TELL IT GOODBYE!
By The Anti-Blez on Tuesday, August 23, 2005
First place in the Wild-Card race, that is. Tell it goodbye, indeed...
But that's not what I want to talk about right now.
What I want to talk about is THE MOST PATHETIC THING I'VE EVER READ ON ASSLICKERS NATION.
Tonight, after another humiliating defeat, the T-shirt salesman posted on his Asslickers website that he had spent an hour or so on the phone trying to get "sources" (read: Susan Slusser) to tell him what the AAA's next move will be.
HUH?
A T-shirt salesman spends an hour after a game trying to get "sources" to talk to him about the AAA's next moves? Does he really think he's THAT important?
When I read that shit, I started laughing so hard that my eyes welled with tears and my bladder began to fail.
I'll tell you this. I LOVE the AAA's. And during a game, the team has my undivided attention. But AFTER a game, I go about my life. I read my daughter a bedtime story. I throw rocks at the neighbor's noisy cat. I fuck my wife. I get drunk and piss myself. You know, the sorts of things a guy WHO HAS A LIFE does.
Sure, I'll also spend a few moments reading the game wrapup stories. But I certainly won't waste my time bothering folks (such as the talented and lovely Susan Slusser) who have REAL baseball jobs to take pity on my sorry ass and indulge me on the phone.
As someone who worked at a major newspaper for 15 years*, let me tell you this: REAL sports reporters laugh their asses off after getting phone calls from wannabe insiders. Sure, they may listen to them for a few minutes and act as though they are interested in what the wannabe has to say. But after that phone call ends, there's groaning and laughter across the sports desk. I've seen it happen hundreds of times.
The T-shirt salesman has turned himself into what those of us at the Trib used to call a "Myron Miller." Not "Marvin Miller." "Myron Miller." I'll let you figure it out.
How pathetic is that?
*That's right, Asslickers. 15 years in journalism (thankfully retired). Now you know why I'm such an angry bastard.
But that's not what I want to talk about right now.
What I want to talk about is THE MOST PATHETIC THING I'VE EVER READ ON ASSLICKERS NATION.
Tonight, after another humiliating defeat, the T-shirt salesman posted on his Asslickers website that he had spent an hour or so on the phone trying to get "sources" (read: Susan Slusser) to tell him what the AAA's next move will be.
HUH?
A T-shirt salesman spends an hour after a game trying to get "sources" to talk to him about the AAA's next moves? Does he really think he's THAT important?
When I read that shit, I started laughing so hard that my eyes welled with tears and my bladder began to fail.
I'll tell you this. I LOVE the AAA's. And during a game, the team has my undivided attention. But AFTER a game, I go about my life. I read my daughter a bedtime story. I throw rocks at the neighbor's noisy cat. I fuck my wife. I get drunk and piss myself. You know, the sorts of things a guy WHO HAS A LIFE does.
Sure, I'll also spend a few moments reading the game wrapup stories. But I certainly won't waste my time bothering folks (such as the talented and lovely Susan Slusser) who have REAL baseball jobs to take pity on my sorry ass and indulge me on the phone.
As someone who worked at a major newspaper for 15 years*, let me tell you this: REAL sports reporters laugh their asses off after getting phone calls from wannabe insiders. Sure, they may listen to them for a few minutes and act as though they are interested in what the wannabe has to say. But after that phone call ends, there's groaning and laughter across the sports desk. I've seen it happen hundreds of times.
The T-shirt salesman has turned himself into what those of us at the Trib used to call a "Myron Miller." Not "Marvin Miller." "Myron Miller." I'll let you figure it out.
How pathetic is that?
*That's right, Asslickers. 15 years in journalism (thankfully retired). Now you know why I'm such an angry bastard.
5 Comments:
boogergoober...
We love having hate-mongers such as you around. It's what makes parody-and-humor sites such as this, bostondirtdogs.com, dodgersblue,com, and others so much fun.
The fact that you can't handle the possibility that an AAA's fan could actually make fun of the team just goes to show what a small mind you have.
Parody is a time-honored tradition among REAL baseball fans. Goes all the way back to the days of the great Ring Lardner.
"You Know Me, Oober..., er, Al."
(Don't worry, booger. I don't expect you to understand that reference. And if you do, great!)
And I wasn't even aware that the T-shit salesman had worked for a PR firm with ties to the AAA's. That's incredible! More evidence that while he may be an Oakland fan, he also has some incredible conflicts of interest. Thanks for the info, "i blog."
Just trying to keep 'em honest, booger, just trying to keep 'em honest.
BEANED AGAIN!
Oh, and booger...
The interviews with Wolff, Beane, Chavez, etc., have indeed been "crap."
Go back and read them again. Notice how every single question is framed in a way to allow the subject to provide a positive, "happy" answer?
Journalists ask hard-hitting questions that sometimes leave their subjects cornered. PR people, on the other hand, ask softball questions that always put their subjects in a good light.
When I started this site, I never promised interviews. I never even hinted I'd *try* to interview anbody.
I'm a retired journalist. I don't interview anyone anymore. I don't have to.
Tell me...do you demand interviews on every blog you visit?
If you want interviews, visit SFGate. Susan Slusser is a fine journalist and asks tough questions.
By the way...
As I check the IP logs for visitors to this site, I'm beginning to suspect that boogergoober is actually the T-shirt salesman's wife.
No, I'm not trying to be funny.
I am serious. I think booger REALLY is his wife. (His wife also occasionally posts on the Asslickers site.)
And there's another bit of evidence: boogergoober makes an indirect refence in a post above to the size of the T-shirt salesman's penis. How would she know the size of his penis, unless she has seen the dude nude?
The plot thickens...
Excellent observation, iBlog.
In fact, I'll bet the T-shirt salesman actually did get through to Susan Slusser last night. Here's how the conversation probably went:
T-shirt salesman: Hi, Susan. It's me.
Slusser: Oh, hi Myron, er, Tyler. Whaddya want?
T-shirt salesman: Can you tell me if Barton is going to be called up to the big club? I tried Billy's cell phone, but every time I said hello, we seemed to get disconnected.
Slusser: Barton isn't being called up. He'll be back in the Midland lineup tomorrow.
The T-shirt salesman: Is that so? Well, I guess my blog is wrong. In fact, you might even say I've been "Beaned Again." Ha-ha! Oh, wait, that's off-the-record, Susan.
Slusser: Of course it is, Tyler, of course it is...
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