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Friday, December 5, 2014
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
A Brief history of the hottest manager in the MLB:William Nathaniel Showalter III presented by the son of bones
In the
fertile year of 1956 on a spry March morning, a baby worked his way out of his
mother’s warm and cozy womb and into this cold world. After taking one look at
the massive baby, the doctors informed his parents that, scientifically
speaking, their baby would be the greatest human being to roam the world since
Arthur Granjean, the man who invented the etch-a-sketch. His parents,Mr. and
Mrs Showalter were young and passionately in love. They rightfully decided that
only name fit for such a mighty infant was William Nathaniel Showalter the 3rd.
It was only at William Nathaniel's 5th birthday party, after a bizarre
naked deer hunting excursion, that he earned
the moniker "Buck".
This wonderful babies journey
toward glory started in Florida where his parents resided.Young Nathanial
soaked in vitamin D from the sun and copious amounts of protein from his
mothers’ seemingly endless supply of breast milk. Buck's father, WNS the 2nd, had
just turned down an offer to play fullback (before those dang hippies and their
"spread offense" made the position as unnecessary as Katy Perry’s
appearance on this weeks College gameday) with the Steelers in the NFL to
become a high school teacher. What a decision that was! Secretly, his favorite
part of the job was delivering the "birds and the bees" talk to
wide-eyed freshmen every year (Mr.Showalter was never instructed by anyone to
talk to his students about this, he simply did so out of his love for the human
reproductive cycle). While he wasn't spending his time warning his students
about rounding the bases on dates, he was encouraging them to round the bases
on the diamond, as he was also the high schools baseball and football
coach.
When Buck was a child, his father found a near death,
malnourished stray mutt on the side of the highway. With a few trips to the
vet, a lot of whole milk, and tender love, the Showalters' were able to nurse
the dog back to health. They named the dog Adam, because he was always naked
and loved apples. Buck loved Adam and taught him how to field baseballs and
somehow pitch (he had a nasty spitball, in every sense of the word). Adams
favorite position was center field where he would chase down Bucks hits like
they were milk bones being flung from a rocket launcher in the sky.(Buck would
often soak the ball in his daddy’s bacon grease to make Adam love baseball as
much as he did.)
Buck listened to father time’s orders and
grew up beautifully. He earned a scholarship to Mississippi State and went on
to have an outstanding career there, both on and off the diamond. After years
of raucous Beatles themed parties (Buck was always Ringo Starr) and stealing
second base, Buck graduated with honors. He then enjoyed a wild seven-year
career in the Yankees minor league system playing first base. However, Buck
didn't take his fathers birds and bees talk to heart as he and and his saint of
a wife (what a lucky dame!) gave the world the gift of William Nathanial
Showalter the fourth, as well as a daughter a few years later,
finally silencing the vicious rumors of Infertility that had haunted Buck
for so long. Both children declined my request for an interview
(understandable) as well as my simple request for a video recording of their
father sleeping (where do they get off?!).
As Showalter's playing days
came to a finale, and his days as a father had just premiered, he knew he was
not ready to walk away from freshly cut grass and open showers just yet. He
began a career in coaching baseball and jumped through many hoops and
eventually ended up being cast as himself on Seinfeld, and on the side he
managed the New York Yankees. George Costanza and Monks Cafe were the main
reason Buck resided in the city that never sleeps, but he never stopped
yearning for simpler pastures.In 1981, he turned down a lucrative chance to
become business partners with Kramer selling left handed scissors (Lefties are
people too, jerry!)in favor of moving to the dessert of Arizona to manage the
Diamond Backs.For the next 30 years, Buck wore many hats. He managed the
Diamondbacks and Rangers, worked in the Cleveland Indians office of Baseball
operations, and also worked as the best-looking analyst on ESPN's Baseball
Tonight (the shows ratings among the female demographic never recovered after
his departure).
Buck the 3rd found his own malnourished pet when the
Baltimore Orioles offered him the job as manager in 2010.The Baltimore
Orioles hadn't made the playoffs since 1997.They had been the worst team in
the league for some time and there was no end to their dry nightmare in sight.The
Orioles had a roster with more holes than a Roger Goodell apology and their
clubhouse moral was similar to that of North Korea after the passing of the
honorable Kim Jung Il.The orioles had been so terrible, that most residents of
Baltimore were more proud of their native food seasoning, Old Bay, than the
Orioles they once passionately loved like newlyweds in a Tom and Jerry themed
honeymoon suite. Copious amounts of Natty Boh were being scoffed down in a
futile attempt to numb the pain of the 15 year playoff draught. Many nights I would wonder around the Baltimore Harbor after enjoying a few too many of these
beverages loudly and aggressively asking innocent bystanders things like "WHERE
IN THE HELL DID YOU PUT CAL RIPKEN?!, HE HAD SOME GOOD YEARS LEFT! YOU KNOW
THAT? HES THE IRON MAN, HE COULD'VE PLAY TILL HES 80, MAYBE 90!" and
"SCREW YOU, KEVIN COSTNER!"
Just like his father before him, Buck nursed the team back to health with
a steady diet of savvy personnel moves, thorough motivation, and sex
appeal. Buck managing baseball is as natural as Chef Boyardee in the kitchen,both pure bread geniuses. After just two full
years of rebuilding, Buck performed a Houdini esque magic trick that ended with
the Orioles miraculously appearing in the 2012 playoffs! Therapists in
Baltimore were loosing customers by the bushel, and crystal meth sales have
plummeted since Buck arrived in town. This, our third winning season in a row,
made me finally accept the fact that the iron man retired (who am I kidding?
SOMEBODY HOLD ME!) and I am now basking in the glow of the Orioles
success.Maybe one day, with Bucks help I can stop yelling at strangers and
sleeping with a life sized custom ordered Cal Ripken stuffed replica
doll. The funny thing about this story is that the Orioles best player and ball
hawking center fielders name is…..Adam. You just can't make ANY of this
stuff up.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Son of Bones's Exam Play by Play
I am Bones's younger brother and just finished my sophomore year of college. This morning I asked one of my friends who works in the real world for a play by play of his day at work. He responded by asking for a play by play of my last exam today. I kindly obliged…here it is
-I awaken and put on my lucky exam outfit. The underrated look of birkenstocks,khaki shorts and dress socks really gets slept on these days. Wake up to the revolution, GQ. Put on my springsteen underpants and my bill Lambeer jersey and head for the door.
-The fresh air greets me like a kiss from my mother, I try to kiss back but fail to make things escalate between mother earth and I.
-I awaken and put on my lucky exam outfit. The underrated look of birkenstocks,khaki shorts and dress socks really gets slept on these days. Wake up to the revolution, GQ. Put on my springsteen underpants and my bill Lambeer jersey and head for the door.
-The fresh air greets me like a kiss from my mother, I try to kiss back but fail to make things escalate between mother earth and I.
-I depart from my humble abode with an entire roll of hubba
bubba bubble tape in my mouth. To my tongues delight it is the “awesome
original” flavor. Awesome AND original?! How lucky am I!
-As I contemplate how fortunate I am to have something both
awesome and original in my mouth, I am briefly saddened at the thought of
leaving my porch momentarily.
-That melancholy state of mind is soon forgotten as I blow my first
fertile bubble of the day. With the diameter of a hub cab and the sexiness of a sweaty Marcin Gortat at a latin dance club, this bubble induced a sticky
smile.
-After a brisk jog to class, I arrive to the generous life science building moderately damp thanks to this beautiful 90
degree weather we are having.
-An older man graciously holds the door for me (the years
have been kind to him as he sports a full head of salt and pepper locks that
would make a just for men model fear for his job). He sports a backpack and I
kindly thank him with a smile, because Lord knows there is nothing I respect
more than a gorgeous middle aged man returning to school to explore his own
mind after facing the real world (beautiful) head on.
-As I enter the classroom my eyes are greeted with nervous
looking faces of all races and ethnicities ready to put feather to paper and
demonstrate their knowledge of the history of the great city of Richmond.
-My bubble filled hustle to class has afforded me several bounties. Foul
odor being one and the seat of my choice the other.
-I score a voluptuous seat in the back row, right where
daddy likes it.
- I stare at the clock and review my notes but unfortunately father time
continues to be a cruel lover and refuses to play favorites, causing the seconds
before my exam to evaporate much like the urine puddles on campus left over from
last nights festivities
- As I continue to gander at my notes,a large Caucasian man
sits in the seat on my right, sporting a sleevless camo shirt and the demeanor
of a fierce wooly mammoth.
- I contemplate attempting to engage him in conversation but
think better of it assuming he is of the vast majority of humans and members of the animal kingdom who do not want a key
to the gate of my personal playground.
- As reluctant as I am to give up my precious personal
space, I feel safe and protected by this truly great man, who reminds me of a rare
Davy Crockett, George Costanza hybrid.
- I silently hope to myself that Davy Costanza does not mind the
smell of a man who slept in the dumpster behind little Mexico last night.
- As I contemplate what exactly a hybrid of Boone and
Costanza would do for pleasure, I’m startled by my neighbors massive finger
tapping on my shoulder
- but I am both happy and relieved to accept the beef jerky my
new friend offers me.
-I put my beloved
hubba bubba aside for just a moment and take a bite of the forbidden caramel
that is the mammouths jerky.
-It tastes like bacon, albeit bittersweet bacon being that every bite was filled with the
thought of the friendship we could have harvested if only this moment had come
sooner in the semester.
- I force that bittersweet thought of scantily clad hunting
trips and bear back mountain lion riding with my beef jerky buddy out of my
head and succumb to father times pressure.
-Moments later a chiseled man in beats by dre headphones
sits next to me.
-I can hear his music through the headphones and thoroughly
enjoy Tupac Shakur’s 90s street anthem “My Block” , a far cry from the Mozart
power ballads that tend to fill my bathroom’s sound waves during my bubble
baths.
-I can make out the lyrics exceptionally well and realize he
must really be listening on a high volume level
- As I turn to inform my good fellow human of the harmful
effects of over indulging in exceptionally high decibel levels, I realize they
are in fact knock off headphones, sporting Derek Rose’s face on each ear piece!
-WHAT AN ITEM!!!!
-I slowly sadden at the thought of how good Derek Rose was
and am aroused at the memory of him dunking over Lebron James and providing
hope for an exciting eastern conference.
- My arousal turns to sadness (as it often does) as I
remember watching Rose missing countless free throws at Memphis and a much skinnier and
less hatable John Calipari pulling out his hair. I remember receiving detention
for watching that kansas-memphis national championship game in 8th grade because it was past curfew at a
strict, hell like, boarding school somewhere in the hills of Virginia.
-Father Time beckons once again as I glance at his hideous
face, he reminds me that it is 1:02
-My professor is running a tad late. He must have opted for
an additional pre-class cigarette, and I do not blame him!
-The students in front of me make a hopeful remark about the possibility of the proffesor not showing up at all. Ahh, I love their positive spirit but me and my best friend Davy Costanza are too seasoned, like the prime rib he will undoubtably enjoy tonight, to be so naive!
-The students in front of me make a hopeful remark about the possibility of the proffesor not showing up at all. Ahh, I love their positive spirit but me and my best friend Davy Costanza are too seasoned, like the prime rib he will undoubtably enjoy tonight, to be so naive!
-Thankful that Marlboro lights have seduced my professor for a short time,
once again I take a final gander at my notes as the honorable professor walks
in.
-He takes off his coon skin hat and brushes his mustache,
ready to give us the spanking we deserve.
-Another thought enters my head: Exams are a lot like
spankings.
- When I was little I would always take all my
clothes off in the sandbox and run around with a bucket on my head. Now when I
was very young, this was somewhat acceptable, but as I continued to do this
into high school and college my baby sitters would often spank me to remind me this was not
socially acceptable. I digress
-So exams are like spankings with warnings. You know your
professor is gonna spank you, but it is up to you to protect yourself. Studying
is like wearing padding. So last night, I was foolishly watching laguna beach instead of
preparing my padding. Instead of metaphorically putting on an adult diaper and
several layers of spongebob themed pajama pants to weaken the exam's blow, I was
enthralled with the image of Stephen from Laguna on a skim board deep in
thought, accompanied by a serenade from Dashboard Confessional.
-Stephen was no doubt contemplating his tough life which
includes (but is not limited to) a beach front mansion, choosing between jay
cutlers future wife (Jay gets what he needs, I digress within a digression) and
LC, the attractive girl who he screwed over bad enough for her to write a book
about it and become the rich spokeswoman for nice girls who get screwed over by guys
everywhere.
- The man with the headphones interrupts my hiatus of
thought passing me my exam, and I realize I have day dreamt through the
instructions. Classic.
- The next hour consists of me incoherently babbling into my
bluebook about the civil rights movement, why I drink so much milk on MLK day
every year, expressing my need for Thurgood Marshall's legal services if I
hope to beat the charges I accumulated last night while riding a German
shepherd like a horse in the left lain of main street (I guess my tags were expired).
-Finally I end by offering my condolences for my many unwelcome in class announcements about Joe
Biden’s personal habits, sensual dance moves and frowned upon white house "adventures" throughout the semester.
-I arose, blew one final bubble, offered my professor the
exam and paid homage to the great vince Vaughn, as I winked at the seasoned history master and assured him he offered a "great test".
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
A hidden gem
The other day Bones was driving through a toll.
He dumped the required 70 cents into the bin that represents the man’s pocket and
prepared to drive away. However, when he looked up the white barrier was still
down. He looked back over to the bin and the archaic contraption was implying that he
still owed 10 cents. The problem was that Bones did not have any more change and it
was to late to hit reverse and go to the full service line.
Bones’
worst nightmare was becoming a reality. Countless cars began to pile up behind
him waiting to feed the man and get on with their day. His palms began to sweat,
as his mind could not bare the thought of people he would never see or meet
thinking he was idiot. He exited the car, slid the drivers seat all the way
forward and there it was shining in all its glory. He had never been so happy
to have a dime at his disposal before midnight. His heart returned to its
normal beating rate as he gathered the shimmering duckett, kissed FDR right on
the mouth and satisfied the ever hungry appetite of the government. He then
drove through the toll victorious and continued another monotonous day.
As is
always the case after a momentous life experience Bones’ thoughts immediately
turned to his readers. He thought to himself, How can I make my readers feel the
joy I felt upon seeing that dime? What hidden gems could he help his readers
find? Then it occurred to him. He could couple his love of television
entertainment and countless free time to scour the deepest depths of Netflix.
He would then share his findings with his loyal followers. In turn his loyal
followers would pool all their resources together and reimburse his ten
cents. Below is a list that will keep
even the most unambitious of men entertained for months.
For once, Bones is nearly at a
loss for words. It is truly difficult to quantify an entity as great as this
show. It took a few episodes for your loyal narrator to catch up with the humor
but once he did the show took him on a ride that would make Jimmy Johnson
shudder. It is hands down
the best sitcom Bones has ever seen. As
an avid fan of Larry David it pains Bones to say this but it is the truth.
The show’s
main character is played by Jason Bateman. His father has recently been
arrested for fraud and he is in charge of both keeping all the idiots in his
family in line and saving the company. There are eight constant secondary characters
that are all mind-blowingly hilarious. Like many great shows it was
cancelled before its time because people would rather watch The Biggest Loser or American Idol. However, all three seasons are streaming on Netflix and a fourth will be released exclusively on the website in May.
Trailer Park Boys
Little Orphan Danny told Bones about
this Canadian gem. In his short life LOD has been described as paranoid,
negative and even senile. However, not once has anyone questioned his taste. He
watched and appreciated Casablanca during
his own birth, and memorized Mozart’s complete works by five. He was also known (the
following is actually true) on his youth soccer team as Paul Simon because of
his habit of making the parents of other players play Paul Simon CDs on long road trips.
When LOD suggests any form of
entertainment Bones follows blindly and is always rewarded. Trailer Park Boys is no exception. The
show chronicles the misadventures of three young men, (Bubbles, Julian and Ricky) from a Nova Scotia trailer park who are simply trying to make a dishonest
living. They are constantly harassed by park security (Mr. Lahey and Randy) but overcome their gross inadequacies and usually avoid trouble. There are
seven full seasons and two movies on Netflix for your viewing pleasure.
The following clip is not from the actual show but introduces you to Bubbles.
Archer
Most of you have probably not watched this show for the same reason Bones
avoided it for so long. It is a cartoon. In spite of this it is one of the
smarter shows on television. It is like a cartoon milkshake of The Office, Parks and Recreation and the
Hangover except the main character is an alcoholic, womanizing, spy with no
regard for human life. Season 4 is currently airing on FX and the first two
seasons are available on Netflix streaming.
No article is complete without mentioning this adonis. Drive, Half-Nelson and Blue Valentine are all streaming on Netflix. So cuddle up with the one you love and some popcorn as you both wish you were the person staring back at you on the screen.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
It is what it is
-->
Bones
does not like the majority of the people he meets. He does not think this makes
him any different than the majority of the human race. Anyone who disagrees
with this statement please conduct the following exercise. Estimate how many
people you have had enough interaction with to form an opinion of. Now think
about how many people you would want to go on vacation with. Exactly.[1]
Every
person alive has annoying attributes. Some people hoard cats. Some people wear
clothes they should not. Some people complain they cannot lose weight while
eating a Big Mac. Some people talk incessantly about their kids, jobs or money.
Some people that live above you have OCD and vacuum and move furniture at
exactly 8:37 every morning. Some people lift up their shirt to look at their
abs at the gym. You get the point.
Bones is no different. He talks to much around
people he knows, not enough around people he doesn’t, plays the same song on
repeat for hours, loses his keys, loses his wallet, loses his cell phone, loses
his keys, wallet and cell phone at the same time. Looks in the mirror, flexes,
and yells “that’s what I’m talking about biotch” at they gym You get the point.
The
other day for reasons unknown Bones went to the food court in the mall. There
are roughly 200 people in a small area that are all displaying at least 10
annoying attributes at once.[2]That is
2,000 annoying attributes Bones has to ignore so he can focus and enjoy a bite
of his food without freaking out like his World of Warcraft account just got cancelled.
Bones would write a book that rivaled the Illiad
in length to list all the things
people do that annoy him.[3] Instead
he will save you some time and focus on the four most annoying things people
have said to him in the last week.
And you are? – This happened to Bones at a meeting for
work. He was standing next to a co-worker and a woman came up and introduced
herself to this co-worker. After they chatted for a few seconds the woman
turned to your loyal narrator and said, “And you are?”
This
struck Bones as incredibly rude. However, this is not what bothered him. He
simply had no idea how to respond. The responses that ran through his head were
a human, Caucasian, noble son of Ann and Pat of Lexington, hungry and enraged
you just said that to me. Alas all he could muster was, “John Brown ask me again and I’ll knock you down.”
It is what it is – How has a saying this useless been around
for so long. Bones will admit he actually likes something about the way people
say it but it literally means nothing. If Bones were to say, “I will never be
as good looking as Ryan Gosling but it is what it is.” That just means he will
never be as good looking as Ryan Gosling. If he were to say, “Someone slipped
something in my drink last night and I woke up playing a card game in Reno but
it is what it is.” That just means he got drugged and played some stud in Reno.
It changes nothing about the sentence or its meaning. However, people love
saying it. I guess it is what it is.
You can’t judge me – Actually Bones already did. When people say
this, rap this or get tattoos of this it implies they have some sort of control
over the rest of the human race.[4]
Instinctively the first reaction one human being has with another is judgment.
He seems like a great guy, she is attractive, he is ugly, why does he walk like
that?. Etc. It is simply the way things are. The sooner you except the sooner
you can change your tattoo to something like ONLY
GOD’S JUDGMENT MATTERS TO ME.
Not to be mean/Bless her heart – These two
prefaces to a comment are similar to it is what it is because they do change
the meaning of what is about to be said. Apparently saying this makes a person
feel better about the awful thing they are about to say because it is going
used quite often. If someone says, “bless her heart but she has slept with half
the town” they are still calling someone a slut. If a person says, “not to be
mean but she needs to exercise more” they are still calling someone fat. Not to
be mean but you are not fooling anyone.
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