LBMS's Least Disgraceful Moments of '07, Presented by Summer's Eve

Major League Baseball gets head, full-body, conscious. Jump.




Our main Mangino eats, blocks sun: the movie. Jump.





When mutes attend football games, let there be crowd noise. And oh yeah, let there be no skippage. Jump.




Who knew the moon had an ACL to tear? Phil Knight didn't, and he's gonna want a refund. Jump.



When watching playoff baseball just isn't enough, you and Pete may stay occupied. Jump.


The NBA's public relations team. On anabolic angel dust. Jump.



Taking you behind the scenes of the wheelchairless Stephen Hawking of general managers. Jump.


Jimmy Clausen will take your daughter to prom. And then eat your bagel bites. Jump.




Roger Cossack would like to analyze your indecent exposure case. Jump.




Nifty special effects on the baseball diamond. Jump.




Meet Purple Jesus' core-of-the-earth counterpart. Jump.




Barry Bonds played the game of baseball well. For this, we thank him. Jump.



One fine day in the city. One terrible day for 9er fans. Jump.



Where the best show on television, baseball, and constant masturbatory mentioning happens. Jump.


GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCH! Jump.




Just for mediocre measure, we'll give you some of our other favorites of the year.

Movie: Gone, Baby Gone. No Country is a close second. We have a feeling that There Will Be Blood will be up in this eschelon as well once we are able to see it.

TV Show: The Sopranos. Somewhat closely followed by Conchords, Dexter, maybe Weeds.

Album: Porcupine Tree - Fear of a Blank Planet

Song: "No One" by Alicia Keys. Not guilty. Just a goddamn pleasure.

Coffee bean: Hawaiian Hazelnut

Olive: Mezzetta's Colossal Sicilian

Kige Ramsey report: This one.

Crossdressing boxer pictoral: Oscar de la Hoya

Thanks for reading everybody. LBMS is looking forward to a prosperous new year and wishes you a happy one as well!

Our resolution is to eliminate the drunk dial from our arsenal.

Patriots Proprietor's Passionate Pursuit of Pussy-Palleted Necktie Perfection

EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. -- A lotta records fell in New England's 38-35 win over the New York Giants Saturday night at the Meadowlands, perhaps most notably, the largest pink necktie collection.

Patriots owner Bob Ryan Kraft made his 25th straight appearance in front of a national audience wearing a pink tie, increasing his lead over the next closest competitor: Richard Simmons, with one.

"It's an interesting record to hold," Patriots receiver Jabar Gaffney said. "My advice to Mrs. Kraft: From now on, use laundry detergent, not Pepto-Bismol, to do the wash."

Neither Kraft, nor Simmons, could be reached for comment.

We Have A Vaginal Cleanstastic Winner, and Its Sights Are Set High

The LBMS masses dozen have spoken, and we have housed a new corporate sponsor for the next bowl game.

Hell, it doesn't even have to be a new bowl game. We can just wait out AT&T until they fold, and pounce on sponsorship for the Cotton Bowl when it may get upgraded to the BCS legion in 2011!

That ol' Texas Jerry will probably be using douche products for facelifts in the year 2011, that could be Summer Eve's in! But we're only one man, with only one dream. Make it happen JJ.

Thanks again to all who voted, a new poll will be up shortly.

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

It appears ESPN has fired its alliterative slogan writing staff, and lazily begun relying on car company PR think tanks. We're sure by now you're familiar with their New England Patriots/Lexus [Passionate] Pursuit of Perfection gem. Well, here are the rest of the worldwide leader's car-motto-turned-NFL-team descriptions that have yet to be unleashed upon the Bottom Line:

Cincinnati Bengals (via Toyota): Moving Backward

Miami Dolphins (via Nissan): Shit_

Minnesota Vikings (attn: Fred Smoot, via Dodge): Grab Life by the Double-Headed Dildos

Kansas City Chiefs (via General Motors): We Are Professional Grade Horse Manure

Baltimore Ravens (via Chevrolet): An Offensive De-evolution

Slogan It Out, Pt. II

Rodney Roy Beck Award Finalists

The end of 2007 is nearing, which means we need to put our butter gloves on and churn out a cumulative descending list or two. Blue ribbons, gold trophies, pearl necklaces... all will be handed out to those deserving, in award season here at LBMS.

Our first category is in loving honor and memory of our favorite arm swinging, fu-manchu'd, Iowa Cubs parking lot trailer host: Sir Rod Beck.

Without further adieu, we present the Top Mustaches of 2007.

3. Josh Brolin's, in No Country
Travis Hafner lumbered around Texas with his little blow gun in search of this fantastic piece of upper-lip roadkill. A 'stache so victorious, had Mike Nolan grown one of its caliber in September, the 9ers would be giving away the 11th overall pick rather than the 8th.




2. Stan Van Gundy, head coach Orlando Magic
When he's not advising the drunk, nude, scootering Verne Troyers of the world, he is watering and mulching the dictatorial dragon beneath his nose. Gundy may have the wispiest 'stache of the present trio, but that's just because he's pornographical economical.




1. Daniel Day-Lewis's, in There Will Be Blood
That baby packs enough sinning punch to give Mother Theresa the urge to headbang to Burzum. Also, it's presence gets you a lifetime of free sarsaparilla at the local bowling alley.

Padres Agree to One Year Deal with Broken Dreams

The San Diego Padres signed that Ferrari tape rewinder from that partially molded box in your garage to a one year, $1 million contract.

You know, that sleek-looking silver thing that was so promising back in '97 but has never been fully capable of rewinding a VHS all the way from end to start, and fucks up DVDs that you try to get it to service.

Technological scouts agree the mechanics of its spinning cylinders appear flawless, but they always end up chewing your tapes. Now, it will be chewing up about 15 innings in the NL West during the 2008 season.

Padres sign Prior to one-year deal [CNNSI]

Christmas Morning at the Petrino's

5:58 am.
Junior: Oh boy, it's Christmas! I can't wait to go see what Santa brought me! Dad promised it'd be a shiny new fire truck and a Game Boy Color!

*Junior runs downstairs to check under the tree. Much to his surprise: no presents, just a note taped to his stocking.*

Robert Petrino's son;

Out of respect for you, I am letting you know, with a heavy heart, I resigned today as the Father of Your Family. This decision was not easy but was made in the best interest of me. While my desire would have been to finish out what has been a difficult life for us all, circumstances did not allow me to do so. I appreciate your hard work on your times tables and wish the best. I will be sending you and your siblings child support in the form of one (1) Lunchables Pizza pack per week. Also, Santa Claus is not real.

Sincerely,

Bobby Petrino

*Lawyer Milloy nurtures the boy in a nearby rocking chair, crosses out 'Bobby Petrino' and writes, in red pen, 'Bastardizer.' Junior cries*

Patrick Willis Fun Facts

Patrick Willis leads the NFL in tackles, by a lot.

If not today, then definitely by this time next year, Patrick Willis will be the best player in the league.

Patrick Willis can outrun an ostrich, and out-destruct a wrecking ball.

Urban Dictionary is considering changing the 'skullfucking' entry to 'Willising.'

Patrick Willis can make a vice grip fumble just by staring at it.

Kellen Winslow Jr. is a "soldier," Patrick Willis is an army.

Patrick Willis can snap Chuck Norris' leg by teabagging the firecrotch's roundhouse kick.

If There Is Hope, It Lies in the Proles

The demand for more user interaction on LBMS has been so rapid a river, so strong a stream, so wet a waterfall, it could fill up a medium to large-sized thimble in just a matter of weeks. Hence, we give you the brand new, sparkly, red Radio Flyer of a feature: The Weekly Poll.

In the initial installment, you the people will decide the next corporate sponsorship of an NCAA bowl game, because the Papajohns.com Bowl and GalleryFurniture.com Bowl sound more dated than the Rose Bowl at this point. College football needs a fresh new infusion.

Now, the Twogirlsonecup Bowl is a little awkward on the ear, so we've eliminated that from contention and given you four choices. The voting booth can be found in the Northeast corner of your screen. Go ahead and vote, because remember: He who controls the past, controls the future. He who controls the present, controls the past.

NOW TESTIFY, UHHH!

Spreading Ourselves Thin: Flight of the Conchords Edition

We understand we haven't been picking winners at a very successful clip this season, especially last week (1-5). But it's ok, you don't need a warm house or apartment to wager. A cardboard box will do just fine to reside in as long as you're in on the god damn action. So fuck off Gary Loveman.












Packers (-8) over BEARS: "Chicks are attracted to lonely guys. It's a psychological analogy."
And gamblers are attracted to games featuring the neck beard that is Kyle Orton. So go ahead and take a pull of Jack and lay your mortgage on Green Bay.

JAGUARS (-13) over Raiders: "I think you've gotta use honesty here. I mean, you know, it's always the best policy. Like the other day there was five, well, maybe there was like four really hot foreign chicks- either like Swedish or Korean- in my shop, and they were like 'Dave, we wanna have a five way with you.' I just told them, 'honestly, okay.' Then I gave it to 'em. Hard."
Jacksonville will penetrate you through a brick wall. Literally, they will plow through stone with their junk and then ram you up the ass with their running game. Only Purple Jesus and Lavender Lucifer make a better tandom than MoJo and Taylor. This year Freddy got fingered once more by the Pro Bowl and will now continue the skullfucking deep into January.

Buccaneers (-6) over 49ERS: "'The job is you have to hold up this sign and you have to make sure it points in the right direction. Now, does that sound like something you can do?' 'Sounds like something a lamppost could do.'"
Last week was an abomination aberration. The Bengals are fucking terrible and we have a feeling the novelty, along with the accuracy, of Shaun Hill will rub off a little this week against a menacing D. Oh, and although a lamppost could easily handle Coach Nolan's job, it wouldn't look as sexy in a suit and tie on gameday.

Broncos (+8.5) over CHARGERS: "Item Two. A). Gig. Oh... a gig. I'm going to get you one."
Murray may be able to get Norv a show at an airport lounge or an aquarium after the Bolts gag out of the playoffs. Of course the job would consist of counting whale sperm. Not performing music, and Jesus Christ, not coaching.

CARDINALS (-10) over Falcons: "'It's not a cleaning cupboard, it's an apartment. It's my studio apartment.' 'More like a 'compartment.'"
Coaching prospects would rather draw up gameplans for getting Jemaine triple-digit poon in a broom closet than have anything to do with the Atlanta franchise.

BILLS (+2.5) over Giants: "'Band Agenda. Item One: Haircut Bret.' 'No. Haven't had it done.' 'Well get it cut. You don't hear about professional musicians with long hair.' 'Well, what about Led Zeppelin?' 'No, I mean a man.'"
We just hope Romo won't confuse Shockey for Jessica the next time Dallas and New York meet. I don't think that giant flag-wrapped bald eagle would appreciate the homoerotic advances.

Enjoy the games everybody.

Screw You Guys, I'm Running Into the Locker Room

Future point guards take note of the beautiful bounce pass Eddie Jones feeds to Bobby Jackson here. Anytime a no-look pass leads to an uncontested layup you know you've done something spectacular.

Regrets From the War Room

Players we should have drafted in the first-round last August instead of Willie Parker:
Brian Westbrook, Willis McGahee, any NFL player with a pulse, the blind kid from Dumb and Dumber who bought a duct-taped Petey, and this guy...

















Oh, and that cat.

Neuheisel May Abandon One Piece of Offensive Roadkill to Nurture Another

The brilliant gambling offensive mind that is Rick Neuheisel may be once again returning to the velvety throne of Pac-10 head coaching.

Wait, isn't he currently directing the offensive juggernaut that is the Bodymore Ravens? Shiiiyt, maybe UCLA athletic director Dan Guerrero thinks he is interviewing applicants for head soccer coach.

We do think, however, Neuheisel to the Bruins would make the Pac-10 the deepest it has been in quite some time. What we don't understand here is why UCLA alumni would want to bring in a guy who sucks all the hope and livelihood from March Madness pools every year. Neuheisel is so good he ought to pull a Rose and wager a few dimes on himself to win the damn things.

To play it a little safer this time though, Rick should probably stick with the acceptable currency in collegiate sports, that of course being the players. We admit we definitely would tune into a televised rendition of Neuheisel vs. Carroll blue-chip blackjack or recruiting roulette.

Just don't let Erickson creep into the casino. That ol' devil driver would have his pistol out and the game upgraded to the Russian version at the flick of a chip.

Grizzlies' Lowry Gets Azubuikake'd

Attempting to Eliminate Thoughts of Double-Football Chested Women While Playing Football

So T.O. has spoken out against Jessica Simpson's presence in Texas Stadium. Maybe he's just jealous that when Romo bags a blonde, the world doesn't get outraged (see: that Desperate Housewive's/MNF ad).

Either way, T.O.'s comments are neither surprising nor likely disruptive to Dallas. After all, the man's got 25 million reasons not to be a "cancer."

As for Romo, maybe it's not such a wise decision to have those funbags watching you play in the month where you so clearly lick banshee balls. Had Simpson been in Irving in September or October, we're pretty sure little Tony would have been getting a happy ending in the locker room at halftime. But this month, it's merely one long Joe Buck oglepalooza.

Maybe Wade Phillips ought to dip into the Larry Eustachy coaching playbook and facilitate a threesome to silence T.O.

Seriously though, all of this bedazzled #9 jersey and jugg talk do lead us to wonder...

We know Romo can certainly get into the endzone. But does he fumble the clit and then get tackled from behind when going for the extra point? Does Joe Simpson supervise and broker contracts in between each new bedroom act? All roads lead to Doubleyesville.

For Real? Terrell Owens Hates Jessica [The Big Lead]

Eagles OT Runyan Advises Westbrook to Biff, Wins Fantasy Matchup

PHILADELPHIA -- Jon Runyan was having a good day on the field Sunday, and a real nailbiter off of it. With his real team all but assured victory over rival Dallas, but his fantasy team holding on by the slimmest of margins, Runyan had to take matters into his own hands to ensure a fantasy Super Bowl appearance.

"I was going up against the guy with Westbrook," Runyan said. "Since Brady fucked the dog for me against the Jets I couldn't afford to have Westbrook get in the zone on our last drive. I was only up [by] five points."

Fortunately for the lineman's fantasy squad, RunyanDMC, Westbrook obeyed his large blocker and hit the turf just shy of the goal line in the game's closing minutes.

"After years of having my team choke in the playoffs, I finally had to step in and help myself," Runyan said. "I told Brian I owe him a rack of barbecue spare ribs for the favor."

RunyanDMC is set to square off against Mr. Dad-gorium's Drug Emporium, managed by Britt Reid, for the league championship week 16.

"With that little weasel now clear-headed behind bars and off the brownstone," Runyan added. "I've got my work cut out for me."

Spreading Ourselves Thin: Rushmore Edition

Bengals (-9) over 49ERS: "Oh that's great. I wrote a hit play and directed it, so I'm not sweating it either."
The 9ers are back to being their reliably profitable selves after a quick blip against the Cards a few weeks back. Pretty much everyone on the offensive side of the ball should be sweating their jobs.

PATRIOTS (-21) over Jets: "I like your nurse's uniform, guy." "These are O.R. scrubs." "Oh, Are they?"
The line has shriveled a touch the past few days, a sign that the Jets fans' sexually-harassing chants may now be successful in ultimate consummation. Or that Gillette is going to be covered in snow. Fuck it, true sideline surgeons can lead their men to a three-score cover on a white blanket.

Seahawks (-7) over PANTHERS: "My top schools where I want to apply to are Oxford and the Sorbonne. My safety's Harvard."
If the iron-crusted locks of New England and Cincy stone mason you, the jolly red-nosed Dean of admissions at Seattle Community College will accept any application enclosed within a krispy kreme 12-pack.

Falcons (+12.5) over BUCS: "Kids don't like it when their parents get divorced."
Something tells us Atlanta will be playing with a bit of an ant infestation in their pants, so to speak, after getting goat-reamed by the irisless weasel Petrino.

Ravens (-3.5) over DOLPHINS: "What kind of fish?" "Barracuda, stingrays, electric eels, trout, hammerheads, piranha, giant squid, octopi..." "Piranhas? Really?" "Yes, I'm talking to a guy in South America."
30 years from now, members of the '07 Miami team will be cracking Natty Ice's after the first victory by the league's last remaining winless team.

Titans (-3.5) over CHIEFS: "I saved Latin. What did you ever do?"
That rib-stomper Albert Haynesworth saved this defense. If you're looking to get hammered-drunk on Sunday, go ahead and take a drink every time Croyle hits the ground.

It's a raw road dog type of weekend. Sic transit gloria. Glory fades. I'm Max Fisher. Enjoy the games everybody.

Rank and File of the National FL: Candy Edition

1. New England Patriots (13-0): Baby Ruth
The team is quickly becoming legendary. They've got the nutty, bumpy texture but are all melded together by creamy caramel/brilliant coaching. The exclusive candy bar/team that can dominate without milk/a running game.

2. Indianapolis Colts (11-2): Peanut M&Ms
Comprised of a hard outer shell and strong core, their consistent success may bore the more risk-oriented pigskin palettes.

3. Dallas Cowboys (12-1): Snickers Dark
Dark, sexy, some might say a little bitter. The franchise name has been both flashy, and reliably good in the past; and a fresh flavor injection has them back towards the top again.

4. Green Bay Packers (11-2): Chesdale chocolate cheese slices
We wouldn't be surprised with a divisional round exit/diarrhea, or a Super Bowl berth/successful melding of our two favorite food groups.

5. Seattle Seahawks (9-4): Butterfinger
It's bald, leading bite will lull you to sleep with it's efficiency, but the buttery, inconsistent innards of the receiving corps are enough to discount the Gulls from true Super Bowl contention.

6. Pittsburgh Steelers (9-4): Cotton candy
Only a child would select the Steel Curtain for Glendale or the pink stick. They are both deceptively large and appear densely woven but they quickly disintegrate in your mouth/to the Pats.

7. Jacksonville Jaguars (9-4): Jawbreaker
The toughest of its kind. But seriously, who the fuck enjoys these guys?

8. Cleveland Browns (8-5): Kit Kat
A strong, slender, four bar offense (Anderson, Lewis, Edwards, Winslow) with ample crispiness on the defensive side. Often will leave a chocolately residue on your hands, especially when facing the possibiliy of Crennel managing a playoff game.

9. New York Giants (9-4): Junior Mints
Refreshing at first, but whether you're dealing with an indifferent little bro at the helm, or little mint chocolate frisbees, it's always a bad choice in the long run.

10. Minnesota Vikings (7-6): Rolo
Delectable taste, but you need milk/a passing offense to fully appreciate. Very promising but too much development/individual unwrapping time required. Not worth the effort this season.

True Life: I'm Trying to Re-sign Chili Davis, Pt. II

Chevron station in San Francisco, December 12

Brian Sabean: Hmm, so many types of fuel at the pumps these days. Which one should I get to replace my old steroid-ridden fuel that leaked out? Wait... did I remember to remember to TiVo You, Me and Dupree? Aw, rats.

*Dodgers GM Ned Colletti pulls up in his Blue Aerostar, honks horn*

Sabean: Ok, ok Coley. Gimme a second. Let's see here, $3.49? $3.59? or $3.89 for the diesel? My Miata could use that extra boost, I'll spring for the diesel. *Removes sunglasses* Diesel, I offer you five gallons for $90. Are you his agent? *Turns toward shrub planted next to pump* Ok, it's a deal. Final final. *Shakes branch*

Colletti: Quit jerking off that shrub Sabo. I need to pull in and fill up on that gas that got Schuerholtz 2.22 miles per gallon last year and makes your car prance around when you step on the accelerator.

Sabean: Okey doke. *Salutes* Remember my son, best of luck in your travels. May you live the dream of signing Bill Van Landingham's dad to a pitching deal. *Gives thumbs up*

*Sabes proceeds to insert gasoline nozzel into cigarette lighter, begins pouring*

Giants sign Rowand to five-year deal [SFgiants.com]

Updated Ed. Note: Oh, good it was only for $60 million. Not 90, as was first estimated.

"It Moved, Jerry!"

He dragged the 2005 National League Championship trophy around the Minute Maid Park parking lot in his wood-paneled Chrysler LeBaron. He bashfully streaked down the buttress and across the diamond in a beige body suit. He stuffed his face with juicy strawberries while wearing a vintage Nolan Ryan Astros uniform. And now, he finally gets his wish.

The Lord of the Idiots, along with four other Houston players, was shipped to Baltimore Wednesday for slugging infielder Miguel Tejada.

Yep, the Jerk Store's all-time best seller is headed to Murdaland. At least we're pretty sure that's who they mean when they say Michael Costanzo.

American Baseball Fans Rejoice: F*k-U is Coming!

One of Japan's premier outfielders, Kosuke Fukudome, is fleeing the island, and headed for the majors.

We, along with every other fan who lands Fu(c)kudome, will be hoping he doesn't put Kosuke on his jersey. Only Ichiro does stuff as gay backwards as that.

The Vietnamese have given us Phuc, and now Japan, as a Pearl Harbor 66th anniversary gift, will be donating Fuk.

Fuck proper pronunciations. Fuck small children's ears. Stadium graphics operators, if you want to spin the crowd into a profun-ity frenzy, Kosuke at-bats will be your nirvana.

FUK-U *drum drum* FUK-U *drum drum*

Put it on the boooooard, yyyyyesss.

Fukudome says he's headed to the majors [Sports Illustrated]

That's Not Gonna Be Good for Business, Anybody, Brah

It's been dubbed "The Big Ugly," the biggest day ever surfed on one of the world's grandest big wave stages. And it produced what some are calling the "worst wipeout of all time."

Since that crazy motherfucker Flea is from our hometown, his free-falling performance at Maverick's even makes our balls hang a little lower, our whiskey go down a little easier, and our urge to sleep on a bed of nails a little stronger.

Man, the riders that day had as much of a chance against those seawalls as do Rashard Mendenhall and Juice Williams against USC in the Rose Bowl.

Master surfer cheats death at Maverick's [SF Chronicle]

Wear the Grudge Like a Crown of Negativity

So New England is favored by a record 24.5 points over the Jets this Sunday. That would be three touchdowns, a field goal, and a half extra point awarded by referees sucking balls of homering the Pats.

Only five other teams in the NFL average greater than 24.5 points per game! Vegas believes Belichick's desire to crush Mangini is stronger than 84% of the league's offenses. Then again, a 25-point victory is much tamer than Billy and gang taking Big Mangina out on a sport fishing boat and playing bullet Pictionary on Coach's chest in the cabin.

Remember when the Pats annihilated the Jets back in Week 1? Yeah, well that was only a 24 point win. And the Jets seem to be much improved, with a pretty solid defense.

Don't get us wrong however, we'll be taking New England and laying the small village in this week's Spreading Ourselves Thin.

Slogan It Out

Moronic Personnel Decisions? Or Jealousy Fueled Youth Dumpage

When the Lincecum for Rios trade gets approved by Sabean I’ll be loading up the family garbage with my entire Giants’ paraphernalia collection. I’ll grab the i-Pod, head down to the local mall, snag myself a Sbarro slice, some Christmas silk boxers, and a sparkling new Blue Jays hat.

I can’t watch any more if Lincecum is gone. The dream is dead.

I will, however, get some encouragement if this trade goes through. It will validate my front office-back door Magowan/Sabean love affair theory.

Why do you think Magowan sits in the front row instead of the owner’s box? To be one with the fans? No, he’s trying to guard against the easy association that can be made from “GM and owner, owners box, San Francisco, long term deals”…the silver lining is Sabes chillin' solo in the box behind his Oakleys, ogling Petey Mag’s whispy blonde locks.

More proof: Sabes trades any player under thirty and only signs players in their forties…why? Because he doesn’t want Magowan to get a wandering eye. Even in the Schmidt trade, the best trade of Sabean’s career, handsome youngsters were shipped off for one of the weirdest looking eggheads in baseball.

Joe Nathan? Get him out of here. We’ll take the junkyard loudmouth A.J. Pierzynski. No threat there.

Into this treacherous love fest scenario comes shining Timmy Lincecum. He’s young, bouncy, bendable, and now he’s on his way to freeze his ass off in Canada and the American League, far away from the clutches of Magowan’s bewitching charm. So long Timmy, bye-bye. (Ed. Note: Fortunately, Lincecum made it safely through the winter meetings in black and orange, and appears safe in the City. For now. *Knock on Sabes' head*)

-Locomotive