Softball Apocalypse

0-3 ain't no thang when you're batting a thousand in your heart. This week the nWo faces off with a bunch of guys who preach No Respect while their members silently fall in love with our fighting spirit. Injuries have sidelined a few, but our Guest Star has a PHD in Awesome. Will the streak be broken (in that good way)? Click below to find out.

Joesy Redux

The nWo hit a speed bump on the way to world domination last week as a shutout spread gloom across the land. This time around the boys in black are packin' a secret weapon in the form of guest star Kevin Buntin.
Now be the week 3 of our discontent, and with the season record at 0 - 2 is another summer of funk brewing? Think the Hammerin' Heroes have enough gas to fuel a victory parade? Click below to find out.

Along the Joesy Shore

Long story short, Ty-Ty came up to me in college one day and suggested the Theatre Kids start up a softball team. It just so happened that was a dream of the high school Theatre Kids as well. The dream came true, and over the years we've taken many forms, The Inepts, The Steel Age Gods of These Last Apocalypse, The Thrift Store Shoplifters, The Reel Big Grundles.

Our record currently stands at 0-42, we have lost all 41 games played in Saint Joseph softball over 5 years worth of seasons, we even had a Myspace page back when they were cool. One time we lost to a girls 13 and under fastpitch squad. It's not that we're not trying, it's just that we're open to anyone that loves to play, regardless of skill.

As the Great Count Otto once said, "If others want to dress up as athletes and pretend they're still in high school, who says we can't pretend to be astronauts and scientists?"

This year we're the nWo, and my character is "The Joesy Broesy" Big Stevie Bigly. He has a webcast where he keeps all his bros up on the softball happenings. N-Joi.

My Heroes have always been Badasses

It’s Mothers Day! Maybe I can find a way to tie a salute into baseball!

Growing up as a lil’ Midwest Cracker ain’t easy when you’re a dictionary defined bastard and your Family Name doesn’t carry much street cred beyond the local diners. They say it takes a village, in my case that village was the Kirschner/Purtell addition down by the Fly Ash Mountains and Lake Contrary Elementary. The ruler of my particular village was the toughest dame I know, Grandma Betty.

Grandma Betty is the Original Ax, a country wife who brings the thunder no matter the weather. She’s one of the last Saint Joe Levi workers and to this day, sneaking up fast and faster on 100, she feels sorry for making the “dishwarshing” machine work so much and will try to do the dishes herself if no one is watching. Back in the day hardcore was watching her slay a migraine by tying a piece of cloth tight around her head, Rambo Style, and then working several laps around the house with her tiny push vacuum thing. And while Saint Patrick may have driven the snakes from Ireland I’ll bet his great grandkids never watched him take a 2X4 to a rattler.

In the cherished memory file, my “Buck O’Neil Greatest Day In Baseball” was every summer evening at Grandma Betty’s. Grandma Donna would be working the long shift at Perkins, Aunt Anna would be doing something along the same lines, that left me and cousin Buttons at her disposal. “Disposal” would include, but not be limited to, “Polish Poker”, Wheel of Fortune, the simplest yet most delicious hamburger ever, and then the Kansas Mother#$%^ing City Royals!

Grandma Betty would probably take a shotgun to the man who would call out George Brett, at the least you would taste her snake killing board. Allow me to share a childhood moment with you that attests to the country strength of her beliefs.

Big Mike: George Brett’s The Man!

Small Josh: Nu-uh!

Big Mike: He could beat your ass!

Small Josh (thinking he was going to get Big Mike in trouble for cussing): Grandma Betty, did you hear what Mike said to me!

Grandma Betty (thoughtfully): Well, could he?

Small Josh (meekly): yeah…..

Grandma Betty: Well, there ya go.

The point here is that George Brett is like John Wayne around her house. Very little modern decoration was allowed in that little country fort of hers, but a small Kellogg’s Cereal George Brett baseball card stayed forever within her plastic lampshade. King George held court above the sleeping gnome and bejeweled owl as every evening the Golden Age Royals flirted with the postseason and crushed the competition.

My Grandmas are badasses, and a throwback to the age of responsibility when you sucked it up and made it happen, even if you didn’t like how you got into the mess in the first place. I just mentioned the “Golden Age” Royals, some of you may not know what I mean by that. Believe it or not “we used to be somebody” over at Kaufmann Stadium. Brett, Willie Wilson, Frank White and the rest of the Boys in Blue would crack bats and bust heads year in year out as we paraded about the postseason and brought the ’85 Series title home. They were a lot like my Grandmothers, badass individuals who took full accountability.

Something changed in the 90’s, some fans will tell you it’s free agency and I can see the parallel argument to divorce in the modern family. My grandmothers never once considered “free agency” no matter how their teams (families) were performing. They rode it out, did the tough work, and took one for the team whenever it was needed. Free agency stripped the Royals of that, but it’s just an excuse. The problem was they quit being badasses, something Grandma Betty has never done.

George Brett almost hit .400 with hemorrhoids, after him we had a parade of the weak and uninspiring: Bob Hamlin? Fatty who faded. Mike Sweeny? Couldn’t stay healthy and turned the cheek more than a door to door Mormon. David Dejesus? He’s lucky Grandma didn’t napalm him herself the millionth time he got picked off first by a lefty and then made that stupid fuckin’ grin. Grienke? Oh sure, he always seemed like he was about to go Columbine on the place, however, that’s hardly inspirational. But nowadays the times they are a’changing and the new boys in blue are a group the Hardcore Granny can get behind.

Bam-Bam Billy Butler makes the “Manny Face” when meat crosses the plate, and this is one of the “Manny Traits” that is universally known as a good thing. The only other comparison I can make is the face Mike Singletary used to make before a tackle, Bam-Bam is a hungry man and he knows when dinner is coming his way. Moreover he takes this shit seriously, and we’re starting to see a whole team of men that are forsaking the “just happy to be here” mentality of the DeJesus years.

Red Sox fans used to want a championship before they die, Grandma already got one but by god she deserves another. Baseball is back in Kansas City, and aside from giving the “warshing machine” a break I can think of no better Mothers Day present for the Original Gangster of Midwest Grannies.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone.

Jesse James Dawson Vs. The Andrew County Experience

Very recently I got a letter in the mail from Andrew County, MO. Inside was a receipt and assurances that all obligations had been met and debts incurred were now accounted for. My Christmas stint in the clink is officially behind me. So here’s the shockingly true, behind bars story, of my weekend in jail.

Things started out innocently enough, as most criminal deeds do. I was at a local high school football game; South Holt is where we set our scene. There’s a cool cemetery behind the field, they’re called the Knights but I swear they’d rock an awesome purple and black as the Necromancers. I’d gotten a delicious package of highlights from the game, turnovers, touchdowns, defense, special teams.

I had an orgasm of editing delicious inside this camera and Grandmas across the region (given that region and the number of players with grandmas……20 max….just so you know our stakes here) were going to scream like Murder She Wrote was back when they hit the air. The only problem was that in procuring these highlights I’d stayed late, I had 20 minutes max to get back to KQ2 and edit or they probably wouldn't make the air. I was gonna have to goose the gas a little.

90 in a 70 is considered a little fast in the state of Missouri. In fact it turns out in Andrew County it carries a mandatory jail term of 2 days. Philosophy aside let it be entered into record that this is immutable fact. A chubby Korean from Omaha who was obviously family rich did the same time at the same time as my cracker self for the same offense……Oh and we both had lawyers….I get the feeling he paid a lot more for his 2 days in jail than I did though. So don’t bother thinking you can lawyer up.

In fact, I challenge any of you to get popped rolling 90 in a 70 up there, just make a quick Dairy Queen run, their Brazier > All Our Braziers anyway. That judge will give you an animated explanation of his policy that is priceless, even when you’re the one getting a taste of Oz Season 3 lovin’. I assure you.

So I argue not the fairness of my sentence, and in fact salute that in Andrew County justice is blind, just like the statue says it should be. But what is “48 consecutive hours” in the Andrew County jail you ask? Well, it aint like a celebrity stint in the clink.

In an attempt to hide the fact that I was going to jail from my daughters I told them I was hanging out at the farm pond that weekend…..in December. My oldest child is quite the detective and pointed out I wouldn’t take 2 books, notebook paper, a pillow, and assorteds to go over to Ruhnkes place. I confessed, she cried, I cried, yeah, good times. We got the sentence started in my heart at least a few hours early.

I stopped by Ick’s on the way out of town, we hung out for about half an hour, watched ESPN, and then I drove my grandmothers little red car to Savannah. At 6 p.m. on a Thursday slightly before Christmas I surrendered myself to a weekend that crossed one of my personal “Man-List” items forever off the chart, whether I liked it or not. The sheriffs and guards and whatnot all had a good chuckle as they booked me in about the latest 20 mile over weekend offender. I told you you’ll do the time if you do it, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I brought with me two books I’ve been meaning to read. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, and A Devil in the Details by K.A. Stewart. Now before I delve further into this “pseudo book review / jailhouse confessional” for the sake of ethics I will state that I personally know K.A. Stewart and actually get to call her by the full K for giggles. We were theatre kids together back in high school and her husband is one of my dearest high school friends:

Midwest Mythology Fact: The morning after Bigly’s Junior Prom Stooby came by to ask how it went, Bigly told him alright, Stooby told him Valerie was a cool chick and that he should call her back that evening. Bigly and Stooby then went to Hastings and Bigly bought his favorite shirt ever and called back the now mother of his two children. Stooby opined in the CD section how much he wished he could have taken one of their mutual friends to that prom, but she was dating a douche and it broke his heart. Of course nowadays her last name wouldn’t be StoobyTwo if both sides of that afternoon didn’t have a happy ending after all.

The jail kinda resembles like the one from Resident Evil….only inside it’s much older and the inmates are housed in one half on the first floor that’s locked off from everything. The Alpha Male living arrangements are assimilated quickly enough and I just took a small flop mattress out on the hallway that bridged the “T.V. Room” and the cell area. You could wander freely for the most part within these confines, there was also a cordoned off shower area with three more cells in a hallway next to it…and by shower I mean a small pipe with water coming out, this aint the Ritz.

However, I will also say that the long term and career jail guys are right, the food at the Andrew County Jail aint that bad. In fact the chili was rather good. The guys who bounce from jail to jail say it’s the best in the region. And I also loved how if you weren’t there right when it was served someone else ate yours, or bartered it off, f-in hellarious the way they did that to each other and then bragged about it when the person woke up.

I was also impressed with the boy scout water heating system they employed on the old radiator heaters that populated the housing area, hot tea and coffee on jailhouse tap mother%^&*’s! But really they do need new facilities up there for both personnel and inmates. I think they’re working on a bond or something, while I’d rather not return I do hope they get their upgrades….but keep the cook.

A picnic table also served as the TV stand and everyone gathered around it at all hours. This was in December of 2010 mind you, slightly before the Great Charlie Sheen happening. But I learned something that weekend, Jail Inmates love Two and a Half Men, and it was on in syndication on some channel at every time point within a day. It was something straight out of a PCU thesis, I swear.

It was rather easy to keep a promise to an old friend. But first I had to grind through Atlas Shrugged….some kinda reader self-immolation project on my part…..but jail is also for punishing yourself…..besides, when you’re serving “48 consecutive hours” and everyone’s watching Two and a Half Men you might as well get the hard stuff out of the way first.

It wasn’t like I was sleeping anyway, not after the “pee incident.” We won’t further delve into here, save to note this, I got a prison name from the guys there after I dealt with it. So don’t step to Big-Pac ‘lest you step correct son.

I can tell out tale is running long so here’s the Atlas Shrugged review: Yawn…skipped many parts….I fail to see how Angelina Jolie’s boobs are supposed to make this an enjoyable movie.

As for A Devil in the Details, it’s freakin’ awesome. And would make a much better movie with or without Angelina Jolies boobs….though I personally think the job of Jesse’s wife would require character boobs, not lead actress boobs….character boobs are better anyway. But I digress.

You’ve got a guy who swings badass swords and talks smack and get’s decent people off the hook when it comes to contracts with demons. His world is set right here in the Midwest, in fact it’s littered with Kansas City livin’ and the main character is a Royals fan which always buys the bonus points. He appreciates the rarity of a decent steak fry and knows the value in quality automotives. Even someone who doesn’t usually read "supernatural” themed books will be able to invest in the storylines of the characters because of the realistic world these events take place under the surface of. And it’s sort of a legal thriller too if you need that angle.

But that’s my endorsement, here’s the part where a reader of a different color weighs in.

Night two and I was done, it was 1 a.m. and I wasn’t gonna sleep, there was a headache at the gates and I couldn’t do much with Two and a Half Men denying me even a glimmer of late-nite movie madness. So I moved to a re-read of K.A’s book and was surprised by a question suddenly thrown my way.

“So is that a good book?” the inmate asked.

“Yeah” I replied.

“What’s your favorite part?” he asked.

“Uhhmmmmm probably this part.” As I quickly flipped to the section about the steak fries.

“Nah, I don’t read much, you read it, you said you read to kids that don’t.” As he pushed the book back my way. So I read it. Slowly…amazingly…their attention….all 10 or 11 of them began to turn from Two and a Half Men…..or drift in from the card games in the cell room. And in the soft vanilla of a cheap jailhouse lamp I finished reading the chapter while a firelight choir of the mediocre and damned listened in.

“That’s stories really cool man.” -- 19 year old in on some sort of armed robbery charge.

“I wish he could get me out of my contract” -- Guy from the back who was much older and much more of a lifetime offender. This was the only time he came out of his private cave the two days I was in, aside from bathroom breaks. People even brought him his food, nobody dared mess with it, I don’t wanna know what gets that jailhouse respect.

“Yeah, yeah man that’s cool.” – The Pill head

The guy who first asked me about it wanted me to keep reading, but a few other inmates who were more of the reading sort wanted me to stop and leave the book there when I left so they could read it. I don’t know if I was supposed to, but one of the cell rooms had already become some sort of library full of books, so I put it in there when I left, and that’s the part of the story that contains my jailhouse confessional….I also kept the toothbrush….it was Bob Barker brand....I figure I deserved a souvenir.

I bought that copy online at Amazon, and you can too! Then, if your mom leaves your second copy you got at Hastings in Atlanta when she’s visiting her sister you can get another one at Borders....for however long they stay open, or whatever book stores in your area that DO remain open. I personally recommend Hastings.

There’s a sequel coming out soon, I can’t wait to read it….but not behind bars this time.