AMEN

CHEESE OF THE WEEK: FELLATING PAT BURRELL, ONE CHEESY '80s POWER BALLAD AT A TIME

As reported by Team Illadelph, Pat Burrell was granted a final curtain call at CBP on Saturday, and while initial reports focused entirely on the use of Foreigner's "I Want to Know What Love Is", the fact that this monumental testament to every Delaware County prom held in either '85 / '86 is at least tempered by a little Tom Petty. But oh, when Lou Gramm's white soul kicks in, so does my inner girly man. GUSH!

Truth be told, the entire Phillies organization should be ashamed that they tried to top YouTube user TheJMan927's impeccably produced ode to The Bat. Just for a minute, picture this projected high atop the jumbotron...

And just when one's thinking there couldn't possibly be a cheesier melding of Phillies, man-love and video tributology, well...you obviously didn't get this invite in the mail today.

SPOTTED: SIXERS GAME SPORTS SUPPORT FOR LOSING WAYS, BREASTS

Just another family outing at the Sixers game Saturday night, where highlights included:

Mary Carey and all of her appendages - being two of the largest breasts on record and a small cup that, if containing alcohol, surely spoils the remaining episodes of Sober House for Herr Wook. For the record - the guys in section 105, big fans and not afraid to lift their shirts in honor.

A very pregger Jennapher Fredericks, surely reeling from Dan McQuade's temporary retirement.

A halftime show that featured both (a) the Catholic school girl 'tude of the St. Joe's Dance Team followed by (b) seven minutes of Hip-Hop - whose involvement during the game is now on par with Jerry Springer's role on "America's Got Talent" - handing off basketballs to the bustiest of Sixers dancers, who in turn ran the court in ever more feeble attempts at dunking off a trampoline. All of this captured expertly by the Jumbotron, which fittingly enough, was next used to hunt down the wholesomeness of McDonald's "Small Fry of the Game".

The Sixers. Losers. Again.

RELATED: JASON SMITH HAS NEVER BEEN THE SAME SINCE THAT NIGHT WITH MARY CAREY

BEST ONION HEADLINE OF 2008, SPORTS DIVISION

A-Rod Checks Beckett Baseball Card Monthly To See If Rookie Card Went Up

IMMEDIATE UPDATE: For whatever reason, I just flashed back to '96, savoring the greatest Onion photoshop job ever...

NEW SEASON, NEW STADIUM, MORE BOOS...PLAY BALL!

PONDERING THE SUPER BOWL WELL PAST SUPER TUESDAY

Of course, I use the word "ponder" loosely, as if to make my observational prowess carry more weight.

• Face it - the true highlight of this year's telecast was watching the Terminator sans flesh bust out to throttle that annoying Fox Transformer Cheerleader. Personally, this could have only been bettered if the transformer had donned the guise and gusto of Ben Fucking Foster when manhandling that screen-left annoyance.
• Cheering for Eli Manning - painful, yet oddly fulfilling, much like Ichii the Killer.
• The Iron Man trailers are getting so tight, that they almost single-handily made up for the fact that Lucasfilm didn't unveil not one Super Bowl minted tease for Geritol Jones.
• Bringing your deluxe supermodel girlfriend to the Super Bowl only to have her get repeatedly caught on camera sipping wine...embarrassing.
• I really want to get down with the psychology behind the animated bears that Charmin employs these days to shill TP. Furry and delightful, warm and cuddly, the commercials seem to lull the listener into a state of utter denial that such animals are capable of unleashing anything stank and dark, let alone berry-filled. Pure genius, if you ask me. Mental note - expound further in two weeks time.
• The thought that somewhere in America, there is a big "bear" who wants to commit some "necessary roughness" on Bill Belichick.

And finally, god bless Tom Petty for keeping things safe for America's kids, nimbly trotting thru the greatest of his greatest hits without a nipple or moment of spontaneity in sight. Truthfully, I love bugger - but would it have killed him to analyze the first half of gamesmanship and present a musical harbinger of Brady's fate?

Ah yes, remember the days when Joe Piscopo could rely on a namecheck.

THE MOMENT THAT TERRY FRANCONA REVEALS HIMSELF TO BE THE SAME POOR-DECISION MAKING TERRY FRANCONA WHO COACHED THE PHILLIES...

...is upon us.

At the very least, the ALCS series has been blessidly telecast on FOX, meaning the at-home-audience aren't subjected to the Machiavellian rise of Frank Caliendo, who's seemingly bringing what our dour times need...a 2K version of Rich Little.

TBS...redefining unfunny since '07.

THE DRONE

I'm fast approaching my personal three-year anniversary of giving a shit about the Sixers, and I can honestly say that "diversity" alone isn't going to bolster my level of interest in the shenanigans down there on South Broad. An emotional emptiness engulfs me. I can't even feel passionate about the virotol emanating from Mullica Hill this morning, although I do admire the Godfather reference:

To paraphrase Vito Corleone, what a mess they made of my team. And just as the Godfather didn't want "his mother to see him like this," I don't want my kids to see the team like this.

Do it for the kids, G...do it for the muthafuckin' kids!

It's a shame really. I now find myself back in the loving embrace of Comcast, with 82 Sixers games at my disposal in all of their Hi-Def, Zumoffticly enhanced glory, and the proposed investment of my time wreeks of a glorious waste...sort of like season three of Prison Break.

Plus, the Red Sox are still on. Perhaps I should take a Beantown cue and dust off the inner-Celtics fan within, the kid inside that disappeared the way of Bird/McHale/Parrish, because let's face it - this whole Garnett/Pierce/Allen setup could be the bomb.

FOR THE UNINITIATED...

This is what winning looks like, Philadelphia:

We've got Schilling pitching, Francona coaching, and enough blue-collar brio to make you feel at home. And don't worry, we don't look unkindly on bandwagoneers.

OH YEAH...THAT OTHER GAME ONE

What end of the year slump? Motherfuckers were just resting.

I mean c'mon...a post season rotation featuring Beckett, Dice and Schilling? Only detriment in this first round - TBS. Assholes splurged on the Dane Cook promos, but obviously spent next to nothing on the analyst front. I mean, mining TNT for Ernie Johnson? If you're going that route, bring on Sir Charles to bring some noise.

CAN YOU FEEL IT, PEOPLE?

It's almost game time, and you know what goes good with a cold lager, a hot dog and a bucket of fries?

Chocolate.