You Make the Call

 

Pete Crow-Armstrong

OR

Pete Crow-Armstrong?

The Gist - 2024 Game #61: Cubs 7, White Sox 6

As the sole person still writing for a zombie Cubs blog, it may come as a shock to you that I'm actually a Dodgers fan (even though I hate them). It's true. Check the old posts...or don't. Who cares? Any besides, the Dodgers wasted another stellar outing from Cillian Murphy by losing 1-0 to Pittsburgh yesterday afternoon, so come 7:30/8pm time there was no game for me to watch.

Oh wait...what do we have here? White Sox at Cubs in the 7th? OK I can manage two innings of this. I put the game on, choosing the White Sox feed to listen to Hawk.

There's no Hawk. Did he grab some bench or finally croak? Steve Stone is calling the game and he's at least familiar so let's stick with this. The Cubs pulled it out 7-6 with Happ (I'll get back to that in a moment) driving in the winning run. The rest of this post will be a series of observations.

• Observation #1 - Who are these people on the White Sox? I knew they were bad, but the lack of major league talent is astounding. The entire roster is kind of like shopping at Aldi. The names are a little familiar, but not the real deal. They have a Sheets and Sosa, but it's not Ben or Sammy. There's a guy named Julks. I can't even type that without autocorrect changing it. Jordan Leasure sounds made up.
• Observation #2 - The Cubs aren't much better. They have a Happ (not J.A.) and a Suzuki, but not Ichiro or Kurt. And let me tell you even though there's a guy named Mike Busch that was drafted by the Dodgers, it is not Mike Busch from the 1995 replacement player spring training. 
• Observation #3 - I still hate seeing Bellinger in a Cubs uniform. BRING HIM HOME.
• Observation #4 - Wrigley looks so nice at night. They should do more night games when employed people can watch. Lee Elia was right when he said "Day games are for the poors." I believe that is a direct quote.

And, uh, that's about it. That certainly was 2 innings of baseball. See you in 2025 dear readers.

Here's a picture of Black Jack McDowell because he was on one of these teams and was awesome.

An Official Statement from Bud Norris

Former MLB pitcher Bud Norris (aka Nud Borris) loves him some lettuce. It's all he talks about. Ask the baseball writers of America right after they turn in an embarrassing HOF ballot. They'll tell you. Bud reached out to us here at TMS with an important statement. The floor is yours Nud:

"Hello there Norris Nation. I just learned there is some Twitter account calling a football player the 'Lettuce King.' Some folks call it X, I still call it Twitter. Anyways, does this guy even eat lettuce? Has he ever bit right into a head of iceberg and felt the sweet, sweet crunch? I don't think so. I am the one true Lettuce King and will consider legal action against anyone who says otherwise. Thank you for your time." - Nud

TMS Reviews: Morgan Wallen's "Last Night"

I'd rather get ingested into a jet engine than listen to this again. Decline is a choice.

Top 5 Thanksgiving Movies

 

The Top 5 Thanksgiving movies offered without further comment:

1. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

2. The Ice Storm

3. Scent of a Woman

4. Dutch

5. Die Hard

War Criminal: Other People's Dogs

 

No one cares about your dog but you.

You Make the Call

 

Steve Bannon

OR

Steve Bannon?

The Real Reason There Will Be No 2020 Baseball Season

Because you touch yourself at night and you deserve nothing.

A Tuesday Afternoon Update from Bud Norris

Braves, err Dodgers, err Cardinals, wait no, apparently Phillies pitcher Bud Norris (aka Nud Borris) loves him some lettuce. It's all he talks about. Ask the Atlanta, LA, or St. Louis beat writers. They'll tell you. Looks like you can ask the Philadelphia beat writers now too. Can someone just sign this guy to a long term deal already? The floor is yours Nud:

THANK YOU 8,091 TWEETER PEOPLES!!!!!

Top 5 Christmas Movies of 2019

A few years ago, a group of internet trolls got together at a Denny's and decided they were going to annoy everyone by saying Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Somehow this horseshit caught on and now people who are only accidentally annoying are saying it. Terrible. Fast forward to 2019 and the term "Christmas movie" no longer has any meaning. Oh well, I might as well take advantage of it. Here then are the Top 5 Christmas Movies of 2019 - "Christmas movie" being defined as anything I watched within a couple weeks of Christmas. Please note, while "Top 5" generally implies I liked them all, you will see that isn't the case. I just happened to watch five. Enjoy.

1. The Rise of Skywalker

The Rise of Skywalker is easily the best Star Wars movie since Return of the Jedi and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise. Oh, I'm sorry, was there too much fan service for you? Well maybe you need to reevaluate your expectations for a movie series where two of the most beloved characters are a furry giant and a beeping trash can on wheels.

2. Bone Tomahawk

I watched this on Christmas Eve while millions of you suckers were at midnight mass. Brush up on your time zones people. Bethlehem is like 10 hours ahead so you should be celebrating sometime in the afternoon. This starts off as a pretty standard but well made western and continues like that for a long time...until it takes a turn. You could say this movie is brutally split in two (hat tip to Ken).

3. The Irishman

It's now official: Al Pacino has used up whatever remaining good will he had from playing Michael Corleone and has to start trying again. Good god was he hamming it up here. The movie itself is pretty decent and it's fun to have De Niro and Pesci teamed up again, but you could easily shave 45 minutes off of this one and no one would even notice.

4. The Two Popes

Finally, that buddy comedy about Pope Francis and Pope Benedict XVI me and like three other people on the planet were waiting for. I really wish Cardinal Ratzinger had chosen "Charles" for his papal name so everyone in this movie would have to call Anthony Hopkins Pope Charles repeatedly. Also, this image of him eating pizza is going to replace the whale in my nightmare.

5. A Marriage Story

The latest offering from Noah Baumbach, America's Dollar Tree Woody Allen, is an unpleasant slog with good acting. He manages to take what would be a relatable situation for a lot of folks, the breakup of a marriage, and makes it as pretentious as possible with bi-coastal theater people and high priced demon divorce lawyers. Do not watch this one if you haven't already.

Spoiler: R2D2 dies in this one.

A Corrected List of Current MLB Managers

Last night, the Padres hired a new manager. Some dopey kid, I dunno. No one cares. The real issue is that 1) I had no idea they had fired their old manager and 2) Bud Black hasn't been their manager for years. This morning I Googled a list of current MLB managers, and man, are there a lot of errors on this list! I went through and corrected them.  So here you go, a list of current MLB managers as of October 25, 2019.  Correct answers are on the right in bold:

American League

Baltimore Orioles: Brandon Hyde – Buck Showalter

Boston Red Sox: Alex Cora  - I guess so?

Chicago White Sox: Rick Renteria – Robin Ventura

Cleveland Indians: Terry Francona - Correct

Detroit Tigers: Ron Gardenhire – Jim Leyland

Houston Astros: A.J. Hinch - Correct

Kansas City Royals: vacant – Ned Yost

Los Angeles Angels: Joe Maddon - Correct

Minnesota Twins: Rocco Baldelli – Ron Gardenhire

New York Yankees: Aaron Boone - Correct

Oakland Athletics: Bob Melvin – Philip Seymour Hoffman

Seattle Mariners: Scott Servais – Lou Piniella  

Tampa Bay Rays: Kevin Cash – Turd Ferguson since we're just making names up

Texas Rangers: Chris Woodward – Johnny Oates

Toronto Blue Jays: Charlie Montoyo – Cito Gaston

National League

Arizona Diamondbacks: Torey Lovullo – Bob Brenly

Atlanta Braves: Brian Snitker - Correct

Chicago Cubs: David Ross - Correct

Cincinnati Reds: David Bell – Dusty Baker

Colorado Rockies: Bud Black – Clint Hurdle

Los Angeles Dodgers: Dave Roberts – Correct, unfortunately

Miami Marlins: Don Mattingly – Correct, but I think they prefer Florida Marlins

Milwaukee Brewers: Craig Counsell – Davey Lopes

New York Mets: vacant – Terry Collins

Philadelphia Phillies: Joe Girardi - Correct

Pittsburgh Pirates: vacant – Lloyd McClendon

St. Louis Cardinals: Mike Shildt – Mike Matheny

San Diego Padres: Jayce Tingler - Correct

San Francisco Giants: vacant - Correct

Washington Nationals: Dave Martinez – Davey Johnson

Nicholas Castellanos is Pretty OK

It's been a while but I thought I'd just pop on and say that Nicholas Castellanos is a pretty OK player. Also the return of Planters Cheez Balls has been a welcome surprise.

TMS Investigates: Who Pooped in Vinnie Vincent's Tub?

Earlier this year, mad with power and Apple Music, I listened to the entire KISS catalog.  I’d always liked a few songs, but never bothered to listen to the bulk of their music, but with easy access, it was finally time.  This delighted fellow TMS bartender Chaim Witz, a lifetime member of the KISS Army, who assigned me Vinnie Vincent’s Ankh Warrior as my KISS character.  Little did he know that when I unveiled my KISS album rankings, the Vinnie Vincent era would be near the top of the list (perhaps a bit too high upon further review, but that’s another story).

Maybe you know the bizarre story of post-KISS Vinnie or maybe you don’t.  Rolling Stone had a pretty thorough article on it here, but the TLDR version is he moved to Tennessee, became a recluse, kept dead dogs in storage bins, and periodically scammed some fans.  The most shocking development was yet to come though.  As first reported by @KISSman onTwitter, someone had pooped in Vinnie’s tub:

What kind of a monster would do such a thing?  My first thought was fellow TMS bartender Jake the Terrible Cubs Fan, a known KISS hater and all around reprobate, but he assured me that since it would involve entering the state of Tennessee, it wasn’t him.  It made sense.  I had to investigate though.  This aggression would not stand.  Vinnie himself is apparently so terrified he only recently reemerged and now lives in permanent disguise as Ann Wilson from Heart.  

Since the poop  in question occurred in Tennessee, I first reached out to my good friend Dolly Parton, who also happens to be the biggest gossip in the state.  Dolly and I go back years and now that Kenny Rogers is dead, I’m one of only three living people that have seen her without a wig.  She said she wasn’t aware of the offending turd, but suggested I get my butt over to Tennessee if I wanted any answers:  “Governor X, you won’t know a lick of a spit on a tick or some other southernism about this if’in you don’t head down there and investigate.”

My god.  Tennessee.  A wasteland of wannabe country singers and people in ugly orange hats.  What choice did I have though?  No one else was going to investigate this.  Certainly not the liberal media!  I headed off to the airport and caught the first flight to Nashville, which inexplicably involved changing planes in Quebec City.  Fucking airlines.

I hit the ground as a pilgrim in an unholy land, rented a car, and drove out to Smyrna, the scene of the crime.  The Vinnie Vincent Estate isn’t easy to find, but the locals were no help.  Every inquiry devolved into a tale of colorful local history.  Eventually I found it on my own.  You could almost hear the guitar riffs of Lick It Up as the wind blew through the abandoned home, which was now populated only by raccoons. 

I finally made it to the bathroom.  Jesus.  There it is.  The turd.  It was still there!  I collapsed into a heap on the ground and tried to compose myself.  Who?  What?  Why?  The questions raced through my head.  Damn it man, you’ve got to focus here.  What would your favorite unnamed Scandinavian detective do?  I shook it off and focused.  Using some things I “borrowed” from a buddy in my local sheriff’s department, I carefully took a sample in a crime scene bag.

What now though?  Surely there wasn’t a police department south of Chicago that could actually run tests on this for me.  Plan B it was then.  I got back in my car and headed to the nearest diner.  I’d just go table to table confronting them with the turd until I got answers.  

I burst in and said, “NOW LISTEN UP YOU HAYSEEDS, I WANT SOME ANSWERS.”  First, a woman with poofy hair eating with her two grown sons. 

“What do you have to say for yourself? Is this your doing?”

Silence from all three.  I see how it is.  On to the next table.

“You there, Hee Haw, did you shit in the tub?”

Son, I don’t rightly know what you’re gettin’ on about here.

This is going to take a while.  I went from table to table, waving the poop sample bag in front of them as they ate, but it was just one stonewall after another.  Finally the man in the NRA hat had some answers.

“Did you sh-…” He cut me off.

Soros.

“What?”

Soros.  The billionaire banker.  Things like this are always linked to George Soros. Look it up.  You might need to look around though, ‘they’ [he makes air quotes] don’t want you to know.  Trust me.

A man in an NRA hat wouldn’t lie.  I knew he was leading me in the right direction, so I made it back to my hotel and got online.  I was aghast.  It was all here.  Protests, fluoride in the water, football players kneeling…all Soros.  I clenched my fist and muttered his name.  He had to be the pooper, or responsible for the pooper.  George Soros is Hungarian, so it looked like Budapest was my next stop.

Three days and eight layovers later, I landed in Budapest.  Naturally, I was immediately accosted by gypsy pickpockets – sorry, Roma pickpockets.  I don’t want to offend anyone!  Anyway, after defending my belongings, I hail a cab and tell the cabbie to take me straight to Soros’ lair.

As it turns out, Soros’ Dracula-style mountain lair is actually a tasteful home near the city center.  I rang the bell, expecting to be whisked away by his jackbooted goons, but instead a kindly old man answers the door.

May I help you?

“Thank goodness you instinctively knew to speak English.  Are you George Soros?”

Yes, what can I do for you?

“AH HA! J’accuse!  Is this your handiwork?”

I whip out the bag of poop, knowing I’ve nailed it.

I think you’d better come inside.  We should talk.

I step inside.  As usual, Soros was ten steps ahead.  No plans for world domination sitting on the coffee table or secret weapons systems.  Just pictures of the grandchildren an unopened mail.  Who does he think he’s fooling?  We sit down and he offers tea.  I assume it’s poisoned, but I don’t want to be rude and drink anyway.  It’s chamomile.  Gross!  I just come out with it.

“Why did you shit in Vinnie Vincent’s tub?”

Well, you wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I used to rock.  Back in the 80s, before getting into the world domination game, I dabbled in a bit of hair metal myself.  Played the bass.  I was good too!  Anyway, when I heard Vinnie was working on a side project, I thought this was my big chance.  I flew to Los Angeles and auditioned to play bass in the Vinnie Vincent Invasion.  I nailed it too, as much as you can nail a bass line.  When it was done, he thanked me for coming in and said I’d hear from him.  I never did.  After  years of waiting, I vowed revenge.  I would settle this score by sowing discord and toppling regimes throughout the world.  I’d also poop in his tub one day.  Then, about 6 years ago, my people on the ground told me he had gone out to buy new dead dog tubs and now was the time to strike.  So I went, I pooped in the tub, and I left.  I regret nothing.

“You know what Mr. Soros. That all makes sense.  That seems like a perfectly reasonable reaction to not getting a gig in a band.  Well, thank you for the tea and the kind chat.  I’ll be off.”

And that’s that.

Turns out you kind of deserved this Vinnie.