Readers of the NY Daily News already saw this roundup today, but I just couldn’t help myself from posting it for others.
Which is your favorite meltdown? And which ones did they miss?
(Warning: Don’t eat before viewing the Mike Tyson snackathon.)
We’ve all had temper tantrums, although I think it’s safe to say we haven’t had them in front of a national audience or been injected with steroids before having them. Well, at least I haven’t. I’ve never used PEDs in order to gain an advantage over other bloggers, not even those front-runners over at Red State Blue State. Seriously. I’m clean. Never dabbled in the cream or the clear. Ask George Mitchell.
Speaking of whom, baseball’s steroids czar has been named by Secretary of State Hillary Clinton to be the special envoy for Arab-Israeli affairs. No kidding. Mitchell made peace between the warring nations of our sport and now he’s going to make peace in the Middle East? Good luck with that.
And while I’m on the subject of steroids, how about Mark McGwire’s younger brother Jay?
(Jay is the desperately tanned bodybuilder; Mark is the midget-sized man on the right.)
As was reported on deadspin and MLB.com and now in today’s NY Times, baby brother Jay has been shopping a book proposal about how he turned Mark on to ‘roids. Never mind that the proposal is full of inaccuracies, and contradicts statements made by others; it’s just plain badly written. Sorry, guy, but not only are you a lousy person for ratting out a family member – you didn’t even bother to use Spell Check!
I really hope my older sister Susan Alexander, a faithful reader of this blog even though she doesn’t ever leave comments, will restrain herself from shopping a tell-all about me. Because hear this, Sue: You won’t get a penny for it. My life isn’t that interesting and you know it. Plus, as I said before, I’m clean.
Well, sure, I’ve made mistakes, sis. I was bratty when I was little. I get that.
And I experimented with cigarettes in your room one night and burned a hole in your precious bedspread.
And, yes, even though you said I had to stop sneaking around in your closet, I did it anyway – the second you left the house.
And, O.K. There was that time in high school – just one time – when you told me I absolutely, positively couldn’t take your new car out for a spin….and yet I did.
I swear I didn’t mean to park it so close to the meter and cause that huge scratch across the passenger side door. I only had my learner’s permit! What did you expect?
You never had temper tantrums like the athletes at the top of this post, Sue. So please. Don’t have one now. Leave the books to me, all right?