Red State Blue State

The Pitcher Bats

When an American League baseball team plays in a National League park, the pitcher bats. We don't question this, even if we are die-hard fans of the designated hitter. It's tradition and respect. Similarly, if I decide to head to Alabama or Arkansas, I know that I'm going to get weird looks if I ask for a soda or a pop. It's perfectly appropriate and so much easier to just ask for a coke and then name my flavor.

So, the question is, if so much of American culture is based on reverence for tradition and institutions, why is there such an uproar over our ultimate representative respecting those same institutions in other countries?

Now, I'll be the first to admit that it wasn't the most graceful bow ever. But, by the same token, have you ever watched an American League pitcher try to hit? Yeah, for a highly trained and highly paid athlete it sure isn't pretty. But it's part of the respect that one league pays the other in baseball.

Listen conspiracy mongers, here's how it breaks down. There's nothing wrong with being respectful of other countries and cultures. In fact, if the people planning the invasion of Iraq would have known the first thing about the culture and people in that country, we wouldn't be dealing with nearly 4,300 American lives lost and over 30,000 wounded.

Those who like to chatter in the blogosphere will continue to make a big deal of this incident and the right-wing pundits are enjoying every second of it. But if we took enough time to think about and respect the traditions of other countries as much as we respect who bats ninth in a National League ballpark, maybe this wouldn't be what the world thinks all Americans are like:



-A

Credits:
-Photo from www.newser.com

Canadians!

Holy maple leafs, dear readers!

On Friday I fulfilled a lifelong personal dream!

I got to meet Larry Walker!!!

Actually, that's a lie.  I didn't meet Larry Walker; but I did meet a very nice Canadian couple wandering the streets of Chicago looking for restaurant suggestions.  The man's name was Larry.  And since all Canadians look alike, I think we can assume there isn't much difference between the two.

All fooling aside, let it be known that Canadians are awesome!  Awesome as in "awe" inspiring.  They're so friendly.  They have funny accents.  And they speak French!

Larry and his wife were so excited to talk to a real life US American (me) that once they got to talkin', they started revealing all sorts of dark Canadian secrets -- information I certainly shouldn't be privy to.  Oh well.  Part of being a US American is not shying away from free enterprise.  I'm sure Larry and his wife will understand.  So here's what I learned:

There Are No Death Panels
"We do have to wait in line sometimes for our x-rays and such," said Larry, "but they certainly don't make us wait in line during life threatening circumstances.  And if you're well off like we are, you can go to your own doctor on your own time if you want.  The Canadian system of health care is great."

Terrance & Phillip Characterizations Are More Accurate Than One Would Think
"We eat a lot of the same things Americans eat," said Larry's wife, "but the lower temperatures seem to wreak havoc on our bowels.  We try to avoid Mexican food all together."

Not All Canadians Live In Igloos
"My brother still lives in one," said Larry, "but he's a moose hunter and moose hunters are... well, they're just a bit off, eh?"

Canadians Think US Americans Are Silly
"George W. Bush?  Really?  You guys voted for him... twice!" said Larry's wife.  "That's silly to us.  And you're always scared.  Fearful.  No one's going to blow up the Sears Tower.  Chicago isn't important on the world map.  That's like saying they'll blow up the Stade Olympique.  Why would anyone do that?  Yet so many of you Americans are convinced your local Wal-Mart is the next target.  Haha."

But the most satisfying thing I heard from this real-life Canadian couple was the following:

I asked them: "What do you think of when you hear the name Joe Carter?"

Larry and his wife looked at each other and said, in unison, "Touch 'em all, Joe!"

How can we not love Canadians?  Seriously.

Hate me 'cuz I get all international on you, just don't hate me 'cuz I'm right: Canadians are people too.

Peace,

Jeff

Taking the One Less Traveled By

The other day I wrote what I thought was a heartfelt tribute to my good friend, Jeffery Lung. I lost a contest and as the terms of the contest dictated, I had to write an essay in praise of Jeff and that I did. However, it seems that everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Apparently the ethos of "gotcha' journalism" has seeped into every aspect of American life to the extent that even a laudatory essay automatically becomes suspect. C'mon people. I am not Keith Olbermann. I am not these guys:



I lost fair and square and so I did what was asked of me.

Now, I could have gone to one of the two extremes. I could have given the Oliver Stone on Hugo Chavez hagiography treatment to Jeff and made myself into as laughable an icon as the director of Platoon has now become. Or, I could have gone the other direction and filled the entry so full of sarcasm and tongue in cheek humor as to lose all sense of the original terms of the contest. Like Robert Frost, though, when I saw two roads diverge in a wood, I took the one less traveled by. The honorable one.

But the honorable path apparently doesn't mean much these days. You all want to hear me talk about Jeff's impressive collection of exfoliants and cleansers. Or his inability to find a girlfriend. Or Fernando Tatis' repeated requests to Jeff to stop sending him pictures and letters about how much alike their goatees look. But I drew a line and I refused to cross it.

So, you can continue waiting for the other shoe to drop, but you'll be waiting a long time. Jeff is my friend and that means I don't question his decision to hang a life-size poster of Patrick Swayze over his bed. Really, that is what being a friend is all about. And god knows it's better than a life-size poster of Whoopi Goldberg.

-A

Beyond Non Sequitur III

Yep.  This is totally out of left field, but I feel the need to share: this picture has been cracking me up for a good month now.  Every time I look at it I lose myself in uncontrollable laughter.  Can anyone tell me why?

Not sure if there's any reason to hate me this time, so, y'know, don't. 

And just in case you're wondering: Yes, despite the cool, peaceful demeanor of the above holy man, dude still hates the Cubs.

Peace,

Jeff

(*Image courtesy of B3TA)

A Man in the Full

Recently Jeff and Allen squared off in an epic, metaphor driven battle. Like Thunderdome, two men entered but only one man left. However, instead of choosing death as the punishment for the vanquished, the RSBS team decided on a fate much, much worse. Today Allen fulfills the terms of his defeat by writing an essay extolling the attributes of the winner. We now present that entry in its original and unabridged form.
_____________________________________

The world did not change overnight when Jeffery Lung was born in the late 70's. Instead it waited patiently as he grew up, sang and danced his way through high school and made short work of both the Chinese language and four years of college. And as the world waited, it also saw fit to provide Jeff with a sidekick, a Laurel to his Hardy, a Penn to his Teller, a Siegfried to his....ok, not so much that last one.

Jeff and I met in the fall of 1997 when we both arrived at college and made the fateful decision to participate in the orientation week spectacle. Maybe it was the strains of Carmina Burana that made us friends. Perhaps it was the endless hours of rehearsal for plays and the campus improvisational comedy troupe. Or maybe it was living in the same dorm room for part of junior year and my having to lean over the top bunk every morning to see the beautiful girl that all of us wanted but that Jeff had gotten.

Honestly, though, I think it had more to do with just Jeff. He doesn't like to brag about it but he's really freakin' smart. Did I mention he speaks Chinese? Fluently? And that he won a Fulbright Scholarship to study in China? And he does this all while being left-handed. Seriously, I can't even hold a pen in my left hand. He writes in three languages with his.

I could go on and on about his abilities but there's another aspect to Jeff that's even more important. He's plain and simple a damn good friend. I have a bad habit of disappearing from the interwebs occasionally but he doesn't kick me off the blog or question my loyalty. He just keeps plugging away and then gets in a couple shots when I get back. But he's always there and always has been for the past decade. That's saying something.

The world has changed quite a bit since Jeff was born. But in the past 12 years one thing has remained constant. Jeff Lung has been and will continue to be one of my closest friends and one of the best friends you could ever ask for.

-A

P.S. No h0mo

White Like Me

Yep.  This is pretty weird.  And I bet you are wondering what exactly is going on. 

So are we.

That's why, once again, we pitted our trusty RSBS interns to the task of discovering why Sammy Sosa is turning white.  After toiling for about twenty minutes, here is the shortlist of what they found:

• Ran out of shower gel, bleach does a good job, life is rough in the D.R.
• Wants to be remembered as a member of the White Sox; this is a good way to make that happen
• Saw the ghost of Sammy past (circa 1989)
• Planning a trip to the Northside of Chicago and doesn't want to be recognized. Why? Urine Trough Diving. That's why.
• Combine Oxandrolone with Dignotamoxi add a little Methyltestosterone and BAM! You're WHITE!
• Sun bathing below the equator has a reverse tan affect, much like eating after midnight turns you into a Gremlin
• The white skin came free with the Humphrey Bogart toupee package
• Tired of living in the shadow of Mark McGwire, hopes being brighter will help him stand out while still stuck in the shadow of Mark McGwire
• Took a look at the man in the mirror and decided to make that change
• Sick of seeing Karl Rove have all the fun

Skin rejuvenation?  More like how could you make your image more of an abomination!

Hm.  Sounds better when I read that last sentence out loud.

Nevermind.

Just don't hate me.  'Cuz I'm right.

Peace,

Jeff

(Image courtesy of Getty Images)

Hugo's White Friends

From the beginning, RSBS has been about both baseball and politics. But, it's easy to lose track of the politics when the baseball plays out like it did this year. Also, the politics have been sucking. I mean, something needs to happen with health care but I'm sick of talking about it and even more sick of hearing about it.

Luckily, whenever I hit a point where American politics isn't doing it for me, all I need to do is look south. No, a bit further south. No, not Guatemala. Keep going. Ok, there it is. Venezuela and it's coffee-swilling chuckle-head of a president. So, what's happening in the mind of el presidente today?

Hm, a little baseball over in that corner of the brain which makes sense. I mean, he is Venezuelan. Yep, definitely a little crazy over in that corner which makes sense since he's from the same country as Ozzie Guillen. But those are just sideshows. If you really want to know what's going on just step into the three-ring circus of Hugo's anti-American paranoia. It's a non-stop riot of fire-breathing, wild animal taming and tiny cars full of clowns. And this time it's all about the war the US is apparently trying to launch against Venezuela from Colombia. 

Here's the thing, Hugo. Even if we wanted to start that war (which we don't because, let's face it, no one really cares about Venezuela), we don't have the resources to do so. Cutting off ties with Colombia over this makes about as much sense as the proverbial cutting off of the nose to spite the face. Really Hugo, you need to sit back and take a lesson from someone who understands putting aside differences so we can get along. Deuce Poppi, take it away:



Happy Monday, y'all.

-A

The Filibuster

A-Rod finally has his ring and the Yankee faithful are overjoyed. However, do you think there's any chance that this will make him less of a dill-hole? This is a guy who has dumped his wife, dated Madonna, admitted to being a big fat liar and had somewhat major surgery in the span of about one year. Does one ring atone for that?

Tamara
Cedarville, OH
____________________________________

Like my mama always said, "Once a dill-hole, always a dill-hole."

Okay, that's a lie.  My mom doesn't know what a dill-hole is (perhaps neither do I), but it doesn't matter because it's true.

Let us remember that.

But let us also remember that in professional sports, just as in politics, the most important question when evaluating merit will always be the same: What have you done for me, lately?

In Alex Rodriguez's case, does it really matter that 9 months ago all we were talking about was his wayward romp in the world of performance enhancing drugs?  Does anyone remember that he flat-out lied to the press?  That he stained the game?  That he forced difficult discussions between parents and their children about the dangers of illegal substances and cheating the most sacred of US America's games?

No.  Of course not.  He led them to a World Series crown.  If Charles Manson hit .378 with 6 HR and 18 RBI during the playoffs, he too would be lifted up on the city's shoulders, carted off to the tune of "27th Heaven" just like A-Rod was.

Because that is how the world works.

I don't think ethnic Albanians in Kosovo really put too much thought into President Bill Clinton's oval office sexual exploits when they erected their tributary bronze statue of him in Pristina recently.  He ended their persecution, man!  He knocked Serb forces out of the game by hitting in the clutch, with proverbial runners in scoring position!

Likewise, Ronald Reagan ended the Cold War!  Nevermind all the money and resources he threw at guerrilla specialists in Afghanistan (*ahem, Osam bin Laden, et al*) to fight the evil Soviet regime!  HE ENDED THE GODDAMN COLD WAR, MAN!

And let's face it, folks: cold wars suck.  I think we can all agree on that.  To Yankees fans, an eight year absence from holding the highest position in the baseball cosmos had to feel a lot like a cold war, and like my mama always said: "character doesn't mean s*** in love and war."

Okay, that's a lie.  She never said that.  But she might.  She's got opinions.

Just don't hate me 'cuz I'm right.

Peace,

Jeff

**PROGRAMING NOTE**

As is customary at RSBS, the Filibuster will be put on hiatus until pitchers and catchers report.  Very special thanks to all our dear readers who've bombarded us with Filibuster topics this season!  We'll ask for them again in February!  Until then, please enjoy RSBS' continuing pursuit of the ironically fantastic and creatively eclectic.  You'll be in for some real treats!  I'd almost bet my life on it!

The HOT Hot Stove

Right now, dear readers, you are probably experiencing the same agonizing symptoms of baseball withdrawal that Al and I are.  We are here to remind you that we know: it hurts.  It will continue to hurt... until pitchers and catchers report.  If your symptoms gain in severity, do not hesitate to contact your primary caretaker (for those of you who can afford health care, that'd be your doctor; for those of you who cannot, try calling your congressman.  I'm sure that will work).

Football and hockey can only carry us so far (not very, especially if you're a jaded Bears fan, or in Mr. Krause's case: a lowly win-deprived Lions fan), so we are left to rely on the offseason baseball hot stove for our daily fixins.

We like our hot stove like we like our coffee: hot.

And INTENSE:



(Mr. Levin is doing just fine.  His skin graph surgeries were successful -- well, most of them anyway.)

Hate me 'cuz I tricked you into processing that painful imagery, just don't hate me 'cuz I'm right.

Peace,

Jeff

Dazed and Confused

The baseball season may be over but the wheeling and dealing is just beginning. Trades, pickups, moves. It's like Christmas came a month early. However, one man seems to be doing a little more wheeling and dealing than everyone else. Well, maybe more of the wheeling after hitting up someone else responsible for the dealing.

Now, let's see a show of hands for those of you who are surprised that Tim Lincecum likes to hit the reefer from time to time. Ok, Utah, you can put your hands down. Mormons don't count in this poll. But as for the rest of the country, of course we all knew he liked to smoke. The dude looks like a smoker. He's practically a dead ringer for Wylie Wiggins and he just has that look in his eyes.

Here's the thing, though. Isn't this just yet more proof that marijuana might not be as bad for you as DARE led you to believe? How many people do you know who are at the top of their game and like to relax with their close friend, Steve Green, from time to time? Half the NBA are regular smokers, Lincecum obviously likes it and how else do you think Steve Jobs came up with the iPod?

Take another look at that article. The thing I notice about the story is that Lincecum pulled over and "immediately complied with a request to hand over the drug and a marijuana pipe." Compare that with a drunk who refuses to put down his beer and winds up taking a swing at the officer. I'll take the pot head any day.....especially when he has a 2.90 ERA over 3 seasons.

-A