Tuesday, April 29, 2008

(Almost) Everything That Goes Through Dallas = Fecal Sandwich

Once upon a time, an ultra-classy cat by the name of Lamar Hunt founded a little thing known as the American Football League. Along with the league was his team, the Dallas Texans, which he later moved to Kansas City, and it was decided that they would be called the Chiefs. Since then, most everything that's come from Dallas has, well, sucked. Along with Mr. Hunt's classy franchise, however, the city known has Big D has produced an occasional one or two cool things. But we'll look at them it later. For now, we'll examine the 10 worst things to ever come from the heart of the Lone Star State Republic. It'll all be neatly organized after the jump, of course. (Editor's Note: It should be mentioned that the impetus for this post is Vintage Pancho's obnoxious Dallas Stars Hockey Club. They are busy, of late, not losing like I'd hoped, and tediously working towards an elimination of the San Jose Sharks, my pick to reach the NHL's Western Conference Finals.)

While this list could easily span 100 items, I've kept it to a minimum for the sake of Rustoleum's some of our readers' attention spans.

Number Ten: The Dixie Chicks

I won't pretend to know much about their music, and I will acknowledge that minor props should be offered to them for however it was that they called out "W." Beyond that, they strike me as obnoxious, and their name is utterly repulsive. Add to that that the only naked picture of them available on the GoreTubes is one in which all of the goodies are blurred out. Lame. They're not too terribly offensive, but offensive enough to kick the list off. Contact us when you've written something good.

Number Nine: The Simpson Sisters

What do you get when you cross horrible acting with a lip-syncing specialist? A wasted pair of offspring. Believe me when I say that I've inspected the hardware on the elder blonde variety, but truth be told, I never really enjoyed it. Especially after she recorded that horrible, god-awful commercial(s), the product for which I've constructed a mental block. In sum, let's hope that this duo of conceptions was an accident, one that involved knocked over beakers and shattered test tubes. I trust that was the case, as the cells involved in these helix ladders could've likely helped science in some way. Like, a way that involves some sort of evolutionary revelation.

Number Eight: Dan Reeves

Beyond the fact that the man is an auditory aberration to hear speak, I've got no beef with the guy, other than the fact that he once coached for the bad guys to the west and had a secret, special realtionship with HFCD. He did, however, provide many a Super Sunday's entertainment by steering said franchise through some astounding ass beatings. Those, my friends, were good times. Mostly, though, Coach Reeves makes an appearance on this list for the sake of my colleagues, Cecil and Old No. 7, as they blame the man for not getting a running back to support, blah, blah, blah, among sundry other things. I take nary a liberal measure by assuming that that second championship, coming at the hands of Danny Boy, was nothing shy of the greatest epilogue to all happy endings. And by "happy endings," I mean Lombardi hoistage. Minds from the gutter, please. Minds from the gutter.

Number Seven: Jason Kidd

This guy's pretty good at the hoops game, and had a pretty hot wife, so I shouldn't have much to say about him beyond the fact that he is gainfully employed by Big D's professional slam dunk squad. Other people, however, have had plenty to say about his recreational behaviors. Among those folks are some slightly professional sports bloggers, a variety of always-professional news agencies, the former spouse (and, if memory serves, a few other select females, the faces of whom served as his right-hook practice facility, though it's possible I just made that up), and a couple of law enforcement agencies, too. That's a pretty impressive list, Kidd.

Number Six: The Show

We never had cable when I was a kid, and for some time, we only had one television, so I was subject to whatever mom wanted to watch -- we did of course get graced with "Dukes of Hazzard," "Diff'rent Strokes," and "Silver Spoons" privileges early in the evenings -- which meant pile after pile of absolute, prime-time crap. Or as I liked to call them, the evening soaps. As if suffering through years of "Dallas" wasn't bad enough, we were pained with "Falcon Crest" and "Knots Landing" and all of the other things we'd only feign interest in if it meant getting out of our homework for a few minutes. Then, alas, J.R. died, or everyone realized what a heap of stool the program was -- one or the other. Nevertheless, it makes the heart of the list.

Number Five: Derian Hatcher and Mike Modano

This duo, talented hockey players that they are, hit the charts at number five. They're also American-born hockey players and hold some pretty high regard as such in the NHL record books; in 1999, Hatcher became the first American-born team captain to ever hoist the cup, while Modano has scored more goals and tallied more points than any American to play in the league. They were both -- Modano of course still is -- however, Dallas Stars, which equals a big fat boo in my book. Together, this duo serves as the perfect precursor to...

Number Four: The Minnesota North/Dallas Stars

Once a storied franchise near the Canadian border, this club, though others had previously moved, laid the groundwork to NHL franchise relocation, pre-empting clubs like the Winnipeg Jets, the Hartford Whalers, and the Quebec Nordiques to leave their respective towns. The North Stars, founded in '67, with an ultra-classy expansion class that consisted of the California Seals, the St. Louis Blues, and the Philadelphia Flyers, among others, boast two Stanley Cup Finals appearances and the origin of the Bill Masterton Trophy, yet tainted such glorious feats by moving to Dallas, where, by the way, they "won" the championship.

Number Three: Emmitt Smith and Michael Irvin

These guys are the most famous of modern-day Dallas Cowboys. Let it be said that, in my book, this has never even been a shred of America's team. They can shove that stadium and everything associated with it into the Gulf of Mexico for all I care. Not too much newsworthy to report on these guys of late, but they still are two of the biggest douche cans in American history, and, uh, oh yeah, they have called Dallas a place of residence at some point in the past.

Number Two: Adam Jones

You stay classy, Dallas Cowboys. Stay. Classy. This signing obviously isn't news anymore either, but a source tells me you can actually lay odds in Vegas on whether or not Jones is arrested before the season starts. And, frankly, that rules.

Number One: The John F. Kenneday Assassination

The world has enough experts on this subject as is, and, truth be told, I'm likely the furthest from an expert on anything, let alone our nation's greatest controversy ever. Suffice it to say, that a) almost any baby boomer will admit that changes for the worst in this country all stem from this murder, that is, the attitude of leaving the front door unlocked switching to an overall-fear-riddled society is somehow connected with the slaying of JFK; and b) the guy was a distant relative of mine. And we obviously all know where the event occurred. (Editor's Note: You leave Lamar Hunt out of this, Cecil.)

Well, I'm not one to end a post on such a solemn note, so I'll offer Big D props for one positive thing:


Jeff V said...

excellent photoshop...

At the end of the day wouldn't you prefer a bad photo shop to a good one 9 times out of ten...I would.