Monday, September 24, 2007
The Douchmeter: Floyd Landis, crusader against injustice
Our weekly look at the douchie-est things in sports:
1. FLOYD LANDIS --
"The ruling is a blow to cyclists and athletes everywhere."
"This is a miscarriage of justice."
"He is at the mercy of people much bigger than him."
Outrage! Oh, the humanity! Everyone crying foul, and -- oh, wait. The above comments were made by (a) Landis, (b) Landis' agent and (c) Landis' mom, respectively. Go home to your 'roid chamber, Floyd. We assume those exist. Yeah, the first test wasn't done right, but you conveniently ignore that the second, more accurate test proved that you were a bum-needle dynamo. Worst yet, you made us waste valuable finger energy typing something about cycling, you soulless prick.
2. MILTON BRADLEY -- maybe there should be a disclaimer in the baby-naming manual warning that "children named after board game companies shall face persecution from peers and gradually come to believe they are living in an actual board game."
Is that what happened? Something has to explain why Bradley averages a Courtney Love-esque meltdown per season. The latest: losing his shit, attacking an ump, then injuring himself as his coaches held him back. Oh well. At least his injury came at a meaningless time. The Padres are half a game up for the Wild Card lead. And the Wild Card is a just-for-fun consolation round, right? Right?
3. BASEBALL WRITERS -- fuck you, you stupid piles of donkey feces. And the donkey ate something gross the night before, too. He ate...week-old salami dipped in mustard. Anyway, fuck you for always making wins the most important stat during Cy Young consideration every year. Guy allows two runs per game on shitty team with no run support, goes 14-11. Guy allows three runs per game on great team with big run support, goes 19-6. Guy no. 1 gets the shaft every year.
4. MIKE MILBURY -- well, I suppose the real Douche is the person who gave him a job -- an occupation, a line of work -- on purpose. In this case, it's TSN. What are Milbury's qualifcations?
"Well, I ran a, cough, successf- er, a hockey franchise without getting fired for a while. Beat a fan with his shoe once, too. And I make a mean ham and cheese omelette, let me tell you..."
5. INJURIES -- leave the NFL alone. It doesn't like you. Yes, it got the flowers and the chocolates you sent, and your tutoring helped it get 78 on the math midterm, but that poem you put in its locker was creepy. And...you have acne. And love handles. The NFL wants nothing to do with you.
6. CHUCK LIDDELL -- breaking news: partying, sculpting a beer gut and not honing your ground skills actually don't help your chances of remaining a top-notch UFC fighter. You're finished, Iceman. Unless you're reading this. If you are, hi! You're awesome. Don't hurt us. Hurk wrote this. Hurt him. And Kev. It was all Kev's idea. Kev HATES you. Kev banged your wife. And your daughter.
7. THE REDSKINS -- first and goal at the one at home versus the Giants and you couldn't score on four tries? Reminds us of the time Larkin was first and goal against a line of six-year-old girls and couldn't punch it in. Oh, wait, we forgot. He stuffed the rock home on the first try and broke little Kaley's sternum.
8. KEN GRIFFEY JR. -- Oh, what could've been. As much as people are sucking A-Rod's penis into oblivion, we all know A-Rod just doesn't generate the same excitement Junior did in his heyday. If only Griff wasn't built like this guy. Could've been in Bonds' place now.
9. CHINA -- gotta love when the country claiming it's about to host the "cleanest Olympics ever" may actually be distributing 70-80 percent of the world's black-market Human Growth Hormone. So let's get this straight: you want to keep steroids out of the Olympics by having athletes compete in the steroid capital of the planet? Interesting. You're onto something. In fact, we're allergic to bees, so we're gonna stay safe by becoming beekeepers. And kicking beehives. Leavin' the Epi-pen at home, baby.
10. CHYNA -- haha. Remember Chyna? Probably has a penis or was at least born with one, eh?