Monday, July 24, 2006

Y'know, dear reader, were The Ford ever to be asked what the hardest part of his job as a blogger is, he wouldn't have to think for very long on what it is.

It's not the ever-continuing quest to find content; let's face it, The Ford could probably write 20 inches on fruit flies, given a modicum of beer and lack of sleep.

Nor is it the impulse to rein oneself in, to take 20 barely readable inches on fruit flies (and Scarlett Johansson, of course. YOU may not think they go together, but, hey, that's what The Ford is here for.) and hack it down to 10 barely readable inches on Scarlett Johansson (and an inch on fruit flies -- the two topics ARE related, you know). It's the Web. There. Are. No. Length. Limits. Nor. Any. Limits. On. How. Many. Periods. You. Can. Use. Period.

It's not even the attempts to manufacture sentences that torture grammar but don't defy the Geneva Convention. (FYI, anytime you've got three commas, two long dashes, and a set of parentheses, you've taken the reader on a long-and-twisty sentence they're sure to appreciate.)

No, the true struggle for your modern blogger is attempting to write about the Miss Universe pageant.

It's not because there's nothing to write about; it's just that The Ford, recognizing that blogging just don't pay the bills like it did in his gran'pappy's days, has had to go get a second job, at The Official Newspaper, and thus, was unable to actually WATCH the pageant.

Luckily, he's got a photo wire feed, so he's feeling pretty caught up.

For example, there's the winner:
Zuleyka Rivera, of Puerto Rico.

She takes over from Natalie Glebova, of Canada.

Which is nice for the U.S., cause we get to remain neighbors with the reigning Miss Universe. That seems like it'll come in handy when the aliens attack.

Canada might have had a chance to repeat this year, but their, um, Miss Canada, The Ford supposes, was freakishly tall, (that's her on the far right) leading to rumors that the plucky Canucks, their attention riveted on the plight of the Edmonton Oilers, simply shaved Sasquatch. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Rivera beat out first runner-up Miss Japan, Kurara Chibana, (Guess which one she is...) who, aside from having a name that almost rhymes in a cool way, apparently won Miss Best National Costume for an outfit the L.A. Times described as, "a sexy samurai costume." The Ford can only hope such outfits catch on around Halloween.

Your second runner-up was Miss Switzerland,
Lauriane Gillieron, who was true to the oddly skinny nature of her name (So manyvowels! So many I's and L's! She's a headline writer's dream, and a copy editor's nightmare!) by being, well, oddly skinny. Yes, those are ribs. Even in a contest that prizes, y'know, beauty, that seems a bit wrong. Ah, but Miss Switzerland -- The Swiss Miss, if you will -- was reportedly "a favorite" entering the competition. The lesson, as always, in the Miss Universe pageant, is never bet on the favorites.
(Note: There's probably a "Miss Hungary/Miss Hungry" joke to be made about The Swiss Miss, but, no, wait, there's Miss Hungary now. Too bad.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, so to speak, was Miss United Kingdom, who apparently paid no attention to the "Utah rule" in effect for all pageants held in the U.S. (Whosoever shall weareth a one-piece swimsuit shall be cast out even before the cut to the final 10. Thus sayeth The Ford.)

Now, there's been some talk of Miss USA -- formerly Miss Kentucky -- getting a raw deal, despite her top-five status and use of the legendary "self-boob-grab," a bold move, to be sure.

Still, The Ford's gotta disagree here. Sure, she had the boob-grab, but really, that was just a shameless attempt to recover from her, well, her disastrous choice of national costume. Even with the whip, it's a textbook example of the classic erection inflater/deflater.

Besides, how can one argue with the choice of Miss Puerto Rico? Clearly, she was head and shoulders above everyone else. (Well, everyone but Miss Canada -- this time, on the left -- but we've covered that already.)

In the end, of course, everything worked out all right. The right woman won, and, for her prize, yes, that's right, she'll get to live for a year in an apartment in New York.

Her roommate? Miss USA.


Let's all take a moment of silence, in honor of the thought of meeting Miss USA in a bar in New York, going home with her, and waking up the next morning to find Miss Universe reading the paper in a teddy at the dining room table.

Moment of silence, people, moment of silence.

Mmmm...that's good ridiculously-chauvinistic-male-sexual-fantasy...

And, so, with that thought planted in your head, dear reader, The Ford must sign off, but not before he hits a few final matters, vital to world peace:

First, we have the sad story of Miss Indonesia,
Nadine Chandrawinata, who is apparently facing charges of indecency when she returns to her native land.

Indecency? They want to see indecency, they should consider Miss Russia. How in the world did she NOT make the top five?

But, all kidding aside, we could all learn a lot from Miss Israel and Miss Egypt, bravely standing together in this time of international crisis. Right before they got hammered at a party.

(And yes, The Ford knows that it's currently Miss Lebanon's home that Miss Israel's peeps are visiting, but "Miss Egypt and Miss Israel" is FUNNIER.Especially since Misses Israel and Lebanon seem to be getting along duckily with each other, and not posing for many photos together that The Ford can fine, other than this one. Kinda.)

Truly, the Miss Universe pageant is a beautiful thing.

Thus panteth The Ford.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

OK, The Ford just can't seem to let the whole "sideboob" thing go.

Well, not literally, obviously, or else he'd find it much tougher to type, barring a freakish tongue that almost certainly would make him more popular with the lovely ladies. (Note to self: Work on typing with tongue.)

Anyway, there's a big of confusion on the whole sideboob thing. Is it a harmless expression of feminine pulcritudinousity, taken to extremes, or an incredibly slutty thing to do, made worse by the sheer laziness of showing nearly 360 degrees of breast without ever stripping?

Generally, we can only judge by the purveyors of "sideboob," which was fine and dandy when the sideboobers were Mms. Lohan and Aguilera.

But when the sweet, slow, charming, incredibly micromanaged Jessica Simpson brings out the sideboob?

Well, that'd chalk one up for the "harmless" argument.

Then again, sideboob tends to pale next to the newly formed Aguilera Publicity Plan, Lewd Entertainment (also known as APPLE.)

Yes, the APPLE has is redefining how The Ford, a commited relativist, views sideboob.

Well, not really how he views it, 'cause, frankly, he's still gonna shyly sneak glances of sideboob while pretending to look at the very, very interesting wall off in the distance.

But it's certainly changing his -- well, not his stance. He was pretty solidly in favor of sideboob before.

His... um... his....

Ah, it's changing his frequency of usage of the word "sideboob," which is nothing to sneeze at.

Unless you're allergic to sideboob.

In which case, The Ford is very sad for you, and offers up possibly the most polite punk wedding ever.

Wait, Avril Lavigne is still "punk," right?

Even with the blonde hair?


Perhaps not.

Eh, it just goes to show you can take the girl out of Canada, but you can't take the Canada out of the girl.

(There's probably a Pam Anderson joke in there, but The Ford'll let it pass, since there's a slight possibility Ms. Anderson could be moving to The Ford's neck of the urban jungle.)

Friday, July 21, 2006

Rivers Cuomo: Weezer's done.

The Ford: Sad.

Blogging: Way easier when leaving out most verbs.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

It's time for The Official Pop Quiz of The Official Blog of The Ford...

(Don't worry, there's just one question, and even if you fail, well, The Ford has no actual punitive powers. Unless you're a hot gal, in which case he'll require proof of a passing grade to avoid a spanking -- either yours or his, he ain't sayin'.)

1.) In looking back over the astounding number of Jennifer Love Hewitt --or J-Lo-Hew as her hyphen-crazy friends like to call her) paparazzi shots that have come out over the past month (J-Lo-Hew Goes To ... The Starbucks!; The Chinese Food Place!; The McDonald's!, and looking at the latest batch (J-Lo-Hew Goes To The Store!) , who is the worst off?

A.) J-Lo-Hew, who runs possibly the most boring errands of all time. (C'mon, Lindsay Lohan might be a lot of work to follow, but at least she occasionally goes to a party, gets caught practicing a BJ for a movie, or shows a little, er, lot of sideboob. J-Lo-Hew? Wears a Dartmouth T-shirt.)

B.) The photographer who, in stalking J-Lo-Hew, is being dragged on possibly the most boring errands of all time. All for a gal who's never posed nude (though those Maxim shots came pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty close) and is the "star" of a generally sub-par CBS show, after being the "star" of a sub-par Fox show. (The Ford's putting "star" in quotes until someone can prove that the organs entering a room 4 inches before J-Lo-Hew weren't the real "stars" of "Party of Five" and "Ghost Whisperer." Oh, and "Scream." Definitely "Scream.")

C.) The dude who keeps accompanying J-Lo-Hew all around town, without getting credit for nailing J-Lo-Hew, nor even getting identified in most shots.

D.) The bra which is really doing most of the work in supporting "the stars" as J-Lo-Hew runs the most boring errands in the world.

Choose one, and write 250 words on the topic. Deliver to The Official Desk of The Official Blog of The Ford, by the end of the day.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Some part of The Ford will probably always be standing at the CoPa, watching Jeremy Bonderman -- pretty much The Official Tiger of The Official Blog of The Ford -- strike out three White Sox in the first inning Wednesday night with the nastiest stuff he's seen in person in a long time.

It wasn't so much that the stuff was that nasty. Then again, a 95 mph heater, a 86 mph change, and an 85 mph slurve (say it.... sluuuurve. It's the pitch that's as much fun to say as it is to watch.) will humble almost any hitter.

But really, it's the fact that eveyone in the stadium knew what pitches were coming. Fastball. Change. Slurve. Fastball Fastball. Change. Every pitch felt scripted, felt right, felt destined.

And sure enough, Bonderman was on fire. Even when he made a bad pitch in the third, and then again in the fifth. He could feel it. Surrendering a homer in the third, well, he didn't show much emotion on that one, but the one in the fifth, he vented after the inning was over.

And when he went back on the field in the sixth, it was over.

No more runs. No nothing.

Just a clean sixth and seventh, mowing down hitters to get the Tigers to where they could rally.

Understand this: The Tigers scored five runs in the bottom of the sixth. Nearly batted around. And for all that time, Bonderman was sitting on the bench, waiting for his turn.

And then after nearly 30 minutes of waiting, he calmly strode to the mound, went into the windup, and set down the Sox, 1-2-3, on seven pitches.

Jim Thome took Bonderman to eight pitches in a single at-bat in the first inning.

But by the seventh?

Bonderman was through. Dye, Pierzynski, Crede, done. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7, easy as you please.

Y'know, The Ford's not sure if he could handle a Tigers playoff game. It felt like half of Detroit was at the CoPa, cheering on Bonderman from their vaguely oxymoronig standing-room-only seats. For a mid-July game -- even one against the world champions who've been picked to repeat by nearly everyone with a press pass beyond Eight Mile -- the crowd was insane, picking up on a must-win electricity surging through the stands.

Win this one, and the Tigers are back at 4 1/2 games up, where they were entering the series. Lose it, and, well, most of those folks beyond Eight Mile are feeling pretty smug with their October reservations in Chicago.

But Bonderman was locked in, from those first entirely predictable fastballs, changeups and slurves, all the way 'till the eighth inning, when, with one man on and one out, he left the game to a thunderous standing ovation and tipped his cap in recognition of it.

Sure, Carlos Guillen scored the winning run, after getting on base on a bloop to center.

Sure, Craig Monroe crushed the grand slam to left field for the winning runs, when most folks were simply hoping for a double, or even just a sacrifice fly.

But it was Bonderman who won it for the Tigers.

Entirely predictable.

And if he's that predictable for the rest of the season, well, those October visitors might be Motown-bound, sooner or later.

And The Ford -- and you, dear reader -- will know where it all began.

Thus mytholigizeth The Ford

What can The Ford say about Christina Aguilera?

Is she officially getting Not Safe For Work status?

The Ford's leaning that way, but then again, she's basicially established Not Safe For Outdoor Walks status, and still there are photos.

From professional-type photographers.

Go figure.

The answer to your opening question, dear Mr. Rodriguez, is "strippers."

Or at least women who frequently remove their clothes in the presence of The Ford.

Which makes it awkward when The Official Mom tags along...

(The Official Meta-Commentary: The Ford is SOOOOO going to hell for that joke. Just saying. Especially if The Official Mom does this...)

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

At the risk of becoming just a crappy Deadspin imitator... (as opposed to the really awesome Deadspin imitator The Ford is now.... ) Seriously, a 5-minute TD run?

This, this, is why The Ford refused to choose the Raiders whenever he played Tecmo Bowl.

Valor is not valor when shown with overwhelming strength.

Of course, this is also the same line of logic that led to the choice of The Official Alma Mater, and, well, that turned out OK, unless you were to move to Michigan, and have to be reminded of your worst day as a college football fan every day of the year.

Um, oops?

TWO SECONDS! The Ford wants his two seconds! And he's not afraid to use exclamation points to get them.

Seriously, when the freakin' ROSE BOWL WEB SITE notes that Leaf ran "out of time trying to stop the clock by spiking the ball on Michigan's 26 with two seconds to play," perhaps we can all agree that two more seconds are deserved here.

Hey, it's not like anyone -- aside from Lamont Thompson, Rian Lindell, Steve Gleason, Raonall Smith or Leon Bender, RIP -- is real busy right now.

Somebody call Ryan Leaf.

Let's line 'em up again tomorrow.

Wanna bet The Leaf couldn't find the open receiver on one single play, given two seconds?

The Ford'll meet'cha in Pasadena...

Thus reliveth The Ford.

Monday, July 17, 2006

The Ford's got a bad feeling he might be paying more attention to the current Hizbollah v. Israel brouhaha if they'd just let Fox promote the damn war the way it promoted the All-Star Game.

"Hizbollah vs. Israel: This time it counts!"

Then again, The Ford'd probably just get stuck watching a lot of promos for decent shows that Fox is sure to cancel for a year. And about a million promos for " 'Til Death."

No wait, that's what he's got right now....

Saturday, July 15, 2006

That sound you hear?

Why, that's just The Ford doing some dancing...

Some Major League dancing, if you catch The Official Drift...

Yes, he's doin' the ...

The Finneroni -- over lame-duck Times columnist Bob Finnegan apparently putting together a future Mariners squad of Tony Batista, Darin Erstad, Gary Matthews Jr., Adam Eaton, and Kelvin Escobar. (Not to mention the possibility of Gil Meche getting $10M in free agency. )

The Twist -- over the possible application of Sabermetrics to bosom quality. Y'know, so that we finally be able to agree on The Official Measuring Stick for Nikki Cox vs. Detroiter Kristen Bell. (Which is actually the name for my ..., er, that is to say, hey, wow, "measuring stick" and "Cox" in the same sentence, and no snickering laughter. How ... edited.)

The Lambada -- Also known as "The Forbidden Dance," over finally starting to believe that The Tigers might have an unfettered shot at the playoffs beyond the first round, thanks to The Big Wheezy. Of course, even without ESPN's support, fully 30 percent of Michigan is apparently on board with The Ford (sadly, a rejected blog name) and The Motor City Kitties.
(Yeah, what The Ford lacks in good jokes, he apparently makes up for in statistical analysis...)

And, finally, the good ol' Dance O'Shameful-Joy (That's the Schadenfreude-frug, for all the fine fraus and frauleins devoted to The Ford) over Freddy Garcia (and the legendary Freddy Garcia Face) getting ready to get shipped to the Mets. For Aaron Heilman. (Y'know, because Felipe Lopez and Austin Kearns aren't available anymore, sillies...)

And what's he dancing to? That'd be "Sweet Shaun Alexander," because, let's face it, even if you're dancing over baseball in July, sometimes you just have to celebrate the defending NFC champions... (Oh, wait, you wanted to listen to it, too? Well, OK...)

Thus shaketh his boo-tay, does The Ford...

Friday, July 14, 2006

Y'know, The Ford thinks the whole Hooters on Big Beaver Road thing gets even better when you add in that you have to take Exit 69 to reach it from I-75.

Today's dorky English major reimagining of Shakespeare's greatest writings...

To boob, or not to boob, that is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous Photoshoppery,

or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them?

To die, to sleep, no more;

And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache

and the thousand natural sideboobs that flesh is heir to,

'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.

Unless you're down with the whole underboob thing. Which The Ford kinda is, he'll admit...

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Stay classy, Keithsburg.

This article isn't notable so much for the fact that 50 Cent is apparently a brilliant brand-builder; The Ford learned that walking by his 50-foot-tall ad for vitamin water ever day.

No, really, it's notable for the paragraph discussing 50's attack on the big dogs: "And he has disparaged such institutions as British Airways, Fox News commentator Bill O'Reilly and the New York Times in interviews. "

British Airways AND Bill O'Reily?


Seriously, though, how does British Airways even come up if you're interviewing 50?

Dude was shot nine times. And lived.

How does the interview ever leave that in the first place?

Someday, when they get around to writing the quintessential book about The Ford -- a graphic novel, of course -- they'll probably note that if The Ford were to have any weaknesses, if there were any Kryptonites to his Superman-like exterior, things that would make him just go weak in the knees, they would be beautiful women wearing very little clothing and baseball's All-Star Game.

So... you can probably grasp that this weekend -- The Ford's first days off in two weeks -- have been very, very Kryptonite-filled.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Thoughts from The Ford as he dines on food from The Official Slider Source for the third time in four days....

1.) There is something greatly karmic about getting off work at a decent time, getting drunk at a decent time, getting home at a decent time, deciding not to blog 'cause, well, you blogged the hell out of your blog the previous evening/morning and you know you'll be getting off at a decent hour the next day, and then, well, having a semi-shitstorm drop on you at work, ensuring that you will not, in fact, get home at a decent hour, and so will be blogging until the wee hours of the morning.

And thus The Ford offers up this blog entry as a fervent prayer to The Gods of Blogging that they will, for the love of all that is holy and good (i.e., Scarlett Johansson visiting Detroit) let The Ford go a day without news breaking. OR a new project with a ridiculous deadline getting started. One day, one simple day.

2.) WTF is wrong with The Ford's local McD's? (It would be The Official McD's, but for reasons detailed below.)

Seriously, people stopping in at the 24-hour drive-thru at 4 a.m. do not want breakfast.

Even if they are able to reconcile themselves to the concept of delicious McMuffins of various shapes and sizes, they DEFINITELY do not want to be told that they must come back in 20 minutes to get said McMuffins, and that no food is currently available.

20 minutes?

In midtown Detroit.

At 4 a.m.

Right, The Ford'll just pop over to the local neighborhood crack house, have a nice time, and stop in when it's more convenient for you, random McD's worker.

This is The Ford's third time catching the breakfast changeover in three months, at three different times of night, and it's starting to feel less like reality, and more like someone's tired of pushing Asian Salads to drunkards and workaholics.

So, here's the deal:

Do away with the 24-hour drive-thru. Make it a 23-hour drive-thru. Just tell The Ford what damn hour you'll be closed to make the changeover. Hell, he might even get a McMuffin out of the deal.

3.) Speaking of fast food, all hail The Official Slider Source, for figuring out how to serve both dinner and breakfast.


Without shutting down the drive-thru.

Yes, it's shocking.

Now, ordinarily, The Ford couldn't, in the vernacular of some of his cruder relatives, give two craps in a bucket about breakfast menus, thanks to his aversion to eggs.

But in addition to the usual lineup of breakfast sandwiches, The Official Slider Source offers up "Potato Snackers," resembling tater tots someone -- perhaps The Ford's cruder relatives -- have sat on for 20 minutes. But, really, just a resemblance to tater tots is enough for The Ford, especially at 4 a.m. when he's just gotten bounced from the McD's drive-thru.

4.) The argument for massive amounts of overtime? Well, the money.

And what will The Ford be buying with his overtime?

Aside from, y'know, wine, women and song?

Well, in honor of The Official Hobey Baker Award Winner of The Official College Hockey Program of The Official Blog of The Ford's signing with The Official NHL Franchise, well, he'll be updating his old, worn-out Stars jersey with a new, fancy, personalized jersey.

Ah, if only there was a way to see what said jersey might look like from behind, were one two-dimensional and poorly jointed....

Oh, wait...SHAZAM!

(Oh, and check out the Stars' third jersey. So sweet, but for the weird red strips on the sleeves. Go figure.)

5.) Finally, it's another case study for The Ford's theory on British blouse bunnies.

OK, it's not really a theory yet, nor even a hypothesis.

But if The Ford can do the research tap dance for a bit, maybe there'll be some sweet R&D money coming into The Official Bank Account.

6.) Why is it that you can combine almost any type of upper-body clothing with an animal, and it becomes a euphemism for breasts?

Are we, as a society, just in a rut, so to speak, when it comes to coming up with abnormal ways to describe mammaries? Sweater meat, sweater kittens, blouse bunnies, etc...

Also, why are they always funny?

Some others, right off The Official Top of The Head:
-- Tunic toads
-- Pullover pandas

OK, The Ford's gonna keep working on this, but, for now, get used to the sentence, "Man, check out the pullover pandas on that chick!"

The Ford's sure you'll be hearing it all over the place.

Thus Coineth The Ford.

Friday, July 07, 2006

The Ford to bikins: Happy birthday.

Bikinis to The Ford: Um, thanks. Now, please go away.

The line "Steelers cannot dance, so Chad Johnson'll show 'em how" really says all you need to know here.


This one goes out to The Mick.

Sure, Frank Thomas' 2 RBI Thursday tied him with you at 43rd all-time, an event so weird The Ford had to go to to get the gamer, written by an Official Alma Mater Alum.

But, you know what, Mick?

You're still the man. Still a legend, still a giant, still a prick.

And they can't take that away from you.

At least until Frank Thomas gets ONE more RBI, and turns his attention toward passing Sam Crawford.


Oh, and speaking of dead white people...The Ford shifts to something completely different...

Somewhere, out there, there's The Official Freaklet-Designer-Extraordinare-In-Residence of The Official Blog.

And she has a friend -- besides The Ford, which is shocking indeed, for who needs more than The Ford? -- reputed to resemble Stacey Dash.

And so, when The Ford "found" this link, he knew it was kismet.

OK, not really "kismet," per se, but at least he knew it was something he could write 75 words about.

Which is really all he cares about.


Thursday, July 06, 2006

Well, the Brits may have been knocked out of the World Cup, but at least The Ford's favorite nation-doing-an-impression-of-Red-Sox-fans-pre-2004 have something else to focus on. So to speak.

Of course, over here in the good 'ol U.S.-of-A-cups, we like our women in bikins to ... well, The Ford WAS going to say we like our women in bikins to be famous, but really, we just like our women in bikinis.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Yes, The Ford's moving closer and closer to this century, and adding video to The Official Blog.

Mmm, hockey and beauty pageants.

There's probably something wrong with this, but for the time being, The Ford feels the need to point out this video.

Partially for the creepiness of exalting all Asian women to the tune of Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely."

Partially for the question that leaps to The Ford's mind: Sure, being Miss Asia beats being lowly Miss Vietnam, but if Miss India goes on to win Miss Universe (a faint possibility, should Miss India ever lose the big-as-a-redneck-woman hair), does she outrank Miss Asia.

And also, why is Miss Universe between a crap load of countries?

Leaving aside the general lack of otherwordly life waiting to enter the pageant, why not have run-off pageants to produce the champions of the seven continents, and then let THEM compete for the title of Miss Universe.

It's not like this is the NHL playoffs. Let's whittle things down a bit. (But only if the battle to be Miss Antartica is broadcast on pay-per-view, cause The Ford has the feeling that that could get mighty hot.)

OK, after approximately 24 hours of OT obsessing over Stevie Y, The Ford MIGHT be able to say he gets the whole "The Captain" thing. Even if The Ford still considers The Captain The Prick for announcing his retirement on JULY 3. Nevertheless, this is a pretty sweet goal, especially since every virtually every Detroiter The Ford has talked to in three days has brought it up.

You may go to hell, No. 19, but at least you'll have a hell of a goal to talk about there.

Even if it was 10 years ago.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Dear Steve Yzerman,

Should you decide to start, despite your recent retirement, playing in the NHL again, and then decide once more to retire, please, please don't do so on the day before the Fourth of July, you addle-brained ninny.

Or at least if you are going to retire, maybe give folks some notice, so they don't have to spend 13 hours at work on their day off -- after getting just three hours of sleep because they planned on sleeping away most of their day off -- working on coverage of your retirement.

Leak that shit, seriously.

The Ford might even be willing to get scooped by The Official Competition in that case.

Oh, and tell your buddy Ben Wallace that he could maybe , JUST MAYBE, hold off on leaking that he's going to sign with the Bulls until the day AFTER you're retired.

'Cause both of you doing your thangs on the same day, well, that's just a bit effed up for those of us who like to cover our breaking stories all in-depth-like.

Yes, you deserve to die, and I hope you burn in hell.

Sincerely, and ever your friend in journalism,

The Ford

Monday, July 03, 2006

Just in case you doubted The Ford in his belief that he speaks for the world when detailing -- in so many sad, sad ways -- his recent obsessions with hot women, cold beer, and lukewarm soccer, (I'm talking to you, World Cup refs, unless that, too, would get me a yellow card.) The Ford presents the Deadspin discussion of Italy v. Germany, coming to a 4th of July near you, thanks to ESPN's complete lack of baseball on Tuesday.

Really, this picture says it all:

Two things here:

1.) Had he known gals like that hung out in Germany, The Ford would never have passed on his numerous chances to visit DerFliederland.

2.) Seriously, no national telecasts of baseball on the 4th of July. None. WTF? Memorial Day. Labor Day, Flag Day, these are the national holidays ESPN pulls out all the stops for. But on the 4th? We're left with a hot-dog eating contest that, while certainly riveting, will almost certainly end with Takeru Kobayashi beating the HELL out of either Joey Chestnut or Sonya Thomas. (Yeah, The Ford follows competitive eating? You're shocked why?)

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Yes, it's an international week here in the 313, what with GM facing a "merger" with Nissan and 50 Cent's 50-foot-tall Vitamin Water ad being replaced with a 50-foot-tall ad for Heineken.

Oh, and there's the World Cup, which pretty soon, all of metro Detroit will go nuts for. Probably. If we get to host any games. (Fresh off the Super Bowl, and the bid for the 2016 Olympics, how could FIFA possibly reject Detroit's bid to host all the 2014 games at Ford Field?)

Speaking of the World Cup, The Ford came up with an odd theory: Consider the performance of teams in the World Cup as a metaphor for how uninformed American men -- y'know, like The Ford -- view women from other countries.
Thus Brazil is always hot till the end, but loses points for caring more about being appealing, and not enough about, um, actually scoring.
Thus Italy seems like a bunch of drama queens, but are actually pretty hot, if you catch them at the right time.
Thus France hasn't particularly aged well, but is pulling it together at the right time, in a way that leaves us semi-excited, if you catch the (mostly hidden) meaning.
Thus England is full of proud scorers who seem mostly to focus on their recent lack of success.
Thus Sweden is full of blondes that promise excitement, but mostly just leave us sitting on the couch thinking, "Is that all there is?"
Thus the U.S. is highly ranked entering the tournament on technical ability, but struggles on being loose and uninhibited.
Thus no one can quite tell the Japanese and the South Koreans apart, but is unwilling to admit it.
Thus no one thinks much of the Australians, unless confronted with them, at which time, we're perfectly delighted they're around, and more-or-less insane.
Thus Germany is incredibly Teutonic and incredibly thrilling, at least until one realizes one's cheering for Germans. Who are really tall.

Finally, back on this side of the pond, as the holiday weekend sorta hits, and The Ford recovers from sitting in traffic in The Official Truck for almost 10 minutes, within half-a-block of The Official Apartment, he brings you this public service announcement about the " dark side of the strip club life."

Let no one say The Ford's not fair and balanced when it comes to posting links.

Of particular note: the odd smiles on the faces of the gals arrested for indecent exposure.

Something tells The Ford they may have covered their fine with tip money.

At least, The Ford certainly hopes so.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

And The Ford thought he was tapped out.

All he can say is that The Official Blog -- and the L.A. Times, if you want to get technical about it -- run the gamut, from Presbyterianism to porn.

Which is probably pretty weird.

The Ford's not one to push religion on anyone.

Which is probably a trait he got from being raised Presbyterian.

Seriously, when you learn more from reading the AP Stylebook entry on your religion than you did in 10 years of going to church, you are Officially a member of a laid-back religion.

Which fits pretty well with The Ford's general outlook on life.

The other thing The Ford appreciates about the Presbyterians?

Their healthy, albeit mildly insane, respect for synonyms and euphemisms.

You've gotta love the pure poeticness of phrases like: "Fire That Consumes, Sword That Divides, and Storm That Melts Mountains," "Rock, Redeemer, Friend," and "One Who Was, the One Who Is and the One Who Is to Come."

Unless, of course, you're from a religion not down with the whole Trinity thing, in which case this is all pretty blasphemous.

Still sorta funny, but also sorta blasphemous. (Those might even be related, don'cha'know?)

This is the sort of day that makes filing a daily blog post a big difficult.

The events: Got up. Got dressed. Went to work. Worked a lot. Had no time to think. Came home.

No strong drinks. No good food. No loose women.


Not much interesting there.

Though The Ford vaguely remembers reading something interesting on the wire, hours and hours ago. Oh well.

Back to imagining what The Ford's life would be like if HE, and not Joe Mauer, was dating Miss USA.

He'd probably be doing something more than watching clips from "The Sweetest Thing."

Aw, hell, really, he'd probably be doing the same thing, but also coming up with sweet slogans like these.

Which would just be sad, really.