Posts Tagged ‘God’

Official Announcement: Tebowing and Griffining Are Old News

December 3, 2012

GriffiningI’d like to precede this week’s blog and send out a big, wet, CONGRATULATIONS to the Phasketboot legion. In an unprecedented tournament run that made George Mason look like the London Silly Nannies, Phasketboot took down all competition with ease in my “Weird Sports” bracket, finally defeating Kabaddi for the championship. So, Phasketboot, you are officially the coolest “weird sport” out there. Way to go, social media cronies of Phasketboot-loving suburbia! Unfortunately you win…nothing. But you still have your pride! Now back to your regularly-scheduled blog, already in progress:

Move over Tim Tebow, son of God. Sayonara RGIII (nice game tonight, by the way!). Don’t even try, you plank, you. There’s a new sheriff in town, and it will be the greatest, biggest, best fad in the history of fads ending in -ing.

I need your help to make this thing take off, though. So everyone who reads this (yes, all six of you) start spreading the word. What is the word? The bird is the word, of course! Sorry, that’s one too many Family Guy links for any blog to handle.

Okay, so it’s more specifically a water fowl that poops on everything and quacks real loud. If you don’t know yet, I can’t help you with whatever problem you may have. What I’m talking about…of course…is…drum roll, please…dramatic pause…

…BABYDUCKING!!! (This is where you break out into raucous applause)

I’ll admit right off the bat. This fad is much more dangerous than any of the previous ones. Well, maybe not Tebowing – doing that in a school yard is a recipe for an ass-beating. But anyway, I also must admit that baby ducking is most certainly a stretch for this sports blog.

The only reason it waddles in, is because it takes the physical activity of walking. Which, apparently, is a sport now (on a related note, can we petition for Olympic eligibility if baby ducking goes worldwide?). baby duck line

Alright, enough giggle-goose grab-assing around. Let’s get down to business. Everyone has seen a line of ducklings following their mother. It’s as easy as mimicking that action. Except the mother won’t know you’re there (Yes, thank you, I realize how creepy this sounds. I’m going with it anyway.).

So, you want to learn how to babyduck? No problem:

Step 1: Find an unsuspecting homo sapien on a sidewalk, street, or any other kind of flat, walk-able surface.

Step 2: Catch up to them and walk right behind, syncing your strides with theirs.

Step 3: Put a stupid smile on your face, flap your arms silently and see how long it takes Mama duck to realize he or she is being followed.

It’s really is as simple as that. And it’s freakin’ AWESOME. My girlfriend, sister, mother and I all walked downtown last weekend. I gave my new fad a try on these more-than-suspecting victims. Aside from the fact that I thought my sister might donkey kick me in the groin at one point, it worked like a charm.

Why? Because everyone knows that feeling of being followed. It’s something deep inside your brain that hits the panic switch and just “feels” a presence behind you. So, unless someone is extremely oblivious to life in general, they will notice you babyducking them.

And this is where the danger comes in. Pick your Mama duck wisely, because if you pick that guy who leg presses 750 at your gym, or the old lady who has more pepper spray in her purse than a riot squad, you’re in big trouble.

*This would be a good time to point out that if anyone gets injured or killed in the act of babyducking, I take no responsibility for it. Babyduck at your own peril!*

So pick someone your age, of average build, who seems to have a patient, forgiving demeanor. How you are going to identify these traits in a random stranger from ten yards behind is beyond me. Just babyduck the crap out of people and hope they don’t turn around with a shiv or a hay maker.

baby quacker

Also in the realm of danger, don’t let THIS happen to you. This is especially pertinent for anyone in the Windy City of Chicago (Hm, those little buggers show a lot of grit to dust themselves off and get back in formation! You novice baby duckers can learn from them.).

Although nobody in their right minds will actually send me a video…send me a video. I want to see the best babyducking performances out there. Let’s show Ellen DeGeneres the REAL way to do weird shit behind anonymous people, and get this trend trending.

Oh, and I almost forgot. Big, fat bonus points if your Mama duck catches you in the act, ignores it and continues walking, and you gleefully stay in stride making duck sounds. That is the ultimate babyducking victory and I hope you all get to experience it.

If you are feeling especially brave, you can take this sport to a whole new level and try the advanced tactics of mamaducking, which has never been successfully achieved in the brief history of babyducking.

Naturally, it’s when you go through the same process, but the unsuspecting victim is the baby duck. Trust me, they will figure it out real fast, and it’s never good to have your back turned in that situation. But hey, if you’re planning on making the Babyducking Hall of Fame, you’ll have to be dedicated!

Look for an informational, instructional video on how to properly make a name for yourself in the babyducking world coming on this blog next week.

Until then? Stay quacky, babyduckers, stay quacky.

Yes, Jeremy is aware he’s gone off his rocker. All the more reason to follow him on Twitter @Jamblinman.

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Taylor Tebow?

February 29, 2012

I was fully prepared to flood your blogosphere this morning with a piece dedicated to the ridiculous fantasy baseball team I assembled through a draft last night. I mean, this team is straight loaded. And I kept running over the format in my head on the way to work, excitedly planning how best to brag about my fantasy baseball super skills. And then I heard something on the radio that changed everything.

On 99.7 FM, there is a morning show called “Fernando and Greg” that is absolutely hilarious. And in their “celebrity scoop” section this morning, the shocking news broke: Tim Tebow and Taylor Swift went out to dinner together. Oh, no. Oh my God Tebow’s father. If these two get together, it’s all over.

Now, I’m not one to normally care about celebrity relationships. For instance, I don’t care that J. Lo’s new boyfriend had an awkward encounter with her former man, P. Diddy. That situation is awkward no matter how much money you have. I don’t care that Chris Brown and Rihanna found love (again) in a swollen face…er, can of mace? Ah, hopeless place. Right.

But this has different meaning for me. Partly because I have a burning desire to punch Tebow right in that crooked nose of his, while also begging for his autograph. And partly because my relentless pursuit of marrying Taylor Swift has one obstacle – Tim Tebow. I can take John Mayer and Joe Jonas, but Tebow? The dude can walk on water. Even more impressive, he can be a winning quarterback with possibly the worst actual arm in the NFL.

So yes, I’m invested in this round of celebrity gossip. I’m also curious. As Fernando and Greg asked on the radio, isn’t it going to hurt when Swift births their first child? I’d imagine child-birth is painful enough for a woman, but having to squeeze out a baby complete with angel wings and a halo? That’s gonna tear her up. No doubt she’ll make a number one record out of the experience though.

We don’t even know if this rumor has any validity to it. There’s what I heard on the radio, this article, and the fact that they ate a meal together. As much as I constantly shun the media for making something out of nothing in these situations, they are always right.

If Snooki (who is apparently pregnant, by the way…the Tebow/Swift angel baby will have quite a nemesis in whatever gargoyle-ish, fist-pumping spawn of Satan pops out of Snooki’s cooter) so much as looks in the general direction of John McCain, the media will make it a love story. And then two days later, they are married. I don’t get it.

For that reason alone, I will accept that two of the world’s most famous Jesus Camp alums ate dinner and are officially a couple, is fact. And I hope it’s true. Even if just so there’s one celebrity couple aspiring divas and pimps can look up to. Because you know as soon as these two tie the knot, there’s no going back. God wouldn’t allow it.

But as myself, my boy Travis Miller, and countless other men now realize, the chase for Tay is on. And it’s harder than ever.

Almost as hard as beating a fantasy baseball team with Buster Posey, Robinson Cano, Aramis Ramirez, Billy Butler, Matt Kemp, Curtis Granderson, Jay Bruce, Dan Haren, Cole Hamels, Adam Wainwright, Gio Gonzalez, Madison Bumgarner, Jair Jurrjens, Heath Bell, Joakim Soria and Andrew Bailey on it.

Okay, yes. That’s my team. I had to get it in here somewhere.

Until tomorrow, may the Tebow’s bless you with pop-country-music, fullback-playing-quarterback, if-you’re-scared-go-to-church-ful days.

Week 1 – That’s a Wrap

February 16, 2012

Amidst the madness of today’s awesomeness, I nearly forgot about my little Jam Shots blog! I’m sorry, Jam Shots. I’ll buy you a beer later to make up for it. Week one of campaigning for my MLB Fan Cave spot is in the books. It literally felt like a month, as I’ve never spent so much time in front of a computer trying to advertise myself in such a short amount of time.

I feel like Christina Ricci in Black Snake Moan, just pimping out my body almost against my will. I mean for God’s sake, I made THIS to get attention. I’m still unsatisfied with the media exposure I’ve received, although a Daily Evergreen article from Washington State University and a sweet blog from FanSided.com’s Lasorda’s Lair is definitely helping matters.

But I’m hoping to get either a TV or radio station, or at the very least a bigger news source to pick up my story. Who doesn’t want to talk to the brave, strikingly handsome young lad who’s daring to jump into the ring and gladiate against 49 other men and women? Okay, that was obviously a metaphor but thanks for mistaking me for Russell Crowe. I’m speaking more to the ability of yours truly to be a living, breathing, Dodger freak in Giants country. That’s the angle the FanSided blog takes, and I love it.

Speaking of that blog, they used a marketing tool I hadn’t thought of. Why in the world am I not ferociously trying to contact the actor who played Roger Dorn in Major League?! I don’t know…why don’t I drive a Maserati? Why did Chris Webber call timeout? Why did it take four sequels for the Fast and the Furious people to realize The Rock fist fighting Vin Diesel would be movie magic? Because all these people were STUPID. Like me.

But now, thanks to the blog, I’m all over that shit. I’m going to hunt down this man’s Twitter, his Facebook, his LinkedIn, his e-mail. Whatever it will take to get a public endorsement from one of the most memorable baseball characters in cinematic history. And my hash tag will henceforth be changed from #JamCave to #RogerDodger4Cave. Or something to that effect. It’s still in the works.

I have to tell you, this campaigning is damn tiring. I have tweeted over 600 times since this madness began last Wednesday, and the only time I go on Facebook is to advertise my plea for votes even more. I’m tired of staring at my goofy mug on the thumbnail of the video next to the VOTE button on the MLB Fan Cave website. I’m sure you are too, but you have to keep voting. Or else. If one good thing comes out of this crazy campaign scramble, it’s that I’m actually learning how to navigate LinkedIn. Granted, it’s for all the wrong reasons. Oh well. What can ya do?

Even if I feel more snubbed by the media than Klay Thompson, Monta Ellis and Brandon Rush for the NBA All-Star Game festivities (Psyche! That’s literally impossible…that’s a blopic for a different day), I’m going to keep pushing. Because just like the Jamaican bobsled team, I’ve got something to prove. And a race to win.

Keep voting for me in the MLB Fan Cave competition, follow me on Twitter @jamblinman and LIKE my Facebook page. And if you must, enjoy my incredibly embarrassing video. Much love – let’s win one for the Roger.

Day 3: COMMENCE!

February 10, 2012

I’m going to make this short and sweet. Because I’m running late again. #Jam @Jam Jam is my name, blogging in no time’s my game. But the reason I’m doing it in a rush before work, rather than in the comfort of my parents’ house, is I was kept up late by the other cool kids vying for a spot in the MLB Fan Cave. I’m a novice Twit, so I was learning as I went, but damn it was fun.

I sat for hours last night on my phone, iPad, laptop…whatever I could get my hands on to make the Tweeting go faster. I dreamed of hash tags and twit pics. Only for six hours though, because before I knew it, the morning was upon me and I had to come here.

The Twonversations (Twitter-conversations) were epic, the Twaughs (getting it yet?) were fantastic, and I’ll never see Bronus -DAMN!- Honus Wagner in the same light. Nor Bro Mauer, Brose Cansecbro or Brohan Santana. My Dodger jersey is going to have to be altered; James Broney is a much more suitable surname.

Take a minute, and join in on what you missed. Follow me @jamblinman and while you’re at it, cast your vote for the best baseball movie ever made. Mine is the Natural. We had votes for the Sandlot, Major League, A League of Their Own, Field of Dreams…the list goes on.

All I know is that this #MLBFanCave thing is really fun, but absolutely killing me. I don’t want it to end. But I do. Because it’s stressful, and exciting and ruining my sleep pattern. It’s like two straight weeks of Christmas Eve, except only 50 people in the world get to anticipate the presents in the morning. While I’m usually humble, I’m damn proud to be apart of that group. If you’d make me one of the final 30 who show up to the tree in the morning, I would love you forever. Because God (and Santa) knows that I don’t want to stop tweeting and twaughing and twalking with these wicked rad finalists I’m competing against.

There goes my phone. Do I even check it? Or ignore…

@Tweet. #Duh.

While We’re Young, Wild and Free

February 2, 2012

Well, we can officially put the “Blake Griffin is a God” talk to rest. As I pointed out yesterday, his dunk over Kendrick Perkins was significantly overrated and not even close to one of his ten personal best. Then, some doopster (dude hoopster) laid this beauty down in a college game. And suddenly, rightfully, Griffin is old news.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you finish a dunk.

I’m sure by now you’ve all seen some footage of the Egyptian stampede that took place after a soccer match yesterday. The death toll right now is at 74. I’m sure most people here don’t care because 1) it’s soccer, 2) it’s Egypt, but everyone needs to take notice. The United States essentially explodes from within when a streaker so much as tweets that he or she will storm the Phillies’ outfield.

Real fan violence takes place overseas, where soccer is king and passion falls like rain in Seattle (that’s a LOT, if you’ve never been). Take that into account next time you complain about that meany pants with the spiky face at the Raiders game yelled you suck to your family at the game. And if you go to a soccer game abroad, please be careful.

I finally have some baseball news! First, this. Because it’s the Yankees and they get too much pub to begin with, I’ll just hand you the link and tell you to read the first line and sit back in shock. And then you can think about it and realize how much sense Brian Cashman’s assertion makes. That’s all.

But even cooler, we have a Nyjer Morgan sighting! If you don’t like Nyjer, you must be either a commie or a Cardinals fan. But T-Plush is as bad ass a ballplayer as you’ll ever see. He’s the T.O. of baseball, minus the baby mama drama. So get a load of this guy taking on another sport! I love it.

Lastly, I have some punishment to dole out. Let me explain first. I have a raging bromance with Aldon Smith. He single-handedly gave me hope that the 49ers’ pass rush has a prayer in the next few years of returning to form. By the way, what’s the female version of bromance? I suggested homance and heavy flowmance, but my female friends didn’t take kindly to it. If you’re willing to risk public verbal flogging, comment below and tell me what the answer to that timeless question is.

Oh, right. Back to Aldon. He got a DUI the other day. The kid is barely old enough to drink. And as one of his fans, I wish I could just tell him this and let him walk. But he needs to be docked some serious pay by the NFL and a timeout from Coach Harbaugh. If he can make Alex Smith a respectable NFL quarterback, I’m sure he can help crank a few common sense life lessons through the younger Smith’s dense skull.

And it wouldn’t be Thursday without my P.T.Z.D.I.T.H.W.A! (Same title, but shorter. Whatever, just look.)

And On The Third Day, God Created Soccer

February 1, 2012

If you think watching Wayne Rooney or Lionel Messi weave through foot traffic and tuck a shot into the back of the net is pretty, you haven’t seen THIS. Oh my sweet Lanta. I’m tempted to just stop the blog on that glorious note. Or link every word to that video. But since I know my dedicated readers (that’s you, dummy!) would flip a female dog, I’ll continue on.

Without a doubt, that is the most epic goal I’ve seen in years. Everything came together perfectly to make that happen – planets aligning, gravity, wind chill, the length of the dude’s shorts. Everything, I tell you. Now comment below and tell me which scorpion move was better? That first one, or the original?

One thing is for sure. Blake Griffin’s dunk the other night on Kendrick Perkins was pretty filthy, but not even his best of the year. Everyone needs to calm down. I see LeBron throwing down cooler jams than that on a nightly basis. Call me when Griffin gets glorified for a real dunk. You know, like when his follow through actually allows his hand to touch the rim.

Is anyone else sick of me talking about basketball? Oh, thank God! I was beginning to go crazy. Wait. Sick? Basketball? Crazy? That can only mean one thing! The Bernie Fine scandal is back! But with a hilariously cougariffic twist. Here’s my disclaimer: I, Jamblinman, do not condone any activities in the following link; nor do I support the behavior of either party. Yet, both alleged parties were consenting adults and this is the gospel to MILF-hunters everywhere. If it bothers you, yell at me. Now, check it out. As those crazy kids today say, ROFL LOLOLZ! I’ll give you old folks a minute to figure that one out.

……

Time’s up!

Now for my last bit of business, this is something I rarely do. I will hardly ever be found verbally abusing Aaron Rodgers. He’s an incredible quarterback on a team I passionately hate, but he’s a good guy, a hard-working athlete and one of the most elite passers in the NFL. With all the mushy stuff out of the way, he needs to get a grip and take a chill pill. Just relax, Aaron! We don’t want you killing any politicians, now do we?

But yesterday, Rodgers was quoted as saying the following after the NFC’s Pro Bowl loss:

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rodgers said. “I was a little bit disappointed. I felt like some of the guys on the NFC side embarrassed themselves. […]

“I wanted to know the plays and I wanted to play well, and I wanted to give the fans a show, and make the Green Bay fans who watched and were watching for me and my teammates, I wanted to make them proud of their Pro Bowlers. I was just surprised that some of the guys either didn’t want to play or when they were in there didn’t put any effort into it.”

Umm, okay then, psycho! I understand his point of wanting to show off for the fans. But nobody wants to get hurt, especially in the least interesting all-star game in sports history. As they should, most guys were there to sleep off the aches and pains of a long season and take in the beautiful Hawaiian beaches.

I don’t know what Rodgers’ beef is with the teammates. No fans were watching anyway. I mean, give me a break. I can only think of one thing in the world that would be less interesting to watch than the freakin’ Pro Bowl. Actually, that’s kind of funny – and definitely has more views than last Sunday’s game.

As per normal, I leave you with the Weird Wednesday Web Story. Okay, so OMG BRB TTYL Ellen is on!!!


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