This is No Way to Show Fat Elvis Love for His Greatness

Fucking Richard Justice, man. This guy finally stops being smug, blowing the Longhorns and actually writes about the pleasantries of the Astros this month to go on and fuck it up like this. Ugh. Yes, I know this is not credited to Justice at all but he posted it on his blog and it's linked to the 1560 site. See, watching the Adventures of Ford Fairline via OnDemand has sharpened my sleuthing skills! Anyhoo, check out this wretched abortion of a tribute and let's cross our fingers that someone, like, Pride Kills will record a track to give Lance Berkman the aural love he so deserves.
The Big Puma Song
You know what, how about we start writing into 1560 and the Justice's blog to let him know our displeasure with the song? Join in with me folks, my first spam will be on his site in a mere moments.

Mr. Berkman, Please Kill Yourself Has a Proposition for You

You know we all love you and you might even remember that whole "Big Puma thing ain't gonna happen" post I made a few months back. Well, we've got an offer for you.
Initially, after seeing you rip to shreds just about anything in the strike zone (regardless of what side of the plate you were hitting from) I started to feel that you had the right to call yourself whatever the fuck you want. If you suddenly felt that "Long Dong Slugger" should be your knew nickname then, that was aces with me. But then, after having a conversation with Black Nathan and few others last night we had a realization. We're still not ready to go with the Big Puma handle yet.
Black Nathan has thrown down the gauntlet and we all agree: if you steal 30 bases this season, we will all preach the gospel that Fat Elvis is dead and buried. Pretty sweet, right? I mean, you've already got 7 and can make that number if they give you the green light and we really do feel that this will prove your game is truly...what did you say? "Sleek and atheltic."
So get to it and keep knocking balls into the stratosphere especially like you did today when we raged back from a 6 run defecit and you carried us over the edge in the ninth. We wish you the best.
Sincerely, The Entire Please Kill Yourself Staff

Houston, Do We Have a Scouting Probelm?

WHAT. THE. FUCK?!?! So, Valverde blew another save last night to hand the Astros a loss. Even though this cat had the most saves in the NL last season it's always suspect when a team with a hard on for pitching like the Diamondbacks send him swiftly your way. Remember the Jennings trade? He came off a strong season in a brutal hitter's park and that was a giant fucking trainwreck. Obviously, those two franchises knew something about their players the Astros couldn't figure out and that is what has lead us into the muck. Of course, it couldn't be a staff issue but instead, an owner (I'm casting my vote for that candidate), who can be so dominating that it creates an environment of yes men, essentially trying to appease a spoiled brat.
I'm not saying that Valverde will go down as the goat this season but it's not looking too pretty. Cooper didn't win any points with me by pulling his starter who was on the brink of a shut out. Of course, with a three run lead, it is understandable to go to your struggling closer (well, if you were brought up by Garner at least) to get him a confidence boost. Still, you keep the bullpen active and when the potential to tie arises you go to someone solid.
Holy shit, I just realised I'm writing about a blown save like it was a set-up or middle relief situation. This is the kind of fucked logic that Astros fans have learned to adapt to since Lidge was Pujolsed back in 2005 (hopefully, Coop has now learned you don't pitch to that bastard when you don't have to).
And while I'm so goddamned ecstatic with how the other four in the starting rotation have been performing (a combined 2.59 ERA)and with the offense starting to pop a little, when the two factors of the overall equation that are supposed to be rock fucking solid (ace and closer) are posting ERA's of 9.00 and 11.37 it starts to get scary.
We'll see how it shakes tonight. Oswalt is taking the mound tonight, still searching for that first win. Keep your fingers crossed and the rally caps handy.

Just Call Me Chicken Little

This has kinda been a clusterfuck of unpleasantness this spring training for me. Josh Beckett adopted the Eminem diet and is having back spasms, Schill is probably fucking done and let's add all the woes the Astros are experiencing just to make this shit sandwich complete.
Aside from everyone not named Oswalt being unable to find the goddamned strike zone (our overall ERA is around 7!), here are some recent developments that I can only endure because of whiskey.
Let's start with the Houston Chronicles coverage:
Astros second baseman Kaz Matsui is expected to miss four or five days after being diagnosed with a condition known as anal fissure. According to Wikipedia, this ailment is often caused by: Straining to defecate, especially if the stool is hard and dry, Severe and chronic constipation, Severe and chronic diarrhea, Crohn's disease and Ulcerative colitis, Tight sphincter muscles and Anal intercourse. This brings slightly amusing footnote to what is otherwise a dire situation. What is that? Have Loretta start, you say? I've been on that train before it left the fucking station, brothers and sisters. He is basically the only consistent contact hitter we have. For now.
Utility infielder Mark Loretta reportedly is drawing some trade interest from Baltimore. The Orioles sent a scout to Monday's exhibition game against Toronto in Kissimmee, Fla. Awesome. Our starting second baseman has ass issues, the shortstop we traded for just for the sake of his bat might get pulled from the show (he's not Roger Clemens, so he won't get his cock sucked by the government) and is quickly becoming a defensive liability and our go-to utility man for the middle infield might be on his way out. Can you see why I'm a little distressed? But the deal with Matsui's problems leads me to believe that he is not taking care of his body. That is job number one for a pro athelete. You shouldn't be washing your monster truck (Jeff Kent), getting the flu (the list is endless) or even hunting coyotes on your ranch (Nolan Ryan) if you are paid for the merits of your physique. I understand popping a knee when you slide wrong but anal fissures? Come on.
Finally...well, wait, saying finally brings a sense of relief or the end of strife and I just don't feel that way about the 'Stros right now. Lastly, feels more appropriate, as in the last insufferable detail to be unleashed to carry on the dread and the conclusion of a rant. Let's go with that.
Lastly, Lance Berkman left a game early the other day with some tightness in his leg. That wouldn't make me uneasy if the skip decided to give him some rest but Berkman, by his own account, pulled himself out of the game. This is fucking terrifying.
Oh, and, Chris Sampson didn't make a start because he had a stiff neck. What a pussy.

Gammons Digs on Pence

While we all weep gently over our utter lack of pitching (anyone else who has been following the Spring Training games like me are searching for razor blades) Astros fans should take note that Peter Gammons showed Hunter Pence some love on his ESPN blog. He's named as one of the eight players that have really caught his attention down in the Grapefruit Leagues. He writes:
One scout says we should watch him only in grainy black and white video; that scout likens him to Enos "Country" Slaughter. He plays hard all the time, has that gawky style, yet is on the verge of stardom without any pretenses. Asked about crashing through the glass door during spring training, Pence says, "I'm such a spaz."
That's some pretty nice praise from the best baseball writer of his generation. And I'm happy to see someone actually give some kudos to the 'Stros instead of wondering if Tejada will wear the bracelets, Oswalt can handle the load or whether or not Berkman is gonna strain some random muscle again.
Now if we keep him away from sliding doors, it'll all be cool. Even if this season turns into one more painful reminder that McClane and Purpura FUCKED UP BIG TIME FOR YEARS, it's still gonna be a blast to watch Pence's rise to rock star status.

Astros Spring Training Update

Spring training is already underway and we already have some pretty interesting story lines to follow:
Brad Lidge and Troy Patton (traded this winter) are injured. HAHAHAHAHAHA! I guess Wade knew what the fuck he was doing with that trade. It's not as brilliant as the Rangers unloading Eric "Even Steroids Couldn't Help Me" Gagne to the Red Sox.
Chris Sampson has lost his almost assured spot in the starting rotation to Shawn Chacon. I think that's kinda weak. Who knows which Chacon will be pitching for the Astros when camp break: the one who is effective or the one who is a fucking train wreck.
Hunter Pence went Sid Vicious on a sliding door hopping out of the hot tub with "a friend." He says he was going to use the toilet but I think Pence was running for some rubbers. Way to go, kid.
Both Brandon Backe and Lance Berkman have suffered some minor injuries. Just what we need! Berkman fucked up and a key element to our rotation already Barbaro'd out of the gate.
The Roidcket is fucked. The House has recommended an Department of Justice investigation. Say hi to Marion Jones, bitch!
Koby Clemens, for some reason, is still with the club.
Wandy Rodriguez still will probably act like a cunt when he doesn't get the call he wants. Seriously, if this kid wasn't a lefty, he wouldn't be in the major leagues.
And let's end this on a positive note: Roy Oswalt's presence will probably negate the shittiness of Woody Williams.

He Likes Turtles

There's a pretty good conversation over at ESPN.com about the best old ballpark around. It's between Fenway and Wrigley and while I've never been to Wrigley (and desperately want to go just to dress up like a black cat and run onto the field sticking up my middle fingers. Yeah, the Red Sox fan in me wants the die-hard Cubbie fans to experience the same awesome elation I did in 2004 but just not before the Astros when it all. Which is when I can die happy. Oh and fuck the White Sox) which way do you think I'm leaning? Fenway rules, the atmosphere is like nothing I've ever experienced at a ballpark. It's like fucking Mardi Gras for baseball outside the gates and it is intimate. What a ballpark should be. But, boy do I miss the Dome.
Anyhoo, before I grub down and head off to upsell motherfuckers coming in to by the Juno soundtrack on Mott the Hoople, I figured I'd share this with you and it makes me almost piss myself everytime I watch it.
If you want some perspecitve on Wrigley, ask my brother in law. I think he's been there.

Just to remind everyone, the man featured in this video will be pitching for the Astros this season. And Jeebus wept.

The Bro-mance is Over

Andy Pettitte is making strides to further distance himself from former boyfriend Roger Clemens. From New York Newsday
Andy Pettitte is said by friends to be upset with Roger Clemens because of Clemens' aggressive defense to the charges leveled against him in the Mitchell Report. Most of all, Pettitte didn't care for Clemens' public airing of his taped phone call with accuser Brian McNamee, which accomplished little. Among its many unexpected consequences, the Mitchell Report has magnified just how different Clemens and Pettitte are. And with the two men set to share a table at Capitol Hill's Rayburn Hall next month, it's as good a time as any to point out that this supposed mentor-protege's relationship has been overblown by the media - with this space as guilty as anyone else. "They were never as close as they were made out to be," a friend of both said on the condition of anonymity. "They just sort of went along with it in the media, because it was a good story."
Pettitte taking a hardline stance here makes me hate him just a little less (hey, he's still wearing pinstripes). Of course, this now confirms what we ALL new the whole time: the lefty from Deer Park was the bitch in the relationship. However, when a new HEB offer comes up he might stop being all hurt pussy about the whole Mitchell Report fiasco and smile for the cameras once again.

No.

If some divine being strikes these motherfuckers down before this shit happens I will become a believer. Ugh. From Punknews.org According to the report, Johnny Rotten (John Lydon), Glen Matlock, Steve Jones, and Paul Cook hope to start recording their new material in the first half of this year. Drummer Paul Cook cautions, however: There's talk of new material. The only problem is that it's a bit hard to work on anything as John and Steve are in America and Glen and I are in the UK. So, it's a case of finding the time to get together. We might not pull together an album but hopefully there will be some new stuff in time for the summer. Am I the only who still considers Never Mind the Bollocks to be a classic yet still utterly despises Johnny Rotten more and more each day. Look, the record is killer but their whole "we didn't know how to play myth" is as foul as the entire back historty of N.W.A.. Just hearing that self-aggrandizing asshole say, "To me the Ramones were never punk" (let's not forget Mr. Rotten thought the Ramones were gonna fuck him up for sneaking into their first London show which kick started UK punk)or "If I'd grown up rich just think how more fabulous I would be now" (you didn't grow up poor either, asshole) makes my blood boil. This is how much I hate John Lydon: If I could give Steve Perry's throat cancer to him only to suffer an eternity of hearing "Don't Stop Believing" performed live at every Astros game, I'd sign off on that shit in a heartbeat. Whew! Let me compose myself. The bigger problem with the lucre lovin' Sex Pistols (well, not Lydon, he married rich and never has to worry about money for 50 million generations) is that they haven't realised the fucking stupidity of trying to modernize your legacy. It just ain't gonna work, pals. The last New York Dolls record was a travesty, the Stooges comeback was flat out awful, and dear sweet jebus the further we go down the rabbit hole the worse it gets. Look, if you wanna hold onto your rapidly dissolving fame and rightful place in music history just play 10 shows in California and the UK year for $1,000 a ticket so the people who haven't figured out how tired and weak your shtick is can say, "Johnny Rotten spit on me! Steve Jones nutted on my girlfriend! And they covered the Stooges but acted like it was their own song!" I'm gonna start drinking just in case news breaks that the Pogues have decided to hit the studio again.

Houston. We have a problem. Well...kinda.

If you are like me and any other baseball purist altruistic fan alive, you are waiting for The Rocket to stop orbiting and come back down to earth to actually hold a press conference and quit speaking through his lawyer. I understand that you state that you never did ANY performance enhancing drugs in your entire career. HGH? Nope. Steroids? Nope. Anabolic enhancers? Nope. That is where I have a problem. That last ones is perfectly legal. Nothing wrong with them. You can get them at GNC. I got some from the gym the other day. You are 46 years old- you have to be doing SOMETHING. People your age should not be throwing that fast anymore. Nolan Ryan couldn't then and I still favor him over you any day. He was just not loved on the national stage because he came off as an ignorant Texas hick who threw at players, and in turn was not embraced by the media. Ask anyone who knows anything about pitching and the Astros in the city of Houston. He did more for this city than you ever did in your now suspect stint. He got shafted here in Houston because the management at the time saw their future in Mike Scott and the team made it look like Ryan was the bad guy, so it never set right with most of us. You went back to where you could get a ring and go out on top. How did that work out for ya? Shilling and Paps say "hi." Anyhow- I digress. Yeah, yeah... I heard you the first time Roger (or should I say Rusty,) in 25 years in the media and spotlight- you don't see how we, the public, are not giving you the benefit of the doubt. Well welcome to the world of Barry Bonds. It was all speculation, hearsay, and a noticeable cranial increase until now with him. Now the two of you are captain and first mate on the Good Ship Lollypopaneedleinmyass. Granted he is a self centered, bigoted ass that had no problem thinking that the baseball world revolved around him (and the coverage did not help,) and his pursuit of breaking the most coveted record in the game. A record which the media -I'm looking at you ESPN- and the casual fan base that picked up after the strike with the Sosa/ McGuire home run race was MADE into the most coveted record. I still think Rose's all time hits record is something that will stand the test of time. And we just witnessed what will likely be the last 300 game winner in baseball in Glavine. Guys are bigger now. They hit the ball further, juice or not. It was inevitable. Mr. Metero A-Rod will more than likely be the next to do it. Then someone who just entered the league *cough*Ryan Howard*cough* or someone coming in will break it after that. But don't get me started on records... Well Bonds did it. And the baseball world moved on... Congr*ul*tions B*rry! The Bean Town Boys won another series, Paps' dog ate the ball (what is it with Sox players and the damn balls from the last game? It is not like they have a lot of those laying around. You'd think they'd be a little "special." I couldn't even get my dog to eat my homework, much less a baseball. Then all you hear is this geriatric, gender switched, Brady Bunch chant coming from the media. MITCHELL, MITCHELL, MITCHELL. And BAM, POW, Batman style- there it is. A list of players who allegedly did steroids and other performance enhancing drugs. And there you are at the top of the list. Along with your boy Andy. It did not take Andy long to own up. He did HGH for two days to help recover from an injury. Seems as though he felt pretty bad about it. He's signed with the pinstripes for next year. You on the other hand? Not so much. Perhaps you are orbiting Rocket because you have to get all your ducks in a row before you can land and defuse the situation publicly yourself. Don't want to say anything that could ruin your chances to come back to the game with a contract that breaks down to a quarter of a million a pitch right? Well it is getting a little old. I understand that you have until May of next year to decide if you are going to come back to start all of eight games for whichever "lucky" squad may land you- but you don't have that long with us. Will we get in a frenzy and go all Joe Horn and protest in your front yard? Probably not. We will just stop caring. My breath is far from baited. I have plenty to keep up with. Two words: Ron Mexico. That has been fun. I've got a Pats perfect season to follow. Watching my Cowboys (T.O. vs. Jessica in a thong only Jello fight. Anyone? Ok- maybe I am alone on that one.) I have more bowl games to keep up with than I can shake a stick at (although I want a playoff system. The smaller schools can do it? What? Are they not as academic as a Miami? Come on now.) March Madness. There is plenty to keep the sports world abuzz. I am just getting tired of the lead being your smug ass speaking through Rusty Hardin (not to knock the man. My wife says he is a great guy...) just to tell us that you have nothing to say. I am a fan of the sport. Before there was 'roids, there was speed. Before there was speed, it was booze. There has always been something in the game that has tarnished the legends and lifestyles of those that had played it. Ruth was a womanizing drunk. Ty Cobb was a bigoted drug addict. Daryl Strawberry should of switched to Pepsi. Pete Rose bet on the game. But in the end, it is just a game. Weather you cheated or not, that is for you to own up to. But the longer you wait the worse it looks. I saw a list of the top 100 greatest Americans in history the other day. If a slave owning Thomas Jefferson can be the fourth greatest American that ever lived, I think we can forgive you for sticking a needle in your ass to help you throw a ball a little faster in a game that you get paid ridiculously to entertain us at. Weather you did or not. Just sayin'.