Boom. Enough said already, right? Today at 12:01 AM, the 20th edition of the Madden franchise hit stores with a resounding … boom. For 20 years John Madden has taken his game from an eight-bit blur of a figure carrying what looks like the equivalent of dog crap, and morphed it into the definitive gaming franchise ever made. From the five-year-old that you routinely beat the ever-loving Tinactin out of online, to the closet Chicago Bears fan that doubles as a computer analyst, Madden’s all-consuming (literally, see: Thanksgiving in Dallas) approach to football has grabbed everyone by the seams and made them pay attention … and $60 for a freaking video game. Continue reading Eat My Sports: XX years of Madden, thanks GB
It is still wedding season, and in upstate New York, a man was arrested on his wedding day because he got too close to his new wife.
The ceremony went just fine, but the groom allegedly got into an argument with one of the wedding guests during the reception (when most fights at weddings are known to occur) and the police were called. Police knew the groom had a protective order protective order against him filed by the bride (apparently this guy was not a stranger at the police barracks) and they arrested him. He was charged with first degree criminal contempt and held without bail.
There is no word yet as to when these star-crossed love birds will be able to consumate the marriage.
When it comes to tourism, a catchy slogan is really important. I (heart) NY. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Don’t mess with Texas. Actually, that last one was a slogan the state government came up with to keep people from littering. It was later hijacked by a current president of ours.
The point is, normally, great slogans are reserved for the big guys, the metropolitan areas that can shell out the big bucks to make sure people have not forgotten that they are still there. (New York City has trust issues, which is why it needs Americans to constantly remind it of their affection.) However, the town of Cumming, Iowa has found a slogan that just about everyone can get behind.
You guessed it: “I Love Cumming.” T-shirts are on sale now.
(Courtesy of Katie T.)
I’d like to start this week’s TifS by congratulating Michelle Malkin and her fearless campaign to scare Dunkin’ Donuts into dropping an ad because she’s afraid of a scarf. If you’re just tuning in (leave those dials on your monitor alone!), Ms. Malkin was offended by an ad featuring Rachel Ray wearing a keffiyeh, the scarf traditionally worn by Islamofascicommuvikings. She threatened a boycott and Dunkin’ Donuts proved that doing things is what they like to do. (In this case, caving.)
However, I can’t leave it at congratulations. You see, Ms. Malkin just didn’t go far enough to assuage my fears of terror, terrorism, terrorists and terry cloths. Continue reading Take it from Snee: Scarves are not enough
Officially past the quarter mark of the 2008 MLB season and we’ve had some surprises, some things we’ve expected and the last place Yankees. We’re going to size up the top teams in each league, then give you the one team to look out for. Us in the sporting world call this the “wild card,” look it up.
At 31-20 the newly christened Tampa Bay Rays have the best percentage mark thus far. I really like the Rays, their young talent is spry and standing tall like a seasoned porn vet. The longevity of this club to sustain season-long success isn’t going to hold though. It’s going flop like Ron Jeremy staring down a donkey. Don’t expect the Yankees to finish in the cellar, but don’t expect them to beat out Boston or Tampa either. The Rays’ pitching will falter down the stretch, and look for the Sox to take the crown, but the Rays in the wild card. Continue reading Eat My Sports: Quarterly calls
As part of this summer’s blockbuster movie fest, Sex and the City promises to be a rollicking good time for the entire family. In fact, The Guys often pretend we’re the Fab Four when drinking. We put on some strappy sandals, order nothing but cosmos and talk about all the sex we’ve had in the past week.
(McBournie insists that we call him Samantha. Schools, with his profound addiction to horserace betting, is our group’s Carrie.)
However, not everyone shares our excitement. New York’s Time Out magazine is protesting the movie because it premiered in London instead of NYC. They slapped the Sex girls hard — the way this blog understands they like it — by featuring them on the cover, but with the title of “No sex! Enough already — we love ’em, but it’s just too much.”
Just to recap: they’re protesting the movie with a Sex and the City-free issue by featuring the film’s stars on their cover. It’s obvious they haven’t read “Take it from Snee: Protest effectively or kindly go home.”
How do you like your coffee, a cream and two sugars? Or a twig and two berries?
New Yorker John Greco has a late March court date after ordering coffee at a Dunkin’ Donuts drive-through, sans the pants. No word yet as to if he ordered an eclair, donut holes, or both.
As The Guys are rarely invited out to A-list celebrity events and locales, the extravagant red carpet lifestyle is still a mystery to us–a mystery we really, really don’t want to solve.
While celebrities are not often known for dangerous, self-destructive behavior (especially involving booze), they apparently love hepatitis. What’s even more surprising is that a popular Cuban bar in the West Village of New York, the Socialista, is in trouble for supplying this novelty with every drink.
Like gourmet coffee, a hepatitis cocktail is served with the special ingredient encased in fecal matter that is excreted from a genuine New York bartender. Because it’s a subtle flavor, it mixes with any liquor. The appeal is that, coupled with hepatitis A, your liver receives a double-whammy of disease, unlike those petit bourgeois who settle for cirrhosis.
“President Bush, who stayed up past his normal bedtime to watch the end of a stirring Super Bowl, called members of the New York Giants organization on Monday to offer his congratulations.
The game finished just after 10 p.m., which is later than Bush normally stays up.”
Holy underwear! Our President, the full-grownest of all full-grown American men, has a bedtime? And that bedtime is earlier than that of most 12-year-olds?