Once Memphis and Duke went down in the Sweet 16 within fifteen minutes of each other, I started preparing myself for the inevitable: having to write about whatever someone else told me to. Anytime I’ve written anywhere else the subject has been chosen for me by teachers, editors or that scary guy in the hoodie who forced me to spray graffiti all over that garage around the corner from my apartment (I wasn’t my idea to write “poopdick” in cursive, I swear). But on BASG I am pretty much my own editor, which I would imagine isn’t all that surprising to anyone who reads this site regularly.
Today that all changes, as “Meatballs,” (AKA Sports Girl Liz’s mom) gets to play the role of Editor in Chief — the Grand Prize for winning the inaugural “BASG NCAA Madness” pool (well, other than the cookies meatballs she’ll be getting from her daughter). “Meatballs” came up with several topics to explore, so let’s get started.
1. Lou Seal: male (Louis) or female (Lucille)? And what does a seal have to do with baseball or a Giant?
BASG: Lou Seal is definitely a male seal with a female-sounding name, which one could argue makes him uniquely San Franciscan. However, most agree Lou looks like a morbidly obese rat who enjoys wearing jerseys with no pants. As far as I know seals have nothing to do with baseball or Giants, although L.S. is a giant seal. Not many mascots exist in Major League Baseball, and the few that do prance on our nation’s dugouts represent entities that have nothing to do with baseball (except Mr. Met, who has a baseball for a head). The Phillie Phanatic looks like an alien on Sesame Street, while the San Diego Chicken makes about as much sense as Lou Seal does.
I’m pretty sure the Giants wanted a mascot that had something to do with the Bay that surrounds the park, but knew they couldn’t bring back Crazy Crab, the “anti-mascot” from 1984 who was created for the purpose of giving Candlestick fans something to boo and throw objects at (which made the Dodgers happy, since they were tired of dodging batteries hurled by drunk Giants fans).
2. While we’re on the subject, why is the San Francisco team called the Giants? Are they like the area’s giant redwoods? Giant, crashing waves? What’s the deal?
BASG: The New York Giants (originally named the “Gothams” in the late 1800’s) moved to San Francisco in 1958, the same year the Brooklyn Dodgers (named for Brooklynites who “dodged” trolley cars) moved to Los Angeles. Much like when the Minneapolis Lakers moved to L.A. or when the Baltimore Colts moved to Indianapolis, neither baseball team felt the need to change their name upon moving to California.
3. My favorite spectator sport, as I think you know, is reality TV. Please comment on the likely outcome of these fantasy smack downs:
1. The Battle of the Bitches … Kate vs. Patti. Who’s meaner, the bitter TLC mom or the chubby matchmaker?
BASG: Kate from Jon and Kate Plus Eight is meaner, no question. No one in the history of television has verbally castrated her husband to the extent that Kate has ruined Jon. That’s part of the reason I can’t sit through a minute of that show (well, that and the fact that the entire program centers around watching a family who has everything paid for by TLC completing mundane tasks like brushing the kids’ teeth or going for pizza).
Patti isn’t mean for the sake of being a bitch, she honestly tells all these socially retarded rich guys (and the groupies who want to trap fall in love with them) what they need to do to get they want out of their love lives. I have to say, watching Patti inform these d-bag “millionaires” (most of them are probably nowhere near millionaires in reality, especially in this economy) that they shouldn’t date women who are 25 years younger than they are, or talk in the third person, is great TV. However, I have a sneaking suspicion many of these rich men love getting dominated by Patti.
Kate’s awful. She’s famous for having too many kids but clearly believes her celebrity status is earned. She proclaims her Christianity at every turn but treats her husband horribly. She acts as if her life is incredibly difficult even though she put herself in the situation by getting greedy at the fertility clinic (really, you decide on medical intervention to have more kids after already giving birth to twins?) and the family’s lives and new house are paid for by TLC. We’re also supposed to feel sorry for her even though she doesn’t work and has paid help to take care of her litter of little morons. How many families with several kids can’t afford childcare and have to pay for everything themselves without help from a pseudo-educational cable network? (Next week on TLC: the world’s fattest cleft-lipped dwarf!) God, I hate her. I’m just glad now that SGL either doesn’t watch the show anymore or puts it on when I’m out of the apartment.
BASG: I had to ask SGL who the Duggars and the Gosselins are, and apparently the aforementioned Jon and Kate Plus Eight are the Gosselins and the Duggars are 18 Kids and Counting.
Hmmm, this is a tough one. Jon and Kate got more than they asked for at the fertility clinic, but the Duggers actually asked Jesus for a full classroom’s worth of kids. I’ve never seen their show so I just checked out the family’s website. Not only are they more flamboyant in their religious fervor than a Church League football team full of Kurt Warners, they prayed for God to bless them with as many children as possible after a “Christian medical doctor” told them that taking the pill was bad because they’re pro-life and the wife got pregnant and had a miscarriage while on birth control. The Duggars keep making babies with no plans to stop (the 18th kid was born a little over three months ago) and they give all their kids J-names — including one kid named Jinger! Uggh.
Even though I hate Kate nearly as much as I despise Tyra Banks, at least what Jon and Kate did at the fertility clinic was an accident. An accident they’re cashing in on, but an accident just the same, and one they probably won’t repeat. If everyone decided to have as many babies as possible like the Duggars, the world’s population would increase exponentially every year. And using gimmicks to name your kids (like Roger Clemens and his wife, who named all their kids with first names starting with “K” because of all the K’s Roger rung up as a pitcher…how clever) is almost as bad as putting your kids through the Beauty Pageant circuit, a subject I’m surprised “Meatballs” didn’t ask about today.
3. And, finally, for my fellow female NCAA basketball fans, a Dreamboat Duel … Bret Michaels (“Rock of Love Bus”) vs. Hugh Hefner (“The Girls Next Door”). Who’s the ickiest? (Feel free to throw in a Colin Firth comment or two just for fun.)
Even though watching Michaels kiss is akin to seeing a labrador eat an ice cream cone full of peanut butter, I’d have to say Hef is much ickier. Bret knows who he is: an aging rock star with extensions who’ll get down with any groupie sporting fish nets and a tramp stamp. Hef (who turned 83 today) cultivates harems of young blonds who aren’t averse to several rounds of plastic surgery, and is allowed to do so because he is rich and started a magazine that used to be influential and important (but now is pretty much “Maxim for old people, but with a tad more nudity”).
It’s amusing when women who frown on prostitution love watching The Girls Next Door, since Hef’s women are salaried “girlfriends.” At least it’s possible there are women in existence who think Bret and his extensions are attractive. Maybe most of the women on the Rock of Love shows like being on TV more than Michaels himself, but at least Bret could get a woman in a bar under the age of 50 without cameras around and the promise of a regular paycheck. There’s no blond chick under 30 in existence who would willfully get naked with wrinkly old Hef if it didn’t mean an incredible boost to her career and lifestyle along with a promise that sex would be a VERY infrequent occurrence (like me watching a Colin Firth movie).
Also, I know it’s supposedly every straight man’s fantasy to bed twins, but the idea of Hef having a threesome with 19-year-old identical twin sisters is fairly nauseating. Have you seen Hef lately? He can barely stand on his own. Wouldn’t the Viagra it would take to wake up Hef’s crank kill him?
So even though Bret’s standards are not quite as high as Hef’s (or Colin Firth’s for that matter, and I’ve heard Firth will jump anything that moves), the former Poison frontman is less icky than the playboy who’s gone from the coolest guy in L.A. to a near-pedophile with probable incest fantasies.