Widukind Diary Entry #21

Apparently, grammar is not.

Back from a weekend at "The Gras". The jambalaya was scrotin'. Back to blogging! (Thanks to Juanfeesh for holding it down. If anyone hasn't download that DJ Premier/KRS-One collab he put up...I'd take pleasure in guttin' you. Boy.)

Topic 1) People always love when old people act young. It's sooooo cute! Fuck that. Let's reverse it. I wanna be old. Being hella old is the only time God hands you a "Fuck It" license. In my opinion, a "Fuck It" license would be way tighter to have than a "I'm 3 years old and can poop and pee into a plastic crumply thing thats velcroed around my ass" license. True, you get what you want when you're young and can run around nekkid, and everything with sugar is FUCKING AWESOME!!! But imagine the freedom of being able to act old when you're not actually old. Post up outside a Devendra/Clap Your Hands Say "I Suck"/!!! concert calling kids "fucking pansies", getting a sponge bath, whipping out a flask and have everyone around you think you're awesome because you're hella old but still hit the sauce, ordering ridiculous things at restaurants, getting a sponge bath...think of the possibilities. Being old itself probably sucks. But being able to act old when you're not=Awesome. Blossom.
Topic 2) In these dire economic times, we need to start thinking of ways to help out. Mine is very simple: if a major professional sport league starts running out of money, they randomly select half of the players elected to the All-Pro team and let them play out a season as a single squad. The Westside Connection in LA, featuring a receiving corps of Andre Johnson, Larry Fitzgerald and Brandon Marshall. The :as Vegas Deez Nuts in Your Mouf with King James, Kobe, CP3, Dwight Howard, and Amare Stoudemire. A reality TV show could fit in somewhere. And don't tell me they would suck. They would be FUCKING AWESOME. This whole concept is just undeniable in its legitimacy. Tell me you would not buy a "Deez Nuts in Your Mouf" jersey with Jackson on the back with the number "$$$" (Stephen makes the team because I said so. They also don't need numbers because they're fucking All-Stars, not Marvin Benard).
How this helps with the economy is a gray area right now, but I think if I wanted to kill myself and got to watch Patrick Willis, Demarcus Ware, and Justin Tuck ripping Kurt Warner's face off 18 times in a game, I would probably reconsider.
Topic 3) Ok I do have one more idea. Glow-in-the-dark sports. Yes. Just let in soak in. Wait for it.

Mmm yeah there we go.

Uhhh....yeah.

Widukind is a Fantasy God a.k.a. Fantasy Football Review

!

Well, well, well. Another fantasy season, another championship for Widukind. God it's great to be me. Here is the season in review; I start out looking over the draft, and then proceed to my end-of-the-year awards.

Best Pick: Tom Brady, 22 overall, I Eat Pussy (Alot!). I came in to this saying to myself that I wouldn't reward anyone for picking a Patriot, until I was reviewing the draft results and saw an oddly astute Harrison snatching up Brady in the 2nd round. I also don't mind giving Harrison this award because he proved himself a much more capable fantasy player than I had ever imagined, and somewhat made up for his absolute disgrace of a performance in baseball.

Honorable Mention: Patrick Willis, 108 overall, banana cumcakes. Clay made him the first defender taken off the board, and for good reason. The dude defines "cornfed".

Best Value Pick: Tony Romo "No Homo", 62 overall, SploogeOnMyBreakfast. Yahoo!'s 3rd overall point scorer needed to prove himself this season, and he did more than that, garnering respect even from a few Niner faithful (most notably, me and Clay).

Honorable Mention: Adrian Peterson, 51 overall, I Eat Pussy (Alot!).

Worst Pick: Calvin Johnson, 46 overall, I Eat Pussy (Alot!). Rookie wide receivers are pretty iffy, and Harrison could have had a plethora of guys with this pick that would have made his team unstoppable. In hindsight this makes the "genius" Adrian Peterson pick make more sense.

Honorable Mention: Larry Johnson, 3 overall, I Eat Pussy (Alot!). Hey, you win some, you lose some.

Also, pretty much all of Ilan's picks except for Greg Jennings.

Best/Worst Trade: We didn't pull off a single trade in this league. Wow. How the hell did that happen?

Dumbest Drop: Earnest Graham, September 30 (2:11 AM???), SploogeOnMyBreakfast. Harrison let him go, you swept him up, and promptly released him. Juanfeesh came in for the rebound the same day.

Honorable Mention: Brian Urlacher, October 29, SploogeOnMyBreakfast. Mark gave up on a down-and-out playmaker, and Urlacher fell right in to my lap and carried me in the playoffs.

Smartest Add: Wes Welker, September 4, Ass+Cum+Blood=Salsa. Second reward for a Patriot pick, but there's no debate; went undrafted, picked off waivers right away. Alex never looked back.

Almost the Luckiest Fucking Fantasy Player...Again: Archibald Hunter of loose goose. Earlier in the year Archie famously claimed "I don't know shit about baseball" but still dominated the league. However, I ultimately came to the rescue and saved us from the horror of addressing him as our champion. As football also came to a close, the Tory was close to sneaking away with another undeserved championship (he was starting Alex Smith until Week 16 for gods sake), but I once again stopped him in his path.

Worst Fantasy Manager Ever: Ian Anderson of letsgostagsbaby. In all due respect, I feel really bad for Ian. This team didn't look half bad coming out of the draft, but he made no effort to maintain his squad, and ended up 1-13. Another embarassing performance from Woolly has his head on the chopping block for next years potential cutdown on owners.

The Ravens (a.k.a. the only manager to lose to the worst manager ever): Juanfeesh of cum_ice_cubz. Nice going.

The 49ers (**deep sigh**): vicklicksdogshit. Andy put up an unbelievable 52 points one week, and finished third to last in overall scoring (for the two below him, look up a few inches). As new commissioner, this is my second head I have placed on my proverbial chopping block, as I've come to believe Andy only joins our leagues to see if he can beat us making hardly any moves, which so far has yet to happen. Bastard.

The Patriots: SploogeOnMyBreakfast. A 14-0 regular season was certainly impressive, but Mark couldn't win when it counted. Bill Simmons wrote an article earlier in the year discussing how hard an undefeated season in real and fantasy football is; poor Mark now knows this all too well. I can only hope this is a sign of what is to come for our beloved Patriots. (I'd also like to note that while Mark will of course bring up this as his potential 3rd football championship in a row, in 2005 his championship team "Mom its just ketchup" was 7th in overall scoring. Additionally, in 2006, his winning squad of "Explosive Diarrhea" was 4th in overall scoring. What a fluke.)

Champion: Me (Mark and Alex can complain all they want, but it was Poodi Johnson who ended up as the top-scoring team in the league. So you can suck it. Yes, my genitalia.)

A sweep of the fantasy championships will do just fine; anyone want to buy a ticket to tour my Yahoo! player profile trophy chest? No? That's ok I'll just melt all my hardware and bathe in liquid gold. All the time. Mmm yeah sue me, sue me.

Out like me from the fantasy playoffs. Oh no wait....

Not out like me from the fantasy playoffs. Much better.

Minutes for Sunday, December 23rd 2007

WASHINGTON D.C. - ASSOCIATED PRESS

"Desparate times calls for desparate measures" many political analysts were, and are, saying in concerns to the Joint Session of Congress President George W. Bush called on Capitol Hill last night. Here, presented unedited with exception of names, are the minutes taken down painstakingly and extremely accurately by Fantasychamp:

When Fantasychamp said what things he could try and get e and l to do together because he owns them.

Bear: To stop conjestion while driving they make a lane that is real bumpy and shitty unless you have a big car because so when traffic is hella bad you go to the bumpy road which is better than traffic as long as you're moving right? All the big cars go to the shitty one cuz they go over bumps well, its a carpool lane for big cars!
Fantasychamp: why don't they just make two lanes?
Later...
Bear: it was just a terribly planned idea.

Fantasychamp and Directv: right out there in the fog could be china or a shark big ass white shark and we'd never know
Bear: If sound waves could go straight to japan if this were the ocean than I would say yo and the guy would be the first japanese guy to ever hear yo. It's going on the internet oh shit lory's gonna read this shit!
Directv: You're taking minutes congratulations you're doing a great job!
Bear: Ok and then write "and then he almost throws up".

Bear: One day when one of us is all famous someomes gonna read this shit.
Directv: oh they're all perverts!
Bear: No! they'll say "they were even genius's back then!" when you're the dalai llamas apprentice, its Fantasychamp the expert!

Bear: Nice toss yessssss.
Directv: You know who's getting that? Japan!

Bear: I'm so close, haha, so close to having a good idea.

It's only midnight it's definitely open.

Mcdonalds on fillmore! mcdonalds on fillmore!

Poonani: He couldn't say anything to those kids! Half a block away he says "fuck you" then, nothing he just goes "keep going keep going".
Bear: Dude I just made a fool of myself. Ffffuck uhh!

Directv: We've gone one fucking mile.

Bear: Rocky horror picture show that's why I didn't want to say let's see it unless it was gay porn or something...

Poonani at the mcdonalds drive-thru oh my god.

Fantasychamp: last season of the wire they kill a cop so police wipe em all out and the series ends with baltimore being worse off than it was with the gangs. It just shows the big cycle of shit.

Bear "whisper" to Harry:
I'm so fucking high right now I can't even listen....dude, are you guys gonna stay friends with me?

Widukind Diary Entry #9

My mom found this blog and wrote on one of my posts asking why I had to use the "F-Word" so much. I really, really tried to restrain myself, but how else am I gonna put it?

Baseball is fucked up.

I was waiting for abriendo_bitches to write his Mitchell report review, which of course never came, so I thought I had to give my views on the matter. I'd first like to establish that I could care less about who was named in the report (of which the sources were two guys basically. Is that all the government of the United States, the most powerful force God has ever allowed to exist on this planet, can come up with? The government that brought down Sadaam? That faked 9/11? That killed Tupac? I mean, c'maaaaaaaaan). The reason I don't care about the names is two-fold. For one, I'm basically forced to because I've supported poor Barry through all of his trials and tribulations, and if I all of a sudden started slandering Clemens I would just be a really big douche bag. Secondly, and more importantly, I really just think baseball would be better if they just let the whole thing go.

Don't get me wrong, I'm terribly disappointed in the MLB for letting something like this go on for as long as it did. Though it's a stereotypically cream puff response, I think the impact that the rampant use of steroids had on younger generations is extremely serious, and one that major leaguers should be ashamed of causing. I also support new testing techniques that will help catch steroid abusers, and anything that will help crack down on their use. However, I also believe that there is something inherent in the game of baseball, something that can't be cleared away by lab testing and life-time bans, that played a big role in why the Mitchell Report was such a huge deal, and even why steroids were so popular in the first place.

As seen over the past few years, baseball has become a sport increasingly driven by statistics. The use of sabermetrics has risen so much, that not only are dorks like me using them for fantasy purposes, but general managers are using them to run their teams. When you pair this with the extreme nostalgia Americans have in respect to baseball, the great "national pastime", it's like mixing 2girls1cup and an underground society of poo-porn lovers.

Specific numbers like 755 and .400 are placed on pedastals made of marble, gold, and everlasting-life juice. Other more general numbers like 300 and 500 are made into exclusive clubs of elite ballplayers, who have seemingly transcended the game and are all of a sudden expected to be lighthouses of morality in this dark, cold place we call Earth full of corruption and death. But what happens when those latter characteristics creep into these wholesome groups of men? All fucking hell breaks loose.

Bonds passed 700. Clemens passed 300. Then they got linked to steroids. Consequently, they get drawn and quartered by the media week-in and week-out, while the hundreds of other ballplayers are curiously ignored. Meanwhile, Shawn Merriman runs roughshod through the NFL, goes through a similar controversy, and no one bats an eye. No media members declare football disgraced, no presidents order government investigations. Let me illustrate a key difference between baseball and football: in football, the goal of a defender is to slam his opponent to the ground, while in baseball, a hitter has to hit a leather ball someplace where it will hit nobody. Given these distinctions, logistically for which sport should steroid use be abhorred? Even a damn Tusken Raider could deduce that the use performance enhancing drugs should be greater shunned in a sport where the health and safety of players are at stake. But no. Instead, Americans care about numbers, and records set by guys 30,50, even 70, years ago, on completely different playing fields.

Journalist Mary McGrory said "Baseball is what we were, football is what we've become", a statement I love. While this quote has multiple implications that can be examined in different arguments, the one that resonates here is the fact that baseball is no longer our "national pastime". It was once the sole, dominant force in American sports, but the emergence of the NFL, NBA, NCAA, NASCAR, NAACP, NAMBLA, etc., has resulted in baseball sharing the glory. Consequently we look to the "good ol' days", times void of steroid use and full of perfect athletic "icons", and constantly compare them to the ballplayers of today. This behavior, paired with the statistical nature of baseball, have led us to the clusterfuck we find ourselves in today, with little insight in to how it will all play out.

I for one can only hope that the players do exactly what their title suggests: play. I don't want a strike, I don't want guys resorting to roids, and I don't want a big hullabaloo made about meaningless records.

I just want Tim Lincecum to stay healthy.

Widukinds Diary Entry #7

Plenty of stuff to get off my chest today...

Topic 1) If you missed out, Pretty Boy Floyd wrecked shop last night in a ridiculous bout with 'Hitman' Ricky Hatton. A TKO in 10 sent a clear message to the boxing world that Mayweather is lb-4-lb the best fighter in the world, and that Brits are poonaninanies...though I did like Hatton's bend-over after he got deducted for hitting Mayweather in the back of the head. But I didn't like the fact that the Brits apparently booed the national anthem. If there's anything that reeks of more irony (real irony or Alannis Morisette irony, whichever applies), I can't think of it, so it probably doesn't exist. What a bunch of tories.

Topic 2) I woke up today at like 10:00... AM! It was very confusing. Maybe it was my body telling me I have alot of work I should be doing instead of smoking and betting on football. But I like to think that it was my body telling me I had alot of smoking and betting I should be doing, instead of sleeping! Early bird gets the worm!

Topic 3) The other day I saw a girl walking in front of me wearing a black shirt that said "You feed on the weak, I swallow the strong!". First I was like, "ewwwwww!!!!" Then I started thinking, well swallowing the strong doesn't make sense, because contextually those people wouldn't be strong at all. So she would be actually swallowing the weak, which is alot less beneficial than actually feeding on them, because a human stomach couldn't handle a whole human nearly as well as a masticated one that had been injested piece by piece. What an odd, unintended conundrum that crazy bz put herself in!

Topic 4) I keep thoughts I have written down on my phone, and then after I write about them I delete them. But one I never got around to writing about was "Dog Day vs. Inside Man". This was right after I saw Dog Day Afternoon for the first time, and I realized it had a lot of things in common with Inside Man, but I never really wrote anything down. Now I can't remember anything. So I'm just suggesting you watch this movie if you haven't already; it's incredible.

Topic 5) How are you guys going to feel when I sweep the fantasy league championships this year? Really, really, really, inferior? Don't worry. I'll feel superior enough to cancel it out and retain equilibrium. :).

Out like all 39 of PBF's opponents.

PS. Also, I just put some GoogleAdsense thing on here. If we can make money, I say we might as well try it! That's not selling out, right? Probably won't get anything but might as well try.

Widukinds Diary Entry #6

So I was sitting in the airport the other day at my gate, and this family of four came and sat behind me. The group consisted of two really dorky parents, a 5-or-so-year-old daughter who I could already tell was going to be really stupid when she got older, and a baby boy. The little girl asked the same fucking question (“when are we going on the plane?”) like 50 times. Luckily, the mom took her for a walk. But then the dad started baby-talking to the little boy. After listening to five mind-numbing minutes of this shit, I started thinking: why the fuck do people decide to talk like babies to babies? Babies don’t even sound like that; when they gurgle they sound normal and cute, but when grown-men do it they just sound fucking retarded. Anyways, the dude starts asking his son questions like, “how were we in zone 4 on the way here, but now we’re zone 9? Can you explain that to me?” This is when I wanted to turn around and say “listen, dude, your baby is like one year old, so not only does he not understand a word you’re saying nor would he be able to articulate in proper English why your sux0r family was demoted from zone 4 to zone 9, I assure you that if he had the capacity to understand the situation, he really just wouldn’t give a shit.” Something hella clever along those lines, anyways.
Of course, I didn’t say it. But why? Why wasn’t Widukind willing to totally pwn teh nubz0r? Because for some reason it’s ingrained in our society to not speak out to total strangers who are making total asses out of themselves. I for one find this extremely hard to do. The people who don’t are usually insane, or named Sam Fisher.
I think this concept is really stupid. Honestly, don’t you think it would make the world a better place if it was socially acceptable to sound off on those around you? Things like, “hey man, you smell like dookie”, or “hey, you look like a total douche bag in those crocs” or “you really suck when you drink” (aka, large majority of women between the ages of 13 and 100). Of course, any racial epithets or derogatory statements would still be unacceptable, but any frank observation about what your fellow human is up to would be perfectly fine. First of all, it would make people aware of things they do that make other people feel uncomfortable. Second, the people who do speak up when they shouldn’t would get a mouth-full, or better yet an ass-kicking, because before the institution of my great idea, they could get away scott free without any consequences. (Yeah I’m talking you, 8-year-old smartasses on the 24! No more!) This of course leads us to the conundrum of really big strong people who also happen to be assholes who would potentially end up ruling the world, but hey, that’s natural selection, right?
This leads me to my next topic. About 20 minutes after enduring the father who was unconsciously and figuratively defecating into my ear, some other woman whipped out her baby and changed his diaper in the middle of the airport. She literally yanked off his soiled underpants, wiped down his booty and ding-a-ling, and put a new diaper on. Lucky for me she was too far away for any smell to waft its way in to my nose, but I could only imagine what the people around her thought. This would have been a situation in which my prior idea would have worked perfectly. Example: “excuse me, ma’am, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you just rubbed a towelette up and down your babies poopy bottom right in front of my nose and then started wiping all over his scrotum, which all of a sudden made me feel very perverted because I was looking at a babies penis for an extended period of time” (note, I did NOT have this last thought, whatsoever). Anyways…
So then I started thinking, this baby really doesn’t care that it’s butt-nekkid in the middle of the airport. He’s just chilling getting free full-service, balls hanging out for all to see. So why can’t we all be like that? Think about it, man! First of all, we would save money on clothes. Second of all, stupid fashion designers who think they’re the shit because they came up with the idea of having a woman wear a dried elephant cock on her crotch would be out of a job. Third of all, because everyone would be naked, everyone would live in warm places and just be happier all the time. Fourth of all, hot people would have a huge advantage because ugly people couldn’t dress up and be deceiving in order to get some, so it would only be hot people making babies with hot people. Fifth, those babies would be even hotter than usual because we’d all be living in Hawaii and everyone would be hella tan.
But of course, if everyone was hot, consequently no one would be hot, and we’d be faced with quite a conundrum.
So, in conclusion, the world would be run by hot, strong, mean people. Since I only fulfill one of those categories (hot, duh), I would die. So, natural selection=not so good for me. Which is how I just convinced myself to become a Creationist.

Out like science!

When I say Dre, you say Boner!

After DJR (Juanfeesh, that should be your MC name) and DJ Hart offered up their super-top-secret mixtapes to the public, you knew MC Dre Boner would eventually have to get in the mix. As I mentioned in my most recent diary entry, I’d been absolutely swamped with work, but now that I won’t have any big assignments until finals, let’s get the ball rolling.
I’m going to admit this isn’t really a mixtape; instead, it’s more like a plug for a few hot albums I’ve come upon recently. Also, the new Dipset stuff is admittedly a few weeks old due to me being so busy, but whatever. It’s all money.

MC Dre Boner (Free, but donations appreciated. Please make all checks out to the "Dress Archie Hunter Fund".)

Can’t Hurt My Style – Cam’ron, off of his new mixtape Public Enemy #1. This is a standard Killa Cam track; straight militaristic with some funky shit thrown in. Mr. Giles flames “like Benihanas” in this one.

Child of the Ghetto – Cam’ron, Public Enemy #1. Apparently Cam is “filet mignon”, and we’re all just “steak ‘ums”. Gotta love it.

Cha Ching – Cam feat. Hell Rell, Public Enemy #1. Nation of Thizzlam and DJ Hart gave some love to “Just Us” and “Hot Mess”, two great songs off this same mixtape, but I’m convinced that “Cha Ching” takes the cake. If someone asked me what Dipset sounds like, I’d probably play them “Monster Music”, and then this song. Hell Rell claims he “packs the toast, but you hogging the butter”. Sorry Ruger!

LA Track – Jim Jones, off of Harlem’s American Gangster. I thought this deserved some recognition, because of Hungryfortacos’ most recent post explaining the return of the Roc. Apparently, Jimmy thinks otherwise; this mixtape came out as a diss towards Camel Joe. Basically, Hova is a wanna-be Harlem gangster, while Jones has been repping the town all along. The only issue for me was that pretty much this whole mixtape sucked, except for this track. Even this song sounds like it was thrown together way too fast.

Smartz – Scarface, off of The Untouchable. This is a major throwback that I recently discovered. Honestly, this album is now easily one of my tops of all time. When it comes to supplying the funky base and head-bobbing tracks, Scarface puts all others to shame.

Sunshine – Scarface feat. Lisa Crawford, The Untouchable. I don’t know who Lisa Crawford is, but she really pulls an Akon on “Beautiful Escape” here (I’m such a bitch); all she says is “sunshine” every now and then. Whatever. Scarface brings it here.

Untouchable – Scarface, The Untouchable. The title track says it all. Scarface comes hard (maybe homo…that phrase is such a layup).

Body Rott – Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, The Art of War. Another old album I unearthed recently. I have no idea what “body rott” is, but the fucking police better do it. OK I just realized that it probably has something to do with dying. Fucking fuzz!

Clog Up Yo Mind – Bone Thugs, The Art of War. “Sit back and let this thug shit clog up yo mind”. Yeah, I’m quoting the song, but I’m also telling you to do it. Great track.

Ottos Journey – Mylo, off of Destroy Rock and Roll. I totally didn’t steal this from DJR. (No) Thanks, Juanfeesh. I was disappointed you didn’t put this on your high playlist, so here it is for all the stoners, ahem, appreciators of synthesizers, out there.

Got To Be There – Toots and the Maytals, off of In The Dark. I was introduced to Toots towards the beginning of school, and I was fortunate enough to see him live in Atlanta about a month ago. Toots is known as Bob Marley’s bassist, and also as the guy credited for coining the phrase “reggae”. He was unbelievable live. Wow this mixtape is really changing course.

Pressure Drop – Toots and the Maytals, In the Dark. You should all recognize this from the famous “Kingston” mixtape that lived, and finally died, in the namesakes old Saab. That car was teh rox0r.

Sweet and Dandy – Toots and the Maytals, True Love. This album is more upbeat and not as good as In the Dark, but I challenge you; try not to get up and start hopping around to this one a little after a minute.

Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) – Kenny Rogers & the First Edition, from the Big Lebowski Soundtrack. I just saw this movie again, and I couldn’t believe I forgot this song, and one of the best tripper video montages I can remember.

Oh My God – Michael Franti, from Stay Human. So I asked one of the kids from Nashville if he had rap on his iTunes, and he played me this. He even said he had some “bay shit”. First I laughed… then a beautiful relationship was born. Michael Franti is a local guy that’s been slept on, but he’s for real.

Well that’s all for now. If you like this shit, which you should or else you suck, go out and download, ahem, buy The Untouchable, Art of War, and In the Dark. Cam’s mixtape is free and is available off of his myspace. Get on it.