Recently in Braintrusts Category

So Tiger Woods is making his triumphant return to sport at Augusta. Fantastic news, really. Tournament sponsors and networks get their ratings; tens of millions will watch a round of golf without waking up 3 hours later in a puddle of their own drool; and Phil Mickelson gets a valid reason for that "No one knows I just took it up the arse" look he always has on his face. We're all winners. 

As such, the only thing that can spoil the 2010 Masters is mind-numbing commentary about Tiger's time away from the game and how that's affected his play, the sport itself and, really, the world at large. Even though all of that has been covered ad nauseam since last December, it's all we're going to get from Thursday to Red Shirt Sunday (even if Tiger doesn't make the cut). Sure, they'll try to even things out by mentioning Camilo Villegas' new haircut and making remarks about Phil Mickelson's banned Ping fiasco, but by and large, we're effed.

So like any immature drunkard, I have devised this simple yet effective game for surviving the Masters (or dying in the middle of it). 

Take a shot or chug any time the following is said:

• 1 shot - Layoff, rehab, scandal, sex
  
• 2 shots - Transgressions, 2008 knee injury
  
• 3 shots - Any mention of public apology or sponsors
• 4 shots - Family: Earl, Kutilda, Elin Woods or pictures of children
• Shot and a beer - Commentary from a golf legend (Nicklaus, Palmer, Player, etc) OR Jesper Parnevik
• Ultimate Warrior Challenge - Gentle Path Rehab Facility
• Blackout Bonus - Any named mistress

I have an inkling that Tiger will tee it up at Bay Hill, so there'll be an opportunity to get my body acclimated to this level of abuse. But if that doesn't happen, I'd really appreciate it if one of you could be a pal and call the paramedics for me around 8 pm on the first day of play.

No, that didn't actually happen. Wayne Rooney scored his 100th goal in the Prem against Arsenal, the second score in a horrific 3-1 shellacking of the Gooners that left me sad and nauseated, but don't tell Sports Illustrated that.

I'm picking nits here but this carelessness is not only annoying, it also illustrates just why football will never gain a true foothold in American culture. The one medium that claims to do all it can to improve the game's popularity in the States (and the only one with the power to do so) can't even pull together the effort required to generate an accurate headline. And it's not just any headline. It's one that covers a massive accomplishment from one of the world's best players who happens to play in one of the world's best leagues.

Further, it was in the top stories for hours before cycling off the page, and in all that time, no one noticed. Or maybe they thought no one would notice who actually cared. Either way, it's ridiculous.

When Kobe Bryant scored his 20,000th point against the Knicks, the headline didn't read Celtics. When Ken Griffey Jr joined the 500 Home Run Club against the Cardinals, the headline didn't claim it was the Cubs. I know not many people care about football in the States and the media doesn't take it particularly seriously but have some respect. Chelsea and Arsenal have achieved too much in the world of football to be treated as interchangeable afterthoughts by some web editor who can't be bothered to read the article to which he's linking.

As I'm sure you've ascertained, I was appropriately pwned for betting on Radiohead in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile on Saturday. I know it was dumb but I couldn't fight the compulsion. Sadness abounds. In any case, Radiohead never contended for the win and finished a middling 7th in the 13 horse field. On the bright side, this not so mighty emo steed surely hasn't the skills to qualify for a Triple Crown race, so I don't have to worry about foolishly screwing myself out of money in a few month's time.

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In other news, Eric Mangini, head "coach" of the Cleveland Browns took stupidity and hubris to a new level today when he refused to announce whether Derek Anderson or Brady Quinn will be the one whose life comes to a sad, unfulfilled end at the hands of Ray Lewis next Monday night. According to reports, Mangini knows who he's going to choose but plans to make his QBs and, laughably, the Baltimore Ravens defense, sweat it out a little.

Ray Lewis should slap this bitch around just for having the nerve.

When you're the conductor of the biggest on-field trainwreck in the NFL, you have no right to be secretive or clever or coy. In fact, as a dead man walking, you have no rights. The only things on your mind should be:

• Finding ways to improve the team
  
• Making the final three months as painless as possible
  
• Showing NFL owners that you're a competent head coach in a bad situation

Mangini has struck out looking on all of the the above, but even worse is that he's arrogant (or delusional?) enough to think the Ravens will buy into his bullshit. What, like they'll develop two game plans? The Browns could start G-d and still lose by 30. Even G-d would tell ya that. What He'd also tell you and what the Ravens already know is that Brady Quinn will be under center on Monday night. Not because this QB selection process was like choosing between agony and despair and despair tasted a little better, but because throwing Quinn back in the mix at week 9 allows the Browns to boost his trade value without triggering $10.5M in performance incentives in his contract.

If I can figure that out, so can the rest of the league, Eric. It's not rocket science. I just wish I could go back in time and un-do that Radiohead bet, so I could throw 5 grand down on the Frowns to be torn limb from limb, set aflame in a funeral pyre and then sent out to sea.

I would have been the winner on that one. 

When the Taliban was temporarily stifled in 2001, a more egalitarian notion of women's rights took hold in Afghanistan. Women could walk around without burqas; they could vote; they could even escape abusive marriages by seeking refuge in women's shelters. But having rights didn't protect them from abuse. According to non-governmental agencies, nearly 90% of Afghan women have experienced domestic abuse. Since Afghanistan is a patriarchal society trapped in the stone age, these stats are really no surprise. 

What is surprising, however, is that Ron Artest has come to their defense. Yes, that Ron Artest. The mercurial basketball player with the emotional stability of a bag of rats in a burning meth lab. Over the last few years, he's become known for strong defense and:

• ripping a phone out of press row
  
• smashing a $100,000 camera in a fit of rage
• drawing 8 suspensions between 2002 - 2004.
• starting a near riot in the Palace at Auburn Hills
• neglecting his animals
• abusing and confining his wife
• running up on Kobe Bryant in Lakers' locker room shower
  
• being generally violent and insane

Now, he has written and performed a song called "Afghan Girl," which calls attention to the plight of many Afghan women.

Warning: Video contains uncomfortable and graphic images.

 

Too many of our athletes and celebrities sit idly on the sidelines even though they have platforms to affect change, so Artest deserves a lot of credit for what he's trying to do here. The problem, however, is his execution is a hot ass mess loaded to the gills with irony and awkward moments.

• Problem 1 - rapping about the horrors of domestic abuse while wearing a wife beater
• Problem 2 - rapping about the horrors of domestic abuse when he is, in fact, a convicted domestic abuser
• Problem 3 - using horribly misdirected lyrics, which give the impression that he wants to salve the wounds of abuse with his penis. NOT GOOD.
  
• "I wish I was there so you could feel me/run my fingers through your hair through your hair/caress your face to show you that I care"
• "Cupid open up the door. And if you do so, she will want more. If you want it, you know she got it stocked in store."
  
• Problem 4 - juxtaposing disturbing images of abused women with shots of him rapping serenely in a park
• Problem 5 - rapping with a flow that is as brutal as the subject matter
  

I know that for Ron Artest, (in)sanity is a rapidly fluctuating continuum, so people might be afraid to speak up when he's making woeful choices. But sometimes you need to protect a man from himself by putting on your bullet proof vest, helmet and other protective gear and saying, "Hey Ron, I appreciate what you've got going on here but let's find another way. Try speaking to the media, visiting Afghanistan or raising money for awareness. Do anything but rap because bro, you've got less than zero skills and listening to you try gives me a massive case of the sads."

Remember those three days in school (if you went to a mostly white school, that is) when you covered slavery in the United States?

If you're having trouble recalling, think back to that one week in US History or Social Studies where the 2 black kids sat in awkward agony as the teacher recounted the details of slavery to them instead of the whole class, and the 30 white kids in the room stared at them with awkward, apologetic expressions. After the bell rang, a couple classmates that were truly overcome with white guilt would track them down in the hall after class and verbally apologize for how "their people" were treated before expressing how awful it makes them feel.

All of this inevitably occurred during Black History Month - the only time it was seemingly acceptable for anything other than Crispus Attucks to arise as a topic of discussion during school. [However, Mr. Attucks certainly popped up again during these 28 days.]

So I guess we should see it as progress that a Elaine Bernstein, a 7th grade social studies teacher from White Plains, NY, recently covered slavery before the calendar mandated. Trouble was, she tried to enliven the discussion (as if the subject needs it) by binding the hands and feet of two black girls with tape and then putting them under a desk... because.. you know.. the students needed to visualize what it was like to be an African captive on a slave ship. The only thing this tragic scene was missing was Ms. Bernstein's Act 2, where a white student comes up and helps act out a scene from Roots.

Sadly, a mother raised hell only to have the teacher and the school authorities completely miss the boat (no pun intended):

"We encourage our teachers to deliver the curriculum in a variety of ways, to go beyond just reading the textbook," said Superintendent Brian Monahan of the North Rockland School District in New York City's northern suburbs. "We don't want to discourage creativity. But this obviously went wrong because the student was upset."

In no other place than the bedroom is bondage creative and even there it's a bit old hat. But turning students into the gimp? Come on. Now you can argue that if she'd tied up white kids, there'd be no problem but the real issue here is that binding children of any color is a BAD IDEA. And being stupid enough to bind black kids during an already touchy discussion ought to result in you being taken to an alley and beaten with reeds. It's not like she didn't have other visualization options. How about measuring off the space slaves had on ships and try to fit the class into it? Is that not hands on enough?

I doubt the school will punish this woman for being a mental defective. So when her class reaches the Holocaust section of the book, I hope the school holds a convocation in the gym where Ms. Bernstein is stuffed in a covered Radio Flyer and wheeled to a gas chamber at faux Auschwitz. Hopefully, she won't get upset.