Sunday, April 24, 2011

Film Recommendation of the Week...

The Fab Five
ESPN Films
Release Date March 13, 2011.
Running Time 1 hour 38 minutes.

"Deep within the archives of the University of Michigan lie the remnants of a revolution."
—Opening line of film

This documentary gives us an in-depth look into one of the most heralded and overrated recruiting classes in Division-I college basketball history. One could say the view is a bit one-sided, seeing as it's Jalen Rose who is the executive producer, but nothing in life is seen or heard within the context of pure impartiality, the great myth of our times.

Anyone who tells a story has either an axe to grind, an agenda to execute or a point of view to get across. That is human nature, and here Rose is no different. Though he did get the facts straight in terms of the goings on, he clearly has overstated, and this is putting it mildly, the importance of their accomplishments and their impact on college basketball and the prevailing culture of the times.

There are a few points made in the film that have been exaggerated or misunderstood. First of all, Jalen sees the team's collective style choices as "a revolution" that molded inner-city hip-hop culture and college basketball in a way the world had never seen before. Sorry, but this is patently untrue. Yes, they were the first team that started five freshmen and yes, they were exciting to watch. but revolutionary they were not.

what they did do was revel in a "style over substance" fog that ignores their true legacy-the fact that they never beat Duke University during their two years together, never won a Big Ten championship and their abject failures during both NCAA tournaments they participated in before Chris Webber headed for the NBA after his infamous time-out call against North Carolina.

Rose seems to be very impressed with a sense of having changed the sport, when the reality is he and his team did nothing of the sort. We get an in-depth view of how the recruiting process took place, and how coach Mike Fisher melded together these five freshman into a coherent team. But the brashness was nothing new. The swagger certainly wasn't, either, nor was the collective talent level of the team.

So Rose uses, to its' detriment, to relentlessly hammer home the point of inner-city strife between the team and the rest of America, again another point that was nothing new in college basketball and highly exaggerated on his part. I don't see how their on-court style musings had such a profound effect, or the fact that they listened to rap music. They certainly had a cult following and were oozing with charisma and talent, but let's not forget the predominantly white media that covered them, who always seem threatened by anything unfamiliar to their suburban sensibilities. No way can we adequately judge this team through the eyes of people who did not understand where they were coming from.

What they had was an exaggerated sense of importance and a severe chip on their shoulders over what they saw as exploitation due to the fact that the marketing of their team, their image and their attire was fueling a financial windfall for the university and their sponsors at Nike that they personally weren't cashing in on.

The other sticking point was their loathing of Duke University, the "Uncle Tom" statement by Rose-comments directed at Duke's black players, and how they considered Christian Laettner and Grant hill "bitches". Yes, until they got on the court with them and were patently outclassed by these so-called Uncle Tom "bitches".

In the end, these cats won nothing and left a legacy of shame and disgrace due to the rampant cheating and money changing hands between certain players and a University of Michigan booster and convicted gambler named "Big Money Ed" Martin. The player who allegedly got paid the most was Chris Webber, who received something in the neighborhood of 280,000 dollars yet complained all through his tenure at Michigan that he was broke. Don't we all wish we were that broke while attending college.

Chris Webber, Asshole Deluxe-
Herein lies their legacy-their banners were removed from Crisler Arena, coach Fisher was fired a few years after the last of the Fab Five left campus in a hail of accusations that the program was out of control, and Michigan never regained their vaunted status as a national basketball powerhouse. Their very existence has been stricken from the record books, and Webber is not allowed as an official on-campus guest until 2014. Jalen can look at his time as a Michigan Wolverine through Rose-colored glasses all he wants, but the reality of their legacy will never change.

Other than that, the one letdown of this film is the non-participation of Chris Webber himself in the telling of this story. Bombast, trash-talking and an inflated sense of legacy notwithstanding, this is an excellent documentary that is worth viewing for fans and non-fans alike. Yes, the long, baggy shorts, black socks, black sneakers and bald heads were cool for a hot minute, and they were a good team. But win they did not, and that is the mark they have left on college basketball, like it or not.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Babe of the Week for April 22, 2011 is...

Emanuela de Paula!!!

This Brazilian beauty is a self-described "mulata", meaning she is of mixed Caucasian and African descent. She has been modeling since she was 9 years old and has worked the runways of Europe and New York City.

She was born in April 25, 1989 in Cabo de Santo Agostinho, Pernambuco, a Northeast province of Brazil that is close to some of the most beautiful beaches in the whole country, and whose major city is Recife. Regardless of where she was born, it goes without saying that this woman was born to be a supermodel.























The best thing about Brazil is the eclectic beauty of their models. Emanuela is a perfect example of this. She loooks mahvelous, dahling-absolutely mahvelous!!! Let's hope they keep producing these exotic beauties for the world to enjoy.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Gotta love those NBA referees...

There are NBA refs who are making calls to influence the outcomes of games. It's obvious to everyone except NBA Commissioner David Stern and the idiot sports writers who say these guys are doing a good job, or are blaming extensive technology for catching blown calls.

Advanced technology cannot explain nor should it excuse the terrible calls that were either made or missed this past weekend. These refs are betting big-time money on these playoff games, there is no other explanation for what we've been witnessing.

Here is an example-the NBA was supposedly clamping down on flopping, yet Paul Pierce gets a call against Carmelo Anthony that was an astounding example of this very practice. This happened during a critical point in the fourth quarter when the Knicks were fighting for the game. It's absolutely outrageous to make such a bullshit call at such a crucial juncture in a playoff game. Here's the Paul Pierce bitch foul-



Then we have an even more egregious call the refs didn't make, when Ray Allen got free for the game-winning three pointer. Kevin Garnett knocks the fuck out of Toney Douglas on a switch-off screen, tripping him onto the floor. Just check this bullshit out in slow motion-



Portland Trailblazers coach Nate McMillan got fined $35,000 for pointing out the obvious-the referees cheated his team out of a win. Nothing else explains the discrepancy in fourth quarter foul calls during last Saturday's Game 1 contest between the Blazers and the Dallas Mavericks. Nineteen fouls called against them versus only two against the Mavs, thirteen of those fouls sent Dirk Nowitzki straight to the line, where he shot a perfect 13-for-13.

The Blazers outscored the Mavericks 48 to 16 in the paint. That's a margin of almost three-to-one, yet the Mavs had an advantage at the line of over two to one. So the Mav defense didn't touch any of the Blazers even though they spent half the night horsing them in the low post.

And don't get me started on the goal tending non-call on Kendrick Perkins that put the Oklahoma Thunder up by a point with a minute to go against the Denver Nuggets-


What utter and complete bullshit. The referees are making a killing, and I know they are working in cahoots with organized crime to rig these games. This has been going on for years, and if you think Tim Donaghy was the lone rogue referee engaging in this practice, the evidence is clear to anyone who isn't smoking crack that he wasn't alone. Fuck you, NBA refs. You guys are the worst. They are ruining the game and will continue to do so as long as Commissioner Stern remains hell-bent on protecting these assholes.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Film Recommendation of the Week...

Road to the Big Leagues
Release date April 7, 2009.
Running time 54 minutes.
Spanish w/English subtitles.

Since we are on the subject of baseball in the Dominican Republic, here is an interesting look into that very world. The first film is a documentary that gives the viewer a glimpse into almost every aspect of the game as a business-

1) Interviews with successful major league players Vladamir Guerrero and David Ortiz.

2) An up-and-coming prospect excited about finally signing with a major league club.

3) An aspiring young player on the streets of San Pedro de Macoris, the town that has sent more players to the major leagues than any other in the DR.

4) A look at the myriad of baseball academies set up by major leagues that dot the Dominican landscape.

5) A player forced out of the game due to fraud committed by his handlers who now has to make it through life without baseball.




Sugar
Release date April 3, 2009.
Running time 2 hours.
English and Spanish w/English subtitles.




The second film is a fictional yet realistic account of a young Dominican pitcher from the town of San Pedro de Macoris who receives a contract to try out for a fictional major league franchise. Things don't go as planned, as they don't for over 99% of all players who sign contracts to play in the the league, but the character, named Miguel "Sugar" Santos, shows a resiliency that is true to form for many of these cats whose dreams don't come true.

We go from the poverty-stricken streets of the DR to a small Midwestern town with a bunch of Dominican hopefuls looking to emulate their heroes, having to navigate a world they don't understand and who doesn't understand them.

One of the most heart-breaking episodes occurs when the character's girlfriend refuses to take any more of his calls when she finds out he's left the team, and he is now left by himself to re-direct his focus after doing nothing his whole life but play baseball. Both films offer unsentimental looks at the cut-throat world of professional sports as it's practiced in Latin America, and they are highly recommended. Both are excellent, entertaining and well-done films.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Babe of the Week for April 15, 2011 is...

Eva Angelina!!!

Eva is one of the most beautiful Latina adult film actresses to ever grace the world of erotic film. From selected interviews, it is obvious this amazing looking woman had a fucked-up childhood, which many believe is what leads these lost souls into the business in the first place. She began making her own home-made porno movies at age fourteen and has stated her ambition to be in adult films since she was very young. She supposedly retired in 2010 with somewhere around 160 movies to her credit, which is a lot of work in such a short time. I have no idea what she could be doing for a living right now, but if this is true, she has left a body of work that will keep her fans happy for a very long time.



She started in the industry at the ripe old age of eighteen, which means that she was a whore long before she began working in films. She won the AVN award for best actress in 2008, and it sure wasn't for the way she read her lines. If Congress were to pass any type of comprehensive immigration reform, there will have to be a corollary in the bill to allow women like this immediate passage straight to US citizenship. Sí, señor, she loooks mahvelous, dahling-absolutely mahvelous!!!



Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Manny Being Manny, and the state of Dominican "Beisbol"...

Ah, so the idiot savant of major league baseball, the man-child genius who played the game instinctively, with an almost disdainful disregard for how seriously other players and fans took the game, has tested positive yet again for steroids. So instead of facing the music and taking his 100-game ban, he decides to retire at the age of 38.

Whatever the reasons floating out there for his abrupt decision, here is why he went out like such a fucking sucker-if he retires now, the substance he tested positive for will never be made public. If he ever decided to come back, then the process re-starts and the results will be out there for all to see.

This way, he can ride into the sunset like the self-absorbed asshole he is without giving anyone an explanation about his steroid use. Because of his prodigious talent he was never forced to grow up and act like an adult. His community has always unequivocally stood behind him, making excuse after excuse for his behavior. To them, he could do no wrong and whatever happened was never his fault.

The reason is the money he pulled in and the fame he garnered for the national pastime in his home country and for the Dominican diaspora here in the states. All that mattered was the money and the fame. How you get it, how you maintain it makes up for how you will eventually lose it in the eyes of his fans.

Why this is needs some explaining, so let us start at the beginning. Let us get a clear understanding of what baseball means in the Dominican Republic-the "love of the game" is a concept sold to the fans, who eat it up like a plate of rice, beans and fried chicken. It means something entirely different for those who are trying to make a living from it, and here is where it gets twisted.

Those involved in the sport only see US dollar signs. Within the confines of development league baseball in third world Latin American countries, it's about the money and nothing else. It is a cutthroat business where the large majority of so-called "hopefuls" are drowned in PED's from a very young age and then summarily discarded if they are not signed by a major league ball club by the time they are 16, which is why some prospects have their birth certificates altered by men who stand to lose money if a particular player doesn't get signed.

If these cats aren't in one of MLB's Dominican training academies before they're in their twenties, they become officially washed up. So for every Manny Ramirez there are tons of "brutos" (Spanish for someone who is uneducated and ignorant) either playing baseball in the Dominican professional league for shitty wages or working as security guards or other dead-end jobs for even shittier pay. They must, after getting cut from the baseball academy, go back to their impoverished neighborhoods as failures, their dreams and the dreams of their families gone up in smoke.

Ramirez didn't have to go through this process because his family emigrated to the states when he was young, and so he was subjected to the much less mercenary US system, where a player can get signed out of high school or college.  But Manny never graduated from high school and went straight to the majors with resounding fanfare-Washington Heights had their Dominican baseball hero, the first one of the Dominican diaspora in NYC to make it big.

He was everything his fans wanted to be if they could be a pro baseball player-talented enough to go through life with an entitled, childish, and irresponsible demeanor while the rest of the world sucked his dick, a place in society hermetically sealed from the rules of regular everyday life that didn't apply to him because he was a "pelotero" with money to buy himself whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

This has nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with the sick society we live in. In this regard the people got exactly what the deserved; an unrepentant, immature asshole unwilling and unable to face the music and no compulsion to tell his fans and the rest of the world exactly what he tested positive for. He then tells the world he's off to Spain with his old man and that's it-no explanation, no nothing, basically saying "Fuck You" to anyone who loved watching him play.

His massive sense of entitlement doesn't allow for contradiction, and not for one second did it ever cross his mind to offer up an explanation to his fans who have supported him throughout all the stupid shit he's said and done over the years. But that's how it is, because steroid use by Dominican baseball players is excused by their fans.

It's just part of the game, especially if one of their own is caught up in a scandal. But that attitude goes farther back than some washed-up player who can't hack it anymore. It starts when many of these players from the Dominican Republic are old enough to join the myriad of baseball academies that dot the landscape of this impoverished third world nation.

Steroid use in the Dominican baseball academies is absolutely rampant. The young men who attend these baseball academies are given over by their parents to grown men who don't give a fuck about them. These young men rarely go to school to learn anything except enough English to yell out "HONRON!!!" "FLIE BOL!!!" "BAYZ HEET!!!" What is in it for these men involved in developing the next generation of Dominican baseball talent? Money.

Could this be the next "Big Poppi"?
Since none of the families of these young recruits can pay for training, they become the property of "buscónes", who appear in all walks of life in the Dominican Republic, not just baseball. A "buscón is basically anyone who can help you procure something or help you gain access to any particular thing, at a cost.

The "busónes" are the street agents who steer the kids to certain baseball academies, and they will travel all over the island looking for talent, ingratiating themselves into the fabric of the kid's poverty-stricken family to gain the trust of the very people they look to exploit.

The Kansas City Royals' Baseball Camp in the DR-
As an example of how rampant this type of work is in Dominican society, I once ran into a kid who could not have been more than 12 years old on the streets of Santo Domingo steering potential clients to a nearby whorehouse. He gets a cut from every client he brings in, and in many instances these fuckers get as much if not more than the chica who has to do the actual work. Same with a "buscón" who peddles young, aspiring baseball athletes.

Since the great majority of them don't pan out in the major leagues, the "busónes", like the very players they recruit, look to to hit that big home run by getting a percentage of a prospect's major league signing bonus, which is supposedly negotiated with the player's family years in advance but whose percentage increases depending on the amount of the bonus. So a family whose kid signs for, say, $500,000 US dollars will pay (if they're lucky) about a third of that amount to the "buscón" as his cut.

A Dominican prospect at home, waiting for the call that will change his life-
How fucked out of their bonus money are these players? Here it is-they have girlfriends they must keep happy (that's if they don't immediate drop them once they sign, which happens from time to time-why marry a Dominican girl from the same slum you've busted your ass to get out of when you can go to the states and marry a blond white woman?), they have family members coming out of every corrugated tin-roof shack asking for help, and then there are the parents and siblings who must be taken care of first by buying a house and a vehicle for them in a better neighborhood with tons of security.The players know they are their family's only hope out of poverty, so they help willingly. But that doesn't mean they're not taken advantage of.

Tourists observing the game as it's played by Dominican youth-
It's common practice for a player to sign a big bonus and immediately build a house in the same barrio they grew up in, making them targets for people pestering them incessantly for handouts. And because their educations are so limited their money is sometimes gone in a matter of months or even weeks. How is this possible? With no working knowledge on what anything costs, they are prime targets to get taken advantage of.

See, there are no price tags on anything sold in the Dominican Republic. Prices are negotiated not on the intrinsic value of the goods and/or services in question but how much a proprietor believes a client can/should pay. Prices can skyrocket out of control for things like building supplies, vehicles and other items if the seller believes the customer is rich. A uniquely Dominican trait in business goes like this-"If a client has money and they can afford to pay more, they SHOULD pay more".

This bonus money is usually the biggest payday these poor players will ever see in their lives. Ninety-eight out of one hundred Dominican prospects who get signed by major league ball clubs get cut soon after hitting the minor leagues in the states, so that bonus money is usually where it ends for them. This is why baseball is such big business in the Dominican Republic, and why the attitudes towards PED's is what it is for those involved in the procurement of talent.

From this cesspool of corruption and mistrust there develops the fun-house mirror image in which baseball players are seen by their fans. If any of them manage to survive this Dantian maze of low success rates and rampant assholes at every turn, they are seen as Gods who can do no wrong. The agenda of such apologists does not border on lunacy, it bypasses it on the road to insanity.

Why? Here is another cultural quirk that must be addressed. The Dominican Socratic Method of arguing a point goes like this-regardless of what is being discussed, the fact must be established that whatever went wrong is YOUR fault and not theirs. This line of reasoning takes precedent over trying to solve whatever unfortunate occurrence took place. Nothing moves forward unless the "fact" that whatever happened was not their fault is established.

So Ramirez will remain blameless by his community. They will question the validity of the steroid testing, they will argue that Latin ball players are unduly targeted for steroid testing, they will argue that this is all a conspiracy to tarnish the reputation and legacy of one of the best hitters to ever play the game, and all because he's Dominican.

They will counter-argue that he didn't need steroids because he was gifted from an early age. They will casually disregard the importance of being voted into the Hall of Fame and mention how much he was responsible for breaking the Red Sox curse during their championship run in 2004-05. None of this takes into account what Ramirez had been doing since 2003 and probably before then, which encapsulates not only his historic run with the Red Sox but his eventual decline.

Ramirez and Ortiz, when times were good-
Let us not forget that Ramirez failed that first initial run of steroid testing initiated by MLB back in 2003. His name was one of many that popped up on the report, including then-Red Sox teammate and fellow countryman David "Big Poppi" Ortiz. Then Ramirez went to Los Angeles after orchestrating a trade by throwing some octogenarian traveling secretary onto the floor for not coming up with the requisite number of tickets he needed for a particular game.

Those innocent, childish antics may seem cute for a 13-year old, but they are a bit more dangerous for a grown ass man. But I guess that was just another instance of "Manny being Manny". After batting almost .400 for LA for the rest of the year and almost single-handedly getting them into the playoffs (something people wondered about-why the fuck couldn't he do this in Boston?) he tested positive again the next year, earning a 50-game suspension. And now this.

Manny being Manny in the outfield-
What he did during these years was chemically enhanced by a steroid program we may never know the details of. So he serves his first suspension and comes back looking like a tired, aging athlete who's lost it. Fair enough, the guy has been playing baseball most of his life, and the inevitable decline usually comes in a player's mid-to-late thirties. That's how it goes for any athlete NOT on steroids.

A buffoon in the outfield who more than made up for it at the plate-
After his lackluster last year in LA, where it was evident how much steroid use played into his abilities due to his diminished output once he came from suspension, he signs for a modest 1.9 million dollars with Tampa Bay, probably the only team that would have him. After a terrible start to the season where again it's painfully obvious that he just cannot play anymore, the bombshell hits. No more "Manny Being Manny" to describe his oddball behavior. He tested positive, and decides to run and hide instead of facing the music, which certainly was not merengue.

Something much more sinister was at work behind the scenes, and knowing Ramirez he will never explain nor apologize. So now he gets jettisoned as just another bum who cheated his way to the top and leaves the game as unrepentant as he came into it. And he leaves the game the same way he played outfield, because he never truly did give a fuck-only when he signed those contracts did he care.

For Ramirez, this story has a happy ending. He leaves the game with a clear conscience, and as David Ortiz stated recently after getting the news, "As a player, I think he (Ramirez) did what he was supposed to do". Ortiz spoke volumes with this sentence. Manny DID do what he was supposed to do-he cheated. He leaves the game admired by his fans, tons of money in the bank, and a beautiful wife and children with plenty of time to live the rest of his life in peace, happiness and prosperity.

But one need look no further than the tragic tale of Mario Encarnación, a baseball prospect who came up with Miguel Tejada from the impoverished town of Bani, Dominican Republic to see the dark side lurking beside the blinding success. Tejada was the one who made it, fame and fortune becoming a reality for him despite the fact that not only has he been implicated in steroid use, he was also involved in a birth certificate scam that put his age over what was originally thought by two years.

Mario Encarnación, hapless victim of the Dominican baseball/steroid connection-
What is the fine line here? Tejada may never have made the major leagues if scouts knew his real age, and he went on to become a six time all-star and an AL MVP winner. Where was Encarnación during all this? He was already gone by the year 2005. He was found dead in front of his refrigerator with the door still open, suspended earlier that year for testing positive for steroids while playing in the Chinese league.

Mario Encarnación imitating the batting stance of Julio Franco as Miguel Tejada looks on-
 His career never panned out in the majors, unlike Tejada, who went on to become a six time all-star and the MVP of the AL in 2002. It was Tejada who paid the freight charges to have his friend's body sent back to their hometown because no one else in Encarnación's family could afford it. Mario died thousands of miles away from his native land in Taiwan and even farther away from realizing his dream of becoming a successful big leaguer.

Miguel Tejada (far left) at the Oakland A's Dominican facility, 1993. 
 Encarnación had stated during his failed odyssey to the major leagues that "I am the great hope of my family. You always feel the pressure but God gives you courage.". Let's take a moment to remember this poor young man, who died way too young chasing a dream that so many in his family counted on that never materialized, and juxtapose it with that of  Miguel Tejada, who cheated every way he could to make it, and did.

I'll leave you with a photo of Mario's older sister doing laundry in the home he was raised in. The look on her face and the surroundings makes any caption useless to describe what life is like for these aspiring ballplayers in the Dominican Republic. It is also a sad indictment of the whole meat-grinding apparatus that "Beisbol" has become in this country, which produces big-league ballplayers that many know about, and so many others that don't make it whom everyone forgets (click on the photo to enlarge).

If you lived like this, would YOU cheat to make it? Yes, you would. But there are costs on either side of the success/failure spectrum that must be paid once the check comes due. Let us not forget that in the end, the Devil always gets his due. It is as true for Manny Ramirez and Miguel Tejada as it was for Mario Ecarnación. May he rest in peace.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Jersey Shore Redux...

I wrote about these assholes in a previous post, but after watching the cringe-inducing Third Season I am compelled to comment yet again. With the clear exception of Pauly D, I cannot for the life of me understand how any of these jackasses manage to live with themselves without being under constant suicide watch.

The type of people they have shown themselves to be proves my point about reality television-it seeks the most trifling, pettiest, lowest form of human beings, shines the spotlight on these no-talent, attention-grubbing swine and then begs for more and more amoral dysfunction. To make it worse, they get rewarded for their retarded antics with, get this, a raise to $100,000 an episode and a Season Four to be filmed in Italy as we speak. Reality TV has become the driving force of publicly-displayed mental illness, best explained by author and business reporter Patricia Winters Lauro, in which exists an atmosphere where "practically no bodily function is too private and no rude behavior too coarse to be featured".

Four the Soft Way-looking earnest, strutting with a sense of urgency and intense focus that can only mean one thing-GTL!!!"
And these low lives from "Jersey Shore" deliver such boorish behavior in spades. These people possess no redeeming qualities, yet it's this very reason why it's the best-rated show MTV has ever produced. Our only collective solace lies in the fact that eventually they will all be dead some day, a day that cannot come soon enough.

The clogged toilet incident in the Seaside, New Jersey beach house speaks volumes about their personalities. Their vapid psyches constitute what one would find in a backed-up sewage system-feces, urine, blood, puss, and used sanitary napkins. Let's go step by step and describe in detail why the next season of this show should conclude with the cast members being summarily cracked upside their empty heads with baseball bats and buried in a shallow grave á la Joe Pesci in "Casino".

1) Snooki-The affable, self-styled "guidette" of the show has become as palatable as a turd sandwich washed down with rancid milk. The only issue I have with the goon who punched her in Season One is that he didn't hit her hard enough. Now we have to suffer this belching, farting little cunt until her fifteen minutes of fame are over. Unfortunately there seems to be no end in sight to our collective national nightmare. She is planning a spin-off series with J-Woww and has openly spoken about wanting to keep doing "Jersey Shore" for years to come. I guess if I were a talentless little rodent lucky enough to cash in on my seismic personality disorders I too would never want the eternal summer of stupid to end.

She paints herself as a simple little guidette looking for the gorilla juicehead Prince Charming of her dreams who has yet to materialize and seems beyond her grasp. The reality is she is nothing but a tan little chupacabra blinded by the highbeams of her own stupidity. The reason she can't find someone is because she gives each dork she fornicates with about 5 seconds to screw up, and when they inevitably do (usually in the most inconsequential manner) BOOM!!! They're out.

She has the attention span of a methamphetamine addict, and she summarily disposes these guys one after another without a hint of remorse, never stopping to take even one second of introspective pause to digest the futility of mercilessly going through one guido after another without giving any of them the slightest opportunity at a second chance. That's not how you build a meaningful relationship you fat, dumb cow.

Snooki the shameless, disgusting and unrepentant attention whore...
This is not her only obnoxious character flaw, but it's the one that most succinctly defines her. She is looking for meaning in the meaningless, giving prospective guidos all of 30 seconds to bring it or else they're out. When you have a shallow, hollow core of an inner self, nothing can fill the void. All she has to look forward to are more meaningless, drunken hook-ups with equally inebriated dickhead guidos and more disappointment.
  
Dean Wormer was wrong-drunk, fat and stupid IS the way to go through life-
It is meaningless to point out the root causes of her lack of success with men, but her severely stunted emotional maturity and monumental lack of self-reflection (something that afflicts all the characters on the show) must be addressed, because in bizarro world of "Guido Wonderland" these neurotic personality flaws are considered virtues to be held in high regard.

There is no room in the real world for a cartoon character come to life like Snooki. She will inhabit the putrid, rancid world of reality TV until she overdoses on cocktails (emphasis on the word "cock"), an event that will no doubt be caught on video. Because only the medium of TV will be able to destroy what it has created.

She reminds me of a movie monster called C.H.U.D., a misshapen, grotesque beast who ascended from the depths of the murky sewers to wreck havoc on mankind. That's exactly what she is. Good luck with the rest of your life Snooki, you stupid, bloated idiot-you're going to need it.


2) J-Woww-The trashy lifestyle she's been leading up to now is catching up to her. Her features are becoming increasingly run-down and she appears more and more raggedy as time goes on. Pretty soon there won't be enough foundation and spray tanning to cover what she'll look like in the next few years. She resembles one of those tired, old whores who still spends Spring Break in Cancún administering heaping servings of herpes to frat boys young enough to be her sons. Her complexion resembles Derek Jeter's baseball glove from all the fake tanning and hair spray, the amounts of which are as toxic as a nuclear reactor in meltdown mode.

J-Woww, showing us how she plans to skate through life without having to get a real fucking job-
During this latest season her ex-boyfriend, who was at one time her business manager, leaves her and is replaced by Tom, a 'roided up, tattoo-addled Mark McGuire look-alike freak with the most hideous, Chernobyl-roasted tan this side of a hospital burn unit. This, boys and girls, is J-Woww's version of "the ideal man". This relationship will not survive next season's trip to Italy, I'll bet money on it. As an aside, anyone remember her classic lines-

YOU CAN STAY GET YOUR ASS BEAT
YOU CAN STAY GET YOUR ASS BEAT
YOU CAN STAY GET YOUR ASS BEAT
OR YOU CAN STAY GET YOUR ASS BEAT.

This is what she chanted to Angelina during an argument, I forgot exactly when. J-Woww, the alleged street-fighting gal, proceeded to get her own ass beat by a girl who has never gotten into a fight in her life when she took on Sammi. That is absolutely classic.

I actually liked J-Woww once, but her pathetic taste in men, the constant self-groping of her fake-ass breasts in front of the mirror, the S&M bondage/dominatrix outfits, and the disgusting public urination (all caught on video for the world to see) puts her right back where she belongs in the pantheon of reality show assholes. The only thing "Wow" about J-Woww one can say is, "Woww, what an asshole!!!" And of course her titties.

Unfortunately for her, the world of trashy biker magazine models is replete with two-dollar skankazoids who will do anything to get on a cover, so her career choices are limited. Let's hope Tom has a good job. This clip is from Season One, and is a clear example of the alternate universe these cretins inhabit. Just listen closely to the commentary, and you'll see what I mean-

Jersey Shore - Snooki On The Dancefloor by TheDlisted

3) Vinny-This doofus cocksucker has no business partaking in the "GTL" lifestyle. He has no style, no hairdo ("nappy-headed ho" would be a more apt description of him-thank you Don Imus for this colorful play on words that thankfully got you fired), no muscles, no game and no fucking tan. Nothing illustrates this pricks' lack of charisma than when he and Deena are trying to hook up in the cholera-ridden beach house hot tub while Snooki is in full cock-block mode. The only pick-up line he could muster to Deena was, "So...what's it like being a dental assistant?" I laughed so hard the echos reverberated all the way back to Seaside.

The question is, how does he hook up with so many bad bitches with this egregiously sub-par rap? Because he's got cameras following him all over the place, that's why. And there is no stronger aphrodisiac than the desire of worthless, insecure losers to suck the poison cock of  fame. It figures that the two hottest girls Vinny and Pauly D "get it in" with happen to be two Dominican hoochies out for a night of relentless whoring. And what better way to show the world you're a typical Latina slut than by agreeing to fuck two strangers while being filmed? Way to live up to the stereotype, you dumb bitches. Next stop for both of them will be the offices of Brazzers.com. But I digress...

Vinny the pasty, bloated Guido gigolo-
The compelling sub-plot of the summer became whether he and Snooki would finally hook up. Snooki, in her inimitably retarded manner, gets pissed at Vinny for doing the same exact thing she does-hooking up with losers stupid enough to lay either of these two amoeba specimens. Her best friend from home, Skylar, couldn't resist the call of the Anaconda and managed to slime her way to infamy by taking his humongous cock completely (don't try this at home, ladies), leaving behind nothing but hurt feelings and a gigantic, dark chasm that was once her vagina.

Muskrat Love-
Regardless of this, Snooki got angry not at her but at Vinny for this unpardonable transgression of guido/guidette dating etiquette. Dude, I've said it before-I understand the only reason you're getting pussy is because you're on TV, and it must be nice. What young man would turn down such an opportunity to go completely apeshit? But please, find something productive to do with your life. You still have time. If all you have going for you are your mother's chicken cutlets and a huge cock, you need to expand your horizons.

4) Deena-The guidette chosen to replace the departed Angelina is Snooki's real-life friend. This self-proclaimed "Blast in a Glass" wasted no time in making an absolute and complete horse's ass of herself. The first night in the house she gets drunk, strips completely naked for Mike (shamelessly sporting some pretty porno-esque butt cheeks and a nicely shaven hoo-haa), attempts to hook up with Vinny in the hot tub, and gets into a screaming match with Sammi and Ronnie for absolutely no fucking reason.

Deena exhibiting the prototypical Jersey Shore pose-ass wide open, face always to the camera-
The perpetually inebriated and constipated Deena is walking an emotional, special-ed tightrope, caught between her one and only dance move (The "Jersey Turnpike", which she describes as "Ass-Up and Face-Down" while grinding a guy's crotch) and the line she uses to describe herself when she's trashed out of her mind ("I'm a good person!!!") screeched at the top of her lungs like a bat flying through a dizzying maze of empty liquor bottles. This swollen little Italian sweathog used to be a dental assistant back home in FuckFace, New Jersey. Good thing for the profession she'll probably not return to sully this well-respected field.

How to describe her face? She looks like a baboon drinking vinegar. She is by far the homeliest cast member, but she makes up for her lack of looks with a plethora of attention-grabbing antics driven by an insecure and neurotic need to be noticed that have cast so many self-respecting Italian Americans in such a repulsive light that some offended parties have taken to boycotting the show. At first I was like "C'mon, motherfuckers-get a fucking life and stop whining". But after getting a load of her antics, now I understand their point of view.
  
Deena, Queen of the Guido Bitches-
Deena drinks too much, fucks too much, and is, figuratively and literally, full of shit. She hits the dance floor and immediately sets the tone by showing her pussy and falling all over the floor in a pathetic, drunken heap. The highlight of her summer was a vain attempt at dispelling the rumor, started by someone at the local barbershop, that she doesn't suck dick but loves to eat ass. When I first heard this I was not surprised, as she comes across as such a class act.  But "She's a good person" you say!!! No, she's NOT. She is a typical New Jersey tramp who doesn't understand that real life does not revolve around relentless drinking binges, waking up when most normal people are coming home from work and roving the night clubs in pursuit of attention and more and more cock.

5) Ronnie-"The Biggest Loser" isn't just the name of the weight-loss reality show, but an apt description of this primordial, half-breed goomba who should be in jail for domestic abuse. Not surprisingly, his steroid-induced, woman-hating rageaholic moments where he trashes his girlfriend's belongings and flings all her shit, including her bed (while she's still on it), out onto the patio and then breaks her glasses are the biggest and most regrettable highlights of Season Three.

Domestic violence poster boy Ronnie, enjoying happier times-
This is the same guy who said in the very first episode of the very first season "I only have one rule-don't fall in love at the Jersey Shore". He sounded so sincere and earnest when he said it, yet this was the very first thing he did. From there it was all downhill. And when he wasn't going into full Joel Stienberg mode, he was crying like a little bitch in front of the cameras and repeating over and over again, "That's it, I'm done". No Ronnie, WE are the ones who are done. Then again, he has a drunken sailor for a mother, who instead of preparing chicken cutlets and mopping and sweeping the house like Vinny's mom, drinks herself into oblivion during daylight hours. It's hard to gauge the level of authentic embarrassment experienced by Ronnie after she called the beach house in a drunken stupor, but even goons like him have their limits.

His worst crime isn't the anti-social disorder that has turned him into an emotionally unstable and psychologically unhinged freak. It's the fact that he should have spent every waking moment fucking the hell out of his Amazon beast of a girlfriend. Sammi is pretty, has an incredible body, no self-respect and is in deep love with this 1980's throwback English soccer hooligan.

Ronnie, performing dysfunctional feats of strength illegal in most states-
This should be a lesson to all you stupid-ass bitches out there who love gorilla juicehead guidos-it's not all hair gel, tanning, T-shirt time and fist pumping at the club. The behind the scenes action is all about the petty jealousy, incoherent rages and moronic, immature behavior usually exhibited in a maximum security penitentiary, which is where he will wind up if he doesn't chill the fuck out. Which leads us to the ying of his yang...

6) Sammi Sweetheart-She has gone from the self-proclaimed "Sweetest Bitch You'll Ever Meet" to "The Absolute Dumbest, Most Insecure and Needy Twat You'll Ever Want to Date Rape". She is the 21st. century version of what a domestic violence victim looks like, with an unrepentant stupidity that reaches new depths even for television. She is a dumb bitch who many viewers secretly hope becomes an actual victim of Ronnie's volcanic outbursts just so that she can finally shut the fuck up. Many guys have been left wondering why the fuck they can't find a bitch as stupid as this. Then again, her arrogant, duplicitous bullshit is about as attractive and inviting as a barbed wire enema.

Nothing says "I Love You" quite like being called a cunt and a whore by your boyfriend on national TV-
She resembles a wild animal caught in an oil spill, unwilling and unable to extricate herself from a toxic, loveless and abusive relationship. These two mentally stunted pinheads are neither in love nor do they respect each other. The list of grievances is too long to spell out, but suffice it to say there really is no going back for these two. Which means only one thing-they'll be back together in time to go to Italy for the sole purpose of sucking the life out of the mindless fun the show was supposed to revolve around.

Sammi the college soccer star. Yes, this dumb bitch went to college and still managed to stay stupid-
What boggles the mind is Sammi graduated college and comes from a seemingly stable family. She looks well-fed and thick in all the right places. So why the fuck does she act like a dumb ghetto ho from the projects? Her self-esteem is so low, I'm surprised she hasn't let Ronnie pimp her out in the streets. She is such a loser I can see her easily getting talked into this line of work. She'd make a lot of money at it, too, more than pushing monkey-piss perfume to little pre-teen wanna-be whores at Mandee's. 

Where did it all go wrong?
I can see her now parading up and down Queens Boulevard giving head to all the drug dealers from the 'hood in between parked cars. And I can see them pouring malt liquor on her head and laughing while she's out there slurping cock after cock. And you best believe these cats will line up around the block waiting for the chance to fuck a beautiful white girl in the ass. Hey, that's how players roll, my son...

7) Mike Sorrentino-I refuse to call this idiot "The Situation". The only situation left for him is to be found at the side of some dirt road bound, gagged, and tortured with his head cut off like they do in Mexico. This would be a cause for immense celebration here at the home offices of "Busting Chops". The constant exhibition of his abs at clubs, grating to the extreme, has finally run it's course, and he has no second act. His aged, greasy, reptilian skin complexion makes him attractive only to other scaly-skinned, slithering freaks who sleep under rocks and seek the warmth of the sun only in tanning salons.

Someone close the lid and nail it shut-PLEASE!!!
His douchbaggery reached unprecedented levels this year, but his magnum opus was saved for last. Never one to be ignored and constantly needing to be the center of attention despite the fact that he's a pathetic and self-absorbed bore, he cast himself into the midst of the last Sammi and Ronnie debacle by instigating the Arvin situation. For those who aren't familiar, Arvin is a shorter, uglier and more deeply-fried version of Lou Ferrigno. This guy is hideous beyond words. He looks like the juiced-up carcass of an aardvark left out in the sun too long.

When Sammi went home for a few days after Ronnie laid waste Godzilla-style to all of her personal belongings, she hit this overcooked wiener up via text message and told him to meet her at some club in Jersey. He shows up a week later than expected, and all the reconciliation work Sammi and Ronnie put into their crumbling car-wreck of a relationship is decimated by Mike, who is friends with Arvin and finds out everything. Then, like the bitch-ass snitch that he is, he runs all over the club telling everyone what just transpired. The tension gets taken back to the beach house, where Mike gets on the phone to extrapolate even more details from Arvin by phone, who seems to be making shit up or exaggerating whatever went on in the past between he and Sammi to cause problems and to get his pathetic monkey ass featured on the show.

Mike ratting Sammi out with Arvin in attendance (far left)-
Arvin confronted by Sammi, with Ronnie fuming (far left) -
Good going, Arvin. Now the whole world knows you can't be trusted. Good luck with that Mafia application, you rat motherfucker. Mike then continues his "Instigation/Hater" tour by taking a phone call from Ronnie's alcoholic mom (who the fuck gets drunk in the middle of the afternoon, except assholes and losers?) and tells her everything that's going on. Mike was definitely a five-alarm asshole this season, but thankfully he has other things to focus on.

He has other interests other than not minding his own fucking business-he is an author, and was filmed last winter at a book signing amidst an avid throng of teenage girls who wanted to suck his balls and wanna-be guido juicehead adolescent males who want to grow up to be just like him. Anyone who would pay full retail to read his crap probably doesn't know how to read. And besides, it must be difficult reading a book written in chalk.This walking skin cancer poster child is too embalmed in his own hubris to be the least bit likable. Of all the cast members, I loathe him and Snooki the most. Let's see to it that these disgraceful, humiliating sub-humans never have offspring. We need to start a campaign to have these people neutered.

Wanna cut the deficit? Replace Medicare with "GTL"!!!

8) DJ Pauly D-This leaves us with the last man standing, Pauly D. I have nothing bad to say about a cat who is just too cool for school. He is Fonzie without the leather jacket and contrived pseudo-tough guy shtick. He is a Guido and damn proud of it. He is stylish, handsome, charismatic and will probably do better in life than any of his other retarded cohorts. He's managed to keep a sense of childish playfulness about him that is at the heart of his personality.

Yes, he is intellectually limited, vacuous and self-absorbed, a man whose deepest thoughts revolve around T-Shirt Time, GTL and dee-jaying terrible house music gigs. But the show is opening doors for him that will never open for any other cast member, simply because he seems like the kind of guy both other guys and women would like to hang out with. His self-confidence is devoid of the shrill, mercenary edge that makes Mike such an insufferable jag-off, and he doesn't have the annoying need to be the center of attention for all the wrong reasons, a sensibility the other cast members are completely oblivious to. He is also the one cast member who managed to make a name for himself for NOT being an asshole. Blow that Grenade Whistle with pride, brother. You've earned the right.