncers” at the Costco entrance doors, except they are not very friendly. But what they lack in friendliness, they make up for in body fat. They are there to check your Costco membership card, and if you do not have one, you are s.o.l. They do not accept excuses, like, “I left it at home,” or ...

Dear Overnight Mouth Guard, When my dentist told me two years ago that, because I grind my teeth so badly while I sleep, I would have to wear a mouth guard every night for the rest of my life, I have to admit - I was skeptical. Apparently, if my teeth-grinding continued at the rapid rate it was at, my teeth would simply turn into grains of sand within two years, and I would begin to start accidentally swallowing my own teeth sand while eating a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, which would not have been cool. The only way to put a halt to this erosion was to wear a mouth guard, so I could rest easy knowing that my top and bottom teeth would not be playing a game of tug-of-war inside my mouth, because they could not get through the impenetrable force-field of hard plastic that cost around $800. Still, I wondered, was I being punished for all those years of neglecting to wear that hellish overnight, denim head-set for my braces, that resembled a football helmet from 1934? And the rubber...

My role as “Mr. Fix-it” around the house was again enhanced, when, a few months ago, I changed the cover on our doorbell without any assistance whatsoever from a professional in the field of doorbell cover replacement. Of course, this task took me about twenty minutes, and I did seek confirmation of what to do when I realized that one of the screws was attached to several wires. I even debated turning off all the power in the house before I loosened the screw, until it occurred to me that I would have had to seek assistance for THAT as well, since I have no clue where there exists a “central power system” in our house. I assumed it was somewhere in our laundry room, where there is an intricate series of knobs, levers, hot water heaters, pipes, switches, and the like, all of whose functions were adequately explained to me several times from several different people when we bought our house, to which I nodded my head in agreement. “Of COURSE I know what knob to turn in case our collatera...

Welcome to the Third Annual “Big Time Sports” end-of-year awards! I’m glad you could make it. As always, these awards are completely random, and were voted on by a one-man committee of sports experts. Also, these awards, like the baseball trade deadline, are intangible; so if you’re a winner, please don’t contact me in hopes of picking something up for your trophy case. We don’t have that kind of budget here. So without further ado, on with the show! Strangest Moment of the Year Award Terrell Owens doing half-naked sit-ups in his driveway. What was that all about? Owens hosted an impromptu press conference at his house in August, which ended with him doing shirtless crunches on his asphalt driveway for no apparent reason. I wonder if Terrell Owens’ neighbors are going to miss him. I can just picture T.O. walking out of his house in the morning to get the newspaper, wearing only boxers and a camouflage bathrobe, and waving to his neighbors as they peaked through the blinds. He needs a r...