I’m late to the party on eLZhi — thankfully, the good folks at Passion of the Weiss have allowed me to redeem my late pass for points and prizes like The Leftovers UnMixedtape. From where I’m sitting, the tape’s grand prize is the Black Milk-produced “Deep,” a slick boom-bap bombshell with a beat that science has determined makes you drive faster, and slick lyrics to match. It’s a pretty dope pre-Christmas present for hip-hop heads, and a nice track to have racing through your head as you head into the late games. Enjoy, ballers.
EDITOR’S NOTE: As I’ve been exhuming this blog over the past couple of days, I’ve found that I had a couple handfuls of draft posts saved up. Some of them never went live for totally understandable reasons — they needed a Photoshop job that I never got to, a joke needed tweaking, etc. — and this was one of them. Had the video, but never wrote what I wanted to. So, here it is, hopefully as awkward and fun as I’d initially hoped. – DD
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Seems like a pretty chill video of Roger McDowell and Lenny Dykstra having a woefully uncomfortable interview with Martha Quinn on MTV before the Mets went to the World Series in 1986.
Seems that way. Except for when Martha Quinn asks them what kind of band they’d like to be in, Lenny Dykstra says, “If I was in a band, I’d like to be in a band like Huey Lewis.”
Which is a sick bummer when you grew up worshipping Lenny Dykstra. When you taught yourself how to hit lefty even though you were right-handed just because that’s how Nails hit. When you made your mom get “DYKSTRA 4″ iron-ons for the back of your replica Mets “jersey” (which, back in the late ’80s, was basically a nylon T-shirt).
When you started to develop a soft spot for Duran Duran just because they were the dudes who sang “Wild Boys,” which was the song that played during the landmark montage sequence of Nails/Wally Backman hustle plays that totally tied together the 1986 Mets: A Year to Remembercommemorative video — a soft spot that would later grow even softer when an 11- or 12-year-old you liked “Ordinary World”a little too much and started to wonder if that made you gay.
…
OK, let’s get back on track. Here’s that “Wild Boys” montage:
Seems like a hard-rocking WildBro wouldn’t want to be caught dead being “hip to be square.” But then, I guess I’m not the first person Lenny Dykstra has totallybummedout recently.
Still, though, it’s pretty sad. Feel like I need something to pick me up and boost my spirits. Um … don’t mind me. Just gonna go watch some football and make love to a woman. BRB.
I haven’t felt all that interested in sports of late. Sure, there are a million reasonstolovetheNBAplayoffs, there’s all sorts of anger-gold to be mined in rooting for a baseball team with a $147 million payroll that now has Alex Cora batting leadoff, it’s nice and schadenfreude-y to watch Brad Lidge’s inevitable crash-and-burn after a golden summer in the sun, etc. But nothing in the sports landscape has really grabbed my attention by its attention-throat and throttled it into idle weekend-afternoon submission.
In times like these, I eschew spending time with cherished family and dear friends in favor of watching video clips online.
The video above has nothing to do with sports, but it does have something to do with jokes — specifically, when jokes go awry, and how splendid an experience that can be. I think Colin Quinn is a fantastic stand-up comic and comedy writer; I am well aware that many people do not share that opinion, but we’ll just have to agree to disagree. That’s at least partially why thesevideos (which must be at least 13-15 years old) of Quinn flaming out on Comedy Central’s The A List are so fantastic — he is eminently aware of not only that he is bombing, but also how badly he is bombing, why it’s happening and that every grasping attempt to right the ship will be futile. What grows out of that self-awareness is a sort of director’s commentary on a set in shambles, one that I hope those of you who like jokes might find compelling.
What do you do when you’re LeBron James, master of all you survey, and you’ve got eight days off between the end of your Cavs squad’s four-game whitewashing of the Atlanta Hawks and the start of your Eastern Conference Finals matchup with Turkish Basketball Jones anchor Hedo Turkoglu‘s Orlando Magic?
You find creative ways to fill the time, that’s what. Like stepping into a West Akron booth and cutting your own updated version of the late Big L’s “’98 Freestyle.” The original features nowhere-near-suitable-for-work language and is utterly, utterly awesome. Please to be listening:
Only one problem: Friggin’ recording engineers lost the masters of the session. Luckily, a pair of reliable this is the city line. tipsters present for the proceedings — let’s call them “Molante,” for the sake of identity protection — scribbled down the King’s lyrics. (Their stenography was impressive, capturing James’ undeniable passion and intriguing penchant for self-censoring, as well as his often questionable spelling.)
In the interest of taking you inside the mind of one of the most compelling athletes of these or any times, we’ve taken the liberty of producing a visual representation of the lines that LeBron spit. We now share the first batch of images with you; the remaining verses are still in artist’s rendering, and will be made available as soon as possible. For now, though, we hope you enjoy this THIS IS THE CITY LINE. EXCLUSIVE presentation.
Sounds to me like LeBron’s ready for Game 1 tonight.
Still smarting from his epic THING FIGHT loss to the Arrested Development song “Mr. Wendal,” eccentric ex-big leaguer Turk Wendell has launched a media blitz designed to energize his devoted base of minor league baseball fans, hunters, honey aficionados, Tony Siragusa and crazy people. (Though I suppose the Goose fits into all of the last three categories.)
The lovable-yet-somewhat-troubling scamp has secured (… like, two years ago, shh, nevermind the datedness, the joke still works, OK, thanks, Mother Brain) a gig as the spokesman for the National Honey Board‘s involvement with Minor League Baseball. Which, I have to image, produces the most fun meetings ever — mad squeezable bears on conference tables; Bull Durham on a constant loop on the boardroom flatscreens; Bill Veeck forever scouring the newspaper for sociopolitical happenings that he can spin into cah-raaaazy promotional ideas, like a Weekend Update pitch meeting with mini-bats; etc.
But surely you’re not here for my jokery. You’re here to watch Turk Wendell sell honey using only his mindbending charisma and senses-shattering production values. Well, let’s get to it, ese. Please do me the service of sounding off on which video you find creepiest in the comments or via the e-. (Personally, I’m putting all my money on “The Ventriloquist.”)
Butler forward Matt Howard, the Horizon League Player of the Year
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Wes, the big gawky kid from Rebound that Martin Lawrence tells to get mean.
At the 1:08 mark of this exclusive video, you can see Butler Coach Whateverhisnameis telling Howard to get mean in preparation for the Bulldogs’ first-round matchup against LSU:
Thanks, Internet, college and Martin Lawrence! Check back throughout the tourney for more stupid, thoughtless missives!
Pity the game was never released. I totally would have seen your Bones Jackson/Justice and raised you a skeletal slasher that can defend multiple positions and stroke it from 20. Plus, he’d poison you with tainted chicken. Also, Anthony Randolph wishes he had that burly a physique.
Also, in the event you haven’t caught the first Mel Gibson-related thing I’ve liked in a long time, here’s a relevant bit from Jimmy Kimmel Live:
Sad news this morning via The Associated Press: Actor Ron Silver has died at the age of 62. The wire obit’s got some potentially interesting information about his 9/11-related political conversion, which I didn’t know about, and an esteemed stage career, which I also didn’t know about.
The only things I’d ever seen Ron Silver do that stuck in my mind were his roles as political strategist Bruno Gianelli in The West Wing and the indestructible villain in Heat Vision and Jack, a never-picked-up absurdist comedy pilot about a sometimes-genius astronaut and his talking motorcycle that remains one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen. If you never have, and have a half-hour to kill, it’s below. I’d recommend it for a lot of reasons; the late Mr. Silver’s willingness to poke fun at himself and his “serious actor” profile is definitely one. Sorry that the thing I remember him for is kind of goofy, but I suppose there are worse ways to remember someone.
It’s been a fun week here at this is the city line., though it’s been a long one at the Clark Kent job — the first three days were brutal, which led to me entering the office yesterday unable to think of anything but “F*** my life,” “I’d rather be anywhere than here” and “I gotta get outta this place.” So I did, shuffled off to a bar, watched my alma mater predictably fall well short of defeating Louisville, bought my bride-to-be lunch and a number of cocktails, then got drunk and fell asleep before 30 Rock started. All told, that makes Thursday a win, but it also made for a sneaky hangover this morning, so I’m just sort of trying to rumble through the midrange darkness and get out of here today with a respectable loss.
We started the week off by remembering Biggie and calling podcasts, then received some more great advice from our smartest, tallest friend, and gazed into the eyes of a wistful Buffalonian for whom present potential recalls only past passions. And then there was THING FIGHT, which I hope you enjoyed as much as I did (though I’m quite certain you didn’t). I leave the door open to the possibility that more nonsense is coming this afternoon, but it is unlikely. I am trying just to get my e-mail count down to zero; that will be a victory today.
As always, thank you for reading and giving me a place to go with the weird buzzing in my head. Be safe this weekend, and we’ll see you Monday. And now, because why not, here’s the first link that comes up in a YouTube search for “rock hard abs.” Enjoy!
EDITOR’S NOTE: It is this blog’s belief that absolute truth is knowable, and that the excellence of disparate entities can (and should) be ranked based on the answers to three seemingly inconsequential but actually indispensable questions. In that spirit, this is the city line. presents to you: THING FIGHT.
It’s a battle the world has been waiting decades to see. In one corner: Eccentric former big-league reliever Turk Wendell.
In the other corner: “Mr. Wendal,” the conscious-yet-poppy third single off of hip-hop group Arrested Development‘s debut album, 3 Years, 5 Months & 2 Days in the Life Of…:
Which of these two entities is more excellent? There is only one way to find out. That way … is THING FIGHT.
Upon further review, though, those behaviors can be seen as a pattern of obsessive-compulsive-Southernive disorder, a debilitating affliction Wendell developed despite having grown up in Pittsfield, Mass. OCSD makes a man many things — delusional, bloodthirsty, a bad credit risk and a serviceable seventh-inning option, for example — but free is not one of them.
On the flip side, “Mr. Wendal” tells the tale of a man who has freedom. Sure, it’s a freedom that you and I think is dumb, but it’s still freedom from the worries of a quick-to-diss society. (You see, Mr. Wendal’s a bum.) Also, you can listen to the song gratis via YouTube (see above) and download it at no charge through a variety of sublegal file-sharing services. Free as a bird.
WINNER: “MR. WENDAL”
QUESTION THE SECOND:
WHICH ENTITY HAD MORE SUCCESS AS A MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL PITCHER?
While Turk Wendell was by no means a dominant reliever, he was a decent short man in the latter half of the 1990s and the early part of the 2000s for the Mets and, for about a year-and-a-half or so, the Phillies.
Despite showing a lot of promise as a sinker-slider type during demoing for 3 Years…,“Mr. Wendal” just couldn’t get anybody out upon reaching the bigs, washing out after one season with a WHIP approaching 4.
WINNER: TURK WENDELL
QUESTION THE THIRD:
ACCEPT AS GIVEN THAT WE ARE ABLE TO TRAVEL BACK IN TIME. WE DO SO. OUR DESTINATION: 1993. WHICH ENTITY IS MORE LIKELY TO GET DANCE CLUBS ON SMASH?
In 1993, Turk Wendell was a 26-year-old big-league rookie breaking in with the Chicago Cubs, living as a young and (relatively) well-to-do man in one of the truly great American cities, smack in the middle of the first Bulls threepeat, at a time when awkward white people totally went to singles bars and dance clubs. Dude was in prime position to get mad clubs on smash.
Unfortunately, though, he’s running into a juggernaut here. “Mr. Wendal” reached number one on Billboard’s “Hot Dance Music/Club Play” charts in ’93, as well as number four on the “Hot Rap Singles” chart and number six on the Billboard Top 100. People then mostly just wanted to chill out, watch Real World: Los Angeles and forget about David Koresh and Waco and stuff. But sometimes, cats also wanted to get conscious while simultaneously dancing to a skee-ba-dee-bop-bop-ba-da-dop beat. Enter “Wendal.”
WINNER: “MR. WENDAL”
ULTIMATE WINNER OF THING FIGHT:
“Mr. Wendal” defeats Turk Wendell two to one in THING FIGHT. Let the cry ring forth across the lands: The Arrested Development song “Mr. Wendal” is more excellent than eccentric former relief pitcher Turk Wendell.
Thanks for joining us for this installment of THING FIGHT. Take us home, Speech!
