Chris Rix Takes Irony to the Next Level

You all remember Chris Rix, right? You should. Even though it’s been two years since he left Florida State and the stranglehold on mediocrity that he helped establish, it certainly felt like he was a Nole for 8 or 9.

After Rix graduated and subsequently went undrafted, I still believed that when college football opened in the fall, I’d see him under center. But wouldn’t ya know it – the day arrived and there were no stories by Brent Musberger and his gang of incompetents on Rix’s life struggles; no comments about him being one of the most polarizing players in the history of college football; no more "Rix Happens" t-shirts in the crowd. It was surreal. He was gone. The guy was obnoxiously mediocre for so long that I never thought a time would exist when he wasn’t in my life. I tell you, it was a sobering moment.

So, as you can imagine, it was a time of great celebration when I stumbled across this: The Chris Rix Champion Training Academy. Oh yes, it’s real!

At Champion, Rix will teach the budding Heisman hopeful in your life how to "Aim for Greatness" with personalized weight and cardio training, as well as a disciplined nutrition and diet program.

Though Rix never qualified for braintrust duty, he is (and I imagine, remains) a superior physical specimen. So it’s reasonable to assume that he has something to offer in the way of helping young athletes get the most out of their bodies. But rather than stop where his expertise ends, Rix has the audacity to offer tips on, of all things, being a "Championship QB."

Take a moment to laugh. I know I did.

I have to give Rix props for his creative signature… making the "C" into a football shape complete with laces and dotting his "i" with a cross is top shelf. Nice work, Chris. You can school me anytime! w00t!

Rules one through three and five through seven make total sense. Bravo Chris. But let’s take a look at rules 4 and 8 – 10.

Antrel Rolle: "He can be rattled. He has a tendency to lose his focus and just throw the ball anywhere — not looking for a target, but just throwing the ball."

Then there’s Rule 10: SERVE YOU TEAMMATES (sic)… Show you (sic) teammates a selfless/unselfish player who puts them first. Amazingly, the website omits rules 11, 12, and 12a: "Don’t sleep through your exams and get suspended for the Sugar Bowl;" "Even when in a hurry, don’t use unauthorized tags to park in a handicap spot when regular spaces are available;" "Avoid using the ‘outpatients only’ spot at your university’s geriatric clinic."

Chris Rix has about as much right teaching kids about THESE fundamentals as I do going to an elementary school to give a lecture on how to avoid becoming mad with drink. If Rix wants to run a camp, fine. He is/was an exceptionally talented quarterback who clearly didn’t become the player he was supposed to be; I’m sure he has a lot of knowledge to impart to the youngins. But when you spend a career disregarding four of your own rules for being a champion quarterback, you forfeit the right to impart said "wisdom" on children who think you’re putting them on the fast track to the next level.

Rix is a guy who, in his senior year, couldn’t hit the ocean if he stood on a beach, but if he can convince idiot parents to fork over their hard-earned dollars under the illusion that he can make their kids winners, more power to him.

As the saying goes, "there’s a sucker born every minute" and I’m sure Chris Rix will happily take money from more than his fair share.

You Know What Avery Johnson Did?

So I know that the youtube clip of Avery Johnson nutmugging Josh Howard is 3 or 4 days old, BUT I have a surprise in store for you. On Erik’s suggestion that I make the ball shot video into a ytmnd with my favorite Trigon Insurance boy, I set to work. I’ve yet to figure out the ytmnd thing but I did manage to cut the video down, wipe out Marv Alberts, and give you a commentary from the kid. Hopefully it works and you’ll enjoy… Cheers!

PS. This is set to loop, so be mindful of the stop button location before your patience runs out.

Update: The YTMND of Avery Johnson hitting Josh Howard in the penis has officially come to life. For some reason the timing works on IE but goes a little too quick on Firefox but I’m done with this project, so this is the end of my attempts at creativity for a while.

World Cup Themed Vibrators Upset Kahn and Ballack

One can never have enough sex in soccer, so I was giddy fired up amused to find that Beate Uhse, a German erotic retailer, has launched a line of vibrators (along with other World Cup-themed merchandise) featuring various international soccer stars.

Three in particular - Michael Ballack and Oliver Kahn of Germany, as well as English skipper David Beckham, are “represented” as Michael B, Ollie K, and David B. Cute, huh? The red “Michael B” model is 16 cm long (6.3 inches) and costs £50; its ad claims: “The players’ muscular torsos arouse women’s fantasies. They dream about spending an hour between the sheets with their fantasy man.”

At least there isn’t a Cristiano Ronaldo model.
Someone could get hurt!

And they’re right! There is no way to blame Beate Uhse for marketing a vibrator in this fashion. No matter what you think about soccer players [if you're American male, something ending in -ussy is might come to mind], they have incredible bodies, great legs, and thanks to their intensity, never fail to impress in the bedroom – at least not that I’ve found. Plus, their extraordinary physical conditioning ensures a certain Energizer bunny-type quality that leaves one worn out day after day.

Associating a product with these types of men (especially when marketing to European women) is a genius move by the sex chain. Trouble is, Ballack, a recent Chelsea signing from Bayern Munich, and German keeper Kahn are seeking injunctions on the product.

According to Kahn’s laywer, “This is a clear violation of image rights. We will take action.” Ballack’s lawyer agreed, claiming that it was an objection to his client’s honor.

Pure bollocks, I say.

No soccer player has honor. “Honorable soccer player” sits in the same realm of oxymorons as military intelligence and jumbo shrimp. And while they may get on like diving, flopping, crying “gentlemen” on the pitch, they’re a bunch of twisted, dysfunctional slags off it. So all I can assume is Kahn and Ballack’s injunction isn’t the result of a damaged sense of honor. This is a pursuit that revolves solely around money and reputation. The simple fact is that their precious egos are bruised by being associated with a 6.3″ (16 cm) piece of work; a size that is more than sufficient for a good time.

Had Beate Uhse introduced the 9″ Ollie K with attachments, rechargeable batteries, lube, and a multiple orgasm guarantee, Kahn would have sanctioned and done his part to promote an autographed “limited edition” that sported his cheesing, brutish face on the box complete with two thumbs up and some quote like “Now you can take ME home!” Bah.

I don’t know if the request for injunction will go through but why should it? The surnames of the players aren’t used, the “products” aren’t fashioned after the players’ bodies in any way, and as are as I can tell, no pictures of the players are associated with the marketing.

But if Kahn and Ballack’s request is granted and Beate Uhse has to cease and desist with the soccer vibrato, fans interested in “support-minded” pleasure can happen over to various English shops that are selling the “Victory Vibe.” According to the website, it’ll keep the ladies left at home during the World Cup shouting, “G-oh-oh-ooal!!”

My God. Something about that is just so, so wrong. That said, with Wayne Rooney’s likely absence, the English will need something to keep their spirits up.

Playboy All-American Weekend, Sponsored by Schmitt’s Gay

Until last year, I believed that the Playboy All-American Weekend was three days of boobs, boobs, and a brief photo shoot when everyone needed a cool down from the boobs. But it seems that I was way off, as the only boobs to be found are the supple numbers found on offensive linemen. In my update today at SportsbyBrooks, you can read up on that, as well as my musings on a few other things, which include:

I also had a great link on the widely circulated Avery Johnson incident where I brought back the adorable “He got injured… injured bad” boy. Well, it didn’t make it past the editor’s cyber desk but since I’m such a pip, have a laugh at both videos:

You know what Avery Johnson did? He hit Josh Howard in the penis!

He was injured… injured bad!

Premiership Merchandise: Saving Lives One Fan At A Time

It is often said that the FA Premier League is the best league in the world as a spectacle for pace and goals. It is also said that it is the best league to watch if you’re looking for a 38-game schedule that will raise the incidence of depression and alcoholism in your life.

(Actually, don’t take that seriously. My liver and I are the only ones saying that.)

My personal problems notwithstanding, it comes as a surprise that the EPL has recently become the best league in the world to be a fan of if you find yourself in a life-threatening situation due to your own stupidity. I present the following as proof:

Case 1: A couple days before Arsenal FC went down in a 10-man flame to Barcelona in the Champions League final, a 10-year-old English boy tried to climb his neighbor’s fence in order to scope out the new trampoline sitting in the backyard. Apparently the sight was a bit too much to behold and in his excitement, the kid lost his footing and got impaled on a metal spiking a top the fence.

Though his chest wound was fairly substantial (three inches), the spike missed all vital organs. Now this happens to most people and they think that God intervened or there was a guardian angel or maybe they’re just the luckiest tosser around. But not these people. This kid owes his life to the modern day chain mail known as the Commemorative 2005/2006 Arsenal Home Strip.

Yeah, my thoughts exactly.

It seems that the magical shirt saved the boy from certain doom by cushioning the spike’s impact. Had it been cotton instead of Nike DriFit, the shirt would have ripped, thus allowing the metal to plunge deeper into the boy’s chest. It would have been curtains for the young fan.

A young life being saved is heartwarming and all but can you see the headlines NEXT week?

“10 Year Old Tries to Stop Bullet with Magical Arsenal Kit, Dies.”

This situation will end in nothing but trouble… messy trouble.

*Grain of salt warning: Article from The Sun*
Case 2: Our other fantastic EPL life-saving tale takes us to the mountains of strife-torn Yemen where an Englishman named Tony found himself in the weeds while helping the Yemeni government set up a free-trade zone.

(Yemen trades with others? This was news to me.)

While at a roadblock with his bodyguard, Tony’s car was ambushed by tribesmen wielding AK-47s who, according to Tony, “descended upon me like a pack of wolves.” Having never been jumped by a pack of wolves, I don’t know if this is a right comparison to his situation but were I in his shoes, I probably would have said something ridiculous like “they swooped down on me like crazed buzzards,” so I’ll let that go. In any case, the bad guys went into mating peacock mode and started waving their guns around and squawking about in a language no one could understand.  I often wonder why these lunatics don’t learn a few English phrases so they can communicate their death threats in an efficient manner but in this case, it wasn’t necessary.

“In my limited Arabic, I understood that they wanted to use me as a hostage to extract money from the EU and if I refused would kill me.” [Limited Arabic, my arse. Limited Arabic is "I heard them say water and to die," not all of that!]

Anyway, Tony and his bodyguard were dragged to the back of his car where the bandits noticed a Portsmouth FC club badge. Since the badge uses the crescent moon and star, both symbols of Islam, the hostiles assumed Tony was a practicing Muslim, put him back in his car, and told him to hit the road.

Huzzah for Tony and his useless bodyguard, but what’s he going to do when he’s attacked by bandits that can read English? “Oh, uh, well, uh, by posing as a fan of, uh, the worst team in England, I’m actually helping Muslims against the West. Let me go?” Nice try, Tony. His good Samaritan ruse is going to wind up in a messier situation than the day the above-mentioned Arsenal fan realizes his kit isn’t magic.

So as it stands, Arsenal kits prevent impaling and Pompey stickers stop roadblock attacks. Tune in next week when a man uses a Chelsea-sanctioned football to foil an assassination plot like he’s Jack Bauer. In the meantime, you might want to pick up some other EPL squad merchandise. With all the metal fences and terrorists out there, one never knows when a life-threatening pickle could arise.

Dirk Nowitzki & There’s Something About Mary

Oh To Be A Gooner!

I’ve been in an Arsenal-induced depression for a couple days now. Earlier today, I was told that if you’re upset over sports for more than an hour, you need a therapist because something is wrong with you. I’ve never denied that something is wrong with me. I’m a fanatic and I have never felt more devastated or emotionally drained (when it comes to watching sports) than I did on Wednesday night. The truth is, if you gathered up all the heartbreaks suffered by people that are Buffalo Bills/Atlanta Braves/Buffalo Sabres fans like Matt, fashioned them into a Louisville Slugger, and then busted me bloody for three days, the pain would not begin to equal that which was felt after Arsenal’s loss to Barca. The only thing that brings me solace is that my boys played their arses off and with 9 men and Manuel Aluminum Almunia [Arsenal's *Pat Dillingham], hung with the best team in the world until they had nothing left. And even though that loss brought me to tears, I’m nothing but proud of the Gunners.

In other news, no need exists for further sorrow — Thierry Henry has signed on to be a Gooner for life (er, the next 4 years anyway)! From Arsenal.com — Thierry Henry’s decision to stay at Arsenal was made in the wake of the Champions League defeat. This afternoon the French striker finally ended a season of speculation by putting pen to paper on a four-year deal. And, amid a myriad of factors, the brave yet agonising defeat at the Stade de France had a major influence.

"The game reassured me of one thing I wanted to know – how far I can go with that team,” said Henry. “I know we lost but they showed me they are a team with heart and lots of quality. We can be so proud of what we did.

"I always refer to Arsenal as my home. I have been welcomed with open arms, the love I receive here – sometimes from non-Arsenal fans – is something I can’t forget about." 

 *Pat Dillingham: minimally skilled walk-on and backup quarterback at the University of Notre Dame. In 2002, Dillingham entered the Boston College and in a panic, all but handed the ball to a BC defender who scored a touchdown. Notre Dame lost 14-7. This loss marked the beginning of the looooong end of the Tyrone Willingham Error.

I’m Off to Stade de France

Today’s the day.. In just a few hours begins the match of a lifetime, as FC Barcelona and Arsenal FC square off in the UEFA Champions League final at the Stade de France in Paris. I can hardly contain myself. Actually, "can hardly" shouldn’t enter the equation. I simply lack a handle on my emotions and in the past few hours, I’ve run the gamut from elation to nervousness to arousal and anger (yes, I have felt the tingles!). I can’t make heads or tails of it but I doubt there’s any use in trying. I’ve spent 18 years as a conscious fan of the Mighty Arsenal (years where I was slobbering all over myself and eating pennies while living the contented, toddler life with my Arsenal pacifier don’t count) and I can’t think of a time greater than now. This is the biggest night in our club’s history and given everything written by journalists and Joe Blogger these last few days, I can’t offer anything that hasn’t already been said… except this — I’ll be at the match, living and dying with every strike of the ball; please pray that the riots are kept to a minimum, at the very least, until I can get back to the airport. Cheers!

David Blaine To Visit Baloo, Shere Khan, & King Louie

[Be forewarned. I'm starting out with a huge tangent. If you want to skip it, proceed to asterisk]

Sophomore year, a girl was moved into our room (we were in a triple) after struggles with her previous roommate. We figured she got kicked out for being a proselytizing atheist but since my roommate and I were Catholic and Jewish, respectively, that conclusion didn’t add up.

In any case, we found this girl to be nice enough. Sure, she sexed up a 48-year-old father of 3 on AIM until 3 am each night [she showed us a picture of him once and he looked like Lips Manless from Dick Tracy with a buzzcut] and had an abnormal obsession with David Blaine [wore DB t-shirts at least twice a week] but she wasn’t all bad. At least, her boyfriend didn’t think so. His name was Abel and if there was ever the human embodiment of Pigpen from the Peanuts strip, it was him. He smelled like cat litter, cigarrettes, and funky balls and ass, a nauseating aroma made worse by his wool wardrobe and living conditions.

Unlike 90% of undergrads, he chose to live off campus in a $200/month studio shithole with three cats. His wardrobe consisted of 2 pair wool pants, a few t-shirts, and a wool Union Army uniform jacket (he was in a group that re-enacted Civil War battles on the weekends). And since he couldn’t afford detergent, the wool absorbed between 6-8 days of funk before he rinsed it out in OUR sink with hand soap. My roommate and I couldn’t understand why she didn’t do his laundry for him or buy him more clothes but never had the guts to ask… our only request was that they not have sex in our room, as his stink would linger well into the evening.

Around spring midterms, things came to a head. Not only did they violate the sex rule, Abel left his clothes behind for his girlfriend to hand wash. Trouble was, she forgot and they rotted in our closed-up room ALL afternoon. After dinner, we had an intervention. “Look, we can’t live like this. If Abel wants to come back, he has to agree to start bathing and washing and wearing other fabrics than wool.” My roomie chimed in, “Yeah and this is fuckin up my asthma!” “Yeah, it’s fuckin up her asthma!! If he can’t afford it, we’ll help him out. Something’s gotta give here! He smells worse than B.O. and it sticks to everything it touches like it’s alive!” She thought it over and then dropped these bombs on us:

“Wouldn’t it be amazing if David Blaine could like, I dunno, fix it?!” Our faces could best be described as “Wa-waaaaaaaaah?!” “Yeah! He could come here. Do magic and fix Abel and you wouldn’t have to keep buying the potpourri bottles and Febreeze, Warner!” Stunned silence. She continued: “Here’s what gets me. Everybody says ‘Jesus Christ,’ ‘Oh God,’ ‘God dammit,’ shit like that. But God doesn’t exist so why not replace that with David Blaine! ‘Ohh David Blaine!’ ‘Blaine dammit!’ ‘David fucking Blaine!’ At least he’s real and powerful!”

My roommate and I looked at each other and got the hell out of there. This was before the South Park episode about Blaintology, so we couldn’t even mock her… we could only run away.

* David Blaine can eat a dick. Though my feelings are irrationally rooted in my hatred for the above-mentioned deranged girl, I’ll admit that early on, I liked him. He’s hot and the levitating and street magic were pretty cool… or as cool as magic can be. But then the arrogant bastard stopped doing tricks and got on with lame endurance stunts. I’m not saying the guy has to be impregnating chicks without having sex like David Copperfield but at least wow me with an illusion or two.

Trick me, David! Mislead me! Lead me down the primrose path! Don’t just sit in a tank for a week (what was the point of that??!) and then promise that you’ll hold your breath for 9 minutes or die and NOT FOLLOW UP!! I refuse that! What’s even worse about this madness is in the time that it’s taken Blaine’s dick to transition from raisin to shriveled up movie theater hotdog, he’s come up with his next Lack of Trickery Stunt:

“I’m planning to live harmoniously among wild beasts. And I’d like to do it alone in the jungle.”

Get the fuck outta here, David Blaine! You’re not Mowgli and Baloo won’t be out there caring for your ass. Besides, I think Jane Goodall and Dian Fossey (AND her gorillas in the mist) would agree that this shit is old hat.

I’ve got a magic trick for you - why don’t you send yourself to Hell, contact ABC from the 5th circle, and arrange for them to televise your return. Stu Scott can write a free verse poem about your brilliant emergence from the fire and if you don’t come back, we’ll assume the trickery failed.

Iran Says No to Girlymen in Sports

First issue: How will we ever get Paris Hilton to kill herself (or go away… I guess that’s less harsh) if we keep giving her forums like this for her ego: "Fightin Over Me featuring Fat Joe & Jadakiss"? While I think the lyrics should actually say something like "Every time I turn around, boys are fightin’ over my herpes" instead of "fightin over me," what upsets me is that aside from her voice, the track isn’t completely horrible. What upsets me even more is 2 months from now I’ll be shaking my arse in a club and this rubbish will play. But instead of boycotting the song and sitting down or doing something equally productive, I’ll just keep dancing. God help me.   

Real issue: I know this will be hard to believe but it seems that Iran is acting like a rag about more than its nuclear program. The hardline regime is setting a new policy in sport because they’ve had it up to here with metrosexuals in sports — then again, I suppose it has to be sports because I don’t know if you’re allowed to be a metrosexual and an residential Iranian citizen at the same time. Athletes, football (soccer) players in particular, that sport long hair and plucked eyebrows are the primary concern of Mohammad Ali-Abadi, the head of Iran’s Physical Education Organization who says, "even though they get away with it now, they will be disqualified in future." He also offered these gems:

"I will ban athletes with an effeminate look… It is really disgraceful for Iran that young people step onto fields wearing make-up… When a man enters the field with dyed hair and groomed eyebrows he is disrespecting society."

Bayern Munich star midfielder Ali Karimi and other Iranian athletes could be banned from World Cup play if they can’t find a way to maintain an "Islamic look" … I’m sure they’ll appreciate that rule when they’re passing out from heat stroke due to wearing full beards under the summer sun. On the plus side though, I suppose I should be happy that England isn’t taking such a stance, right? God forbid we be forced to play in the World Cup without the service’s of Europe’s best choke artist, a tosser that’s been disrespecting society since 2002.