Originally published on the BSMW Message Board July 12, 2011
(From the unsold pilot episode of SportsDad)
TITLE CARD: There are over 50,000 known douchebags in Massachusetts. The highest concentration, live in this 750 square foot apartment.
FADE IN:
EXT. BOSTON – DAY
We fly over the Boston Garden, heading toward the Charles River, before making a sharp right to the Northeast. Charlestown.
CUT TO:
INT. CHARLESTOWN APARTMENT – DAY
We see a young boy laying face down on a couch. The door to the apartment opens and BILL SIMMONS JR, 9, lifts his head. His nose is bloodied, the couch stained. He rises and attempts to hide the evidence with a pillow. WILLIAM SIMMONS SR 38, enters the living room carrying three lunch pails. He’s a ghastly sheepdog of a man.
BILL SR What have you been doing in here?
BILL JR I…too many men…in
He stifles a cry.
BILL SR In what? Your pants? Too many men in your pants!?
BILL JR On! On the ice! Too many men on the ice!
BILL SR They broke our hearts?
<beat>
BILL SR and BILL JR (together) AGAIN!
Bill Sr reaches over and ruffles his son’s hair.
BILL SR Cheer up son, that Bird fellow is going to start playing for the Celtics in the fall and I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be something special.
BILL JR Why’s that dad?
BILL SR He’s gritty. Hard-nosed. Hard working. Like us.
Bill Jr thinks for a second and starts to nod his head.
BILL JR Like us.
<beat>
Hey dad?
BILL SR Yes?
BILL JR Can I go over to Patrick Beverly’s to play? *
(Originally published October 21, 2020 at BJBSJournal.com)
Luscious Juicy Sandwiches
Sounds anecdotal.
I’ve always wanted to fondle a pitching rubber and get John Tudor’s autograph, not to mention, put in writing how I feel about the trio of fartknockers that run this organization.
Voting at Fenway? Joe Moody must be quite busy today!
Sorry, folks. Never in my life heard of Twix. And many of you probably never heard of the Clark Bar. Anyway, everyone knows that if we were constitutionally restricted to one (1) candy, it would have to be Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. All you Twix freaks now have a moral obligation to go out and buy a month’s supply to keep your beloved candy in business.
Did you know the Red Sox traded Mookie? Zoinks!
Josh Allen? Not elite.
Cakes are cooking for Manfred Mann, Judith Sheindlin, Charlotte Caffey, Joey Harrington, and Kim Kardashian.
How many shares in the Red Sox do I have to buy to steal Linda from John? Would.
Steve Buckley coming out, and the fraud Ordway trying to come across as an advocate for sexual choice. He sat by silent while the revolving door of WEEI dickwads spewed anti-gay sentiment. Just recall when the gay marriage bill was in debate and how Glenn’s big ex-jock buddies ripped on that ad nauseum. They knew Buck was gay, and did this crap in his presence. Shame on Buck for his willingness to take a check at the expense of his own dignity, and shame on the gaggles of douchebags that put him in that dilemma. Don’t reinvent history and try to come off as supportive. All parties involved at WEEI are frauds and I’d expect nothing less at this point.
“Mother’s basement” is really a pre-WiFi insult. Now you can troll from anywhere in the house!
Also, I was today years old when I found out that Joe Buck is the son of Marv Albert. Gonna need a moment here.
Swishy. Sackface. And the Milkman’s Son. That’s it. That’s the post.
Last week, Dak Prescott gets hurt. This week, Dak Emrick announces his retirement. Some coincidence.
If Twix sponsored the ’67 Impossible Dream Red Sox Bobert would have crispy cookie and caramel smothered all over his mouth and down his chin every day.
You’re not changing my mind. In a way, never liking Kirk Minihane is an ADVANTAGE.
I wonder if there is a Boston Media Home for Little Wanderers? Butch Stearns and Pete Sheppard having morning coffee together. Doug Meehan cleaning the kitchen and complaining that Bob Lobel is a slob. Ted Sarandis coming home angry every night after yet another unsuccessful attempt to find a five dollar hooker.
Plain Black Hat is due to discover Midsommar next Summer.
Cool fall weather means it’s that time of year to stay inside, sit in a recliner in a dark room, and scratch your arms.
Tom Caron has always been a huge Liverpool FC. Yup, for sure, always.
If the day ends with a -y, then you can bet Trenni is on the hunt for men on Plenty of Fish.
He Got Game is retroactively bad because Ray Allen is a cunt.
Howdy, Taggers, Invisoneers, WordPressers and Slackers! This weeks Phrase that Pays is ‘Value-Pak Slap Mags!’ Honkies!
Does anyone know the fall hours at Whalom Park?
Can’t wait for the Red Sox Ownership Group to introduce Wally’s latest relative, ‘Financial Flexibility!’
Zoomy Zubes!
Mouse-wife to Mom-shell in the time it took to get that new tattoo, tattoo, tattoo!
Well actually, the building is no longer structurally sound and a family of 6 squirrels is now homeless. In this economy? How will they survive? This is what happens in Trumps America.
“Behind the Scenes at WCVB” That’s a book I’d buy… -Amalia Barretta…was she the reason for the breakup of Chet and Nat? -Frank Avruch…was he really a legendary swordsman? -Derm Keohane…most knew him as the ugly guy in the small box doing sign language on the morning news before closed captioning was invented…what you don’t know is what a prick he was!!! -Clark Booth…did he really have a larger porn stash than Bin Laden? -Captain Bob…his scandalous secret life and X-Rated etchings!!! -Jim Boyd…the shocking items he hid in his afro!
UMass football probably needed more practice time, too.
When are we finally going to cancel Pete Blackburn for misappropriation of gay culture?
Honk if you remember Mr. Magoo.
You can’t WFH an RPO!
Merloni, with his dyed facial hair and mop is resembling “the Great Svengarlic”, the fraudulent hypnotist that walked the Three Stooges out onto a flagpole.
It’s Wape Wice, for the good times.
Best bet for the weekend: Joe Buck overload.
If anyone needs me I will be out walking my pet rat, ‘Ronald.’
material from interviews, wire services, Twitter, other writers, league and team sources, and#the15 wereused in this column.Fare thee well, Robert LJ ‘HotDog’ “Bob from NH” Sandwich. You are missed.
(Originally published October 4, 2019 at BJBSJournal.com)
Excerpts from the unpublished manuscript by Ms. Beatrice Kerr, which to date has been rejected for publication by; Esquire Magazine, LIFE, Sport, The Boston Phoenix, The Atlantic, Reader’s Digest, The Boston Globe Magazine, TALKERS Magazine, The Improper Bostonian, The Christian Science Monitor, Playboy, Vibe, The Lawrence Eagle Tribune, Art Monthly, Boston Magazine, The Wellsley Townsman, Yankee Magazine, Jet, digboston, Street & Smith’s Pro Football Draft Preview, EXPO Magazine, The Somerville Times, Radio Ink, Southwest: The Magazine, The New England Journal of Medicine, and Parrot World.
18 April 2008 – 11:39 AM Larry Johnson is excited. It’s a big sports time in Boston. All the local teams are active. The Celtics are about to start the playoffs. The Red Sox are off to a decent start and will always be the number one story. The Bruins are in the playoffs and winning. Even though Larry is enjoying the Bruins, he misses the old NHL and the fighting. No, really. Larry’s just being honest. He could lie and say he likes the finesse game, but that wouldn’t be Christian. So he admits that he enjoys seeing God’s creatures beating the bejesus out of one another. Except Larry pronounces that “be-hay-soos” because he doesn’t like to take the Lord’s name in vain. That’s a sure ticket to eternal damnation where Larry has heard the buffet is a big disappointment.
And the NFL Draft is coming up. Larry likes to think of himself as a bit of a self-styled NFL draftnik. He doesn’t really care much for college football (except for BC, where Jon Meterparel does a great job) and doesn’t really know any of the players but he finds the discussion fascinating and what’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with having a diversion from the vicissitudes of life? A welcome respite from things like plagiarism, lack of self respect and annoyingly persistent weight gain. Larry’s partner, Craig Mustard, doesn’t like the draft and tells Larry not to talk about it. Even though Craig and Larry kid around a lot on the air, Larry thinks Craig is a great guy and he does a great job. Just as all the guys at the station do. And the callers too. Great guys.
And the Boston Marathon is coming up. Larry’s hoping he gets the call to sit in on one of Monday’s shows. He has a hilarious riff on running that he uses every year that really breaks the guys up. “I can’t even drive 26 miles!!” and “hey, Pete, are you sweaty from running the Marathon or walking up the stairs??” and “I run to Shaw’s every weekend!!” and “I have congenital heart failure. Please help me. Guys, I’m serious.” He has a lot of fun with it and the guys at the station really seem to enjoy Larry’s humor. It’s a great place to work.
16 May 2008 – 4:32 PM Larry Johnson is torn. It’s the Friday before his Saturday morning radio show at WEEI. It’s a great place to work with a great bunch of guys. He and Craig Mustard argue a lot on the air, but it’s all in good fun. Larry prays for Craig, just as he does all of the guys at the station. Craig’s a great guy. He’s settled down and become a family man and Larry couldn’t be happier. Despite the fact that Craig once refused to donate his kidney to Larry when Larry lay near death even though Craig was a perfect match, Larry still thinks Craig is a great guy and he long ago put that ugly business behind him.
The reason Larry is torn about tomorrow’s show is that he doesn’t know how he will handle one of the hot button issues of the Boston sports week. He knows fans will want to talk about the Herald and John Tomase. Larry knows that fans will want to engage in personal attacks on John, who Larry thinks does a great job. Just as all the guys at the Herald do. Larry secretly hopes that the Celtics clinch their series tonight so he can talk about positive things. That’s what Larry likes to do. He thinks there’s far too much negativity in this town. He loves that Rick Pitino quote. He liked Pitino’s press conferences. He likes all press conferences. He finds it fascinating when the media questions people with microphones and cameras around. There’s always the possibility that someone will say something fascinating.
Larry likes to put a lot of issues on the table for the Saturday show. Craig jokes that Larry should be used to a full table. Larry laughs and then sometimes chokes because of his congestive heart failure, which is not funny but the pictures of his heart the doctor showed him are fascinating.
Larry hopes John Tomase can find spiritual guidance to carry him through these dark times. Larry likes to act as a sort of shepherd to his fellow man. But not like Pete Sheppard. That’s one of Larry’s favorite lines and he laughs a lot after it, sometimes without passing out.
In fact, Larry decides he’s going to call John after the show and offer to take him over to Lively Stones church. Not for a sermon, but for some fun. There are a great bunch of guys there who get together in the spirit of fellowship, faith and trans fats. He thinks John will fit right in. John’s a great guy and Larry would like to introduce him to Jesus, the greatest of great guys.
06 Jun 2008 – 2:10 PM Larry Johnson is depressed. It’s the day before his regular Saturday shift at WEEI with his old partner, Craig Mustard. Craig’s a great guy and a great high school teacher in an exclusive Boston suburb. Larry’s not a teacher but he spends his days drawing Glenn Ordway. The guys at the station have a lot of respect for Larry’s art. They kid him about the fact that he traces everything, but Larry just laughs and winces to hide the pain when they’re not looking. The fact that his life’s work has become a punchline makes Larry sometimes wish he’d followed his first calling: to be an aviator. Sometimes he still pretends he’s a pilot while he’s sitting on the toilet. But his large frame, flat feet, nearsightedness, high blood pressure, uncontrollable sweating, explosive flatulence, high glucose levels, webbed toes, compressed vertebrae, trouble swallowing, vertigo, respiratory problems and irritable bowel syndrome left him just shy of the physical requirements. So he put down his wings and picked up a pencil.
Larry likes who he is and he knows that the other guys at the station like him too. They call him “LJ”, which Larry knows is not a name you would call someone that you did not like. Sometimes Larry likes to drive over to the station just to be around the guys, even if he isn’t working. He sits on the other side of the glass with headphones on and watches Glenn and the guys work their magic. He mouths what he would say if he was on the air. He touches his hand to the glass. His heart flutters but not in a way that he recognizes he needs to hit his Medic Alert button. He sketches another cartoon of Glenn. This time he gives him purple pants. That’s a good one. Glenn will like that. He thinks about how much he wants to be a regular on the station. It hurts sometimes, but then the free food arrives. Larry is right where he wants to be.
02 Sept 2008 – 3:07 PM Larry Johnson is frightened. When Jason Wolfe asked to meet with him several days ago at TGI Friday’s, Larry figured something was up. He knew that heavenly appetizers and reasonably priced, cheese-covered entrees might not be the only thing on the menu. Before they could get through the third bucket of boneless wings, Wolfe got right to the point. He was relieving Larry and Craig Mustard of their weekend hosting duties. Larry tried to make a joke about the Red Sox and their relievers, and then about Pete relieving himself in the studio, but Wolfe sat stone faced across the family-sized vinyl booth, leaning back in his booster seat and folding his arms. Suddenly, the fancy lighting and welcoming décor that Larry always loved about the Friday’s chain started to spin. Larry felt his heart running faster than normal, his head growing light and his torso starting to sweat. And he hadn’t been near a flight of three stairs in weeks. Larry’s mind raced as he thought about how he might illustrate this moment. How can one trace the death of a dream? Just before he passed out, he saw a Rolling Stone tongue logo on the wall. He never knew Friday’s to be so edgy. And for the 12th time that day, Larry Johnson lost consciousness.
Larry awoke to find all the guys from the station standing over him. He was in the hospital. It turns out the boneless wings…weren’t. No one from the station had ever come to visit him before during his 372 recent stays. He was overcome with emotion. What a great bunch of guys! Who wouldn’t want Chronic Obstructed Pulmonary Disorder if it means the guys are going to come see you?
After that, how could he hold a grudge about getting fired? Just because a short man and great guy named Wolfe has taken away his only connection to humans, his access card to all the great guys at the station and free food, his purpose in life…why should he be upset? God only gives us as much as we can handle, a proverb Larry put to the test repeatedly at the Old Country Buffet. They do a great job over there. Really. Who would have thought you could put cheese right in the meatloaf? Not Larry. But they do. And it’s great.
Later that night, as he lay awake in his hospital bed, the ventilator working overtime hooked up to an auxiliary industrial strength turbine engine, Larry looked out at the night sky. And then it came to him…satellite radio! He picked up the hospital phone and quickly called Craig, who asked how he got his home number. Craig was always kidding. Larry told him about his idea. Craig said “Sirius?” Larry replied, “I’ve nevah been more serious in my whole life!” And the dream was born anew.
We at The Journal are glad to provide an outlet for Ms. Kerr, and hope she can find a publisher due to this publicity. She is welcome to publish other works, if any, here as well. @firegoodell3
False: You’re 33 and live in your mother’s basement.
In a word my friends?
Bullshit.
Ironhead wishing death on Roger Clemens like he’s Bin Laden is like the sun coming up over Narragansett Sound.
Does @sofascout1 put human hair in mason jars, and hide it in the basement? Probably.
Will Scartsy always slide by with a wink and a nod?
Undoubtably.
It doesn’t matter. BJBSJ trucks in the mud with some of the most feckless human beings in the world: professional sports media. They count on you not being ready to get down on their level and crawl on your belly. Well, we will.
Although we’ll never wish death on a listener’s child, like 98.5’s Big Jim Murray did, we will happily keep Scott Kacsmar unemployed and heavy in his mother’s racist basement for as long as it takes.
(Originally published February 19, 2019 by DesignatedKyle at BJBSJournal.com)
The days between the NFL’s conference championship games and the Super Bowl turn the sports media landscape into a desolate wasteland. The Pro Bowl sucks and everyone knows it, but writing about how much the Pro Bowl sucks is pointless because everyone knows it. In late January the NBA hasn’t even reached the All-Star Break. College football’s long gone. College hoops are somewhat interesting but there’s only so many ways you can write “ZION OMG” before it gets old. Spring Training hasn’t arrived, and until it does the baseball people are hunched over in a corner murmuring about problems with free agency and snarkily Tweeting about other sports.
Those dead days before the Big Game are wide open prey for anyone who wants them. In 2019, I’m proud to say that BJBSJ pounced.
Meanwhile, in some forgotten corner of Pittsburgh, where poorly-patched streets front peeled-paint houses, Ska Katsfart was doing some pouncing of his own. For several days in a row, this Football Outsider was click-clacking away at all hours of the night, engaged in a strange kind of warfare. Anyone that dared question his football claims was in danger.
I won’t go into detail about the content of his arguments that week because it is irrelevant to the story. His delivery of his claims was problematic, and those vicious barbs reflected a past pattern of behavior that was soon to be brought to light.
About a year or so ago, the Outsider verbally attacked a Twitter acquaintance of mine. The victim, who will only be referred to as the Rabbit, simply questioned the veracity of one of Mr. Kickball’s provocative claims. The football analyst and FiveThirtyEight contributor proceeded to tell Rabbit to “fist” himself. Twitter is a vulgar place, so the issue isn’t necessarily language; the real problem was a nationally-known writer lashing out at his critics with remarkable cruelty, and getting away with it. Other users have confirmed with me and my colleagues that they have been similarly treated by Kiksmall.
Flash forward to the final days of January 2019.
In the midst of Karsmack’s days-long jihad against anonymous Twitter critics, BJBSJ’s investigative unit uncovered a racially-charged (if not straight up racist) Tweet he sent a few years ago. It wasn’t long until another problematic Tweet popped up. Then another.
This went on for about and hour or so. It doesn’t take very long to go into Twitter’s archive. This was anything but a planned out “smear” like he would later insist.
I’m positive that we discovered less than half of what was there before Kicksma decided to cleanse his feed. After compiling our findings, I released the racist Tweets to the public. My colleagues spread the story across Twitter, but several hours passed before it was picked up Robert Littal’s Black Sports Online.
Kokesmell and his employer gave no comment until late that night, when he posted an apology to his Twitter feed. Of course, by apology I mean that he said he was sorry anybody took offense to his Tweets, not for the Tweets themselves.
The “apology” wasn’t enough for Football Outsiders, either. On an El Paso radio station, Kankersore shared the news that he had been fired.
Soon, Awful Announcing had an article up. BJBSJ (“a news organization that doesn’t even have a website” according to Kedsmer) had broken the biggest media story of Super Bowl week. Please disregard the Minifans who say their idol had some kind of impact in Atlanta.
A day or two later, Kazmir penned a lengthy harangue against BJBSJ. He attempted to explain away every single Tweet that had been released to the public, but failed miserably. He even included the laughable assertion that the only reason people found his Tweets offensive was because they disagreed with his football opinions. The level of arrogance is simply astounding. I’m not going to link it because I want to spare you, dear reader, from having to see such a pathetic display. As appears to be his custom, he played the victim. Bitch, you wrote the Tweets, not me.
(Dear BJBSJ Wicked Pissah Beantown Chowderheads Platinum Elite Members; Here is a musical playlist for your Memorial Day enjoyment. Click HERE to download. The theme this year is potential WEEI format changes, and the different music they would then play. It’s funny because it is true! So, without any further ado, and no listening out of order);
Disc One: Country 93.7
1. Boston – Kenny Chesney
2. I’m Alright – Jo Dee Messina
3. Chicken Fried – Zac Brown Band
4. I Hope You DIAF – Lee Ann Crespo-Womack
5. Drinking Double Shots of Crown While Sittin On the Beach: How The Hell Is That A Country Song? – Joe Bob the Great
6. Save A Host (Ride A Flashboy) – Big O and Rich
7. A Boy Named Lou – Johnny Venmo
8. The Ballad of Postmaster Gerry – FlashSGT Barry Sadler
9. The Dale Went Down To Middays – Charles. Edward. Daniels.
10. Lonely ol’ Overnight (10-2 shift) – Ron Muskmelon Catamount
11. Before He Cheats (Again) – Sara Underwood
12. I’m Tellin’ You How To Fan -Sam “Ol’ Foot Locker” McBanjodick
13. Oh Atlanta – Eddie Money with Jaromir Jagr
14. One Hour DVR Extension – Jocko Fergus & the Coonhounds
15. The Wreck of the Joey Zarbano – Gordon Lightfoot
16. I Got Ratings In Low Places – Amalgam of Suck
17. Count The Numbers (Providence) – Sheetmetal Badgers
18. Elmira – Dick Teefe and the Downward Failers
19. Havelicek Myself Back Into Rehab – Bombay John and the Spring Water Slurrerers
20. Most Messed Up – The Old 93.7’s
BONUS TRACKS
Jesus Take the Wheel (Mut’s leaving the Horse track) – Carrie Underwood
Boys of the Fall(ing Ratings) – Kenny Chesney
And here is Disk 2, WEEI – Boston’s New Alternative:
1. Who You Drivin’ Now? – Muthoney
2. I Believe Nothing – Alex In Chains
3. All Star – Mush Mouth
4. Runaway Train – McLean Asylum
5. Hey There Pedroia – The Pricey White Tees
6. Sweet, Sweet, Sweetness – Beetle Eat World
7. Periscope Killed the Radio Star -The Circle Kirks
8. Frank From Gloucestah – Sheet Cake
9. I’m The Nicest Person I Know – Jenny and the Krylonettes
10. don’t tell me how to fan! – lc mafia
11. Danny California – The Red Headed Chili Bastards
12. In Bill We Trust (I Guess) – Hugh Patrick Sfanbut & The Toxic Objectivity Orchestra
13. Literally Sobbing – Gabs and the Starfish
14. Interstate 95 Love Song – Futility Lou
15. Shaw’s Super Bon Bon -Soul Hiccuping
16. AIDS Beer Pose – Salkgarden (Lawnmowerfinger: Live version)
17. Dancing on the Dunes – The Gamere Fens Nesters
18. Speculate/Hyperventilate – Fictional Friction
19. Visualization Of The Space Mind Gargamel XI: Winning The Offseason – Dero Spedes
20. Low Ratings Panic Attack – Radiodotcomhead
BONUS TRACK
Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town (is the Only One Who Still Like Joe Castig) – Pearl Jam
*Suggestions as to songs we missed are welcome in the comments.
A trans-WordPress cooperative collaboration with BSMW.net, who had it first before we hadit first.
The Sour Sixteen are set. Favorites and plucky underdogs. All worthy competitors. Should be fun. Voting will resume Monday, March 27th.
And just a brief flashback as to who were the 16 mediots left at this point in the Tournament in 2022 and 2019:
A lot can happen over a year’s time.
CONSONANTS
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