Friday, May 30, 2008

Your Weekly Mets Update: The "Nothing is Fucked Here Dude" Edition

We were going to title this installment of the RwR weekly Mets update the "I Waited All Winter For This Shit?!" edition, but then a funny thing happened: they won three in a row, which, unless we're mistaken, is somewhat of a streak. And fortunately for you Metropolitans fans, Rickey was in attendance at Shea during last night's uplifting game and comes bearing photographic documentation of the evening. Thanks to a friendly coworker, the one we mentioned in this story, Rickey and Ms. Henderson scored excellent seats along the third baseline. And if watching one's coworker belt out the National Anthem wasn't thrilling enough, Rickey also got to witness a solid Mets victory, the return of Joe Torre to NY, and the coolest celebrity couple ever. (Just scroll down, it will all make sense shortly). Behold, snapshots of a magical evening in Queens, in thrilling picto-vision!

*Please note that these images are brought to you with the implied oral consent of Major League Baseball.

Like we said, awesome seats.

And right in front of the television camera. You have good reason to be thankful that SNY broadcasts the game on a 7 second delay. Rickey does love the lime light so...

Rickey's coworker belting out the National Anthem with his barbershop quartet.

Ladies & Gentlemen, behold: the reason(s) we all continue to watch the Mets.

...And one of the reasons we've come to doubt certain decisions on the part of the Mets organization. Four year contract? Bah, why not make it eight?
By Zeus' beard, it's Joe Torre! Apparently someone in the Dodgers dugout woke him from his Bigelow green tea induced coma and told him that his starting pitcher was screwing the pooch.
And yet more Joe Torre!

Caption contest, NOW. Make with the photoshopping you bastards.

Ms. Henderson approves of this image.

Wait, can that be...?
Indeed it is! The coolest Hollywood couple ever: Tim Robbins & Susan Sarandon! Don't you just want to be adopted by these two? You know, go home with 'em, maybe have a nice day making a salad or cooking something? Is that just Rickey?

Ever felt awkward about singing at the baseball game? Well you shouldn't and here's why: Rickey watched Tim Robbins sing along to "I'm A Believer" last night. If he can do it, so can you goddamnit.
Yes, that's a teamsters jacket she's wearing... It's official, these two are getting wedding invites.
And this guy can ordain the ceremony.

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Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Rickey's Vacation Retrospective, Part I

Please accept Rickey's profound apologies for his long leave of absence--we promise that we will never abandon you again. And now that Rickey's has returned from vacation and is back, (back!), back in the New York groove, we figured we'd spend some time discussing a person whom Rickey and Ms. Henderson had the distinct pleasure of visiting during their stay in sunny Florida.

We'll preface this by saying that when you’re a member of that magnanimous group of people whom Tom Brokaw referred to as The Greatest Generation, you feel a certain sense of entitlement. A certain confidence in your tone of voice when you recount war stories of storming Normandy and leading a daring five man incursion to steal Hitler’s shoehorn. A certain braggadocio whilst you blast your big band music, break wind uncontrollably at a Denny’s, or fall asleep in the library. And quite frankly, we as a society don’t posses the balls to call you on any of it, because you belong to that Greatest Generation which undeniably has yet to be surpassed. But on its own, that’s merely a mundane opportunity to behave like a boorish old fool, and really, who’s entertained by that these days anyhow? What’s the point of being a member of this famed group of people if you can’t have some fun and push the tolerance card to its absolute limit?

So really, what do you do when you’re a member of the Greatest Generation? Why, you lead a one man campaign to get a bridge somewhere in Florida painted sky blue of course.

Enter stage right, Rickey’s grandfather. For a bit of background, Rickey’s grandfather currently dwells in Key Largo with his wife and successfully fought the creation of this bridge for nearly a decade before the case was finally tossed out of the courts. And so, not willing to back down, the guy informed the Florida DOT that if any bridge was going to go up, it was going to be sky fucking blue, just like God himself intended.

*A fun little side note: the body of water that the bridge crosses is known as “Jewfish Creek.” For those amongst us who aren’t marine biologists, trust Rickey when he tells you that the Jewfish is quite possibly the meanest and ugliest fish you’ll ever witness, (complete with a massive schnoz!) In retrospect, campaigning to have the name of the creek (or possibly even the fish) changed might have been a more worthwhile cause, but who knows, perhaps the White Supremacist Ichthyologist lobby is a force to be reckoned with down south.

So if you ever find yourself driving from mainland Florida to the Keys and are wondering what the deal is with that odd sky blue bridge that’s a mile long, you’ve got Rickey’s grandfather to thank for it. And as far as this energetic man is concerned, that's the tip of the iceberg. The man is a sheer force of nature: always on the move, perpetually ebbing and flowing for a cause of some sort. It doesn't do him justice to boil his life down to a few meager bullet points, but nonetheless, here are a few items Rickey's found most interesting:

  • He once flew from Syracuse to New York with a crooked-neck squash that was so large that he had to buy an extra ticket for it.
  • In 1937, his grandfather, being friends with a fellow named Jacob Ruppert, wrangled World Series box seats at Yankee Stadium and then took him into the locker room to have a game ball signed by all the Yankee players: Lou Gehrig, Tony Lazzari, Red Rolfe, Bill Dickey, Charlie Keller, George Selkirk, Joe DiMaggio, Red Ruffing and Frank Crosetti. (No word on the whereabouts of aforementioned ball).

  • He has a snapshot of Churchill and Eisenhower with the following written on the back: "My bosses who came to visit, 10 days after we made beach landing on Omaha. We were assigned guard detail for them. Churchill passed cigars out to us. Traded mine for a bottle of Calvados made in Normandy by a frog."

  • He once spent the night in a Boston hotel with the dog who played Lassie. That evening both man and dog swore fealty to each other, vowing never to bite the hand that fed them.

  • He once was assigned to drive Helen O'Connell to a ball and decided it would be a wise idea to profess his lifelong adoration for her. Her reply: "Who the hell are you?"

  • He currently gets around in a golf cart with a Tweety Bird logo on the side which Rickey suspects was once the property of an amusement park of some sort.

What we're getting at here is that if you're fortunate enough to possess a parent or grandparent who was roaming this crazy blue marble during the WWII era, Rickey strongly recommends spending a little time sitting down and chatting with them about their experiences. We guarantee, they've got a few stories to tell.

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Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Rickey's Obligatory Subway Series Preview!

In case the sports media at large had left you criminally unaware, this weekend heralds the much ballyhooed Mets/Yankees Subway Series in the Bronx. And we are rather sad to report that Rickey will not be in attendance. Rickey auctioned off his tickets on ebay (hey, if we can’t make it, why not turn a profit at Yankees fans’ expense?) and has made peace with the situation. But what we cannot make peace with is the fact that Rickey won’t even be within television broadcast range of the event. You see, Rickey’s going to be down in Florida at the time, soaking in the sun rays, slurping down mojitos, taunting disenfranchised democratic voters, using live alligators as water-skis, and generally immersing himself in Floridian culture.

What we’re getting at here is that you Mets fans are on your own on this one. Rickey will completely unavailable to lend his mojo to the sporting contest unfolding in the Bronx this weekend. Fortunately for you however, we’ve put together a little crib sheet detailing all you need to know about the Subway Series. Factoids and musings from the mind of a perpetually sardonic Mets fan abound below:

  • We can promise you that on at least one occasion this weekend, Willie Randolph will making a coaching decision so head scratchingly stupid that you’ll be sorely tempted to change the channel to “Ice Road Truckers.” Such is the joy of being a Mets fan. Don’t like it? Why don’t you go on the internet and complain about it then?

  • That dapper fellow playing shortstop with an intangible aura of baseball goodness around him? That’s Derek Jeter, and he’s not getting any younger. Every time he performs his signature “catch-the-ball-and-pivot-in-midair-and-throw-to-first-base” move, he runs the risk of breaking a hip. And as Ms. Henderson is all too fond of pointing out, he’ll probably be playing left field for the Mets in 7 years.

  • At least once during this series, the talents of one Joba Chamberlain will be on full display and he’ll behave like he’s been infected with the rage virus from “28 Days Later” after retiring the Mets and Tim McGraw’s “Cherokee Outlaw” will blast from the PA system in Yankee Stadium. We just wanted to you to be aware of this inevitability going into the series. Try not to go apeshit when it happens.

  • Hey kids, are you one of those goofy Mets fans who consistently laments the low ratio of Caucasians on the roster? Well then, meet Kyle Farnsworth! He’s like Billy Wagner, only more inbred!

  • For those playing along at home, we’re currently in Stage 3 of the “Pedro Martinez Road to Recovery Drinking Game.” This is the stage in which Pedro expresses frustration at his inability to rejoin the team. Take a shot every time Rick Peterson uses the word “progress” after Pedro tosses a simulated game against little leaguers in Panama. And we’re only a few days away from Stage 4: SETBACK!

  • You’d think it’s a little early for this sort of talk, but apparently the fates of both Joe Girardi and Willie Randolph hang in the balance of this weekend’s outcome. So why not cut out the middle men and just have these fellows duke it out fisticuffs style to determine which one gets to keep their job? Many will argue that Girardi would have an advantage being younger and more fit, but Willie’s definitely got the edge, primarily due to the fact that he resembles a grown up version of the foul mouthed midget from “Bad Santa.” That guy’s a bruiser.

  • In a crushing blow to any hopes you might have had for transgender hilarity during the Subway Series, Alex Rodriguez will not be playing against the Mets this weekend. The Yanks inform us that he’s out of the lineup due to an aggravated right quadricep, which, not being medical professionals, we assume is code of some sort for "severe anal tearing."

  • Try not to overly fixate on the fact that we live in a world in which Ryan Church is the Mets’ MVP. Seriously, don’t. Your head will explode.

  • While both the Friday and Saturday games are being broadcast on SNY (yay!) the Sunday game will be shown on ESPN (fuck!). And you know what that means: two hours of pregame coverage in which Steve Philips provides his expert insight on how the Mets are unable to win baseball games. Followed by a game called by Joe Morgan and John Miller. Give serious consideration to listening to the game on WFAN with the television on mute.

  • Here’s a rather interesting thought: consider for a moment, the massive number of runners David Wright has left stranded on base. Now consider the fact that he’s third in the league in RBI’s. Join us for a second, in Rickey’s “Theater of the Imagination” as we dream of just what COULD be…

  • And finally, some of you might be wondering: why is this Subway Series different from all other Subway Series? Why do we watch reclining and endure the bitter herb of watching Aaron Heilman trot out of the bullpen? Well the big item of note is that as of this writing, both teams are playing .500 ball. So while the temptation might be there to make bombastic statements about the urgency of this game, the reality of the situation clearly states otherwise.
Yes, admittedly, Rickey is just saying this mainly because he won’t be able to watch the damned games (that's how we roll). See everyone in a few. Consider the comments section open for discussion concerning this weekend's New Yawker beisbol shenanigans.

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Monday, May 12, 2008

A Memo from the Office of Steven R. Lawlor, CPA, to Indiana Jones

Professor Henry "Indiana" Jones Jr.
33 New Montgomery Street
San Francisco, California 94118

Dr. Jones,

We are in receipt of your Form 1040 for this past year, and there are several items on your tax return that the Internal Revenue Service would undoubtedly take issue with. These are items that, as your accountant, I would be greatly remiss in not bringing to your attention. While we appreciate your continued use of our qualified tax preparation team and we understand that your financial situation is far from straightforward, we are compelled to make note of the following issues:

  • It is exceedingly difficult for our accounting personnel to review your Form 1040 when it is mailed to us in a leather bound diary and written entirely in Aramaic. We could greatly reduce our administrative overhead if we did not need to staff a team of four cryptologists to decode the various drawings and glyphs on your Form 1040, the vast majority of which have very little bearing on modern tax code. When submitting your tax return next year, please take the time to organize your receipts into useful categories (medical expenses, mortgage interest, business-related expenses, etc.) rather than haphazardly inserting them into your so called “Grail Diary,” and mailing it to us.

  • In order to qualify as a dependent, an individual must be no older than 24 years of age. You have been claiming one “Short Round” as a dependent for 29 consecutive years which, by our math, places him at a minimum of 29 years old. Mr. Round can no longer be claimed as a dependent and must now file his own tax return. As per our numerous previous requests, please provide us with his social security number so that we may begin drawing up the necessary SS-5 paperwork.

  • More documentation is required for the Theft Losses (IRS Tax Section 515) which you are seeking to claim. What exactly is this “Chachapoyan Golden Idol of Fertility?” Does this item have an actual appraised monetary value other than what you state as “supernatural powers of incalculable measure?” Did you file an official police report when it was stolen from you by “that bastard Belloq” whom you make repeated reference to? This is information that would need to be substantiated and reported on your Form 4684 (Casualty, Disaster, and Theft Losses) in order for us to proceed further.

  • While we appreciate the fact that your medical expenses for the past year were minimal, (no small feat for a man of your age), we see no need for you to have written “medical claims not necessary—drank from the goddamned Holy Grail” on your Form 1040.

  • As per your request, we have attempted to contact your university’s personnel department to request a W-2 form and/or a 1099 form listing your gross income for this year. However, when we contacted your university, they claimed to have terminated you several years ago, citing a laundry list of exceedingly subpar coursework, shoddy tenure papers, and poorly attended emeritus lectures. With no formal wage earning statement, are we to assume that your income is derived solely from the interest earned on the sale of your father’s house?

  • We have concerns about your attempt to claim a tax deduction for a mine cart as an Alternative Fuel Vehicle. This “rickety mine cart which seats three” and is “capable of leaping across fiery chasms” that you make reference to may indeed be an alternative means of transport due to the fact that it does not require gasoline, but it nonetheless does not fall under the classification of an Energy Efficient vehicle and is therefore ineligible for a tax credit under IRS Tax Topic 508.

  • The Business-Related Expenses you are seeking to claim also raise several concerns. For example, we question the necessity of you travelling from San Francisco to New York City via a two passenger propeller driven seaplane to present a lecture on the Third Reich to the Anti Defamation League. This mode of travel seems terribly inefficient by modern standards. Furthermore, what was the purpose of commissioning a video editing team to create a montage of your plane flight superimposed with a red line travelling across a map from San Francisco to New York City? Finally, when we contacted the ADL to request supporting documentation for your business trip, they appear to have completely disavowed you due to the fact that your lectures consisted of primarily of standing at a podium brandishing a bullwhip and revolver and stating “Nazis! I hate these guys!”

  • We are in receipt of all the necessary paperwork for you to receive a deduction for your Charitable Contribution of $5,000 to the San Diego Zoo. No word from them yet concerning their willingness to allocate your donation as you requested to “anywhere but the goddamned reptile house.” Additionally, we are not certain how a donation of $2,000 to a mongoose husbandry program in Burma qualifies as a Charitable Contribution—please provide support documentation or we will be required to strike it from your Form 8283.

Dr. Jones, each one of these individual issues which I have detailed could easily lead to an IRS audit if not properly addressed. Rest assured that the IRS has men working on reviewing your tax returns. Top men. Please respond to the concerns which I have enumerated as quickly as possible, as we are already well past the filing deadline. If possible, we’d like to avoid a repeat of last year’s incident when you phoned an IRS auditor and told him to “prepare to meet Kali in Hell.”

Additionally, please note that as we have repeatedly stated in the past, black market antiquities such as the Holy Stones of Shankara do not constitute appropriate payment for our firm’s accounting services. We gladly accept check or money order.

Steven R. Lawlor, CPA, LLC
3900 Geary Boulevard, 2nd Floor
San Francisco, California 94118

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Thursday, May 8, 2008

Rickey Reviews This “Iron Mensch” Movie That The Kids Seem Rather Keen On…

Sorry ladies and gentlemen, but after viewing it, we really don’t see what all the fuss is about with this “Iron Mensch” movie. It’s not a particularly bad film; it’s merely the latest cinematic example of garden-variety pop heroism and wish-fulfillment. Maybe it’s because we’ve seen a million comic book superhero origin movies by now and are fed up with that “going through the motions” feeling we get from them. Maybe we’re not convinced that John Favreau, director of cinematic tour de forces such as “Elf” and “Zathura” is capable of making a decent movie. Or maybe it’s because we don’t like sitting in a movie theater next to 13 year olds greedily gobbling down popcorn as they watch a parable of American military might. Yeah, it’s probably that last one, because when you get right down to it, the whole movie is essentially one big “Why We Fight” propaganda ad. Rickey’s big issue with “Iron Man” is its cavalier attitude that brown people in the Middle East are dying, godamnit, and only a billionaire playboy wearing a red and gold metal suit can save ‘em.

For those not in the know, the story to “Iron Man” is more or less a dumbed down version of the Greek Daedalus myth. The screenplay, written without a trace of irony, breaks down thusly:

* Bajillionaire military-arms developer Tony Stark (Robert Downey Junior) is abducted by nefarious cave dwelling terrorists during a tour of Afghanistan.

* He gets a car battery wired to his chest to keep him alive.

* He engineers his escape from a POW camp, declares that he's had an epiphany and that this shit with the quadriplegic Afghani kids has got to stop.

* He builds a snazzy a metal suit to better assuage his bleeding conscience. A hero is forged.

* Bombastic CGI heroics ensue.

* Hero defeats an evil bald Jeff Lebowski (don't ask) hero saves world, room is left open for a sequel.

Don’t get us wrong, it’s perfectly passable summer popcorn fare, but the main character’s socio-political moral awakening rubbed Rickey the wrong way. It’s too facile, and it smacks of typical Hollywood liberal guilt. At this point, aren’t we past just feeling guilty about the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into over in the Middle East? Where’s the interminable rage that is so sorely needed in our culture? Where’s the outcry? The best Hollywood can muster is some half-assed insipid guilt in between shilling for fast-food franchises and sugar water retailers? And what’s worse, when the movie isn’t busy exhibiting flaccid liberal guilt, it’s hard at work perpetuating tumescent fantasies of American military intervention.

In the movie’s pivotal moment, Robert Downey Jr. watches television footage of an Afghani village being plundered and pillaged and he gets mad, proceeds to hop into his newly built metal suit and unleash an epic beat down on those ruthless cave dwelling terrorists. And Rickey can tell you that he felt pretty damned uncomfortable when this scene rolled in the theater and the audience started whooping, clapping and applauding. First off, it’s offensive that dying Afghani villagers are used as a plot device for a comic book hero’s awakening. But there’s something deeper at work here as well. The scene tries to comfort the audience by confirming to us, yes, Americans have a conscience and care about global travesties (when in reality, most of us can’t find Afghanistan on a map) and when jabbering brown villagers somewhere in the Middle East start dying, it’s time for some paternalistic intervention on our part, aided by shiny metallic objects of war. Shock and awe, baby. Does this sound woefully familiar to anyone? Fuck NATO, Iron Man’s on the job!

Yes, the movie does make a point of lambasting Tony Stark’s Halliburton styled defense contracting company for selling weapons to terrorists, but it’s a shockingly facile and shallow view of things. Look, it would be terrific if Halliburton was doing something as brazen and devilish as selling arms to terrorists—we could bust ‘em in a second. In reality, life isn’t that simple and the influence of companies such as Halliburton on the current geopolitical climes are a lot more subtle and nefarious than that. Furthermore, any qualms the movie tries to invoke about the dangers of modern warfare technology are completely overridden by it’s reliance on snazzy fighter jets swooping around and bombastic named missiles exploding in massive pyrotechnic displays. But sure, if John Favreau, the staggeringly brilliant actor from “Swingers,” wants to try to toss in an ill-conceived critique of the U.S. Military Industrial Complex, in his movie, then he can go for it. But don’t be fooled: “Dr. Strangelove” this movie is most certainly not.

A lot of folks like to complain about how the recent comic book film adaptations of Hulk, Superman, and Batman are too brooding for their tastes, but you know what? We’ll take those dark & introspective interpretations any day of the week over the glib rah-rah pro-America attitude depicted in Iron Man. At least they attempt to elevate the material a tad and infuse it with a bit of Freudian self doubt and gravitas while “Iron Man,” in comparison, is depressingly anti-intellectual. The political commentary in “Iron Man” is a total mess and the action set pieces aren’t nearly as thrilling as Rickey would’ve liked them to be. For a blockbuster that cost more than $150 million to make, that’s pretty disappointing. If you’re going to spend an amount greater than what will be donated to the relief effort over in Myanmar (now there’s a job for Iron Man!) you better damn well make yourselves an incredible movie. This is not that movie.

Rickey’s verdict: save your $10 for the new Indy flick. Sure, it’ll contain xenophobic depictions of an indigenous dark-skinned civilization, but hey, at least it’ll be intentional.

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Wednesday, May 7, 2008

This Week in Baseball: In Which We Shoot Fish in a Barrel

Ah, the fine art of the “non-apology apology.” It’s a careful tight rope balancing act of flatly denying any rumors involving you while simultaneously addressing them compassionately, thereby reducing the perception that you’re hiding guiltily from the public eye. Behold, Rickey’s in depth analysis of Roger Clemens’ recent statement made to the Houston Chronicle:

“I know that many people want to know what I have to say about the recent articles in the media.”

Well no, not particularly, but Rickey’s been running low on blogging material lately, so sure Raj—let ‘er rip. What say you of the recent allegations of pederasty swirling around you?

“Even though these articles contain many false accusations and mistakes, I need to say that I have made mistakes in my personal life for which I am sorry.”

For those keeping score at home, that’s as close as Clemens ever comes to making an actual apology. And you know what? We should give Raj some credit for putting in the effort. (Primarily because he might throw a piece of a bat at us if we don't).

“I have apologized to my family and apologize to my fans. Like everyone, I have flaws.”

Speak for yourself seabass—Rickey is flawless. Furthermore, the Derek Jeter fan club would also take issue with you on that one Raj. You don’t think Captain Intangibles could weasel his way out of rumors involving a love tryst with two eight year old boys by somehow tampering with the space time continuum? Jeter could. Jeter would. Jeter is infallible. You sir, are not.

“I have sometimes made choices which have not been right.”

See? He’s just like us. And really, who amongst us hasn't aspired to one day become a hilllbilly child molester? Sometimes you’ve made “choices which have not been right”? Another and much more accurate may of putting it would be to say that throughout your career, Roger, you’ve had no qualms with venturing across a busy interstate to pick up a $20 bill. But hey, that’s just Rickey paraphrasing…

“I believe my personal life has nothing to do with the accusations of steroid and HGH use. I have already made clear that I did not use them."

Ok everybody—case closed, the jury may finally go home now. What is everyone’s hang up with this steroid stuff? Let’s move on to the fun part where he has a 10 year affair with an underage country singer who had an OxyContin addiction, once stole a truck and forced the driver to act as a hostage, and tried to kill herself.

“Now, I have been accused of having an improper relationship with a 15-year-old girl. Nothing could be further from the truth. This relationship has been twisted and distorted far beyond reality. It is just one of many, many accusations that are utterly false.”

Well the allegations sound pretty damning to us. So unless you’re dyslexic and believed that the girl was actually 51, you’re pretty much screwed. Have fun trying to convince your overzealous lawyer to conduct his own independent investigation on this one Raj…

“I realize that many people want me to simply confess and apologize for the conduct that I have been accused of, but I cannot confess to, nor apologize for, things I did not do.”

Hah! You see how he ensnared us with his logic? He cannot confess—the facts simply prevent it! It’s like asking Data from "Star Trek: TNG" to lie, it would kill him.

“I have apologized to my family for my mistakes.”

Yes, but have you taken the time to apologize to Suzyn Waldman, Roger? She’s gotta be on suicide watch right now, right?

“And having offered this apology to the public, I would ask that you let me and my family deal with these matters in private.”

Aw, you want privacy, do you? Well you won’t get it from us, not with Rickey’s Mets playing .500 baseball and with little else to distract Rickey. The best part about all of this is that unless we’re mistaken, Jose Canseco claimed in his book that Roger Clemens was the one baseball player he knew who never ever cheated on his wife. So wait… Canseco is not to be trusted after all?

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Monday, May 5, 2008

Your Weekly Linkage

Rickey's recovering from an engagement party that involved copious drinking, a fringe environmentalist theater troupe, and the sudden public declaration that Aristotle was gay. If that makes very little sense to you, believe us, it doesn't make an awful lot of sense to Rickey either. We'll defer to Ms. Henderson to compile the photos of the event and try to explain things as best as she can (since half of you apparently don't believe she exists). But if Rickey may make a suggestion: if you've never stood in a grassy field wearing formal attire and drinking bourbon on the rocks while a wandering minstrel environmentalist in a bear suit dances around and bangs a drum, definitely make arrangements to do so at your earliest possible convenience. It's kind of like starring in one's very own Fellini film, or a particularly puzzling episode of "John from Cincinnati." Anyhow, now on to a few links:

We've said it before and we'll say it again: Neil Diamond has no place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He's a crooner, not a rocker. Is this cold reality stopping him from pleading to be inducted? No, it is not.

A quick check in on the Democratic Party's valiant campaign to screw itself out of the White House reveals what everyone's been long suspecting: Hillary Clinton is considering the oft mentioned "nuclear option."

A spoof debate featuring George Stephanopoulos questioning Abe Lincoln's patriotism? Yes please.

There's funny, and then there's "being violated by a marsupial funny." This story is the latter.

Rickey's not even certain how this is possible, but a Japanese civil servant was demoted for viewing pornographic web sites more than 780,000 times during office hours over a nine-month period. The guy's determined--we'll give him that much.

This story ought to have our male readers nervously checking their pants every few minutes: sorcerers accused of using black magic to steal or shrink men's penises.

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Thursday, May 1, 2008

Introducing Rickey’s Better Half

Amidst all the talk of baseball, videogames, gym membership, and other subjects of manly miscellany, some of you might have been wondering, “where’s Rickey’s soft side?” The answer of course is that Rickey doesn’t have one—at least not one that we’re aware of. But if we were to have one, it would most likely be embodied in the form of one Ms. Henderson, that shadowy & mysterious female we occasionally make reference to who has the unique pleasure of being engaged to Rickey. And she’s been relatively silent… until now, that is.

Ms. Henderson, inexplicably giddy with the prospect of marrying someone whose hobbies include growing beards and impersonating Rickey Henderson, was talking about wedding planning so much that her friends and family urged her to start a blog rather than constantly bombard them with the details. So now, she’s sharing her experiences planning the most important day of her life in the most reputable and distinguished manner possible: in blog form. And with occasional pictures of dogs. Those wishing to acquaint themselves with the girl responsible for washing Rickey’s laundry, picking up Rickey’s copy of GTA IV when he’s at work, brewing Rickey’s morning tea, and coming to grips with the fact that she’s engaged to a complete misanthrope should feel free to read Ms. Henderson’s Blog. (Rickey’s request that the blog be entitled “So You’ve Decided to Get Married During a Recession!” was flatly denied).

You wondered why Rickey had been so silent about the wedding planning hadn’t you? It wasn’t for lack of material to write about (because sweet fancy Moses, is there a lot of that). No, Rickey just didn’t want to steal Ms. Henderson’s thunder. We’ll let her share the experience with you instead. But if Rickey can just make a brief recommendation to those looking to plan their wedding: don’t make it a normal wedding. People have been there, done that and they’ve got the banquet hall matchbooks to prove it. This is why Rickey’s getting married at a venue owned by a family eerily resembling the Royal Tenenbaums, and even better, a property on which Hillary Clinton is confirmed to have relieved herself.

Rickey and Ms. Henderson hope to carry on this theme of a markedly non-bland wedding by employing the use of a wedding photographer isn’t a wedding photographer but a photojournalist, a caterer that isn’t a caterer but a bonafide & reputable chef, a DJ that isn’t a DJ but an actual musician, and having the wedding ceremony ordained by a devious imp who will be forced back into the fifth dimension if one of the guests tricks him into spelling his name backwards (hey, it beats paying him). And all this will culminate a year or so from now with a joyous display of fireworks as we remove the title of ‘Ms.’ from all future posts involving Rickey’s fiancée. (You’d think we’re speaking metaphorically about that fireworks thing, but we’re not—a "Class B" 15 minute pyrotechnics display isn’t as costly as you think).

So now that we’ve pimped Ms. Henderson’s website and completely broken all the nonexistent conflict of interest rules which apply to blogging, allow Rickey to be the first to say welcome to the neighborhood sweetie. If Rickey may make a suggestion: consider using capital letters, ok sweetie? Trust us, your readership will thank you for it. And that's the only freebie we're giving out, because as of this very moment, you are officially a competitor. Game on, wench.

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