Monday, November 15, 2004

Weekend Update, ODB style

We pour a little out for homey Ol’ Dirty Bastard, the grungiest member of the Wu-Tang Clan who died Saturday night at a recording studio in Manhattan. He was two days shy of a 36th birthday.

Volume II of the Weekend Update is in honor of ODB, aka Dirt McGirt, aka Big Baby Jesus, aka Russell Jones.

Through lyrics and song titles from the Ol’ Dirty Bastard and his Wu-Tang Clan brethren, I offer my shout-outs to the more intriguing events of the weekend:

“Old Dirt Dog, no liar, keep your fantasy hot like fire.”
For Quincy Carter, who said he could play well and did just that. After Jets fans have three heart attacks from the anger of not being able to get within choking distance of Paul Hackett, they will realize that the Q-man can help the Jets win some games without Chad Pennington.

“Shame on a -----, who tried to run game on a -----.”
For Nebraska head coach Bill Callahan, who ordered an intentional incomplete pass to stop the clock with 1 second left, just so his Cornhuskers could kick a field goal and prevent a 30-0 shutout against No. 2 Oklahoma.

“Shame on a -----, who tried to run game on a -----.” (remix)
For Oklahoma head coach Bob Stoops, who called a pass play on fourth-and-8 at the Nebraska 17-yard line with 40 seconds left and his Sooners maintaining a 30-0 lead.

“Then we got the Ol’ Dirty Bastard ‘cause there ain’t no father to his style.”
For Paul Hackett, who again proved there has never been a more awful offensive coordinator in NFL history. This platinum idiot calls a halfback pass with less than two minutes left in the first half and the Jets in field-goal range with a 14-0 lead. That’s when you become a red state. Take the free three points and kill the clock. But, nooooooo, not Hackett. Ed Reed, the intricate figure in last week’s Weekend Update made the interception, ran it back and the Ravens eventually scored a touchdown to steal all the momentum and eventually win in overtime, 20-17.

“Hey, Dirty, Baby I got your money, don’t you worry.”
Carlos Beltran is reportedly seeking a 10-year, $200-million contract. It’s just a matter of time until George reaches into his pocket, makes the deal, then makes us reach into our pockets for $8 pretzels and $2 ketchup packets for our $9 hot dogs.

“Ooh, baby, I like it raw.”
For ex-heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield, who enjoys getting beaten mercilessly every time he steps in the ring nowadays. The only “Real Deal” left is the guarantee that he will lose regardless of opponent. Put Holyfield in the ring against the Venus de Milo statue and I’m putting my money on de Milo knocking him out before the 8th round.

“Can it be that it was all so simple then?”
For Kurt Warner, the 1999 and 2001 NFL MVP with the St. Louis Rams, who was sacked six times while attempting to quarterback the New York Giants on Sunday. That's 24 sacks in his last four games.

“Do you think your Wu-Tang sword can defeat me?”
For Ben Roethlisberger, the Steelers’ rookie quarterback who improved his record to 7-0 with another solid outing and a 24-10 thumping of the Cleveland Browns.

“Protect ya neck.”
Joey Porter brought his haymakers to Cleveland and began throwing punches prior to start of the game. Browns players, in self defense of course, punched back. Lips were bloodied. That’s just plain stupid. When entering a fight on the football field, make sure the helmet is on first.

“Shimmy shimmy ya, shimmy yeah, shimmy yay, gimme the mike and I’m take you away.”
For Ron Artest, who begged his Indiana Pacers coach for a month off to heal his aching body (the season is two f-bombing weeks old, by the way), and, oh yeah, promote his label’s album featuring a little bit of Ron Artest and a lot of the group Allure. It is now we bless technology for creating free music sharing sites.

“Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M., get the money, dollar dollar bill y’all.”
For Scott Boras, simply because baseball has entered its annual phase of giving Scott Boras’ clients outrageous sums of money. Some call it free agency. Those who know better call it “Boras wants a new pool, four new cars, three new villas in Portugal and an office at Shea Stadium to conduct business” season.

“In yo’ face like a can of mace.”
From Brett Favre to Daunte Culpepper. It seems Culpepper thought he could throw two touchdowns in a 1:33 span against Favre’s defense in Favre’s house and leave Favre more than one minute on the clock. Well, Mary’s almost-husband (no, not Woogie) went 2-for-3 for 32 yards on the final drive and Ryan Longwell kicked the winning field goal as time expired. Favre 34, Culpepper 31.

“I don’t have a problem with you ------- me, but I have a little problem with you not ------ me.”
To Maria Sharapova, the lovely, leggy Russian tennis player who so beautifully beat Anastasia Myskina in the semifinals of the WTA Championship. I keep checking my Russian Mail-order Bride catalog for Sharapova, but all they ever have in there is the Nikolai Volkoff life-size replica who sings the Soviet national anthem and Cara Mia on demand. The Iron Sheik is not included. Very disturbing.

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