Labels: Dakota Brezinski
By Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Today at recess, Mrs. Williams told me I had to go inside early and sit at my desk with my head down.
It's all Tanner's fault. If he hadn't fallen to the ground so hard when I pushed him off the top of the monkey bars, he never would have gotten so hurted. He was bleeding a little, but it wasn't that bad. He shouldn't have fallen so hard. Tanner is such a pre-schooler sometimes!
I told him to be like Paul Pierce and keep playing through the pain. I told him to get up on the monkeybars again (so I could try to push him off again!) and get over his owies. Recess doesn't come just anytime, so you have to have lots of fun while you can. After recess comes math, and math is the worstest thing ever. Worser than Mackenzie Burlap's breath.
I didn't want to go inside, so I tried to be like Paul Pierce, too. Daddy says he's the Truth! I don't always like the truth, but I do like Paul Pierce.
I started crying and I pretended to trip over a rock. I screamed and cried and held my knee, which I told Mrs. Williams was broken worser than Tanner's. She tried to get me to stand up, but I pretended that I couldn't stand on my leg. Ooooooohhh, it hurts, I said! Who needs the Truth when you have Paul Pierce?
Finally Mrs. Williams got Mr. Davis the principal to pick me up and carry me inside to the nurse. I kept crying and screaming for mommy, even after they brought me inside. I stayed in the nurse's office all through math class, and then came music class! We are learning Muppets songs in music class, so as soon as the clock said 1:27, I told the nurse I was ready to go and ran to Mrs. Sullivan's room, ready to be the bestest singer I could be.
I saw Mrs. Williams in the hallway. She was mad at me. I think it's because she likes the Lakers.
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
I wish my daddy was cool like Joakim Noah's.
When I get in trouble -- like when I pee all over the chalkboard because Mrs. Burrows wouldn't let me go out for recess -- daddy spanks me and tells me to go to my room. There is nothing to do in my room! I get really bored, and cry, then throw myself against the floor so it sounds like I had an accident, and daddy will be sad for me and let me come downstairs and play the Halo game.
Boom boom! Die, aliens!
But Joakim Noah's daddy doesn't really care if his son does naughty things, like smoke the pot. I don't know why smoking the pot is so bad, but mommy tells me to stay out of the kitchen a lot, so she probably doesn't want me to do anything to the pot.
Daddy says Joakim Noah's daddy is a dummyhead, because he's French, and doesn't really understand a lot of stuff. I think Joakim Noah's daddy is Michael Jackson. 
Or maybe that's his mommy. It's hard to tell.
How come Joakim Noah doesn't have to say he's sorry and be grounded for two days if he does something naughty? It's not fair! Just because his daddy released all those records and danced with zombies doesn't mean he gets to do whatever he wants.
Maybe Michael Jackson isn't Joakim Noah's daddy. I think he looks like one of the Halo aliens, instead. Boom boom!
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Charles Barky is not going to gamble anymore! But Charles Barky loves to gamble. What if he goes sad because he can't gamble, and then he stops keeping it fresh? Mommy says I shouldn't eat the fruits in our fridge that aren't fresh. I don't listen to mommy very much.
I love Charles Barky, and I will also give up something I like to do to show how much I love him! Peeing. I will pee again when Charles Barky gambles again.
Even if Charles Barky is sad, this is my favoritest time of the NBA season, because there are only four teams left. Gregg Popovich and his silly face will take on Kobe Bryant, who mommy doesn't like because he never shares. And in the other games, it's a bunch of little leprechauns (I love leprechauns) against the Pistons! The Pistons are there every year. Daddy says it's easy to win every year when you're the 16-year-old repeating second grade. He thinks the Eastern Conference is in second grade. I wish they really were, because it would be cool if Anderson Varejao came to my math class. Crazy hair!
Tim Duncan is boring. He doesn't make me go whoop like Chris Paul. Boooooo, Tim Duncan. Stop being so boring.
So I am cheering for Kobe Bryant and the leprechauns. But I will show you who will win:
Guards: You know that guy Rondo? I bet he's related to Waldo Geraldo Faldo from Family Matters. Did I do that? Urkel makes milk come through my nose. The Pistons have Chauncey Billups, and he hurted himself. You can't be sore against Rondo! Or Ray Allen or that guy named The Truth. Advantage: Celtics. In the other series, Kobe Bryant is a guard. Advantage: Lakers.
Centers: Tim Duncan is boring and smells like poo. The Lakers have POW POW POW Gas-all, and everyone wants Gas right now because it's so expensive. Advantage: Lakers! In the other games, silly Rasheed and his bald head is pretty good, but Kevin Garnett drinks Gatorade! I like grape the best. Advantage: Celtics
Forwards: Kobe Bryant could be a forward if he wanted. Advantage: Lakers. In the other games, the Celtics have Leon Powe! POWE POWE POWE. He's like Pow Gas-all, but not as good because he has a silent letter. I hate those. Advantage: Celtics.
So the winners will be Kobe Bryant, and the Celtics. I have drunken lots of Gatorade, and I don't know how much longer I can be on Charles Barky's side. Gamble soon, Charles Barky!
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
I like David Vobora, even though he is from Idaho. I don't like potatoes, and they are from there. I bet David Vobora eats a lot of them.
David Vobora is a linebacker, and he was the very last pick in the NFL Draft yesterday. He is Mr. A-Reverend! I think that means he gives lots of speeches about Jesus and doing unto others.
Not only is he Mr. A-Reverend, but he also gets to to go California for a week, all because he was the last pick in the draft! MICKEY MOUSE LIVES THERE! And also, there are earthquakes, which are really scary! The Mr. Reverend at our church says they are caused by men who like other men. I wonder what Mr. A-Reverend thinks about that.
Last week, when we played kickball, I was picked last and that made me sad. I am really good at kickball the other kids don't like me, and nobody wants me on their team because I try to kick home runs all the time and always end up kicking it back to the pitcher. I also kick kids in the privates when I am playing first base and they run by me on their way to second base. I cried. Then I told them some things that I heard my daddy say to the neighbor once, and they called mommy.
But David Vobora was picked last and people love him! He has to play for the Rams, which is stinky, but I think it is nice that people want him to be happy. Sometimes when you are young, things are different than when you are old. Maybe being last in kickball is bad now. But in the future, people will like me because I am last! Mr. A-Reverend says the last shall be first and the first shall be last! Yay.
I don't know if David Vobora is any good at football, but someday I hope he comes to talk at our school about how cool it is to be Mr. A-Reverend, and he can play kickball with us. And then I won't be the last one anymore.
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Pau Pau Pau! It's like Batman on TV back before there were computers. POW!
I like Pau Gasol. He is hairy and shaggy and reminds me of that homeless man that we pass every day when mommy walks us to the grocery store. Mommy never lets me go near that man, even though he is really nice and always sings me a song, like "Livin La Vida Loca," "We're An American Band," and "Silver Bells."
I bet Pau Gasol doesn't need spare change like the hobo man, because he gets to play with basketballs and get paid lots of money to drive Kobe Bryant's limousine. The Lakers had a really good day today and beated the Denver Nuggets, who are first place in the league in elevation and thugs.
Remember last year when the Golden Warpeople beat the Dallas Mavericks and Dirk the crazy German was so mad? I think the Golden team will win the whole thing again this year. There are many other exciting things I noticed during the NBA playoffs:
1. Rasheed Wallace is missing hair on the back of his head! That's silly. I hope Richard Hamilton and his scary mask didn't shave Rasheed's head while he was sleeping. I did that to Muffins the Hamster once.
2. Tim Duncan made a 3-pointer! He doesn't make that many, but I don't either, so I think Tim Duncan and I are pretty similar basketball players. The basket is so high up! Daddy says three things need to happen when I try to make a 3-pointer for it to go in. I have to have bending knees, a smooth release off my wrist, and Jesus.
3. LeBron James went boom with a big dunk! I am a witness, but daddy says I will not have to testify, because I am a minor.
4. Lots of coaches were told to go home and never come back. Donnie Walsh did not want Isiah to coach anymore, but Daddy said Donnie Walsh kept Isiah around to be his jester, so he could juggle and sing songs at board meetings. I don't know if Isiah can sing very well, but if he can't, I think the hobo man needs a job. And some blow.
5. It is sad that there will be no more basketballs in Seattle. Mommy says she doesn't care, just as long as there is still Grey's Anatomy in Seattle. All my favorite shows are new again this week! I would have gone super crazy if American Idol wasn't on my TV every week. I am cheering for that little elf named David, who sings a lot about rainbows and hope and ponies!
The West Labels: Bandwagon Burt, Dakota Brezinski, Marv Blackstone, Professor Ipswich
By Bandwagon Burt
Wind Sock
How will the West be won in 2008, haha?! There are SO many good teams in this portion of the NCAA Tournament, it HAS to be considered the toughest region in the tournament, besides the East and maybe the South. Hello, UCLA – is there a LOVE DOCTOR in the house? – is easily the favorite to win the whole thing, but how can you ever discount the greatest college sports franchise of all time, Duke? And look out for Professor X and Connect-I-Cut in the Sweet 16.
The way I see it, there are only a few teams who could win the regional: the ones I’ve already mentioned, plus BYU, Drake, Purdue, West Virginia, Arizona, Texas A&M or Belmont. Between Duke, Drake, BYU and Purdue, there are probably more white people in this bracket than any other, which means GREAT DEFENSE and lots of 3-point shooting. I love the DUKIES, who will be the second-seed, and think they could be the team to beat, unless they get upset by West Virginia, Xavier, Purdue or Connecticut.
UCLA, of course, has the LOVE DOCTOR, along with lots of other guys that are really good. Kevin Love has carried his team all year, and even though they’ve played in a lot of close games, there’s no substitute for a PAC-10 TITLE. Plus, they’ve been in the Final Four the last two years, which means they’re really experienced, even though their best player is a freshman. So, they’ll probably win the bracket.
But Duke is really good, and XAVIER! Anytime you have a school named after one of the best X-Men in history, you know they’re going to do well. They have mind control! More importantly, they have David West, who is a beast for the New Orleans Hornets.
I TOTALLY FORGOT BAYLOR WAS IN THIS BRACKET. Forget everything I just said, UPSET CITY BABY. I like Baylor to get to the Elite Eight and lose to either UCLA or Western Kentucky. Can you imagine if Drake played Duke in the bracket? THOSE NAMES ARE TOTALLY SIMILAR, and they both wear blue in the jerseys. I would be so confused which team was which. I guess the difference is that one team would have COACH K GENIUS MASTERMIND calling the plays. Drake’s probably not going to get that far though, unless they shock the world and beat Connecticut.
The SouthBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Austin Peay! It sounds like pee! Peay Peay pee pee.
Silly Austin, he should change his name so people don’t always say mean things, like “Austin, do you have to Peay, because the potty is over there!” Maybe it won’t matter because Texas will beat them in the first round of the South region. Texas is still mad that Kevin Durant went to the NBA, and they are going to teach him a lesson. Poor Austin Peay.
Tanner also thinks it’s funny to say “Oral Roberts” all the time, but I don’t get why. I don’t think it’s funny to make fun of a man who loves Jesus so much. What if Jesus sends lightning down to kill Tanner? My favorite part about Oral Roberts is that their eagle likes to beat people up. I think they will beat Pittsburgh, because the eagle will kick the hurt Pittsburgh players like Levance Fields.
I am also cheering for Temple and St. Mary’s, because they also remind me of Jesus. Mary was Jesus’ mommy, and she bought him gifts like gold and Frankenstein. I think Frankenstein is scary, but not Jesus. He was not afraid and said, “ I will now make a bunch of loaves of bread and wine.” I can’t drink wine yet, but someday, I will sneak into daddy’s liquor drawer and try some.
I don’t really know much else about basketball. I like Tigers (rahr!), and Memphis has some, so they’ll probably win the whole thing. Tanner says only smart people play for Cornell and Stanford, so they will probably do a lot of thinking when they play against each other, and talk about math and science and then hit a couple baskets. I hate math and science, but do you know what I love? DUCKIES. So I’m cheering for Oregon, too.
The East
Marv Blackstone
Editor-in-chief
That Bruce Pearl is a crazy sonofabitch. Wearing orange, sweating a lot, hugging Erin Andrews. I'm sure you all saw that recently on Deadspin or something. You didn't see it here.
I used to cover Bruce as a coach back when he was at Southern Indiana University. I had taken a job a small Evansville weekly after being fired from the Boston Globe -- I siphoned gas out of my editor's car when I was short on cash -- and got to know him pretty well. I have a story about me, Bruce and three transgender Vietnamese midgets that I could tell, but I won't.
OK, fine. I will. One night, Bruce and I decided to an interview at the local Asian cuisine dinery. I always got the fried rice. Bruce always got the fried rice. He would sometimes tell them he wanted the "flied lice" and they would laugh a lot, and I would laugh a lot, and so would Bruce.
That night, we were talking about his team's postseason chances when into the restaurant wandered these three Vietnamese midgets. As usual, I was doing the interview with a fair amount of Scopolamine in my system, and things were foggy. The night was foggy. The midgets were short.
I got up to go to the bathroom, because I had had two burritos before coming to the Asian Cuisine place. I was in there for about 30 minutes or so. When I came back out, chaos reigned. Bruce was naked and sweaty, and rolling around on the floor, which was covered in a six-inch layer of shrimp flied lice. Two of the midgets were naked, and the other was smoking a cigarette while standing on stilts, near the corner of the restaurant. There were two ducks gallivanting about near the service counter. The guy on stilts was talking to the shopkeeper about the skyrocketing price of fennel. As Bruce hoisted one midget high into the air, he paused, then dropped the poor little fella. The midget hit the floor, hard.
Bruce stood back and observed the three midgets, the shopkeeper and myself.
"My GOD!" he exclaimed. "Look at you! You're in a 1-2-1-1 formation! That might actually work! There's no way I can get through this!"
Still naked, he ran across the rice-covered floor and outside. He hopped in his car, and sped away. And that, my friends, is how Bruce created his infamous full-court press scheme.
That sort of moxie and innovation is what I like in a coach. That's why Tennessee is my pick to win the East Region. Book it, hombres.
The Midwest
By Dr. Charles P. Ipswich IV
University Professor
Oh, you silly Americans and your round-ball. You exclaim that March is your time for madness, implementing the alliterative name because you feel it captures some sort of idealistic passion for sporting. I must tell you that your version of madness is inconsequential; for true madness, you should consult Thomas Lovell Beddoes, who became fixated upon death in his writings, and eventually killed himself.
That, you wankers, is madness.
Alas, I am here, so I may as well tell you what to expect from the Midwest Region of you bracket.
First, do not pick Kansas to win anything. Coach Bill Self is the modern-day equivalent of King Harold II, who seemed promising but was then destroyed during the Battle of Hastings. You may not understand this analogy, but it because you do not have tenure on the faculty staff of a major Ivy League institution.
Mmm, yes, diamond.
My teams to watch are Georgetown, Vanderbilt and USC. Georgetown has a lovely History Department, and a beautiful colonial campus where one can spend hours losing himself in the library, whether you want to study things ranging from John Burgoyne to Isabel of Gloucester.
Vanderbilt, meanwhile, is represented by a Commodore, which, as you know, is equivalent to Brigadier in the British Army. This demonstrates a passion going beyond most other teams in your round-ball gaming tourney. Yes, you cannot go wrong by employing the quiet strength of a Commodore, especially in his dazzling uniform.
USC has OJ fucking Mayo. Watch out.
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
I am here to address acquisitions that I cheated at tag last recess, making up the no tagbacks rule after getting tagged back by Jimmy Rudolph. I am ready for your questions.
McKenna, age 8: Dakota, several peoples said they saw you and you cheats! How come?
Dakota: I agree that it was very sad that someone said this, and that someone believes there is cheating. It is very distracting. Nobody has more respect for the game of tag than I do. I love it so much! I am ready to move forward in the game of tag, and play fairly and by the rules.
Little Brian, age 7: So you DID cheat, I knew it!
Dakota: I agree that it was sad that someone believes there is cheating. The game of tag has been the favoritest game of all the second graders since the beginning of times. I don't want to talk too much about the past. I want to help make tag a great game from nows on.
Lizzy, age 8: Did you maybe think there was tagbacks? Maybe you just made a whoopsie?
Dakota: The game of tag is a time-honored recess tradition. The rules are clear, and I understand them most of the time. I think our tag has lots of integrity. As far as I know, the tagbacks rule has been clearly defined in the past. I will let you decide if that is the case.
Fat Brian, age 8: Don't you think you should call Jimmy the winner at tag, since you cheated?
Dakota: I agree that it was sad someone believes there is cheating. It is very distracting. I am very lucky to get to play tag so much, and win all the time. Mommy says I get my good stuff from God. I thank God. I believe it is important to continue recognizing my many accomplishments. I think our tag has lots of integrity.
Angela, age 7: I don't get it. You didn't answer any of the questions! You are a liarface!
Dakota: I agree that it was sad someone believes there is cheating. I don't want to talk too much about the past. I just want to play next recess and move on.
Mrs. Williams: Dakota, I'm not going to let you play tag at recess anymore if you make up rules.
Dakota: It is what it is.
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Poor Kevin Hart. I know how you feel.
I used to have friends like Kevin's special recruiting friend, Kevin Riley. Eric Thunderstorm and Mr. Invisible Andy used to play with me at recess all the time. We laughed a lot together, and went down the tornado slide! I love the tornado slide, but I didn't always like it when Eric Thunderstorm tried to go down with me at the same time. Eric Thunderstorm is a fatso.
There were many reasons why Eric Thunderstorm and Mr. Invisible Andy were such good friends. They never made fun of me, they always liked doing the same games as me, they always let me win when we played basketball, and they were fake. Fake friends aren't as weird as real friends, and they promise awesome things!
Mr. Invisible Andy once said he knew that my teacher, Mrs. Randolph, had a huuuuuge bucket of cotton candy behind her desk. I love cotton candy. I have always wanted to have some at school, and Mr. Invisible Andy said if I sat on top of the jungle gym and never came down until I got what I wanted, then Mrs. Randolph would give me the cotton candy. So I did. Mr. Invisible Andy always had great ideas, except for the one time he told me to pee all over the kindergarten bathroom floor.
I did not get cotton candy though. Mrs. Randolph got the principal, Mr. Bill, and he came and got me and called daddy. My dream of cotton candy at recess was shattered. And also, I don't think there even WAS any candy. I think Mr. Invisible Andy lied to me!
That was why I stopped being friends with him, and then Eric Thunderstorm, too (I never really liked him anyway, but I let him play with us, because he didn't have any other friends). I guess I started liking real friends better, like Tanner. Maybe I am a bad friend. I hope they aren't mad at me, but I never really see them anymore. I think they play on a different playground. Maybe they flunked first grade. They weren't very smart.
Kevin Hart is a better friend, I think. He never gave up on his friend Kevin Riley, who was fake. Instead of knowing where the cotton candy was, Kevin Riley knew how to get Kevin Hart to a special college. I think it's funny that they had the same first name. One of the nice things about invisible friends is that you get to name them. I don't think Kevin Hart used his imagination very much.
Everyone thinks Kevin Hart is a stupidhead for talking about these things his imaginary friend promised, but I don't think he's that stupid. He is a good friend.
Marv Blackstone: I just am not going to allow myself to choose Eli Manning as a Super Bowl-winning quarterback. Look at him. I plan to sit back and watch Eli line up behind right guard Chris Snee no fewer than six times, fumble at least two snaps, throw at least two picks and get a wedgie from Osi Umenyiora on the sideline. And I will laugh and coat my chest hair with Gold Bond and picante salsa. Patriots 34, Giants 10 
Curtis Woodsworth: I am really hoping that the Giants don't wear those awful red jerseys during the game. They just end up looking like cherry tomatoes, and what football player wants to look like sweet little balls that you pop into your mouth? Plus, those jerseys color-clash with Tom Coughlin's face. Get you some moisturizer, boy! Patriots 30, Giants 0
Vern Beedle: You're asking me for my prediction, man? My prediction is that a government plot to expose the link between Barack Obama and Giants' offensive coordinator Kevin Gilbride will come to light. You're going to learn all about how Obama is in cahoots with Dennis Rodman and Tori Spelling to inflate oil prices to more than $40,000 a barrel. And it's all coming out after a post pattern to Amani Toomer. That's my prediction, man. Also, Giants 24, Patriots 23Dr. Charles P. Ipswisch Ah, the American football Super Bowl! It's one of my favorite sporting traditions, ranking right up there with the Egyptian Croquet Federation Championships and the ICC Cricket World Cup. I will eagerly be watching to see if Tom Brady's superior diction and reasoning ability, along with his muscular right arm, will be able to carry his Patriotic men to a victory over the Giants from New Jersey. Deductively, I think that they will be able to triumph, asserting their dominance, much like the late-1970s West Indies cricket squad. Oh, what a chess match this one shall be! Patriots 108, Giants 2
Harvey McGuffin: I remember when you had to earn perfection. The 1972 Dolphins created their empire on grit, determination and heart. There were no pretty faces getting hounded by TMZ, no cornrows and certainly no white wide receivers. They were football players, damn it. Hell, I remember when the key to getting to the Super Bowl was a black head coach and black receivers, all of them gritty. These teams are as bland as cornflakes served in malt-o-meal. If Brian Billick had just saved his timeout, what storylines would we have to pursue? We haven't had a legend play in a Super Bowl since Otis Anderson. God damn it I'm angry and it's almost bedtime. Giants 24, Patriots 21.Bandwagon Burt:THE PATRIOTS ARE GOING TO BE UNDEFEATED. Dude, did you see that Hitler video online where he's all mad about Dallas losing? THAT WAS HILARIOUS, and then he's like "Well at least I can watch the Patriots go undefeated, at least that's something." EVEN HITLER KNOWS that a dynasty is brewing. I have loved the Patriots since I was a little boy, but this is the crown jewel of my sporting world. Super Bowls are nothing if you don't go undefeated! The Giants won't possibly stand in their way, but I like little Eli and love how they've built all this momentum in road games. That defensive line is incredible, and they played New England SO TOUGH at the end of the season. After that last sentence, I think the Giants have a real chance!!! Prediction: Patriots 68, Giants 67 (9 OT).Dakota Brezinksi: I don't want to go to bed before the end of the Super Bowl! You promised, daddy, that I could watch. I never get to watch! It's not fair. Every year I only get to see the first half, and I miss all the really good stuff after you make me go to bed. I'm sorry I called Caitlin a bad name when she said, "Who cares if they go undefeated, it's just a game." I'm sorry that I kicked her in the knee and threw her dolly into the pond. I was trying to look like Tom Brady! Tom Brady is my hero! I want to see him win the Super Bowl! THIS HAPPENS EVERY YEAR! I hate you. I hate you and mommy. Patriots 35, Giants 14.
Brenda McDonald: So my older brother is throwing this, like, Super Bowl party, and I'm totally debating whether to go or hang out at Kimmy Dykstra's house. Like, there's going to be beer and stuff, but last time I hung out with my brother's friends, I totally got hit on by his smelly college roommate. I made out with him, of course, but it was kind of awkward and ... I don't know, like, smelly. I don't understand why people love the Super Bowl so much ... I mean, they have one every year. Plus everyone thinks Tom Brady is so hot, but oh my god, have you SEEN Wes Welker's eyes? Patriots 10, Giants 3.Labels: Bandwagon Burt, Brenda McDonald, Curtis Woodsworth, Dakota Brezinski, Harvey McGuffin, Marv Blackstone, Professor Ipswich, Vern Beedle
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
I really hope Philip Rivers never, ever comes back for show and tell.
It's all stupid Cindy Devereaux's fault. I tried to kiss her hair once by the bus stop, and she tattled. Her daddy knew some important guy who worked for the San Diego Chargers, and he thought it would be good if Philip Rivers came to talk to my class. But it was very bad.
Everybody thought Philip Rivers was awesome, because he plays football and he gets on TV and he's really tall. But I didn't think he was so great. He played all-time quarterback at recess, and even though I was wide open, he never threw me the ball! I was wide open! Then, he finally threw me the ball when I wasn't looking and it hit me in the nose, and I started bleeding.
Mrs. Knapp, the fat recess lady, saw that and told Philip Rivers he couldn't play anymore. So he got really angry and took the ball with him to go sit in the woodchips. It wasn't even his ball! He was acting like the six-year-olds.
And then, when Caleb tried to get the ball back so we could keep playing, Philip Rivers got mad and threw the ball over the fence and across the street so no one could get it. I think Philip Rivers throws funny. He throws like Olivia Russell, that first-grader who doesn't have a thumb.
Haha, that picture makes him look like a stupidface. He is.
Then, at lunch, Philip Rivers stole my fruit snacks, and said, "It's a small price to pay for having an NFL quarterback come to lunch with you." I don't know what that means, but eating the fruit snacks is the best part of my day, even better than my morning pee. So I told my teacher, and she made him go back to class and sit with his head down on his desk. Philip Rivers started crying! I saw him.
After lunch, we worked on addition and instead of doing his worksheets, Philip Rivers just ate a whole thing of Elmer's Glue before Mrs. Sandoval saw him. It was gross. He had glue-breath and he kept burping and laughing a lot after he did it.
Many other bad things happened that day. Philip Rivers started shouting at the class hamster, Philip Rivers didn't want to wash his hands before snack time, and Philip Rivers went outside without asking permission. That last one is really crazy. Tanner did that once, and got detention for a week!
I do not like Philip Rivers.
Weekend predictions
Patriots 42, Chargers 7. Why is Philip Rivers so mean? Someone should teach him a lesson. Daddy says the Patriots are going to "bend Philip over." I think that means he gets a spanking.
Packers 24, Giants 16. I like snowball fights, and if I were in a snowball fight, I would want Brett Favre on my team.
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Daddy says pants make the person.
When daddy goes to a bar, he says the ladies wear pants that are too small, because they want to look good. I think that’s silly. When I got too big for my jammies, I didn’t wear them anymore, because they were tight and itchy! Why would people wear tight pants? Also, if pants really do make the person, then I must be aquamarine. That is my favorite color of pants.
Josh Brown must be a warm person, because he wants to wear pants that get warmer when he plays in freezy Green Bay on Saturday. I want hot pants! Daddy says there is more than one way to make his pants get warmer, so maybe he has a pair of these battery heater thingies that Josh Brown has. Or maybe he just means that he passes gas a lot. Smelly daddy.
Brrrrr! Green Bay is so cold – did you know they even have a giant ice bowl? That would make my Fruit Loops really cold. Maybe Josh Brown can sell his special brand of pants to the people there, since they probably have cold breakfast all the time. Daddy says the people in Green Bay stay warm during breakfast by drinking beers.
I have never had hot pants, but I once had a warm blanket, with a big lion on it. Raaaar! Just kidding, the Lions are bad. Anyway, it made me so warm that I peed my pants during the middle of the night. Oh no, what if Josh Brown pees his pants! That’s gross. Plus, then the Seahawks would lose. Maybe they’re not such a good idea after all, Josh Brown. Don’t wear hot pants.
Weekend predictions:
Packers over Seahawks. Who will kick the field goal if Josh Brown is in the potty? Packers 24, Seahawks 21
Cowboys over Giants. I have a friend named Eli at school, except he’s not my friend, he’s a dummyhead. Cowboys 31, Giants 16
Patriots over Jaguars. Maurice Jones-Drew is little, like me! I hope Randy Moss doesn’t eat him. Patriots 28, Jaguars 14
Chargers over Colts. Do-do-do-do-doo-doo! CHARGE! Do-do-do-do-doo-doo! CHARGE! Chargers 35, Colts 21
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Now that I know my favoritest pitcher in the earth, Roger Clemens, is on the juice, I know what I can do to be just like him.
Daddy says drinking milk will make be big and powerful, and give me strong bones, but I don't like milk. It doesn't taste wonderful. Instead of the Daddy plan, I will drink more Pepsi. And steroids!!
I have always wanted to be exactly like Roger Clemens, because he is not afraid of anybody and can throw a baseball really hard. I tried looking like Roger Clemens when I threw a ball at Caitlin. She started crying and ran to Mommy. I told Mommy I was just trying to be like my hero! I said Caitlin is lucky I didn't throw a broken bat at her, instead. I got sent to my room.
Daddy says Roger is a dirty cheater, but everybody cheats. Tanner cheats at tag, by forming an alliance with Brian Donaldson. Brian trips me and Tanner tags me and calls no tagbacks. It's not fair. But that's life on the playground.
I have wasted too much time on vegetables and milk, and I am only having the juice now. I drink juice six times a day. I have to pee lots, and I think Mrs. Wilkes gets mad at me when I ask. But I have to go! And if I don't have my juice, I will not be like Roger Clemens. I will be like Adam Everett.
Steroids taste yummy. Tanner brought some to recess -- they came in a little plastic package and were all different colors. They even said they would make me smarter on the package, because they were called smarties. Tanner said the really good baseball players breathe them through their nose, so we tried that. It tickled so much! Then I passed out.
I love juice. I like banana-orange-cranberry-apple the best, even though they don't serve that in the cafeteria. Only apple. Do you think Roger Clemens likes apple juice? No. Roger likes banana-orange-cranberry-apple.
Someday, I am going to be a baseball player and go to the Hall of Fame and be on the juice, and little kids will want to be like me. If they don't want to be like me, I will throw a baseball at them!
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
I did not take Caitlin's Barbies and stick them in the wood chipper. Give me a lie detector test. I am not lying!
I don't know how they got in there, and I don't know why there were Barbie legs all over the backyard. I know you found some itty bitty pieces of plastic in my socks. I know I was the only one home besides Daddy when he was using the wood chipper. But give me a lie detector test. I am not lying. Caitlin's Barbies wanted to see the wood chipper, and I did not take them there. I will take a lie detector! And some cookies.
I am angry that Caitlin yelled at me and started crying, without letting me get an expert to look at the situation. My friend Tanner said he is really good at figuring stuff out, and he got the highest score on the reading worksheet. He could come over and look at the scene. He just got a magnifying glass.
Someone is trying to frame me, like Roger Rabbit! I AM INNOCENT. Just like Travis Henry.
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Sometimes, daddy yells at mommy. I am smart for a 7-year-old, and I know what happens next.
First, daddy walks out. He slams the door, and sometimes my art pictures fall down from the wall next to the door. I think if mommy and daddy looked closely at the pictures, they would see that I drew them fighting. But I am not a good drawer. I tell them it's a picture of unicorns in the woods.
Daddy comes back after I'm in bed, but for two days, he and mommy don't talk. Daddy sleeps on the couch. This is a good time to get what I want, because if Mommy says no, I go to daddy, or if Daddy says no, I go to Mommy. If they both say no, I cry. They do not talk to each other, so they never know what the other has said. I get many candies.
Then Daddy and Mommy start talking. First, it's only a few words, and maybe they will have a small fight again. But then one of them says sorry. Daddy says he did not know one part of the argument, so he was angry for dumb reasons. They hug. Naturally, they wrestle. And then it starts all over again, sometimes that night.
Alex Rodriguez and Yankees peoples are doing the same thing. Alex slammed the door during World Series, and there was some days where they didn't talk. But they love each other! They don't want to talk right away after the door slam, because they don't want to start the conversation first. Tanner says that person who speaks first is the "sucker" Mmm...suckers. Tanner also thinks mommy and daddy are going to get a D-Force.
But then they start talking a little, and start to see things they didn't see before. They say sorry. They hug. They wrestle. Sometimes, they win MVP awards before fighting again sometime in October.
Daddy also says he fights because he has had too much Captain Morgan. I think Scott Boras would look good if he dressed like a pirate. Arrrrr!
I like pajamas.
By Bandwagon Burt
Wind Sock
I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.
I have tried to sleep for the last three nights, but I simply can't, so I'm on coffee and Smarties and Tootsie pops and caffeine pills, thinking about NFL football! I NEED TO KNOW WHO WINS THE SHOWDOWN.
You have The Patriots and their New England dynasty and Belichick the MAN-GENIUS and a nervous Bob Griese and Donte Stallworth up the middle and Richard Seymour, Medicine Man, and Randy Randy Moss! You can't not love that. And it's BOSTON, THE CITY OF ANGELS.
Then you have Peyton's Place and Marvelous Marvin Harrison and Reggie Wayne and going through the big D, and yes I mean Dallas! Dallas CLARK! The defense is hard hitting, with Freeney and Sanders and TONY DUNGY IS A BLACK MICHELANGELO. You can't not love that. Indianapolis FIVE-HUNDRED. I'm a member of the A/V club, and you know I'm talking about Adam Viniateri.
In the end, I choose neither. TIE GAME. You heard me.
By Curtis WoodsworthThe dark side - Saturday, 11:45 a.m.
DeJuan C3PO
Fly Scribe
I am damn sure that Uncle Marv is illiterate, but if he's reading, I want to make it clear that from now henceforth, I want the title of my column to be "The Dark Side With DeJuan C3p0." I can hear the pitter patter of fine ladyfeet running over to stroke DeJuan's chest hair as I type. "Oooh, suger, you that fly C3P0 from the Dark Side?" "Honey, let me show you my death star."
Cue that crazy ass music. Darth Vader is in the house, and he is breathing heavily.
That dark side shit is damn appropriate cuz that's kind of what the New England Patriots is. They've got Tom Brady and Mike Vrabel and Wes Welker and a whole lotta white folk, but that Bill Belichick is evil. He's got cameras in bathrooms and shit. DeJuan is not okay with that.
He's also done some damn crazy stuff in his career, and I am pretty sure ain't nobody likes him. He's probably killed a man. That's uncouth.
So all this undefeated shit, and this rolling over opponents? Dog, I think he's using some kind of dark force. Mindmelding and shit. I think Yoda would be mighty pissy if he saw what was going down. Man, I am on board with not calling down the dogs if you're up 21 in the fourth quarter. But they were up 40 with two minutes to go. What the shit? You don't want to kick the Redskins when their chips are down.
They've won three Super Bowls, and I have to wonder if some soul-selling with the devil ain't part of that. It just ain't right. It reminds me of my favorite song, "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" by the damn incomparable Charlie Daniels. Of course, the devil did not go down to Georgia because the Falcons probably didn't sell their soul. If they did, they got some shitty results out of that deal.
All's I've got to say is I'm pulling for the good guys, the whitest of white people Peyton Manning and Tony Dungy's white wizard Gandolf shit. Frodo Fucking Baggins.
Quarterback comparison - 7:27 p.m.By Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
I will always love Mr. Bubba.
He was my favoritest stuffed animal, a ginormous panda bear, and we had many wonderful times. Mr. Bubba was by my side went I rode on a plane for the first time to visit Grandma, and when I first climbed up the big tree at recess and started running around the school roof. Mr. Bubba was always there for me.
He was the greatest stuffed animal I ever had. But then came Dr. Eugene Burp.Dr. Eugene Burp was a present for my sixth birthday. He was a stuffed grizzly bear, with fuzzy fur, and he TALKED! All I had to do was grab his hand and he said funny things, like "Raaaaaaar." And "Don't start forest fires." We had lots of conversations, and Dr. Eugene Burp became a stuffed animal who could listen and talk back when I wanted to tell him about my day. I told him about how Tanner and I put a mice in Mrs. Winston's coffee, and he said, "Say no to smoking." Dr. Eugene Burp!
Slowly, he became my favoritest stuffed animal. When I would play in the yard, he would come with me and tell me fun things, even though it used to be Mr. Bubba who came with me. I think Mr. Bubba was jealous. It makes me sad sometimes because Mr. Bubba is still a really good stuffed animal, and if he challenged Dr. Eugene Burp to a fight, I think Mr. Bubba might win.
The media doesn't care about their Mr. Bubba, Peyton Manning, anymore. He averaged 36 touchdowns over the last three years and won a SUPER DUPER BOWL last year and has completed 65 percent of his passes every year since 2002, including this year. Tom Brady is pretty good, even better than Dr. Eugene Burp, with 30 touchdowns already. But before this year, he never completed 65 percent of his passes, and he has the advantage of a super good football team to play with.
But that doesn't make Mr. Bubba a bad stuffed animal, or Peyton Manning a quarterback everyone should forget. But there is only room for one favoritest stuffed animal in the hearts of people, and right now Tom Brady is the one who talks! "Don't have sex before marriage." I don't know what that means, but the man with the pretty green robe said it last weekend at church. It sounds like something Dr. Eugene Burp would say.
I still think Mr. Bubba could beat Dr. Eugene Burp in a fight. Someday, I will know.
By Murphy KramerLabels: Bandwagon Burt, Curtis Woodsworth, Dakota Brezinski, DeJuan C3P0, Murphy Kramer
Labels: Dakota BrezinskiBy Dakota Brezinski
Seven-year-old
Daddy never lets me drive the car anymore.
One time, because I was really good and promised not to tell mommy about his special time with the Lady Magazines, daddy let me drive the car back out of the driveway. I really like Little Dale Jr. and wanted to be just like him, so I wanted to try driving a real car. Vrooooom!
It's like playing the Cruising USA game at the bowling alley when Daddy gives me quarters and tells me to amuse myself while he does bowling. Except it's real. I rolled really fast down the driveway and I couldn't really see over my seat while I was looking backwards, so I kind of ran over Mr. and Mrs. Williams' mailbox. And also, their lawn. And their kitty.
So daddy doesn't want me to drive the car anymore, even though I said I would do better next time. It's not fair! The Cincinnati Reds said it was okay if Dusty Baker drove their car for the next three years, but he already made lots of mistakes. Why is he so special? Why does he get to try again?
In Chicago, Dusty had two beautiful Mustangs named Mark Prior and Kerry Wood. He broke them. He used them too much without any oil changes in between, and smoke started coming out of their ears. They don't work anymore, and Chicago is very mad at Dusty. Like Daddy, except without the bald head. Daddy says Mark Prior is missing his pee-pee.
Dusty seems silly. He was a good manager sometimes, but then he lost lots of games, mostly because he broke his two best players and didn't use his equipment properly. And also, because he let his little boy go near the home plate when a runner was coming home. It would be so neats if I got a chance to run around the home plate! Mrs. Williams said I wasn't allowed in her home ever again. She smells like dead things.
So if Dusty gets a chance to play with some new cars -- they are called Aaron Harang and Homer Bailey -- then why can't I try driving the car again? I promise to be better!
Labels: Dakota Brezinski
By Dakota Brezinski
Six-year-old
Today is a big day for people who like shiny basketballs, and I love shiny basketballs. I see a bunch of them on my TV. They are all for the teams that have won the lottery and get to pick people with silly names at the NBA Draft. I don't know why they don't spend their money on something better, like a new Superman dolly from Toys R Us, but that is what they do. I will be blogging until bedtime. I must go to the potty first.
6:00 p.m. I am adorable. I just saw something not adorable...they showed the moustache of that scary man and tried to sell video games with it. Scary Man is supposed to be a top three pick. I don't like him. Once, a man that looked like him tried to offer me candy and a Pepsi bottle and I remembered what my teachers taught me about strangers. But I like candy and Pepsi. They found me, though, three days later, and had to kill Scary Man. But he's alive and playing basketball.
6:07 p.m. I am happy Dan Patrick is talking to me instead of Chris Berman, because Chris Berman reminds me of uncle Harry and I have a feeling he smells funny, too. However, everyone keeps talking in Europe. I wish they wouldn't. I am still learning English. How can I understand Europe too? Nikolai Tskishishikvilli.
6:10 p.m. Raptors!
6:12 p.m. Scary Man is back on my TV, but they say he takes insulin shots. Daddy likes to take shots too, and that makes him smell funny and act goofy. Jay Bilas says he doesn't like to sip the kool-aid on Aundrea Burble-Yanny, probably because that doesn't sound as yummy as neon strawberry. Now, an illiterate black man is talking and screaming a lot. So angry.
6:15 p.m. Sebastian Telfair is little, like a leprochaun, and now he's going to play with other ones in Boston because that is their logo. Daddy says Telfair wasn't a good fit in Portland because he hadn't killed anybody. Theo Ratliff is on The Cosby Show on WGN a lot. Those black people don't yell as much as this one -- Steven A. Smith. I wonder what the A stands for. Acrobat. America. Albany.
6:22 p.m. I'm bored. When do I get to see the Raptors? Burble-Yanny Kool-Aid! Scary Man! Gay Man! The one from Duke, AND the one from Connecticut! Daddy says LeMarcus is French for "The Marcus." Playa Hata Scott said that the suit Scary Man is wearing will be cut to shreds and given away in packs of playing cards. That's silly. But it does remind me of the one time Mommy and Daddy were fighting and Mommy shipped all of Daddy's favorite magazines to Daddy's boss. I would rather have the gum that comes with the trading cards. Scary Man gives away good gum.
6:30: Scary Man says more people should cry. I cry lots.
6:32: David Stern said that the Madison Square Garden is home of the Knicks, WNBA Liberty and WNBA All-Star Game. Daddy says he's happy that they chose a neutral site for the draft, where they don't play basketball. Raptors! Dan Patrick says Burble-Yanny.
6:37: David Stern looks like that guy who is worried about my red eyes, try clear eyes. Burble-Yanny is the first pick in the draft! He's going to play with Raptors! Rahr!!
6:41: Burble-Yanny probably needs to go to speech therapy, cuz he kind of sounds like Joey Rogers in my class, who always has to leave for speech when we have English lessons. Joey likes to eat nunch and play backetbaw. Now it is time for the Bulls to pick. It was supposed to be the Knicks' pick, but then they went to New York, saw Isiah Thomas crossing the street, and stole his ping pong ball. Thugs. Now Andy Katzenmoyer says the Bulls are trading their pick to the Blazers, but first they are taking French For The Marcus with the second pick. If he gets traded to Portland, he better kill somebody quickly, or he might not play.
6:49: Brian Colangelo just said "minutia," but I think he meant "Menudo."
6:50: Charlotte took Scary Man. Eew, someone just kissed him even though he has a dirty moustache. I hope Emeka Okafor knows not to accept the candy.
6:53: My bedtime is coming! Mommy said I can stay up until the top five are gone, but I will not get to see when my favorite player, Kevin Pittsnogle, gets taken. But I am lucky because Dick Vitale is on my TV, talking nonsense, and usually he isn't on quite this early. Grandma Marsh makes more sense. Grandma Marsh is in the hospital. She thinks I'm the mailman when I come.
6:55: The Blazers take Tyrus Thomas, and everyone seems to think he's going to go to Chicago. Daddy says only take the el-train if you want to get your wallet stolen. I am not worried though, because I learned Kung-Fu from the Ninja Turtles.
6:57: The illiterate black man is screaming again! He's silly. He said the Trail Blazers have no idea what they're doing. Maybe it's because they're running from the police. Daddy says when he runs from the police, it's hard to make good decisions.
7:01: I know it's past my bedtime, but Andy Katzenmoyer thinks that Shelden Williams is going to Atlanta. I thought the Gay Man (UCONN) would get taken here, and not a teammate of the other Gay Man. But what do I know? I'm six. And naked, because it's time for jammies. I love you.
Labels: Dakota Brezinski
By Dakota Brezinski
Six-year-old
I love ponies! They're pretty and soft. Daddy likes to play the ponies, which must be hard, because in a game against ponies, I think the ponies would win. They're bigger than daddy. Daddy is sort of scrawny. Mommy calls him her little stringbean.
Ponies! I like watching them run fast at the Kentucky Derby each year, because each horsie gets a lot of attention, and flowers, and probably candy if they do well. In fact, I think I want to be a horsie. There are so many cool things about horsies, like how they get to take naps all the time and eat all the time and pee whenever they want.
Last year, daddy took me to see the horsies my uncle has in Virginia, because he said my uncle is a rich son of a bitch. I saw one of his horsies pee, and they took so long! It was three minutes and it came out so fast, like out of the shower. How does he have so much pee? How does he pee so fast?
If I was a horsie, I wouldn't save so much and just pee all the time, slowly and little by little. If you're naked and nobody cares if you go number one on their lawn, then why would you hold it in? The world is your potty.
Also, the horsie got to eat a lot, and everyone petted it and called it a good boy. I bet that feels good. Daddy only calls me good boy when I promise not to tell mommy about his special movies. And then they get to run around! I want to run around, and then get petted. I don't want all those baths, though. I hate baths.
Plus, all the horsies have funny names like "Steppenwolfer" and "Sinister Minister" and "Lawyer Ron." From now on, I will only answer to people if they call me "Storm Treasure." I sound like a superhero! And I'm fast and have 100 to 1 odds of winning the Kentucky Derby. I have more odds than anyone else!
Another good name is the name that the most famous horse has, "Secret Harriet." It makes me think of Harriet the Spy. It also makes me think of Harriet Schneider, who moved away, becuase we had a secret cross our heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. I promised not to tell anyone. It has something to do with the missing goldfish in Mrs. Burton's classroom. And a dust buster.
It is time for Storm Treasure to pee. Anywhere in my house should be good. Ponies!
Labels: Dakota Brezinski
By Dakota Brezinski
Six-year-old
I am on the juice.
Someday, I want to play Major League Baseball like Barry Bonds, but I am sad, because you’re not supposed to be on the juice when you play. That’s not fair. Daddy says the baseball players have to eat their vegetables and drink lots of milk so they are big and strong, but I think that’s dumb. I hate vegetables and milk. Why can’t they have their juice, too?
My favorite juice is CapriSun. It’s squishy like a pillow and when you jump on it in the middle of lunch, it will explode all over Jessica Murdock, who will never get to wear her stupid white dress again (She says it makes her look like Cinderella. I say she looks more like that fat mouse Gus who sings the Cinderelly song). My favorite is the orange kind, but pretty much all kinds of CapriSun is tasty delicious and squishy.
Sometimes mommy makes me drink apple juice, and that’s okay, but it is not my favorite. She also gives me Hi-C boxes sometimes, and my favorite is Jammin’ Strawberry. I like orange juice and pineapple-apple-orange-banana juice, which is always on sale at Pick and Save.
Daddy says I’m drinking the pink Kool-Aid if I don’t think it’s my bedtime yet. I don’t know why he thinks I’m drinking the pink Kool-Aid, but it sounds tasty. I want some.
Barry Bonds cries a lot, because all he wants is his Jammin’ Strawberry. If this makes him better at the baseball, then I don’t know why everyone is mad at him. So what if baseball players don’t want to eat vegetables and drink milk all the time? It’s yucky. Just because they are famous and spectacular and crazy like Bonds doesn’t mean people should care what they drink.
I also heard that the ball is juiced in baseball. Juice balls!! They sound like jellybeans, only bigger and better. I want some.
Flotsam asked six of its columnists to weigh in on which team they thought would win the World Series. Here are the panel's responses: Labels: Bandwagon Burt, Curtis Woodsworth, Dakota Brezinski, Frank Randall, Harvey McGuffin, Marv Blackstone
By Harvey McGuffin
I remember when we didn't have these stupid debates. Sure, spring brought out hope for each baseball team, just as it brought chirping birds to my rooftop (and subsequent shotgun) and Sally Davis across the street into her yard wearing a tantalizing sundress, through which an old man was blessed with a good view as she bent over, tending to her petunias.
But there was no discussion about who would win it all in Major League Baseball. Because the answer was obvious: the New York Yankees. At some point in the last few years, changes came about. The champions of the world were dressed in such ugly colors as that green and maroon or whatever the Diamondbacks are wearing, disgusting teal, Homeless-Chicago Black and White, and even, inexplicably, red. The Yankees will ascend to the top again to restore order to this madness. How can you argue with such hitting greats as Gary Sheffield, Alex Rodriguez, Derek Jeter, Scott Brosius, Paul O'Neill, Bucky Dent and Thurman Munson? What a lineup!
It's time for my damn nap.
Bandwagon Burt
Baseball is back and this is probably going to be the best season ever!! There are like 25 teams that might win the World Series this year, so I am SO pumped up for the start of the season. I can't get enough of baseball, and this whole winter has been PAINFUL CITY. I almost slit my wrists once becasue I couldn't wait any longer!! Was that in poor taste!!!?
In the American League, how can you not like the YANKEES? George Steinbrenner is crazy as a LOON, man, and he's going to do anything to win the pennant. They haven't won the World Series in FOREVER. He'd even kill Derek Jeter if he didn't bring the ring ... THAT RHYMED. He's like the guy that built the Taj Mahal ... they're going to cut of Derek Jeter's hands when he leaves so he can never play for another team again. George Steinbrenner is the MAN. I also like Boston -- who doesn't -- because they have that AMERICAN ICON Curt Schilling back at full strength and Big Paaaaapi hitting homeruns and Manny being Manny and Josh Beckett dealing and also, Mike Timlin. The ChiSox (holla Southsiders!) could easily repeat, becasue they have a lot of heart and stolen bases from Scott Podsednik, playing center field for my FANTASY TEAM! Mark Buehrle, Freddy Garcia, Jon Garland and Javier Vazquez is like the best staff in baseball, right behind a few others. How can you not love CLEVELAND? All those young guys, and they're like this year's Bad News Bears starring Victor, Jhonny (watch where you're sticking that h, haha!) and Travis. I also like the Angels, Twins, A's, Mariners, Tigers and Rangers. And watch out for the Orioles and Devil Rays and Blue Jays, who made all those moves in the offseason! AJ and BJ and O-Bay and Benji and can you say pennant?
In the National League, everything begins and ends with the Cardinals and the mastermind genius Tony LaRussa and the SON OF GOD Albert Pujols, who's going to have his breakout season this year. Atlanta is always good but with no Leo Mazzone, they're not going to rock (OH MY GOD, that's such a good joke) as much as they do before, but they're still going to rock a lot. Maybe more than they did before. The Mets (David Wright, my FANTASY STUD THIRD BASEMAN) is the team to watch because they rebuilt because Omar Minaya is crazy and the GIants, Phillies and Cubs always know what's up. Keep an eye peeled for the Brewers, Diamondbacks, Dodgers, Pirates, Nationals and Padres my friends! They all play in a weak division and might surprise some people. And even with a new team, I have a good, good feeling about the MARLINS. Joe Girardy is my boy. And Colorado has potential too, anything can happen in the ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH. Haha!
Marv Blackstone
Well, I wanted to be original and pick someone that Burt didn’t, but that’s now impossible. What about the Iowa fucking Cubs, you insipid dumbass? I'd fire him if he wasn't my coke dealer.
I’m still going to be obscure. I’m picking the Mets. Omar Minaya has been throwing money around lately like me in Reno circa 1972, and he’s assembled some quality talent. That was redundant. Asshole.
The Metropolitans finally have a bullpen, they have yet another big bopper with Carlos Delgado and David Wright is the Lord Christ Almighty One, and will lead the Mets (along with Jose Reyes, his cabana boy) to the promised land.
During the time I spent at the New York Post, before being fired for watering thirsty office plants with my own urine, I developed an affection for the team from Queens. I also developed an affection for a prostitute named Darlene. Both remain with me to this day ... at least in their own way. So go, Mets.
Curtis Woodward
Who’s going to win the World Games? Well, I think it’s naturally going to be the Boston Red Sox. The curse is over, you saucy minks! They’ll be hoisting the trophy in October and dousing each other in bubbly, fruity champagne and scampering about half-naked in the locker room.
Oh God.
Breathe Curtis, breathe. But you can’t blame me if I get a little excited at the thought of Josh Beckett, Keith Foulke, Kevin Youkilis and Coco Crisp snapping each other with wet towels and spraying white stuff all over each other. And Wily Mo Pena! Wily Mo wants to go boom boom boom in Wily Mo’s zoom room. Sizzle!
Dakota Brezinski
Daddy says there is only one team that will win it all next year, and that is the Bob Brezinski Bomb-Diggitys. They are not playing in the National League or American League, but they are playing in the Franklin Industries Office League, and Daddy says they will be unstoppable. Daddy says Peter Gammons likes the team's pitching staff, and some people on ESPN.com would be in love with the infield. The people Daddy showed me on the web site looked like Milhouse from The Simpsons.
Daddy said the general manager is hell-bent on world destruction and will stop at nothing to make a good trade to help his team. He said he will intimidate his opponents, carefully look at all matchups and possibly surpise some people with his sleepys. I think everyone playing baseball is probably sleepy, because baseball is boring. But this general manager sounds scary, so I'm pretty sure he's going to win baseball this year.
Frank Randall, IT guy
Who wins baseball? Must say be the Cardinals arches from Central Louis in the leaves falling fall classic. Classic windows, ignore that prompt, all right? Don’t click in that box, click that one. No! Win the ring, critical shutdown of operating system, infield defense suffers tantalizing remonstrance of self pine tar love.
Edmonds, Pujols, healthy Rolen, downturn in productivity, give a call upstairs, would you? I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. ‘A’ as in ‘alpha.’ What do you mean by that? Starting pitching important to the linkup key password initializes tittering hey batter batter swing codec.
Like I said, baseball Cardinals, sampling with mixes of duplicate Carpenter sit down over from adjust setting to compensate for mug wafer moon resolution nada supper swerve. Jabba jabba jabba minion olfactory sensation error shortstop midget no matter sink clog in timing device for LaRussa.
