Monday, January 23, 2012

From Bourgeoisie to Proletariat: Shanahan Coherent Enough After Apparent Lobotomy to Suspend No Good Fuck Ovechkin... Oh and Joe Paterno Died

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels once postulated, in brief, that the proletariat, downtrodden souls oppressed by the man-made constructs of capital and corruption, would rise up, free themselves from their proprietary shackles, and levy justice upon the bourgeoisie -- a collection of hedonist cosmopolitans, who, like missionaries of evil, spread their filth around the world, preying on broken spirits and weak wills with the dangling carrot of ascent on the social ladder. At least that’s what my history tutor was spouting about when I was using his computer to download Van Halen tracks and fake celebrity pornography. That kid never did shut the hell up.

Anyhow, this long-winded metaphor that only came up because I was listening to Eruption is fitting for today’s joyous occasion. Namely, that playoff absentee Alex Ovechkin, the showboating attention whore akin to the bourgeois vampires, was finally brought to actual – and at the same time, poetic – justice by NHL disciplinarian Brendan Shanahan, suspended three games for his hit on Zybanek Michalek, who, if you had read my previous post on him, was likely eyeing up bunk buddy Paul Martin going into the corner boards.

While Shanahan is probably too brain-dead to realize it, in between assisted scoops of mush he gets at the nursing home after the Holiday Inn Express raised its rates, he did in fact bring equality to a previously grave injustice in the NHL. This inequity is far from foreign to the sports world, though, and often goes by the name "star treatment."

For years, Ovechkin has peppered his array of fair, rattling hits with a series of knee-on-knee strikes, rocket-propelled charges, and Soviet-style ICBMs to the heads of opponents. For whatever reason, it has taken half a decade to ever penalize him for it. Now, I'll be in one fashion or another a homer bastard until I die, hopefully drowning in a pool of Iron City, during a stunt I perform in a Jean Claude Van Damme movie, or just being roundhouse kick by Van Damme for keying his car. That said, I'm not celebrating Ovechkin's suspension in its own right, but rather its inherent downgrade in his social status around the league, falling from demigod to normal player.

Whether good or bad, I would not be surprised to discover that Ovechkin's suspension emerged in part from his decline in production. Once a 50+ goal, 100+ point lock, Ovechkin's antics -- setting his stick "on fire," jumping excessively for every garbage goal, and ducking defensive responsibility, so that he can lazily float up ice in the hope that Nickolas Backstrom will bust his ass hard enough to win and send the puck up -- have all grown weary in Washington, whether under the helm of a man who commits atrocities against his waistline (Bruce Boudreau) or another who would cut the throat of his own grandmother with his skate if it meant a competitive advantage in the family pond hockey game (Dale Hunter). Conversely, though simultaneously, fellow Russian Evgeni Malkin has done nothing but explode on the ice, as I had predicted, and is dominating in every facet of the game. Let us look back:

"In case yinz jags forgot, though, we still have this other phenom by the name of Evgeni Malkin. And just like my buddy Ronnie when I can't make it on time to the case race, Malkin doesn't just have it covered, he's winning that race all by his-goddamn-self -- even if he's exhausted and belligerent afterwards.

I see the Russian machine adding to his already impressive trophy collection with the Art Ross and (fuck it, I'm goin for it) the Rocket Richard."

While the season is far from over, I felt the need to just point that out. Back to the topic at hand, I don't think Shanahan even has the mental capacity at this point to do it on purpose, but I am not shocked in the least to see a potential link between Ovechkin's less stellar play and his being subject to the rules that everybody else has to follow. In the meantime, enjoy this photo of how things have seemed to progress to this point.
I'm entertained, and quite frankly, that's all that fucking matters about now.
Other Happenings in Sports

Even though ESPN can fill you in -- ad naseum, no doubt -- on what else is going on in the sports world, I suppose it's my civic duty to, at the very least, go on inane tirades or make thoughtless, insensitive comments about them. With that in mind, let's get a move on; the beer in my fridge ain't gonna drink itself.

I Don't Want the Terrorists to Win, But... *Sigh*

Well, the stage is set for the 2012 Super Bowl and the only solace to be had is the absence of Bible-thumping Tim Tebow, who can spend the spring and summer throwing footballs through a tire in his backyard or whatever country boy, montage-worthy methods he can conjure up to learn to pass.

Unlike Varsity Blues, though, it won't end with Joshua Jackson triumphing or a disgraced Jon Voight being cast out of his own locker room -- it will most likely involve a 2012 draft pick or free agent being much more capable at running a modern NFL offense and displacing Tebow as the starter. I suppose it will give him more time to blow up abortion clinics, coerce indigenous peoples to convert to Christianity, or whatever he does to occupy his free time.

Getting back to the catastrophe at hand, this year's Super Bowl, rather than featuring moving storylines, has a slew of despicable antagonists upon whom fans can practice amateur voodoo or wish debilitating injury. Before exploring these characters more deeply, though, let us first look at what got us to this miserable outcome.

Whereas most winners and champions can attribute their success to focus and execution, this year's Super Bowl contenders serendipitously tumbled into the championship game by virtue of their opponents' own ineptitude in some football-related facet(s).

The Ravens -- not once, but twice -- botched critical plays, their play-calling notwithstanding, that would have either propelled them into the Super Bowl or at least forced overtime. I presume that Lee Evans and Billy Cundiff have already evacuated the Baltimore area, or have hired private security to keep Ray Lewis from murdering them with a prison shank in the middle of the night. The result was inevitable, I would argue, as wannabe 70's homosexual porn star Joe Flacco had played too well for proper karmic alignment, meaning that the Ravens had to find another means of failure.

In San Francisco, meanwhile, there was certainly no worries about quarterbacks playing beyond their ability, as Alex Smith proceeded to put forth an abysmal performance that included completing fewer than half of his passes. Kyle Williams capped off this run of incompetence by botching a punt return in overtime to set up slightly less choke-prone Lawrence Tynes to hit the winning field goal.

Unfortunately, these antitheses of "clutch" have left us with football's great sociopath and cheater (Bill Belichick), and his deadbeat dad quarterback and consummate asshole (Brady), up against another psycho (Brandon Jacobs -- don't forget his throwing a helmet at a fan out of steroid-driven impulse) and the likely breast-fed until he was 12 whiner (Eli Manning), who refused to play for Saints because he is a bitch. So, our only hope is for The Dark Knight Rises script to come to life and just pull down these particular jagoffs in the process.

In the end, though, I guess it's good knowing that neither of the a-bit-too-competitive-for-their-own-good Harbaugh brothers has a shot at winning the Super Bowl this year. What's more, I'm sure the family will enjoy the childish expression of their aggression as they wrestle, fistfight, and hurl obscenities at one another over whether the ball should be spotted before or after the ceramic pot of tulips in the next family football game.

Joe Paterno Is Dead, But I'm Pretty Sure You Knew That By Now

Listen, if yinz want a visual and audio scrapbook of the man's life, then drool at SportsCenter for the next month. I'm not going to get into extensive details. I'll just do what I always do -- give yinz straight, unfiltered shit from my brain here, or what is still working in it, anyway.

He was either really influential, needs to carry responsibility, or not -- I don't give a fuck; just make up your mind.

Now, this point is not applicable to everybody, but in the national media's case, lots of the press want to take two mutually exclusive viewpoints and mesh them together like some sort of genetically-engineered abomination.

It's quite simple, really. Choose between the following options. He was not as influential as people made it seem, his legacy isn't as grand as it's made out to be, and fine, he was victimized in the whole child abuse scandal that surrounded him in his last month or so among us. Or he was a significant person in the lives of many students and athletes, left an indelible mark on the university, but as such a figure, should have acted more swiftly, carefully, and thoroughly to see that an individual poisoning the university and harming children was brought to justice.

It's not that the latter is meant to be demonizing, but you can't be a role model and nationally-renowned figure who just "passes along" the info that somebody is abusing children. Quite honestly, given his comments about his actions in hindsight, I like to think he'd agree.

You know, I think that's enough for me. Have a good one, jags.

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