My grandmother wanted to get a perm today, so I figured I’d drop her off then head to the Portuguese Bend Reserve for a little hike. As I was heading down looking at the landscape that had become so familiar, I decided to take the Kelvin Canyon trail that heads over the Filorium Reserve next door.
The change of scenery was nice with the eucalyptus grove as pictured below. There was also an even bigger hint of pine smell than in Portuguese Bend that made everything seem sweeter.
What was also refreshing about these trails is that it’s not as popular as the Portuguese Bend trails. You sort of feel like you’re out here alone.
As I headed up Rattlesnake Trail back to Crenshaw Blvd., I realized it was pretty hot and I was really panting even though the ascent wasn’t too challenging. I sat on a rock to get myself together about 2/3 of the way up when that unmistakable feeling of needing to throw up hit me. I wasn’t too dizzy, but I was quite light headed. Duh. It’s a hot day, I’m sweating like a greased hog at a county fair and I’m probably dehydrated. So I stood up and drank some water. The nausea-feeling passed and I slowly made my way back to my car.
I knew this wasn’t the longest hike I’ve done. I knew this wasn’t the steepest hike I’ve done. But man did my ass get whooped today.
After I picked up my grandmother and gave her her lunch, I went to Del Taco to treat myself and got their Surf and Turf burrito. Holy motherfucking shit was that good.
“It’s not a mascot,” said Dodgers executive vice president of marketing Lon Rosen. “It’s a unique performance character.”
With that level of rhetorical gymnastics, I wonder if Lon can verbally suck himself off?
Rosen told Dilbeck that three more of these nameless genderless “bobblehead characters” will be unveiled in the coming weeks.
Ten years ago Rosen tried to do the same thing when Frank McCourt bought the Dodgers. Fortunately for fans, he was fired soon after. But that wasn’t before he dumped longtime broadcaster Ross Porter and greatly cut back organist Nancy Bea Hefley’s workload. So don’t be surprised to see cheerleaders hired and Nancy Bea fired in the coming months.
So not only are chances likely you can’t watch the Dodgers even if you wanted to, now you’ll be bombarded by whatever-the-fuck-these-things-are when you attend a game. As their marketing slogan went last year, it is indeed a whole new blue.
Here is our latest podcast offering, our best yet. We start things off with:
Body Count’s “Evil Dick”
Talk about my crippling depression I had on my birthday
Bitch about trite Facebook birthday messages
My perverted sexual dreams
My not-so-perverted-but-equally-disgusting bowel movements
Our love of Bret Easton Ellis
The evolution of Geryon
The discovery that Joaquin Phoenix was in To Die For
The hilarity of the Dodgers opening day
Our hate of Robin Thicke and his rape song
Our little ode to Kurdt Kobain and much more.
The songs in this podcast were the aforementioned Body Count song, Liars “Mess on a Mission”, Trust “Geryon” and Nirvana “Endless, Nameless”.
Tell your friends all about the podcast that will scorch the nation worse than Sherman’s March to the Sea. Sure, you’ll have to cover your children’s ears, but as Pat Benetar once sang, “Hell is for children.”
We are on iTunes or you can manually subscribe to the show via RSS.
Because I enjoy being dirty and a bit subversive, I’ve decided to do a weekly feature to highlight the best performances in baseball. It started on Opening Day on Monday. When I saw Mike Trout’s blast to left field in his first at-bat of the season, I proclaimed that he deserved a blowjob (with swallowing). A couple of retweets later, here we are.
Unfortunately I could not get anyone to model for this feature. Also, since my artistic skills both digital and otherwise are lacking, all I could do were these webcam pictures after I finished my weekly cleaning.
Handjob – Neil Walker. The Pirates opening day was a great pitching duel with the Chicago Cubs at PNC Park. After what was their first playoff appearance since 1992, it was curious to see how they would respond.
The offense looked like last year’s version — pretty damn anemic — as they were held scoreless through nine innings. Fortunately the pitching staff also held the hapless Cubs scoreless through nine.
Then in the 10th, up came hometown boy Neil Walker:
This is your 2014 World Series Champions.
Blowjob – Charlie Blackmon. The 27-year old Rockies outfielder Charlie Blackmon just made his first opening roster for the team after batting .291 through parts of three seasons. In 481 plate appearances through 151 games, only 37 of his base hits went for extra bases.
After an 0-for-4 opening night in Miami, Blackmon heated up. In the Rockies home opener, he went 6-for-6 with three doubles and a homer while scoring four runs. Perhaps the only blemish on his scorecard that day was being caught stealing in the sixth inning.
He followed up his six-hit day by going 3-for-4 with a stolen base on Saturday.
Okay, he did this at Coors Field against the awful Arizona Diamondbacks. But he became only the 98th player in Major League history and 60th player in National League history to get six hits in one game.
Anal – Mike Trout. After the Angels announced their contract extension with Mike Trout, there were some questions about how he would respond to start the season. Would he be tight at the plate trying to be the perfect player? Trout answered the question right away letting everyone know he doesn’t have to try and be the perfect player: he was perfect.
That blast took my breath away. He did that against one of the best pitchers in the Majors: King Felix Hernandez.
Like I wrote yesterday, the Dodger home opener was my eighth consecutive opener I have attended. It was the first one I attended as a normal civilian since 2008. I had to say it was a strange experience.
As a member of the meida I probably would have driven up to the Ravine at 8 a.m., parked in Lot P at the Top of the Park and milled around and done the normal pregame stuff I would do. This time there was none of that.
I wanted to get to the Ravine before noon, so Cathi and I decided to meet up at 10 to grab breakfast then head to the game. I left The Manse at 8:30 in anticipation of horrid traffic from San Pedro to Downtown LA through the Harbor Freeway. Magically there was none of that! I made it to The Homestead in Highland Park by 9:30. Magic!
A pregame breakfast of a veggie omelet at Astro’s, dropping of Cathi’s munchkin, the dilemma was where to park. The parking at Elysian Park was bound to be already full because of tailgaters. Again, there was magic. We found a parking spot a block away from the Sunset/Elysian Park entrance.
Thankfully all of the hiking I have done got me in good enough shape to walk up the hill to our Top Deck seats. Puig was out, the Dodgers lost 8-4, yadda yadda yadda.
I must have annoyed the people around me for laughing through the first two innings as the Dodgers clunked their way to an 8-0 deficit. As I sat watching the game, telling anecdotes of some of the players, I wondered why I was reluctant to cheer for the team. I mean, once upon a time not too long ago I was a bleeding blue Dodger fan. Now? I was a Joy Division tee/black jean island in a sea of blue.
As the game wore on, it hit me. I know too much of these players’ personalities. Until Andre Ethier, Matt Kemp and the rest of this lot moves on, I really can’t see myself cheering for them.
Other minor observations:
There were no fights in the stands. I know people want to feel safe, but I like a little element of danger. I equate complete safety to gentrification, a police-state that makes sure the privileged keeps all the power. It just seemed boring.
Dodger Stadium and their fans get a rap of being dangerous. If that were true, the pregame hosts would have been assassinated by now.
There was this preppy ass motherfucker wearing clean khaki shorts, a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up that showed off his bulging forearms. I really wanted to punch him in the face because he looked like he needed to be punched. Oh sure he had an ass to die for I would have loved to fuck over and over and over again. But I really wanted to punch him.
When I first heard the “Blurred Lines” last year, it was in the Dodgers clubhouse. It was cool sounding, and it helped that Juan Uribe was dancing to it.
Then I listened to it and the lyrics and just about fell off my chair. It’s a very thinly veiled song about rape. Take the chorus:
And that’s why I’m gon’ take a good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
You’re a good girl
Can’t let it get past me
You’re far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
But you’re a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me
I know you want it. I hate these blurred lines. Must wanna get nasty. These are all things rapists use to justify their actions.
But it amazes me how a polished pop song that is catchy and very dancey can get people to just not give a shit. And here he is at Dodger Stadium to perform before the Dodgers-Giants game. Everyone loves him! The Dodgers, the reporters, the ones who hate Yasiel Puig and think he will undo civilization. Puig is evil, but a singer who sings about rape is a-ok.
So maybe I’ll write a song about raping and disemboweling children, set it to a pop dance track and watch it get to the top of the charts.
I’m disappointed with everyone: the Dodgers, MLB, the reporters, the media. Then again, I was one of the few voices to shout about Tampa Bay Rays reliever and rapist Josh Lueke when he was called up last year for the Dodgers series.
For the eighth consecutive year I attended the Dodgers home opener, and for the first time since 2008 I went as a civilian, not a member of the media. When Cathi and I arrived at the Ravine, she received a mobile alert from the Dodgers: Yasiel Puig would be benched for arriving late.
“I can’t wait for the goddamn columns to be written about Puig,” I told her.
Don Mattingly did the right thing: he benched Puig and inserted Matt Kemp in his place. Puig had been late before and needed to pay the price.
Not injuries to Clayton Kershaw or Brian Wilson or any other player.
Puig couldn’t even make the time to be on time for the Dodgers’ home opener Friday. He doesn’t care about his team or his bosses or the fans who hang on his every at-bat.
Don’t listen to anything he says. He’s not responsible. He’s reckless and selfish and his mistakes are inexcusable.
I love Jill, and we had fun disagreeing. But this is a bit melodramatic. I know if we talk she will say something like, “At some point he needs to learn.” To which I will reply, “You are right, but it won’t be his fault if the Dodgers don’t win it all.” Besides, the Pittsburgh Pirates will win the World Series this year.
The Dodgers lost spectacularly to the Giants 8-4, the Giants scoring all eight runs while Hyun-Jin Ryu was on the mound in the first two innings. Ryu couldn’t find the strike zone in the first inning without finding a Giant bat. Balls were bouncing like pinballs in the outfield. It was two of the more amusing innings I’ve ever witnessed.
I have more about this day, but for fear of this being a thousand-word post I’ll just leave it at this.
Monday I sat on my Fatty McFat ass watching baseball all day. So yesterday I went to the Forrestal Preserve to do some hikin’. Each step uphill I could feel food churning en mi estomago. Because of a tiny storm that passed through overnight, the skies were clear and it was blustery.
But it made for a pretty scene which was nice as I was dragging myself up the hill.
Last night we got a little more rain, and this morning it was real blustery. As in 20 mph sustained winds blustery.
While negotiating this stretch, I was a bit afraid of being blown off 100 feet down the cliff. But I got through it and went through the Ocean Trails. I decided to go a little further and cut through Trump National.
Benjamin, Catherine, Tyson and Emma were so generous to take me to a birthday dinner at Damon’s Steakhouse in Glendale on Saturday. After dinner where Emma commanded me to draw everyone she knew with crayons, we went back to their homestead for cake, Scrabble, Archer and avant-garde music. Emma and I did a duet of “Old McDonald” while I interspersed bits of Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl” here and there.
By the way, the cake is a lovely chocolate raspberry cake with white chocolate shavings on top.
Today I spent the morning watching my Pirates beat the Cubbies 1-0 with a walkoff homer by Neil Walker in the bottom of the 10th. All of this instead of being active. But that’s fine. I do like the start of a baseball season, and I’m glad that I have an MLB.tv subscription. And now that I have a Roku, I can actually watch these game on the TEEvee rather than my lappy.
This time the Dodgers were in San Diego to open the season for the rest of the Majors. And I won’t go into how the Padres always pander to the military-industrial complex with those ugly camouflage Sunday uniforms, how the military is only there to protect the freedoms of the rich elite, etc.
The game came down to a disastrous eighth inning for the Dodgers. In came the bullpen to relieve seven strong innings from Hyun-Jin Ryu, what the experts say is a strong deep one for the team. The Dodgers held a 1-0 lead, and with Brian Wilson on the mound in the eighth it started to look like Game 2 from Australia. In Sydney the Dodgers nearly coughed up a 7-0 lead by giving up a run in the eighth and four runs in the ninth.
In this one the margin of error was much smaller, obviously. A slider over the plate to pinch hitter Seth Smith to lead off the bottom of the eighth was dispatched into the right field seats to tie the game. As bad as that might have been it got worse.
Wilson walked pinch hitter Yasmandi Grandal, botched a bunt by Everth Cabrera. Grandal then stole second and Cabrera took second on defensive indifference. The Padres, though, weren’t indifferent when Chris Denorfia hit a two-run single that gave the Padres the lead.
A liner by Chase Headley that bounced off of first baseman Adrian Gonzalez and back into the infield, that ended Wilson’s night with no outs recorded.
Chris Perez and Paco Rodriguez got the Dodgers out of the jam.
Although the Dodgers lost 3-1, the game set up perfectly for the Dodgers. With the payroll they have, the most in the Majors, there is a tendency to focus on the offense. To see if Yasiel Puig, Hanley Ramirez, Matt Kemp, Andre Ethier, Carl Crawford, etc. are going to be the murderer’s row this side of the 1927 Yankees.
But that’s not the Dodgers. The Dodgers narrative will always be pitching, and that narrative took a hit as Clayton Kershaw opened the season on the disabled list with a strain of his Teres Major muscle — a muscle that connects the back to the arm. If Kershaw is out for any extended period of time, that will bode trouble for the Dodgers hope to repeat as division champions.
But for today the Dodgers had Hyun-Jin Ryu. Without looking at his starts last season, it seemed like this one followed the same script. Ryu got in trouble early, squirmed out of it, then shut the opponent down.
In the first inning with runners on second and third with no outs, Ryu got Chase Headley to strike out swinging. He then pitched around Jedd Gyorko which I assumed meant he wanted to set up the double play. That’s exactly what happened: Yonder Alonso bounced back to the box for the 1-2-3 double play.
In the second inning, Ryu had runners on first and second with no outs. He got Rene Rivera to fly out to right, starting pitcher Andrew Cashner sacrificed and Everth Cabrera struck out swinging, the first three outs of 16 consecutive outs. Three hits and two walks over two innings for Ryu, but most importantly no damage was done.
As for the bats, the Dodgers only managed four hits. Two of those hits came in the fifth inning which coupled with two walks gave the Dodgers the lone run they scored through eight innings.
So it didn’t work in this game. It’s just one game with one pitcher having a tough stretch. The Dodgers get the day off tomorrow while the rest of baseball begins.
