Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

Big (imperfect) win for the Colts. And I would have spouted off on this sooner, but I couldn’t get to my computer, a Denver Bronco lineman had his arm wrapped around me and a fistful of my jersey. I’ll discuss the Colts further later.

Like I’ve said throughout this awful, abysmal summer, Worst Baseball Season Ever.

And it’s about to have the final ridiculous nail driven in its coffin, as our nemeses are about to claim their World Series(I’m not going to sink to their level not going to sink not going to sink not going to sink, oh, screw it – the Cubs’ red-clad rivals can fuck off and die).

Not going to wallow in misery, over exactly what’s unfolded in the three miserable years since Alex Gonzalez booted that double-play ball.

Not going to wonder how Jeff Suppan, Jeff Weaver, Adam Wainwright, and this entire ridiculous staff somehow became good pitchers overnight.

Not going to wonder where all those errors, trips, slips, and bounces came from as the Tigers played defense.

Not going to wonder how on earth the pitiful Chicago Cubs could spank their sad-sack rivals all over the diamond this year, only to watch the rivals win it all.

Not at all.

In fact, as for baseball, Mister Faded Glory is shutting it down for the year. Forget it. We’re not going to complain about idiotic signings, not going to whine about injuries, not going to stump for Matt Murton hitting second, not going to make fun of bad management, not until at least 2007, if ever. Instead, we’re quitting for the year, secure in the knowledge that 2006 is proof there is a God, and that jerk hates all things Cub. So don’t think you can click on MFG anytime in the coming months as some sort of respite from the 480,304 syrupy stories everywhere else extolling the virtues of classy Cardinal fans. Because MFG can’t take it, either, and we’re sorry.

But wait…

If it’s this bad now…

That means it can only get better, right? Right?!

Sigh.

How I Met Your Mother & The Class – reviews.

I know, I know. You’re already waggling your finger, saying, ‘John, HIMYM debuted last season! It’s hardly a new show.’

Well, true. Sort of.
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I hate the digital age!

I actually have one friend who has seemingly inexplicably and purposefully avoided owning a cell phone at all costs. As a corollary, he’s a father! Totally supports the above theory.

Nothing at all. Colts roll, Hawkeyes fall, the Cardinals are inexplicably going to win the World Series, and Dusty Baker is calling the damn postgame on my TV.

Got nothing but a joke. The Monday Night Football crew is so bad…

How bad is it? (Overenunciated like Suzy Kolber).

That even after Bill Parcells made the dumbass move of switching QBs to Tony Romo, after watching Romo throw FOUR horrid, mind-numbing picks, one for a touchdown, one killing the game, one on his first pass — Joe Theismann still maintained, even pressed by Tony K, that it was the right call and Parcells would “no doubt” stick with Romo the rest of the year. Wow, I hate the Cowboys, so I don’t care, but geez. Theismann’s never met an unheralded QB he didn’t want to marry. This was ridiculous. FOUR PICKS. In a half. Totally flushing the game down the stool. Yet it’s all part of the learning process and Bill Parcells’ master plan.

Seriously, is announcing this hard? Is announcing this difficult? Come on.

Actually, come to think of it, I don’t even have a joke. That was more of a random observation. Meh.

I just found out Pat Burrell isn’t a free agent in 2006. This may seem like good news, but it’s actually made all my Burrell references in columns past as a typical underwhelming Cubs signing much less funny. Anyway, feel free to go back through my posts, and sub “Pat Burrell” with “Luis Gonzalez.” Seriously, tell me it’s not going to happen.

Big weekend upcoming – Iowa vs. Michigan, and the Colts enter the meat of their schedule. Methinks Indy’s going to be fairly improved on defense with the return of Bob Sanders and the addition of Anthony McFarland (In a word: Wow!). 5-3 over the next eight would be ideal, in my opinion.

As for the Hawkeyes, I’m quietly on the upset bandwagon — even though they dropped a game to (sigh) Indiana, the Hawks always rebound best after a loss, and they have played well in the Big House before. We shall see.

30 Rock and Twenty Good Years.

No real review here. Thirty Rock lost me when Tina Fey‘s opening bit involved her purchase of an entire hot dog stand’s inventory as revenge against a corporate yuppy who cut in front of her and about 40 others at a hot dog stand. Of course, within the next ten minutes we learned she was (1) on her way to work, and (2) meeting her new boss, who set her up for a lunch meeting. Now, I’m no genius, but this means that nearly 50 people were lined up for hot dogs at, like, nine in the morning. Seriously, this sheer disregard for versimilitude ruined the whole show for me. (Yes, mother, I’m willing to suspend disbelief for a talking baby, but not 45 grouchy New Yorkers waiting for a morning hot dog. Makes perfect sense.)

Anyway, 30 Rock is a loser and I haven’t watched Twenty Good Years. However, I’d say they’re both neck-and-neck to determine which time slot Scrubs will overtake once January rolls around. Must-see TV, indeed!

I’d say that all this means is that the Demon Birds will prove the sacrificial lamb to Les Tigres, but knowing this awful, horrendous baseball season — it won’t. Soon a steroid-ridden slugger, a moody third sacker, a flaming center-fielder, a douchebag starter, and a tight-panted manager will hold an inexplicable title over their heads, even though they couldn’t beat the fucking Brewers once in September, and proved to be the only team the Cubs could win against in 2006. Argh.

If it’s truly darkest before the dawn, then perhaps us Cub fans have something to look forward to. I mean, how can it get more painful than:

1. The Alex Gonzalez/Steve Bartman/Kyle Farnsworth game in 2003, granted.

2. The Red Sox using their own failure in 2003 to spur their title in 2004. Now the Cubs were alone in the tormented-franchise jail cell.

3. The crosstown White Sox almost piss away a division, only to smoke through the playoffs and end their own postseason drought.

4. Now the Cardinals almost totally implode down the stretch, only to get excellent pitching from the Jeffs – Suppan and Weaver - and advance to the Series.

So, you see, as our compatriots, rivals, and more hated rivals each win a World Series, it’s gotta mean karma’s just testing us, right? OK, maybe we still need to allow for an Indians or Mariners unforeseen triumph before our own. But at worst, then we’re looking at a title in 2009, right? Right?

Guess what, fellow Cubs fans! Not only have Jim Hendry and John McDonough promised us a world title within two years, but, dammit, they’ll get it, too! You wanted a fiery, take-no-prisoners manager? You got it!

And guess what else — even though the Cubs brass brought back holdover frustration Larry Rothschild from the old regime, there’s gonna be changes. Big changes! Like what?

Well, hell, A-Rod at short! Straight up for Felix Pie. You know that. Ichiro in right. Who are we trading for him? Pfff, you non-believer. The Cubs are raising payroll! $15 million! Like that was ever the problem! And the Mariners will be happy to receive a broken Mark Prior in exchange for their entire franchise identity.

Oh, I’m sure you’ll ask how much of the supposed $115 million 2007 payroll will be devoted to Aramis Ramirez and Carlos Zambrano, but, please. We know they’ll take hometown discounts! They’re Cubs!

In fact, everyone’s taking hometown discounts! It’s all in the plans! Alfonso Soriano in center field! Done and done. Jason Schmidt? Of course he wants to play in Wrigley Field for less money than his hometown Safeco Field. And Carlos Lee? Christ, we’ve been feeding you ravenous fans this rumor for nearly two years now. It’s bound to happen! We’re the Cubs! Who doesn’t want to play for Lou! We decide the terms! Ha-ha!

Guess who we’re giving up? Nobody! Guess who else is a free agent? Barry Bonds! Our new right fielder! Ichiro, you’re moving to center. Alfonso, here’s your butcher’s coat, head to second base.

What about catcher? Sorry, Mike Barrett, you’ll platoon with Mike Piazza! Oh, we still need pitching? Well, the Yanks will gladly flip us Mariano Rivera for, oh, Bob Howry. A win-win for everyone.

What a team!

CF Ichiro
2B Soriano
LF Lee
1B Lee
SS A Rod
3B Aramis
C Piazza
RF Bonds
Bench — Mike Barrett, The Strap, Matt “My 2006 stats actually surpassed Carlos Lee” Murton!

What a team! We’re the Cubs!

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip may have been the most anticipated new show of the 2006 crop. It features an all-star cast bantering to Aaron Sorkin‘s uber-intelligent diatribes as they race up and down dimly lit hallways — as the West Wing was tongue-in-cheek about American politics, so too is Studio 60, with backhanded slap after slap against pop culture.

And for all its bluster, Studio 60 is an eminently watchable show. Matthew Perry does a complete .180 – he’s actually likeable as his writer character — and the other Sorkin principles, Tim Busfield, Brad Whitford, Sarah Paulson, et.al., know what they’re doing, too. Steven Weber is actually a standout here in a minor, gruff role. Like I said, it’s a watchable show — the hour flows by smoothly, there’s usually one or two laughs amidst some slick character interplay. But the show is plagued by some major problems, and though Studio 60 is pretty good — I’m not certain it can rise above its pitfalls.
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