Friday, February 29, 2008

Damn You Bill Withers

Last night Rickey decided that there was a shockingly inadequate amount of funk in his music collection and Rickey attempted to remedy this situation by downloading a whole boatload of Bill Withers songs (legally, of course). Rickey then proceeded to burn himself a CD of the aforementioned funk and introduce it into his beloved Saab in hopes of experiencing a truly funky commute to work. We’re pleased to report that the trip to work was an overwhelmingly funky one, consisting of smooth R&B Bill Withers classics such as “Ain’t No Sunshine,” and “Use Me.” In other words, things we’re definitely looking up for Rickey.

Then, around midday, Rickey noticed his car alarm inexplicably wailing in the office parking lot—something that has never happened before to Rickey’s Saab. Rickey dashed outside only to find his car battery dead and in need of a jumpstart. And now Rickey must jumpstart his car and take it to a garage to have the battery replaced on a late Friday afternoon. What we're getting at here is that Bill Withers’ unadulterated funkiness fucked up Rickey’s Saab. Next time, Rickey’s going with Billy Preston.

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Thursday, February 28, 2008

Your Weekly Linkage

Every now and then Rickey opts to cast off the shackles of original thought and subject himself to the insipid “hey would ya get a load of this!” trend in blogging in order to share items of interest that catch his eye. Therefore, below are several fascinating tidbits floating about the ether which caught Rickey’s eye. (Links now come complete with snarky commentary!) It’s an amusing little column we like to call:

Your Weekly Linkage

Sad news to report today baseball fans: Rickey has learned that former Mets right fielder, Shawn Green will be retiring. For all the criticism Greene took from Mets fans, Rickey would like to point out that he did hit .291 last season and would’ve been a strong lefty bat off the bench if the Mets had decided to resign him for the 2008 season. Why Greene didn’t draw any interest from other baseball teams during the off season is a complete mystery to us—he’s only 35 and would’ve been an invaluable veteran presence for a young call club. As we’ve previously ranted, we liked Shawn Green, not so much on account of his athletic merits as much as the fact that he was a true blue (and silver) tribesman. Sorry Brian Schneider, you may be kinda Semitic, but you’re no Shawn Green. So farewell Hebrew Hammer, and may the Schwartz be with you.

In one of the more aggravating marketing tie-ins Rickey has seen in recent years, Converse and Hunter S. Thompson’s estate have agreed to create a Hunter S. Thompson themed sneaker. We’d say that the good doctor was rolling over in his grave, but in actuality, his remains were shot out of a cannon. Leave Rickey’s dead heroes out of your sleazy corporate world Converse. And if an unscrupulous company insists on creating a promotion with a dead public figure, they should try to make it funny at least. Cory Lidle window washer fluid anyone?

To Rickey’s continuing elation, oil prices are currently hovering at the $100 a barrel mark. The observant political wonk will note that this energy price uptick just happens to coincide with Ralph Nader’s triumphant entrance into the 2008 Presidential race. Coincidence? Rickey suspects not.

Shark attacks are on the rise worldwide. The observant marine biologist will note that this increase in shark attacks just happens to coincide with the passing of the great Roy Schneider. Again, we ask: coincidence? Rickey suspects not.

Hey high school students, looking to pad your college applications? How about a rewarding summer job as Senator Larry Craig’s intern? He’s hiring!

For your enjoyment, here’s a list of the 10 Worst Celebrity Video Games. We’re not sure which is more amusing: “Shaq-Fu” (which, best as we can figure, is some kind of fighting game starring a pixilated Shaquille O’ Neil) or “LA Law: The Game.”

You want to know why Rickey absolutely loathes Disney? Well there are all sorts of reasons, but here’s the latest: ABC, in conjunction with the Cox cable company, is testing a few feature that will prevent viewers from using their TiVo/DVR to fast forward through commercials on ABC. All together now folks: fuck Disney. Rickey commends the Tragic Kingdom for bringing new relevance to the pejorative term “Mickey Mouse.”

And in further techie news, Rickey has found the perfect item for you to spend your Bush tax rebate on! (after you’ve laundered it of course). You see, now that the Blu-Ray/HD-DVD shenanigans are over, Rickey has deemed it to be finally safe to pony up and buy yourself a Blu-Ray player. And hey, Rickey just happens to have the perfect one picked out for you already: behold. It comes bundled with Metal Gear Solid 4, features an 80GB hard drive, and the snazzy new dual shock controller. $500 for a bleeding edge gaming rig and a Blu-Ray player? What a bargain! You know what the cruel tragedy here is? All of Rickey’s television's HDMI ports are occupied. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck…

McSweeney's suggestions for modern day Tintin stories? Oh yes, please.

Bad news Maurice Sendak fans: the Spike Jonze film adaptation of “Where the Wild Things Are” has allegedly run aground. Sunuvabitch. Now if you’ll pardon Rickey, while he scampers off to don his wolf suit and start up an online petition…

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Ladies & Gentlemen, Your 2008 Shea Stadium Promotional Games

Rickey was elated to see that his 2008 Mets Ticket Pack arrived in the mail while he was in Florida this past weekend. We use the term “his” rather loosely, because the tickets were in fact a Christmas gift for Papa Henderson (but Rickey is giving serious consideration to being a schmuck about it and just keeping ‘em for himself). And Rickey was pleased to notice that several of the games Rickey’s pop will be attending are promotional nights at Shea Stadium! So let’s take a look at some of the exciting promotional games the Mets are running this season, shall we? Because as silly (and downright fictional) as some of these promotions are, rest assured they can never be as atrocious as the train wreck that was the 1999 Mercury Mets. Ugh. Rickey remembers all too well. Rickey was there for christsakes…

Interfaith Appreciation Night. Join the Mets in April as all-stars Ryan Church and Angel Pagan star in a thrilling rendition of “Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat” after the game! Marvel at Brian Schneider’s powerfully moving rendition of the classic J&TTD musical number: “Those Canaan Days”!

Bird Flu Awareness Night. Yearning to know more about this mysterious avian disease? Get to the stadium early to behold Pedro Martinez educate the crowd on the origins of bird flu and the proper manner of handling poultry!

Old Timey Country Hoedown Night at Shea with MC Hillbilly Wagner. Hang out at Shea after the game for banjo picking lessons from resident Mets mountain man, Billy Wagner! Other thrilling activates include cow-milking contests, hay baling competitions, and steer lassoing! The first 10,000 guests will receive their very own zither to use to play along with Billy’s rustic Appalachian tunes!

Chorizo Night at Shea. Watch Carlos Delgado and Ramon Castro face off to see who can consume the most chorizo in an hour! Afterward, marvel as an engorged Carlos Delgado attempts to play nine innings at first base at his usual high caliber competitive level!

Retirement Planning Night. Hey there baby boomer Mets fans, are you adequately prepared for your golden years? Confused about Medicare Part D and the byzantine issues of healthcare billing? Be sure to sit in on a pre-game lecture presented by Orlando Hernandez and Moises Alou on the topics of osteoporosis and urinary tract issues respectively!

Jose Reyes Paternity Test Night. The first 15,000 fans to enter Shea will be handed their very own Jose Reyes paternity test: the only paternity test endorsed by Professor Rapido himself!

Mental Health Awareness Night With Aaron Heilman. Feeling a bit down? Stick around after the game for some pointers on coping with disappointment from PERMANENT Mets bullpen pitcher, Aaron Heilman!

Derek Jeter Impersonation Night. Always wanted to ape Derek Jeter’s mannerisms? Are you dying to walk, talk, and act like the famed Yankee shortstop? Hang out at Shea after the game as Mets third baseman and resident golden boy David Wright instructs the crowd how to talk and behave in a manner eerily similar to that of Captain Intangibles himself!

Shea Stadium Dermatology Screening Night. Hey Mets fans, are you looking in the mirror and wondering if that large mole on your back is benign or cancerous? Join us at Shea after the game for a free skin exam and some pointers on mole maintenance from resident mole enthusiast Carlos Beltran!

Pet Obedience Night With Willie Randolph. Sure, your dog is cute and adorable, but do they know how to conduct themselves in a professional and respectful manner? Do they understand what it is to be a well disciplined dog? Get to Shea early for a lecture from Willie Randolph on how to ensure that your pet is obedient and mindful of their surroundings.

Got a few suggestions of your own for Mets promotions? Be sure to leave them in the comments section below!

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Rickey Ruminates

In our newest thrilling column, Rickey is provided with the exciting opportunity to make brash & seemingly untenable statements in bullet point format. It’s a little column we like to call RICKEY RUMINATES, and is essentially a bastardized intellectual stepchild of RICKEY RECOMMENDS. Instead of passing on esoteric recommendations that .015% of our readership will adopt, we’ve decided to pass along ponderous pearls of wisdom that .015% of our readership will heed. Everyone up to speed? Dandy then, here we go:


…that it is acceptable to say something that is wrong as long as the reason is right. Why else go to all the trouble of being a rational animal?

…that club sandwiches are obscenely overrated. Pickles, lettuce, tomato, bacon… who craves these things? Just give Rickey warm brisket and some rye bread and he’s happy as a kosher clam.

…that you should be aware that two years and 142 cases have passed since Clarence Thomas last gave an oral argument in a Supreme Court Case.

…that ILM was completely robbed of an Oscar for their work on “Transformers.” Can someone please explain to Rickey how crappy CGI polar bears win out over angry CGI robots hitting each other?

…that an EPL football club such as Chelsea cannot claim to be more reputable than their cross town rivals Arsenal if they’ve managed to lose £384 million in revenue over the past four years.

…that the sky isn’t yellow, it’s chicken.

…that John McCain’s wife eerily resembles what Rickey suspects an Eloi from H.G. Wells’ “The Time Machine” would look like. Or a valkyrie. Take your pick.

…that Canadian geese no longer migrating is flat out unnatural and a harbinger of things to come.

…that a world without Abe Vigoda is simply not worth living in.

…that libraries are as integral to society as law enforcement (if not more).

…that he’s going to have to think up a new nickname for Ms. Henderson in the not too distant future.

See gang, the ‘Ms.’ appellation won’t work for much longer because… [drum roll please] …Rickey popped the question this past weekend and is pleased to announce that he is now engaged to be wed. We know, this is fucking huge. Mindbogglingly colossal. We must warn you however that it’s your typical good news/bad news scenario. The bad news is that married life tends to mellow out the individual and in the foreseeable future Rickey might no longer possess that unfathomably deep well of rage to rely upon for humor. But the good news is that the harrowing ordeal of planning a wedding will provide ample angst to sustain this blog for roughly the next ten years. When will said wedding transpire? Next year we’re thinking, in the spring. Rickey was initially pushing for a September wedding, but upon careful consideration, Rickey didn’t feel like being perceived as an anti-social jackass checking for score updates during his own wedding if the Mets are making a playoff run that weekend. More details to come, because this “getting married” thing seems like the kind of thing Rickey could blog about…

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Thursday, February 21, 2008

Fun With Google

Being ridiculously full of himself, Rickey is always interested in the manner that lost souls roaming the internet find their way to this site like moths drawn to flame. Who is Rickey to be so fraught with hubristic curiousity, you might ask? Well no one in particular, just an anonymous internet jackass whose site happens to pop up as the third result when someone Googles the name Rickey Henderson. So we’ve got that going for us. So here, in no particular order, are a few keyword search site visits to RwR that caught Rickey's ever watchful eye:

Buffalo Chicken Tenders (We'll share a little secret with you: this is actually how 90% of our visitors discover this site. If we were smart, we’d do a cross promotion with Maalox.)

I am a pilgrim in an unholy land (Yes! Yes you certainly are! Welcome to RwR!)

mets fucked up in 2007 (Well that’s one way of putting it. Another, and much more accurate way would be to say that suddenly, and with no prior warning, the entire franchise spontaneously combusted last fall. Anyhow we’re #5 in a yahoo search for that phrase—most excellent.)

Rubber riding cult (Well that’s rather unnerving. We don't remember discussing anything along those lines. But hey, at least the keyword searches for "mastrabatorium gulag" seem to have abated)

STEVE SOMMERS WFAN MARRY (Someone wants to marry Steve Sommers?! That’s so ridiculously awesome. Come to think of it, so does Rickey.)

hairy arms rachael ray (Rickey’s rather fond of critiquing Rachael Ray, primarily because her "quick & easy" cooking shtick promotes the ideal of convenience held holy by U.S. fast food culture. The woman must be stopped. If that means calling her swarthy and characterizing her as a culinary version of Sacco & Vanzetti, well then, so be it. Swarthy, swarthy, Italians...)

civil war rickey (Indeed, Rickey has experienced the incommunicable experience of war while fighting to prevent the dissolution of the Union. It's seething hell and black infernal background haunt Rickey dreams.)

jousting was against church law (And it still is... particularly that of the finger jousting variety, which if we're not mistaken, was outlawed by Vatican II)

where does rickey henderson live? (In your hearts and minds, much like Tinkerbell! But more specifically, in Westchester County, New York, right next to the X-Men mansion)

Collective Soul popular with what age group (none, and we’re striving to keep it that way)

Archie Manning is a god: we all know that. (Now that, folks, is an extremely definitive and specific google search. Which begs the question, why even bother searching in the first place? Your mind seems to be made up on the matter already…)

Why is the celery in a bloody mary? (Because you need to temper your copious alcohol intake with some vegetables)

wife hits moose (talking squirrel seeks revenge)

lychee "contains no konjac" (well we should certainly hope not, not after Rickey’s expose on the matter)

paying for Vassar (all it costs is forty grand a year and your dignity!)

how to get chippopatamus (Vivaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Piñata!)

pipe smoker actor james Cromwell (He seems like a pipe aficionado—all tweedy and whatnot. True story: a family member of Rickey’s once bumped into this guy buying irish whiskey at a liquor store)

does jack bauer get overtime? (yes, but thanks to CTU being stingy, it’s comp time, not paid OT. Why do you think he’s so pissed off all the time?

Speaking of all things Jack Bauer related--Adam, (Rickey's drinking buddy/copatriot/life partner) has ramped things up considerably over at The Jack Sack. Rickey strongly advises a trip over there for a dose of seriously inspired humor. As a rule, we appreciate blogs that feature photoshopped pictures of Jack Bauer's face onto a photo of Slim Pickins from "Dr. Strangelove" riding the bomb down. 'Nuff said.

And with that, Rickey bids adieu and takes his leave for sunny Orlando, Florida for a weekend of rum assisted poolside relaxation. We were saddened to learn that Roger Clemens will not be appearing at the upcoming ESPN event at Disney World in Orlando, and wonder if it is mere happenstance that this announcement coincides with Rickey's imminent arrival in the sunshine state. We're inclined to think not. Rickey will return next week with yet more wanton frivolity.

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Today, In Lieu of Sentient Thought…

Ever needed a compelling reason never to start a blog? Something to show friends as if to suggest: “seriously, don’t start a blog—you’ll be doing shit like this within a month” ? Well then friends, Rickey has the perfect meme for you. Unlike the previous one we participated in, this one is purely random, and therefore doesn’t revolve around Rickey talking about himself. And that’s a low down dirty shame if you ask us. So thanks to Mike, Rickey has been tagged for the following meme and is now required to begrudgingly:

1. Grab the nearest book (Reading? You fool! Rickey don't read.)
2. Open to page 123. (What? And you think Rickey can count?)
3. Go down to the 5th sentence.
4. Type in the following 3 sentences.
5. Tag five people. (No.)

So away we go! The book Rickey reached for is called “On Ugliness” compiled by Umberto Ecco, and it was a Christmas gift from Rickey’s father. We’ve actually been looking for an excuse to talk about this bizarre book for a while now. It’s essentially a catalogue of all things obscene, repugnant, frightening, monstrous, and repellent--here’s what the NYTimes had to say about it:

“[in this book] you will be hard pressed to find a facet of ugliness that does not rear up in some hilarious, obscene, disgusting or terrifying form.”

It’s essentially the “Freaks” book that Larry David buys as a birthday gift for Ted Danson in an episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” So, uh, thanks again for the uplifting Christmas gift dad! For a little background, Rickey’s dad is a man who once brought back a shot glass and a rubber mouse for Rickey from a business trip. And this was when Rickey was eight. At this point, none of us have any clue whether or not the man is purposefully fucking with Rickey. He’s got to be, right? (Actually, Rickey made out well all things considered—Rickey’s younger brother was befuddled to receive a book on how pencils are made and a child’s sized Brooklyn Knights t-shirt from Old Navy this past Christmas).

Anyhow, getting back to the meme at hand, Rickey flipped this strange book open to page 123, and here’s what Rickey beheld:

No text, just a picture of a strangely disconcerting beastie (and believe us, this is one of the tamer pictures featured in the book). Is it a Muppet? Is it the Cloverfield monster? Is it Cthulhu? Rickey doesn’t know, but here’s what Rickey has learned from this meme: one of the benefits of being a parent is that you are provided with the opportunity to completely mess with your kids’ heads. There’s something wonderfully twisted about procuring books for your children that contain the following picture:
Nightmare fuel anyone? Anyhow, since most of the folks in Rickey’s blogging circle of friends have already been tagged for this meme, we’ll take pity on you folks and not tag anyone at all. The shenanigans end here at RwR, the alpha and omega of pointless fuckwittery such as this. Besides, you witless oafs have better things to do than read, yes? The printed word is dead! Dead, we say!

[posted at Humor Blogs, balls deep in memes since 2006!]

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Tuesday, February 19, 2008

RwR Caption Contest

Rickey’s too gosh darned tired to post anything lengthy today. So we’re passing the comedy torch off to you folks in our latest caption contest installment—this is your big chance to be all humorous and whatnot. This time around, we bring you an oldie but a goodie:

Now that, friends, is an uncomfortable display of man-love. So arise, like minded political wonks, and post your witty captions for this picture in the comments section. Rickey will proclaim a victor in a few days.

[posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Friday, February 15, 2008

Your Friday Linkage

Happy Friday folks. Rickey’s taking a poll: how many LOST viewers do we have who read this blog? Rickey’s debating starting up a weekly column on LOST but would prefer not to alienate his readers with long speculative missives that quickly devolve into "…wait, Hurley’s wearing a mauve shirt with a pineapple symbol on the back…. That means something! Shit, I gotta sit down and reanalyze everything now…" So let us know if there’s any ground support for that sort of thing by voting in the poll below and we’ll get right on it.

Hark, baseball fans! Spring is officially upon us! Mets pitchers and catchers reported to Port St. Lucie yesterday. Redemption Season ‘08 starts now folks.

The astronauts aboard the International Space Station apparently have access to a handgun. Lovely. Thanks very much, intergalactic division of the NRA! All together now folks: “Man, what are you doing with a gun in space?”

Elsewhere in the world of dubious space endeavors, the U.S. military is telling the public not to fear their plummeting spy satellite, because they’re going to it out of the sky! And it's gonna go ka-booom! and China will tremble and all will be right in the world once again.

Hey kids, Do you enjoy riotously high levels of pictorial failure? Well then, The FAIL Blog is definitely up your alley. Because no matter how bad your day may be going, at least you didn’t drive a goddamned tank off a bridge, like this illustrious fellow:

One of Rickey’s favorite sports bloggers, Big Daddy Drew recently cranked out a great write up on the state of ADD addled sports viewership in the internet age. Of particular interest to Rickey was this quote:

"The NFL demands far less time from diehard fans than a sport like basketball or baseball… …But baseball? Holy shit. If you want to be a diehard baseball fan, you pretty much have to forsake the outside world to watch every game. THEY EVEN PLAY TWO GAMES IN ONE DAY, FOR SHIT'S SAKE! DURING WORK HOURS! I understand why the players show up for those things. They get paid. But fans? There are doctors on call who are less put upon."

He goes on to argue that level of sports devotion is unnecessary, and in fact runs contrary to being a well rounded sports fan—a sentiment which we’re certain Ms. Henderson applauds. Definitely give the whole thing a read: it’s thoughtful and contains the sentence “dinner party guests find me worldly and large-penised.”

And in the world of cinematic endeavor, Rickey strongly recommends taking a gander at this:

Goosebumps anyone? We kidded around a while back about Harrison Ford being too damned old to reprise the role of Indy, but thanks to this trailer, our fears are now completely diminished. This flick looks like too much balls to the wall fun to ignore. Dum da dum dummmmmm.....

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Thursday, February 14, 2008

Aaaargh, Rickey's Back!

Rickey’s experiencing Sciatica! Sounds like a groovy science fiction film, doesn’t it? Well in a way, it is. The key difference here is that instead of travelling to strange alien worlds in a rocket ship, Rickey gets to drive from his primary care physician to spine specialists and play the “mother may I?” game with our nation’s byzantine healthcare system. Indeed, if Rickey’s chiropractor is to be believed, Rickey has apparently managed to inflame his sciatic nerve (at the ripe old age of 28, no less). But frankly, Rickey looks upon chiropractors as glorified triages, so we’re withholding judgment until Rickey meets with his team of medical specialists.

How does it feel? Well it’s certainly not the worst pain you’ll ever experience, (say, the kind of pain that one associates with their favorite baseball team spontaneously combusting in the month of September), but it still smarts a hell of a lot. The discomfort pretty much consists of sharp twinges in the lower back and left leg whenever Rickey stands up, sits down, or walks. But whenever Rickey sneezes, we’re talking “What Hath God Wrought?” levels of pain.

How did this happen? Well Rickey makes a point of living a remarkably sedentary lifestyle, so there was a very short list of possible causes of Rickey’s lower back pain. In other words, over exertion is definitely off the table. In fact, the only physically taxing activity Rickey partook in leading up to this calamitous event was a Guitar Hero III session on Tuesday night--specifically, a heated guitar battle between Rickey and Slash, which necessitated a lot of wild flailing of the Les Paul controller. Rickey strongly suspects that’s the cause of all this. Yes, you’re reading this right—Rickey fucked up his back playing Guitar Hero. That’s got to be a first.

And like any celebrity worth his salt, Rickey is now fervently campaigning to raise public awareness and sympathy towards his newfound ailment. So it’s all hand on deck for this one you bastards, because Rickey’s sciatic nerve certainly isn’t going to heal itself. Hot packs and anti-inflammatory medication only goes so far folks. Rickey needs your help and he needs it now, so here’s what you can do to remedy the situation:

1) Go outside right now and ring a bell. Whenever you ring a bell, Rickey’s sciatic nerve becomes less and less inflamed. Rickey spent hours perusing WebMD and the British Medical Journal to arrive at this conclusion (as well as confirming that he didn’t have syphilis) and we’re pretty confident that this is a good therapeutic starting point.

2) Give Rickey your sciatic nerve. C’mon, please? It’s not as if you’re using it or anything…. No? Fine then, that brings us to our last option:

3) The harvest of stem cells. Here’s how it will work: on the 15th Day of Nisan, Rickey will take to the skies in search of stem cells to repair his damaged sciatic nerve. The houses of Mets fans or registered Democrats will be passed over. Those not falling under these categories will have their firstborn taken so that Rickey can feast hungrily upon their stem cells, thereby healing his lower back.

So Happy Valentines Day from Rickey’s inflamed sciatic nerve! And with that, Rickey’s takes his leave to duck walk off to his PCP. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck…

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Odds & Ends

Rickey has always held the belief that life is marked by the ebb and flow of random shenanigans. Some shenanigans by design, others not so much. Shenanigans of the unanticipated variety occurred last week at Rickey’s local A&P while Rickey was procuring flowers and chicken soup for Ms. Henderson who was at home recovering from a minor surgical procedure. Having obtained the aforementioned lilies and Campbell’s Select chicken soup, Rickey proceeded to the checkout aisle where the cashier looked at Rickey, looked at the items on the conveyor belt, then, without and warning, proceeded to vomit all over the place. We’re talking scatter shot: all over the flowers, all over the soup, all over the conveyor belt (but not, thankfully, all over Rickey).

Now Rickey likes to think of himself as a worldly person. A man who is rarely fazed. But when confronted with the sudden and inexplicable manifestation of partially digested food in a very public place, Rickey freezes up. So while the cashier slunk behind the counter and gurgled something about needing a mop, Rickey coolly went back, obtained a new set of flowers and soup, and tried his luck at another checkout aisle. It’s not that Rickey’s an inconsiderate prick, it’s just that surprise vomiting incidents don’t fit in with Rickey’s understanding of what a trip to the supermarket should entail. Who expects the cashier at the check out aisle to suddenly throw up in front of them? No one! It’s like chaos theory in action!

And then there’s the variety of shenanigans that Rickey perpetrates accidentally. Shenanigans that a bit of forethought and consideration could easily have avoided. Picture this: it’s a nice sunny day and Rickey and Ms. Henderson are getting into Rickey’s car. Rickey notices grime on the windshield and operates the washer fluid, not realizing that Ms. Henderson was in the process of getting into Rickey’s automobile at the time. And voila, windshield washer fluid ends up in Ms. Henderson’s eyes and riotous calamity ensues on an otherwise routine errand running expedition.

These two recent events made Rickey wonder: can blogging consistently about oneself in the third person make someone a little too self absorbed? Can it drive them to forsake common courtesy and social decency and fixate only on themselves? Rickey is starting to suspect that it can. We’d use this as an excuse to post less often, but frankly, blogging angrily about sports, culture, life, and one's blossoming drinking problem is a whole lot more fun than you'd expect.

And now for something completely different: a circus in China featuring a lion riding a horse.

Indeed, what the everloving fuck? How happy do you think that horse is right now? (Not very, we’re guessing). And judging by the picture, that lion is all business. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so, you know, wantonly barbaric… Ladies and gentlemen we proudly present your home for the 2008 Summer Olympics! Coming soon: a lemur riding a lion riding a horse!

Meanwhile, in the exciting realm of legitimate sports, we’re pleased to report that Rickey received a few photos from last week’s Giants parade in NYC. We’re sharing them with you way past the fact because, honestly, Rickey’s still on cloud nine over Big Blue’s incredible playoff run. Here you go:

From RwR reader bybrklyn:

And from RwR reader Tom (aka, Maybe I Can Help) here’s a flickr album of the celebration.

And lest we forget, Tom, the designer of our awesome new banner, is soliciting suggestions for a name for his new boat. Those interested in nautical immortality should proceed to the post at Toasty Joe’s site and leave variants on the appellation “Bone Smuggler” in the comments section over there.

P.S.: Today marks our 200th post here at Riding With Rickey. We don’t have anything particularly witty to say about that, we just felt like you should be aware of that sort of thing. And humbled. Enjoy your Wednesday folks.

[Posted at Humor-Blogs]

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Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Cooking With Rickey: Rickey’s Tasty Tamil Tenders

In our latest installment of “Cooking With Rickey,” we figured we’d share something a tad more exotic than your run of the mill stew this time around. For those of you already fretting about the possible complexity of this dish, have no fear: cooking Indian food doesn’t need to be difficult or even remotely challenging. In fact, other than setting off the smoke alarm while making this dish, Rickey was for the most part, calm as a Hindu cow while whipping up this dish. Got a broiler and about $20 in your wallet? Well then you’re in business skippy. You see, Rickey loves cooking, but being an incredibly lazy man, he prefers preparing succulent dishes with the minimal possible effort. So behold! This wondrous recipe only calls for three major ingredients:

1) Tandoori mix from your local Indian Grocery store (find yours, pronto). Here’s a link to the particular mix Rickey likes to use.

2) Large container of Greek yogurt—preferably Fage. Don’t get cute and opt for plain jane yogurt as this recipe requires the tanginess that only swarthy Mediterranean cows can provide.

3) Boneless chicken breasts. You can splurge on organic ones if you’re feeling frisky, but frankly, Rickey has never been able to discern between free range chicken and that of the Perdue variety.

What's better than a recipe requiring a scant three ingredients? How about a recipe featuring a scant three steps?

1) Mix together the yogurt and the tandoori paste. There are measurements to follow on the back of the tandoori packet, but Rickey says damn the torpedoes and just add enough tandoori paste to the yogurt until the sauce is a dark yellowish/brownish color. The more paste you add, the spicier the sauce will be. Those in search of something less gastronomically provocative can always add less. Do what you want: you’re the hero of this story, not us.

2) Cut the chicken breasts into bite sized pieces, and marinate them in the sauce in the refrigerator for three hours. For the record, Rickey loves marinating things. Is there a better feeling than being free to play Guitar Hero III with the blessed assurance that seriously good shit is transpiring in your fridge? We think not.

3) Thread the chicken on skewers, brush the pieces with melted butter (or ghee, which is Indian clarified butter and yields a better taste).

And remember folks, it's not real ghee unless you see the label bearing a picture of a bovine with a face that seems to say "Fuck you! I'm a cow!" Anyhow, broil or grill the skewers for 4 to 5 minutes per side, turning once and brushing again. Here’s what the end result should look like:

Is it authentic Indian food? Not particularly, no. But then again, neither are other westernized Indian dishes like Chicken Tikka Masala, and you think they’re pretty damned tasty, don’t you? If we can use an analogy, Rickey's recipe is to authentic Indian cuisine as the Epcot version of Paris is to the real thing. But for faux Indian food, it's not half bad, and besides, you don't really feel like grinding cumin seeds in a mortar and pestle, do you?

And no, broiling probably won’t yield the same results as a proper tandoori oven, but unless you’ve got LTTE members constructing a large clay furnace in your back yard, the broiling method will have to do for now. Also, most Indian grocery stores sell coriander chutney which is very good for dipping the chicken pieces in. Add some basmati rice to the chicken pieces and voila, you’ve got yourself a no fuss Indian meal.

Best of luck (and try not to set the smoke alarm off like Rickey did).

[Post at Humor-Blogs]

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Thursday, February 7, 2008

Rickey Reports From The Santana Press Conference

In the wake of the Giants’ miraculous and thrilling playoff run, we were wondering, could things possibly get any better? Well, you could say that. New York City, meet Baseball Jesus.

And like any good investigative blogger worth his salt, Rickey was in attendance as Johan Santana was introduced to the New York media. (It’s a hell of a lot easier to get into the Mets press room than you’d think: Rickey crafted a primitive press pass from balsa wood and Carlos Beltran's mole excretions that easily passed muster). And so, pad of paper in hand, Rickey listened and reported. Below is Rickey’s transcript of the press conference:

Johan Santana: …and in summation I’m just happy and excited to be here playing for the Mets and looking forward to a great season.

Omar Minaya: And now we’d like to open this up to questions. I ask that you keep them short and devoid of any mention of the Lasting Milledge trade, of which I have no knowledge or memory. Ahem, Mike you’re first.

Mike Francessa: Johan, first off, welcome to New York. Where you do you stand on the current race war going on in the Mets clubhouse? Will you be joining the Jose Reyes Liberation Front or the Schoeneweis Six?

Santana: Well, Mike, both sides have made tempting offers, but in the end I’ve gotta go with the Latino camp due to their festive handshake and dance routines. They’re a very lyrical people you know.

Chris Cotter: Johan, welcome to New York. What do you think about my hair and boyish good looks?

Santana: Well you lack the strum und drang of, say, Steve Overmeyer, but all in all, not too bad studio boy. Next?

Kat O' Brien: Johan, can you describe your mindset at the moment?

Santana: I have a certain competition in me. I want no one else to succeed.

Kat O' Brien: Wait, aren't you just quoting that Daniel Day Lewis movie? "There Will Be...

Santana: I drink it up! I drink up YOUR milkshake!

Kat O' Brien: Pardon?

Omar Minaya: Uh, it's been a long plane flight from Minnesota and Johan's just a little excited at the moment. Next question.

Matt Cerrone: Johan, welcome to New York. I was recently able to purchase a new house thanks to our nonstop coverage of trade rumors involving you over at Mets Blog. I didn’t really have a question or anything, my lawyers were just advising me to publicly disclose that fact.

Santana: Glad to help Matt. I hear C.C. Sabathia is available in ’09 if you’re looking for a nice summer getaway place on the Vineyard.
Pedro Martinez: Mr. Johan, is it true that you’ll be taking my spot in the pitching rotation?

Santana: Uhhh yeah, listen about that Petey…

Willie Randolph: If I can interrupt here for just a second, I’d just like to point out that at Spring Training, everyone, regardless of their talent, tries out for a spot on my team. Pedro could easily be the Mets #1 pitcher in 2008. Also, I haven’t ruled out the possibility of putting Johan in the bullpen.

Santana: What?! Hey Omar, this wasn’t mentioned in the contract I just signed with you!

Omar Minaya: (whispering to Johan) Don’t worry, Willie’s just a little riled up that we didn’t bring back Shawn Greene. I plan on simmering him down by signing seasoned veteran Sammy Sosa in a few days. It’s all taken care of Johan. Next question please!

Steve Phillips: Johan, there have been a few rumors involving your health concerns. Can you tell me of any physical ailments you might have that I can talk about when I explain how overrated the 2008 Mets are on ESPN?

Santana: Good question Steve, thanks for asking. I'd say that I'm about as healthy as you were in 1998 when those nasty sexual harassment allegations concerning you surfaced. Also, I can toss a fastball that clocks in at 97 miles per hour and a changeup that pretty much looks identical. So I've got that going for me, thanks for asking Steve. Next?

Murray Chass: Johan, have you decided what introduction song you’ll be using as a Met?

Santana: I’m actually not sure yet Murray. Is there a rap song that contains the phrase “I am become death, the destroyer of worlds”? If so, I’m all over that. Maybe I can get Lastings Milledge to record it for me? Hey, where is that kid anyway? I didn't see his name listed on the the trade for me, so he's still here, right?

Omar Minaya: Uh, that name doesn't ring a bell. Next question.

Mike Lupica: Johan, any predictions for the Mets in 2008?

Santana: Without any hesitation I can tell you that I will have a higher batting average than Brian Schneider, that much is certain. As far as the 2008 season goes, well, nothing can be as painful as what you New Yorkers experienced last fall, right? I mean really, what’s worse than that? More ticket price hikes? Getting shut out by Scott Kazmir? Watching David Wright sodomize Jose Reyes on the pitchers mound?

Omar Minaya: This conference is over! Everyone out!

Santana: Seriously folks, I could go on all day: Resigning Jose Lima? Duaner Sanchez getting run down by a horse drawn carriage in Central park? Anna Benson returning? Castro and Delgado reenacting a scene from 2 Girls/1Cup?

Omar Minaya: Out, out! Everyone get the fuck out!

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Rickey's Biannual Beard Bloviation

We’ll be the first to confess that other than maintaining a wry sense of humor about our nation’s batshit crazy system of selecting its leaders, Rickey knows (and cares) relatively little about politics. But when the topics of politics and beard growing collide in a wondrous bristly fervor, Rickey feels downright compelled to weigh in on the matter. So come with Rickey as he examines the current state of politics, as seen through the rubric of facial hair exhibition.

How did we get here, you might ask? Well, today’s discussion has been prompted thanks to former presidential candidate Bill Richardson’s recent decision to grow a beard. So if you’re not a big fan of reading weird and discomforting articles about beards on this blog, be sure to write your local senator or congressman about it—they’ll square things away in no time flat. Indeed, for those who missed it, Governor Bill Richardson, apparently unhappy with being cast out of the political arena like a mismatched sock, decided to cultivate a beard in hopes of expressing his deep existential dissatisfaction on the matter.*Pardon the rudimentary arrow & text... Rickey's still struggling to learn the graphical editing powerhouse that is Microsoft Paint.

It’s essentially what we’d refer to as a “protest beard,” a means of signaling that one is feeling wronged, and Rickey takes great umbrage with this troubling development. Make no mistake scruffy readers, this reckless man is ruining things for the rest of us beard flaunting men. With his brazen actions, Bill Richardson is contributing to the cultural misconception that in order for a man to feel compelled to grow a beard, something must have gone seriously awry. Even worse, there’s a growing precedent for this sort of wanton behavior in U.S. politics: in the wake of the 2000 election debacle, Al Gore did something similar by growing a beard to indicate to the world that being unjustly robbed of the presidency didn’t sit very well with him.
Ok, we get it you’re bitter, and Rickey doesn’t fault you for it, but gentlemen please, you’re ruining things for the rest of us wiskered individuals. We have very few rules here at RwR, but one of them is that a beard is not intended to be used as a means of lamenting one’s dashed presidential aspirations. Thanks to the example set by fools like Richardson and Gore, the uninformed bystander will behold a bearded man and assume that there has been a death in the family, a break-up, a stock market crash, or a sudden and inexplicable fixation with model railroading. And that’s all wrong.

See, a beard is intended to be a jubilatory celebration of one’s masculinity: refined yet rugged. In short, beards are not for sulkers. Granted, everyone gets a little down sometimes, and Rickey understands that. Rickey has been known to occasionally suffer from the doldrums himself, which when paired with possessing a beard creates new and unique challenges. One who would previously have simply been experiencing a bad day is now perceived as the “sullen bearded man in the corner” who is to be shunned at all costs. Nonetheless, Rickey plows through these challenges with the zeal and enthusiasm you’d expect from any other proud beard owner. But goddamnit, these hack politicians aren’t making things easy for us, no sir.

Whatever happened to bygone days of American politics when powerful bearded leaders like Lincoln, Grant, Harrison, and Garfield could flaunt their man-beards without fear of societal reprisal? Where are the good old days when a bearded president could affirm his untamed awesomeness by hunting wild boar and vagabonds from a rocking chair situated on the front lawn of the White House? Rickey laments the passing of this golden era and urges you to campaign for its return by visiting this site post haste. For a moment, forget the fact that we'll most likely be inaugurating either our first African American or female president in history--the last time our nation witnessed a bearded president, Jack The Ripper was running around London. And that friends, is a crime of epic proportions (the lack of bearded leadership, not all the Ripper stuff... ...prostitutes are dead on the inside already).

In the meantime, have no fear fuzzy readers: Rickey has no plans whatsoever to abandon his beard at the moment (Rickey totally digs resembling Steven Spielberg circa 1981 on the set of “E.T.” when he wears a baseball cap).

It’s bearded men ahoy over at Humor-Blogs.

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Tuesday, February 5, 2008

A Call For Pictorial Submissions

Today, your Superbowl Champions, the New York Giants, will culminate their brilliant playoff run by marching down the Canyon of Heroes in lower Manhattan. If any of our NYC readers snag any photos of the festivities, feel free to email them to Rickey at and we’ll toss ‘em up on the site tomorrow. Sorry Bostonians, no joyous duck boat parade for you folks this year, but hey, if you feel like arranging a sullen procession down the "Trench of Shame" (aka, Newbury Street, and/or Gisele Bundchen’s birth canal) then by all means, have fun with that.

And in other news, today is Super Tuesday, so regardless of your political affiliation, Rickey urges you to vote. (Except you Trotskyites out there—you can probably sit this one out). Indeed, vote early, often, and by whatever means necessary—even if it involves crossing state lines and falsifying voter records. On a serious note, we’d like to point out that voting is pretty much the only thing you owe to society (well that, and remembering to wear pants when in public). In short, you have no excuse for not voting, only a real moral obligation to do so.

That having been said, Rickey would remind you however that regardless of the outcome of today’s Democratic primaries, we’re still months away from knowing who will be the chosen donkey. Meanwhile, John McCain could easily be anointed by the end of the day as the defacto Republican contender, which means that Rickey gets to watch Hillary and Obama sodomize each other on CNN for the next several months. Lovely. You know what, can we just vote in Eli Manning for President? Look at how he deftly escaped being tackled in that incredible drive Sunday night—how does this not qualify Eli for extricating the U.S. from Iraq?

And remember, a click on Humor-Blogs is a click for victory.

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Monday, February 4, 2008

Live Blogging The Superbowl

In the spirit of unbridled originality, Rickey decided to keep a running journal while watching the Superbowl last night. We know, we know: everyone and their grandmother kept a live blog of the game. But we’d like to see your grandmother drop as many f-bombs as Rickey does. So rather than trying to be rational and collect our thoughts about what was one of the all time greatest upsets in modern sports history, we’ll just let the madness speak for itself. If anyone ever asks Rickey why he watches football, he’ll direct them towards this running diary. Enjoy.

8:30am: Wake up. It's Superbowl Sunday and Rickey is positively tumescent.

9 to 11am: Reading! …oh who the hell are we trying to kid: quality time with Resident Evil 4 on the wii. Zombies a go-go!

11:30am to 1pm: Go for walk with Ms. Henderson. Bikers are complete and absolute schmucks. As if the spandex pants and helmets weren't bad enough, they insist upon yelling “passing on your left!” like total pricks in order to get you to move out of their way. What if Rickey was to shove a stick in their spokes and cause a spectacular crash, similar to the motorcycle chase in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?”

1pm to 2pm: Return home. Daydream about motorcycle chase scene from “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.”

2pm: Cook up buffalo chicken tenders. Is it just Rickey or is the secret ingredient in Frank’s Red Hot Sauce just a whole lotta vinegar? Sorry to those for whom this is old news, but for Rickey, this is a mind shattering revelation akin to Dave Bowman’s “My god, it’s full of stars” line from “2001.”

4:30pm: Listen to Mike & The Mad Dog's pregame show, live from Arizona. In one of their more awkward moments, Chris Russo looks out onto the football field and mistakes Joe Buck for John Madden. Wow. Can't do that Dog, can't do that.

5:15pm: Watch asinine promo narrated by Russell Crowe with montage of JFK, the Apollo Space Program, and MLK which suddenly segways into Giants vs. Pats clips. Typical Superbowl nonsense: tedious, self-aggrandizing, lengthy, irrelevant and wholly insincere.

5:55pm: Hilarious FOX Superbowl intro involving cheesy reenactments of the U.S. Founding Fathers. Rickey's having flashbacks to a brutal childhood vacation spent at Colonial Williamsburg. Damn you, Colonial Willamburg! So close to Busch Gardens, yet so far...

6:11pm: Team introductions. Something involving a staged press conference, "Crazy Train" blasting, and the repeated use of the word ‘resiliency.’ See, this is why Rickey’s more of a baseball fan…

6:15pm: Wowsers, a RED sleeveless sweatshirt for Bill Bellachick! Is that supposed to be his war hoodie? It’s a sartorial nightmare!

6:17pm: Yet another Ford Sync commercial. Play artist: Flaming Lips! (ooh, they’re going for the hipsters!)

6:38pm: Slowly but surely, the G-Men are moving the ball... Two third town conversions by Manning and a nice seven yard run from Jacobs are making Rickey feel very excited right now.

6:45pm: 3-0 on a Giants fieldgoal. First blood. And yet, why does Rickey feel that New York has awakened a sleeping giant?

6:58pm: The Pats just moved the ball down the field in half the time with half the fuss as the Giants just did... Cue stupid Giants penalty in 5... 4... 3... 2...

6:59pm: Yep, there it is! Pass interference by Antonio Pierce! First and goal Pats. And cue “unhappy Eli Manning on the bench” camera shot.

7:01pm: Touchdown, New England. We’re seriously debating not updating as frequently and just focusing on the commercials...

7:09pm: Eli airs it out to Toomer who stays inbounds with some awesome footwork! And hey, nice offensive pass interference there Toomer!

7:10pm: A limited release Saranac beer with a picture of a skiing bear on the label is considered high brow, correct? Meh, Rickey’s not turning back now.

7:13pm: Er, whoops, Eli gets picked off in the red zone. Cue up “pissy Tom Coughlin arm flailing” camera shot.

7:16pm: But on the plus side, “Iron Man” looks goddamned terrific. Huzzah for level headed directors being handed quality comic book franchises!

7:18pm: A three and out for the Pats!

7:20pm: zzzzz something Giants, blah blah blah... Old Balls Feagles marches out to kick again.

7:27pm: Two back to back sacks on Tom Brady, not too shabby Giants defense.

7:40pm: UPDATE: buffalo chicken tenders and beer taste phenomenal. Rickey has eaten about 20 of these magnificent bastards, there’s blue cheese in his beard, and he just spilled beer all over himself. Meanwhile Ms. Henderson looks on with a stare approximating one you’d expect to see from a nanny upon discovering that a child entrusted to her care has just shat in the bathtub. (This is her first Superbowl, by the way).

8:10pm: Hey look, it's everyone's favorite lesbian rocker, Tom Petty!

8:12pm: In case you didn't know, the Superbowl coordinators hire the crowd that dances in front of Tom Petty's stage. And apparently, they color code 'em all with different hued t-shirts. Sway crayola crayons, sway! And for the audience watching at home, this is absolutely everything you need to know about 70's rock!

8:26pm: Great stop on the Angel Moroni to kick off the second half! Is it safe to say that we’re all invested in this game now?

8:32: Ok, that Sales Genie commercial with the Chinese panda (“I need some good sares reeds”) is flat out racist. And this is coming from a guy who giggles uncontrollably when reference is made to the "blackzilla" genre of pornography.

8:45: In what Joe Buck calls a highly controversial decision, the Pats go for it in Giants' territory and fail to convert on fourth down. Rickey could give a fuck. Giants ball.

8:51pm: Yep, just throw into triple coverage anytime Eli! That would’ve been a great play if, you know, Burress wasn’t covered by three guys.

9:05pm: Joe Buck just referred to Frank Caliendo as a celebrity. Yep, there it is: the ominous harbinger harkening the downfall of western civilization!

9:07pm: As Peyton Manning stares creepily on from a darkened skybox, Eli the barrow boy tosses a forty five yard pass! Holy hell in a hand basket the Giants are in scoring position!

9:11pm: TOUCHDOWN!

9:12pm: 10-7 Giants! What in the name of sweet fuck is happening here?

9:20pm: Wow, and the Pats are turning the ball over yet again. Something’s clearly amiss here. This can’t be Belichick playing the old rope-a-dope trick can it?

9:24pm: Ok, you know you're playing the New England Patriots, yes? Over eight minutes remain in the fourth quarter--clearly, it is way too early to go to the running game. What's the freaking issue here?

9:26pm: Annnnnnd here's a punt. Pats ball yet again. Let the hand wringing commence. The Giants defense has been phenomenal so far, but they're getting tired… not good…

9:32pm: A scrappy guy with a name like Wes Welker should be commanding American Marines in the Gulf of Tonkin right now. He should not, we repeat, NOT be playing any form of professional sports. And certainly not against the Giants. Pats on the NY twenty yardline. Three minutes to go. Hello stomach knots!

9:34pm: Oh shit that’s right; we’re playing the fucking Patriots.

9:41pm: 14-10 Pats. Eli, if you haven't defecated yourself, we, the Giants faithful, urge you to pony up for a two minute drill...

9:59pm: Wow, Eli Manning breaking free of multiple tackles to throw the ball to the NE 24 yard line. Infuckingcredible—the kid thrives under pressure. Someone please explain to Rickey why the Giants don’t run a no huddle offense for the entire game?

10:00pm: Sweet fancy Moses, Manning connects to Burress in the endzone! Giants up 17-14! Right before our very eyes, Eli Manning is turning into a man. It’s like watching a Bar Mitzvah! Quick, someone get a chair to hoist Eli up on!

10:01pm: Under a minute left in the game and Tom Brady’s back on the field. Intensity builds. Rickey’s not ruling out a “Last Boy Scout” scenario involving Randy Moss running to the endzone and shooting Giants defenders…Ut oh, and here comes the terrifying long bomb to Moss… whew, too damned close.

10:05pm: It’s over. Wow. Rickey can’t believe what he just saw. Rickey feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore. Like everything that was once true in this world has now been called into question. Hello Eli Manning, Superbowl winning quarterback.

10:07pm: Ms Henderson starts text messaging her friends in the Boston area. They might be unwell. (You'd be a little queasy too if your undefeated football franchise was just trounced by the sports equivalent of Buster Bluth from "Arrested Development"). Meanwhile, Rickey scrambles off to make a series of phone calls which will quickly deteriorate into profane exclamations and loud whooping.

And if you made it this far, you might as well check out humor-blogs. You know, for the kids.

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Archie Manning sells sperm on eBay!

Archie Manning, you are a football God.

No, you've never won a Super Bowl, and you toiled amongst the doldrums of the NFL with your run as the quarterback of the New Orleans Saints. But you are responsible for siring two (count 'em TWO!) consecutive Super Bowl Champion quarterbacks (Peyton Manning and Eli Manning, respectively). And, quite generously, you have decided to sell your own DNA on eBay-- allowing any regular American family the chance to raise their own meal ticket. Here's the listing below:

The listing states the following:

"This sperm is 100% guaranteed! In 9 months from the date of insemination, you will have a healthy baby with the ability to throw a 30+ yard pass downfield. If you don't believe in the power of Archie Manning's seed, then you're missing out. Shipping and handling is free. Sorry, no refunds. Email with questions."

"Come" and get your ultimate Super Bowl memorabilia today!

Disclaimer: This is not true. Please don't sue us for defamation. Thank you!

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Friday, February 1, 2008

And Now We Play The Waiting Game...


Awww, the waiting game sucks! Let’s play Hungry Hungry Hippos! (Pardon the gratuitous Simpsons reference, but it's Friday, and to be completely honest, Rickey's creatively bankrupt ).

At the moment, Rickey’s a tad jittery waiting around for Johan Santana (or “The Maestro” as we look forward to calling him) to officially become a New York Met. So here’s a quick item to tide you anxious Mets fans over until the deal is officially announced…

Apparently Hulk Hogan is on board the Obama Express.

(Thanks to RwR reader Adrian for tipping off Rickey to this thrilling development). As of this writing, Rickey would like to point out that the following lesser action heroes are still completely undecided at the moment:

Jean Claude VanDamme
Dolph Lundren
Steven Segal
The Rock
Mr. T

Personally, we’re holding out on endorsing a democratic candidate until we hear who Mr. T favors. As Mr. T goes, so goes the party, and Rickey pities the fool who doesn’t realize that.

Also in the wondrous world of politics, Rickey had the great pleasure of bidding farewell to the loathsome Rudolph Giuliani this week. Toasty Joe has a great send off to NYC’s famed Italian dictator which can be read hither.

Oh yeah, we almost forgot: it's the fucking Superbowl this weekend. Have fun with that folks. Rickey's calling it now:

Giants 24
Pats 17

Why not? Call it New Yorker pride, call it wishful thinking, call it whatever you want. What it comes down to is the fact that the Patriots have everything to lose and the G-Men are just happy as all hell to be at the big dance. And that, friends, reeks of upset potential to us.

And if you're feeling cuilinary this Superbowl Sunday, give Rickey's Boneless Buffalo Chicken Tenders recipe a shot. They're rather good, if we may say so ourselves.

Go check out Humor-Blogs. Their shenanigans are cheeky and fun.

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