Tall Hog Back in The Saddle

Look, I haven't a clue myself as to what that title means. Or what the photo of Lil' Rich is about. I just love me some tall hog.

Here's what happened. I've been skulking onto this website like a Turkish thief in a wartime hospital. I'd no computer to call my own, necessitating the borry of my wife's work machine. It was an ugly situation. I couldn't even ogle the occasional free tit.

But now, thanks to the gifts of providence and my dear mate's job, I have a computer to call my very own. It's pretty fuckin' spiffed out. Not to brag or anything, but it's definitely better than what you're using. What you're using might as well be an Apple 2E. Forget that, it might as well be an abacus. Two sticks and a tanned piece of moosehide. Oh, and can yours shoot gaseous jets of bat piss? Right. Didn't think so.

Nevertheless, that gear-driven piece of old Navy equipment that enables your daily fix of porn and college football news is more than enough for the House. To the headlines!



I'll even number 'em because your attention span is...uh...

1. How about that Tour de France thing? Just more ugliness. Once, the Tour was something for every sports fan to be proud of. It was an historical event, an athletic contest that transcended national boundaries. How can you not root for dudes riding fucking bikes up the Pyrenees? Past French families drinking wine and portly men dressed as the Devil?
Cycling is unfortunately and unquestionably the dirtiest sport in the world. The East German women's swim team circa the '76 Olympics could have picked up pointers from these lightweight Eurocheaters. And to have the overall leader removed from the Tour? Even though the story behind it is hardly more than opaque--there seems to be some confusion with the excuse he gave for missing a drug test--you'd have to be terminally naive to think that the event, and possibly the sport, have metastasizing problems.

2. Barry Bonds chases Hank's record. Since I think that Bonds betrayed the game by drugging himself with cow juice when he could have gone down as the greatest natural ballplayer of all time, I won't spend any more time on this subject than: fuck Barry Bonds.

3. There's still no way Selig should miss it. He should sit behind home plate with his "wife" and drink in every moment. Gorge himself on the Greek tragedy that this has become, consider, as a longtime Milwaukeean, the irony of having to watch the fruit of his cowardice and disinterest break his friend Aaron's record. The record. Grab a beer, Bud.

4. This isn't necessarily sports related, but this story rules.

5. Training camp days are almost here again. I'll cover this in more thorough, if not to say exhaustive, fashion in upcoming weeks. But to start this puppy off with an unrelated salvo: Administrator, your team is going to depend on Brodie Croyle as the starting quarterback this year. That is all.

(And yes, I know that last year's Huard-bashing didn't turn out for me. But seriously--Brodie Croyle. Is going to. Be your quarterback. This year.)