Fucktard of the Week

It's Friday, so that means it's time to debut a new weekly feature here: The Fucktard of the Week Award. I hope to bring you a new Fucktard each Friday this season. I have a hunch that those two pinheads who are running the Knicks into the ground will receive multiple awards. The person with the most Fucktard Awards at the end of the baseball season will receive an as-yet unnamed prize. I'm thinking maybe a $3 Arby's gift certificate.

I think you can guess who this week's winner is, based on the picture. Why Coach Coughlin? Please consider the following actual quotations (Coughlin's being the most recent):

(A) "[Coach Mike Nolan] walks around with a chip on his shoulder, like he's a dictator, like he's Hitler." --Running back Kevan Barlow

(B) "Don't tell me it's baseball etiquette!! It used to be etiquette to have black people as slaves! It's over! Why did they march people into ovens?!? Well, that's what they told them to do!" --Broadcaster Michael Kay on baseball etiquette

(C) "Hey, man, the days of slavery are over." --Deion Sanders to Carlton Fisk, after Fisk criticized him for not running out a fly ball

(D) "I hear some [criticism] and I see it. You know (VP of communications Pat) Hanlon tells me about it, what's going on. Hitler and then me, in that order. Unfortunate, but it is." -Giants coach Tom Coughlin

Here's a free tip for any of the small percentage of the population who is fortunate enough to be making obscene amounts of money for playing, coaching, and/or broadcasting a kid's game:

Shut the fuck up about Hitler.

Shut the fuck up about the Holocaust.

Shut the fuck up about slavery.

End of discussion.

The Power of Three

Three.

The number of championships the Mets would have if Shawn Green had just one more inch of elevation on Spiezo's triple in Game 2.

The number of appearances it will take until Billy Wagner blows his first save of 2007.

The number of years it's been since The Worst Collapse/Choke-Job In Playoff History.

The number of months until the Toasty Joe/Flitgirl nuptials.

The number of weeks until the Tommy/Mrs. Tommy nuptials.

The number of blows to the head administered by Brett Myers to his wife.

The number of brain cells that Jim Dolan and Isiah Thomas share.

The number of minutes Steve Swindal has to clean out his Tampa office now that Steinbrenner's daughter is divorcing him.

The number of El Duque starts until he goes down with an injury. Bank on it.

The number of words Omar Minaya is able to speak before having to utter "you know what I'm sayin'?"

And, finally:

The number of days until opening night! WOOOOOOO!!!!

***

For those interested,

(i) Please refer to the sidebar for some all-new and improved facts about Carlos Beltran's mole. Gotta keep these things fresh, you know.

(ii) By popular demand, I've created an e-mail address (toastyjoe@gmail.com). Feel free to use it if you have anything pressing you want me to know that you don't want to share with the common riff-raff and rabble (i.e., SonnyD).

Damned Dirty Sanchez

Oh, this is good. After ending his 2006 season because of the late-night munchies, and after tanking his rehab and blowing off spring training, now we find out that Duaner is out until at least August with a hairline fracture of his vagin-, er, "shoulder." Gosh, that's swell.

This is a guy who was perhaps the best set-up man in the NL last year, who got me all giddy as I viewed him as a possible heir-apparent to Wags (a la Mo Rivera flipping from set-up to closer in 1997). Now who are we relying on to set up Wagner? Poopy Pants/Sad Clown Heilman? Roid Rage Mota? Uhhhggggh... I know we somehow got through the remainder of the season and the playoffs with Heilman in place of Duaner. But, by the same token, I don't think I'm going out on a limb when I say that had Duaner been on the mound in Game 7, Yadier isn't leaving the yard.

That aside, after what happened with Sanchez and Glavine, let's see if we can predict who will be the next Met to suffer a taxi-related accident. Here are four possibilities:

(A) June 3, 2007. With his rehab almost complete, Pedro Martinez suffers a broken nose and a dislocated right shoulder when his taxi hops a curb and smashes into a tree in Santo Domingo. In a brutal twist of irony, it's the old mango tree under which he used to sit.

(B) August 15, 2007. David Wright suffers mild whiplash when his taxi is rear-ended on his way to visit sick children at Lennox Hill Hospital. The next day Shea starts selling pink #5 neck braces, which become a big hit with the ladies.

(C) September 3, 2007. Former Met Rey Ordonez suffers a broken nose when the taxi he is driving in Miami Beach crashes into a Red Lobster. To add insult to injury, his fare stiffs him on the tip.

(D) October 1, 2007. On the eve of the playoffs, the Mets nearly lose Carlos Beltran when his cab is totalled by a drunken driver. However, his mole absorbs the brunt of the impact, sparing Beltran from a broken jaw. The mole, however, is cremated the next day, and its ashes are scattered on the warning track. The Mets wear black armbands for the rest of the season.

Who Am I? What Am I Doing Here?

First off, my apologies for the recent posting drought. I think it had something to do with the fact that I was marooned in Chicago for 4 days last weekend (during St. Paddy's Day, no less) because of the weather over here, and I was voluntarily marooned in Myrtle Beach this past weekend for the bachelor party of Tommy M. No huge Met-related news during that time, other than Pelfrey locking up the 5th spot (praise jeebus), and the Met rotation suddenly sporting a near-total youth infusion. I'm not worried about the young guys (I think at least 2 out of 3 will pan out) - what worries me are the OLD guys. You can't tell me we're going to go the whole year without Duque and/or Glavine hitting the DL at some point. It's gonna happen. I guess our best bet is to pray that Pedro somehow manages to return before one of these guys breaks down.

In any event, with apologies to Admiral Stockdale (or was it Anthony Soprano/Kevin Finnerty?), let me get to the title of this post. I figured that with the new season a scant 6 days away, it was time to re-introduce myself to the masses. This site was spawned off of the now-defunct Schwizz site, at which I was given posting access early last year, and proceeded to post only Mets-related material. So, I figured, why not just start a brand new all-Mets, all-the-time site? So, I hung up my shingle (and with the help of Tommy M, a hilarious, animated banner), and on April 20, 2006, a new site was born.

Now, if you're a new visitor here, I have a few ground rules/things you should know:

(1) Metstradamus is required reading. In fact, why are you even reading this when you could be reading that? Go over there and come back when you're done.

(2) Comments are welcome and highly encouraged at all times.

(3) I've been a Mets fan since 1984 when we were fighting for the NL East with those fiesty Cubbies (remember them?). Since that time, I was heartbroken in '85, elated in '86, devastated in '87, shell-shocked in '88, perpetually disappointed from '89 to '91, perpetually nauseated from '92 to '98, deliriously excited in '99 and '00, malaise-ridden from '01 to '05, and in a trance-like state of euphoria for all of 2006 until strike 3 of Game 7.

(4) Don't look to me for statistical analysis, which can be found here and here, or breaking news, which can be found here and here. My slant is more of a day-to-day, game-to-game commentary, focusing on the emotional/humorous side of Mets fan-dom, with a heavy dose of pop culture thrown in. Sort of like a "Mystery Science Theater 3000" take, but from Row V of the Upper Deck.

And, finally, if you're looking to bad-mouth the Yankees and their fans, you're a childish, petty, and insecure person. WELCOME ABOARD!!!

Let's Go Mets!

Holy Shirt!

Many years ago, when the Flitgirl and I were first going out, she made it a habit of "borrowing" certain articles of clothing for various overnight visits in Casa de Toasty. On occasion, certain articles of clothing would somehow make their way over her place, sometimes all the way over to her parents' house two states away. This was how, for example, I temporarily lost my treasured Simon & Garfunkel t-shirt from their 3-night stand at the Paramount (now known as "The Theater") at MSG in 1993.

Now that she and I have officially co-habitated, she's been gradually bringing in bundles of clothing from home, including a laundry basket full of odds and ends that's been sitting on the bedroom floor for the past few weeks. I got very excited when I saw that this old three-quarter-length, two-button Mets t-shirt (pictured above) was in there. I've had this baby since 1989, but for some reason I saw fit to give it to her a few years back. It doesn't fit me anymore and I probably won't ever put it on again, but at least it's back in my house.

But the coup de gras came the other day. Bella the puppy was being her usual frisky self, sticking her nose where it didn't belong, including in the laundry basket. Suddenly, she extracted this Rey-Rey t-shirt which I had written off as either lost or destroyed a long, long time ago. I recall buying this bad boy at the Sports Authority across from Madison Square Garden before opening day in 1997 (or was it 1998?), in what must have been a totally irrational fit of Met-related optimism. I like wearing jerseys/t-shirts that not everyone else has, so a #10 Ordonez shirt seemed like a natural fit.

Unfortunately, as the years passed, what was once a symbol of hope and optimism gradually became a yellowed, smelly object of ridicule (much like Rey-Rey himself). Thus, I took to only wearing old #10 indoors, and, eventually, shipped it off to the Flitgirl altogether (probably around the same time the Mets cut the real Rey-Rey loose).

Now that old #10 has been gloriously recovered, what does everyone think I should do with it? Here are my choices as I see them:

(A) Keep it and wear it in public as often as possible. It has significant kitsch value.

(B) Try to contact Rey-Rey himself and see if he'll buy it from you. He must have at least some money left.

(C) Use it to mop up Bella's pee-pee accidents. Doing so won't possibly make it any more yellow than it already is.

(D) See if you can trade it to someone for a Mike Bordick.

What say you?

Do I Really Have To *%$#! Explain This Reverse Mortgage To You AGAIN?

As we continue the never-ending creep towards Opening Day, I thought I'd fill some time by addressing something that should've been addressed a long time ago: SNY commercials. Last year in SNY's inaugural season, loyal viewers were bombarded with the same few spots over and over and over again, to the point where we could recite them verbatim. How did this happen? Did they only sell time to like 5 buyers? And, more importantly, will we be subject to a repeat in 2007?

So without further ado, here are the top 5 most irritating 2006 SNY spots:

1. The Cancer Guy. You know these. "I used to love swimming." "Nutting will eber be the same agin...not eben....de simple tings." "I have a giant hole in my troat, and I am here to digust and depress you all." (Of course, as someone once raised in one of my comments sections, how did he retain his latin accent even when he was speaking through a hole in his throat?). And then, if those weren't enough, late in the season SNY wheeled out a new spot with a pulmonary artery being cut in half during an autopsy, revealing a whole lot of yellow goo inside. Just what I need to see when I'm kicking back to watch some baseball. Let's hope these have been retired.

2. Reverse Mortgage. "Hi, I'm Robert Wagner for the Senior Lending Network. I'm here to tell you about how you can access the equity in your home NOW -- presumably to cover your outrageous losses at the slots in Foxwoods, you pathetic old twat." Ah, the terrific "reverse mortgage" spots. I, for one, always appreciated the "example" Robert gives us, which essentially is no more than an arbitrary number thrown up on the screen. And the interview with "Marianne C." and her son-in-law always confused me. Where is her daughter?

3. Barbados. These are the ones with the Ashanti-like girl singing "If there's somethin' that you want, come and take a walk with me (a walk with me, ohhh-ohhhh)..." I hated this ad for the sole reason that it's been 6 months since I've seen it and I STILL can't get the song out of my head. Damn you, faux Ashanti! (Editor's Note: Apparently her name is "Rihanna." Thank God for the Internets).

4. "Where do you want this one, Mr. Jeter?"/"Hiiiiiiiiiii, Derek!" Dear God. Let's just move on.

5. "Crank." You might not remember this one, because the movie came and went from the theaters fairly quickly (and probably with good reason). But for about 3 weeks or so last August, SNY was airing the "Crank" TV spots non-stop: "They gave ya the Beijing Cocktail. If ya stop...ya DIE." (In fact, I wrote a whole post about this). By the way, for enjoyable bad reviews, nothing beats the Onion's AV Club, who described this one as "basically D.O.A. meets Speed, but with a body instead of a bus." Nice.

So what will be on this list for 2007? An early front-runner is the spot for Kissimmee, Florida, featuring the little kid with the preposterously cutesy low voice: "You can eat ice cream and play all the video games you want. I'm gunna stay one munth." [pause] "TWO MUNTS!"

From a genetic standpoint alone, The Flitgirl and I find this kid fascinating.

***

Ta-ta to Alay "Oy Vey" Soler, who was cut yesterday. His one noteworthy moment was giving A-Fraud his ONLY good moment of 2006, a grand slam at the Stadium that nearly incited some fisticuffs between Paulie Lo and The Giambino. I for one was always sorry that didn't escalate. Man, that would've been entertaining. I wonder if Mr. Perfect would've deigned to step out of the dugout to defend his former sleepover buddy?

Oh, The Pain

See if you can follow this formula:

$140 million payroll +

5 games under .500 +

Only flirting with 8th seed in the worst conference in NBA history =

"Isiah Thomas’ stewardship of the Knicks, both as president and head coach, has clearly resulted in the team's 'significant improvement' and I am very pleased to provide him with this well deserved [multi-year] extension." --James L. Dolan

My theory is the total all-out collapse that took place last season was part of Isiah's diabolical plan to make the job he's done this year look good. Think about it - he assembles a team full of talented, overpaid fuck-ups and head-cases and hires a coach with a history of butting heads with talented, overpaid fuck-ups and head-cases, probably fans the flames behind the scenes somehow, then sits back and watches the carnage, knowing that his avacado-brained owner will have no choice but to dump the coach and hire him. Then, when he leads the team to fight for the lowest playoff spot in a pathetic conference, he starts to look like Red Auerbach by comparison. Shrewd.

In any event, so much for me returning from my Knick fan hiatus next year, or the year after that. Maybe in 2011 or so I'll reconsider. However, at least I can root for the Knicks to miss the playoffs this year so Dolan will look like a bigger horse's ass than he already does.

***

So the Flitgirl and I are walking down East 86th Street between 2nd and 3rd Aves. yesterday afternoon, I look up, and coming right towards me is none other than Michael Kay. (Flitgirl: "Who?") Somehow I resisted the urge to smack him in the back of his head as he walked past me. What I really should've done is ask him to explain his no-hitter/Holocaust rant from last year. "SEE ya!!!" Schmuck.

Ed In Westchester...You Got Some 'Splainin' To Do...

Most people know that I'm no hockey fan, so I'm not going to offer much in the way of analysis or commentary on the mauling that took place is last night's Rangers/Isles tilt. I don't really need to, because the video speaks for itself, and it says "I'm a low-rent thug who probably belongs in a jail cell along with Roger Clemens, Marty McSorley, and Bill Romanowski. Please arrest me."

A few Met notes as we anxiously await the start of the season (c'mon, already, guys, Jesus):

(1) I am glad Shawn Green has only one more hit than me all spring. Glad, you hear? It only increases the likelihood that Willie will look elsewhere in right field. I had Green pegged as a classic rent-a-player last year, and even in that role he didn't exactly bring back memories of Richard Hidalgo. There's no reason to have him befouling up my lineup. Get 'im out.

(2) Jorge Sosa? Same deal. He STINKS. He stank when he was on the Braves and he stinks now.

(3) Mike Pelfrey - I'm officially giddy. Someone calm me down! But the fact that he's going to be bumped from the rotation in favor of Chan Ho Fucking Suck is already pissing me off.

(4) Classic Met-bashing by Mad Dog the other day, after The Amburglar gave up that walk-off grand slam to the Red Sox. Dog's response? "I'm telling you right now, this guy has Armando Benitez and Mel Rojas written all. over. him." Yes Dog, giving up one home run in spring training is the kiss of death to any young pitcher's career.

(5) So Mike "School Systems" Hampton is out for a few months before his big comeback can even get going. As Jerry Seinfeld would say, "ahh that's a shame."

Finally, this Matt White story is mind-boggling. Some journeyman pitcher buys a dirt farm to help out some widow, and finds out it's worth $2 billion - that's two BILLION!! But as Sonny points out to me, Joe B's take on the FAN is amusing: "If that was me, ya just KNOW, I woulda been the one selling the land."

Loser.

Port St. Chatty, Part II

Here's my quickie recap of some more Met interviews conducted by Mike and the Dog down in Florida yesterday:

Aaron Sele: Mike: "I remember when you used to get your brains beaten in by Bernie Williams every year in the playoffs." Sele: "Ummm, yeah." Translation: "Dick."

Tommy Glavine: "Not too many people were picking the Cardinals when the playoffs began. It just goes to show that anything can happen in baseball." Translation: "How the fuck did we lose to those guys?"

Carlos Beltran: Mike: "Do you think much about how Game 7 ended, or do you let it go?" Carlos: "You gotta let it go, my friend." (actual quote) Translation: "Shut the fuck up, fat-boy. Shouldn't you be over in Tampa giving Torre a reach-around?"

Jose Reyes: Mike: "You've got a great infield arm. Like Manny Trillo or Shawon Dunston." Jose: "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Translation: "¡Gracias, gracias, gracias!"

David Newhan: "Yeah, my dad is a sportswriter for the L.A. Times, but he's got a job to do and so do I." Translation: "Can I please have ONE interview where I'm not asked about my dad?"

Lastings Milledge: "I thought I did a phenomenal job last year." (actual quote) Translation: "'Phenomenal' means mediocre, right?"

Willie: "Yeah I'm wearing my World Series ring from '77, but it's just because I was going through my jewelry and found one that I wanted to wear." Translation: "Yeah, that's right: I got a jewlery drawer. Deal with it."