Borrowing the idea from Rants N Crap, where many asshats have been brought to light.

Though Dano has bequeathed the title this week upon two very deserving asshats, I felt another was deserving, so my Asshat of the Week is Milton Bradley.

Some say he was baited by the umpire, Mike Winters, who must have known Bradley has a short fuse. I say it doesn’t matter. There is NO EXCUSE for Milton Bradley’s reaction. There were plenty of ways to handle it, and he chose the toddler way.

It was obvious the umpire had said something that may have been inappropriate, because the first base coach was reacting to it too. If you think it was bad enough to get ejected over, then yell and scream and get tossed. Maybe even throw your hat and kick some dirt if you have to. Plenty of people get tossed every year without ever getting physical. Sometimes getting ejected is the best way to show your displeasure with the situation.

However, not only did Mr. Asshat get tossed from the game, he also ended up tearing his ACL in the scuffle. So now he’s out for the rest of this season and a chunk of next season. Way to help out your team and set a good example for all the kids watching. Maybe rehab will be an opportunity to grow up a bit.

For those who haven’t seen it, here is the recap:

I won’t jump on the Britney-bashing bandwagon and say she’s fat, because she’s not. I WILL say that she shouldn’t have been wearing what she was wearing, though. I saw someone say the whole thing was because of a broken heel, and that this image is proof:

I can’t say for sure. I certainly don’t think a broken heel would account for such a half-assed performance, even if it was responsible for the stumbling. A broken heel shouldn’t make it difficult to lip sync to your own song. She just looked confused, and that’s not very professional, regardless of what legal troubles or drinking troubles or social troubles or hair troubles you might have had in the past. In the words of the Fedex cave man (NOT the Geico guy), it’s “not my problem.”

And then there’s this:

Yeah, words fail me too.

Because it’s been stuck in my head, I want to get it stuck in yours.
I’m still waiting for the details on where I can get a self-replicating fembot that brings me beer.

Futuristic…
Futuristic delivery system,
Draughtkeg… innovation,
H-e-i-n-e-k-e-n.
Chill, cap, pop, snap, link, plug, lock and tap.
Fix, flex, grip, rig, tip, tap, sip and swig.
Pump, pour, gush, sink, drip, drain, draught and drink.
Innovative.
Draughtkeg.
Heineken.

I’ve started writing, stopped, deleted, typed, deleted, left, come back, typed, deleted, renamed, typed some more, deleted again, and (not surprisingly) now there is nothing.

Maybe I’m lacking that strong conflict that so many people apparently have every day. I wonder what it’s like to wake up every morning thinking that some huge conspiracy is growing, trying to steal something from you, whether it be freedom, money, pets, or even toys.

Maybe I just don’t have anything worth saying.

Maybe I just don’t have the motivation to type out things for the three people that visit this site irregularly, especially since I’m probably more likely to call them on the phone if I have something to say.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a lot of people reading this, and sometimes I’m glad they don’t. It gives me a kind of freedom knowing that I don’t really have to worry about pissing anyone off (not that I really worry about it much anyway). On the other hand, I’m not quite crazy enough to talk to myself yet, so without readers, this whole thing is kinda pointless.

It is a little sad when 99% of the comments I get are spam, though, but I can’t really blame people for not reading what I’m not writing.

Maybe this will be more interesting in the future, maybe not.