The Brain Leak
The Brain Leak
(Week of 6/30/08 - 7/6/08)
As displays of symbolic patriotism mark the skies and BBQ grills stoke the flames of tradition across the country during the venerable holiday weekend, the Leak firmly adheres to its original commitment of never taking a day off. In such spirit, it is with no regrets that I forgo the three-day weekend to bring you material so liberating and self-evident in its salaciousness that it can be described only as totally and completely American.
The First Word
“You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.”
–Famed American humorist Erma Bombeck eloquently sums it up
“Mom, I’d like you to meet…”
The Leak takes time to honor women who possess the unique and desirable combination of sensuality and sweetness that enables them to play the role of daughter-in-law by day and slightly naughty snuggle-bunny by night.
Camilla Belle
She is the vixen of a newcomer who makes the ragged wardrobe and lax personal hygiene habits of 12,000 years ago seem somehow wholesome. Her truthful blue eyes and genuine smile suggest she may live next door, but her fiery stare accentuated by her trademark brows tell a different, less PG story. She is Camilla Belle: the 21-year-old actress who plays the part of Evolet—the young, prophecy-fulfilling slave woman and love interest of the main character, D’Leh—in the war-love epic, “10,000 B.C.”
Belle is the main reason I aspired to see this film when its preview was initially released some nine months ago, but a flood of crappy reviews deterred me. What a fool I can be. While it would have been quite the experience to witness Belle’s angelic features in all their high-definition glory on the big screen, I more than enjoyed gawking at her limited number of scenes and taking in her even more limited dialogue on my makeshift home-theater system. It’s rather unfair to dismiss Belle’s performance as stagnant, simply because of the fact she was underutilized. And that’s especially disturbing to my fellow men who shares in my appreciation for her heavenly temple of a frame, from head to toe.
At first glance—and second and third—Belle seems to be the perfect mix of your high school valedictorian/class president and that girl who excelled at running with the in- crowd but wouldn’t hesitate to help pick up your books after they got toppled by some future plumber of a jock. On a deeper, more twentysomething level, she is a picture-perfect concoction of brains colliding with beauty, with a heart to match her future-bride potential. The aspiring classical pianist speaks three languages fluently, and when she isn’t making the rest of us feel ignorant, she is putting our spiritual prowess to shame by spending her time giving to multiple charities. She’s even the spokeswoman for Kids With a Cause, a non-governmental organization dedicated to helping disadvantaged children world-wide.
It’s enough to make you sick…sick in love. And with a resume this impressive and looks to match, why think twice about letting her meet the parents? I’m sure she and mom will hit it off so well that the two won’t even think twice about going shopping together, while you, dad and boys venture out to hit the links. When you’re not pinching yourself, remember that having a girl this beautiful—not to mention beautifully well-rounded— means you’ll never feel the need to cheat. Plus, something in those piercing eyes of hers tells me Ms. Belle wouldn’t be willing to put up with any of the BS anyway.
Next month: Mom meets Carrie Underwood
Bristol Correctional Facility
I guess even the biggest of dogs is still humble enough to admit when he is wrong. Over at the ESPN Department of Corrections, a team of well-paid, pink-butted baboons are more than ready to field your complaints with an unsettling amount of anticipation and enthusiasm. You would think the assembly of primates—who arguably deserve a salary that shames that of the custodial engineers and Chris Berman combined—would be tired out by now, since there has been a perplexingly high number of mistakes made by the writing and editorial staffs the past month. They are as follows:
1) Rookie Lions RB Kevin Smith’s alma mater (Central Florida) was incorrectly identified in a story covering Detroit’s new offensive approach.
Such a mistake would not have been made if Smith attended Ohio State, Michigan or, say, any school on the upper east coast.
2) Ronnie Leitgeb was erroneously named the lawyer for Ukranian tennis player Nikolay Davydenko in a June 25 article telling of a conspiracy involving fixed matches that Davydenko feels led to his first-round elimination at this year’s Wimbledon. Leitgeb is Davydenko’s agent.
Actually, I can not fault anyone in this case. If anything, I applaud whoever managed to consistently spell the names of both of these men correctly.
3) Prior to Rocco Mediate’s 18-hole playoff with Tiger Woods, a staff member wrote on June 18 that Mediate was seeking to become the oldest man to win a major championship. Had he won, Mediate would have been the oldest to win the U.S. Open.
I wonder if reading that particular ESPN column just before teeing-off gave Rocco a few extra unexpected butterflies in the pit of his stomach.
4) The June 14th 1 a.m. and June 15th 9 a.m. editions of SportsCenter mistakenly aired the wrong horse-racing video package when the slot was meant for highlights from the Stephen Foster Handicap, a race won by Curlin.
This one’s really inexplicable, especially considering how easy it is to discern one horse race from the next. Furthermore, it doesn’t take much of a racing fan to know none of the horses look alike.
Go “Buck” yourself, Skip
It’s extraordinary how the pots refuse to refrain from calling the innocent kettle black.
More hot air filled the studios of ESPN’s popular late-morning topical program First Take on Wednesday, and it was spewed mostly by one rather usual suspect. Moments after FOX lead baseball broadcaster Joe Buck admitted to ESPN Radio’s Colin Cowherd that he rarely watches baseball for a variety of reasons and, as a result, frantically crams for his nationally televised MLB Game of the Week, the pedantic duo of Rob Parker and Skip Bayless ripped Buck for his comments.
Bayless, due to his naturally callous nature and propensity for outspoken rants, of course, got the chance to speak his mind first. Much to my surprise, however, his response was constructed with considerably less mock and more suggestion. A former award-winning writer turned television personality, Bayless began his response by calling FOX’s money-man a “fraud,” berating Buck for showing a glaring lack of passion for the sport he is paid very lucratively to cover but one day a week. Bayless ended his allotted time by clamoring that FOX replace its most recognizable baseball voice with one willing to exude a more relative enthusiasm for the game. He then took a step back, though, when he half-heartedly wished Buck the best of luck with his “Hollywood” dreams, which include a rumored attempt at hosting a national television talk show.
And, then…
It was Detroit News columnist Rob Parker’s turn shortly thereafter. Parker initiated his argument by inundating the viewers with rough statistics in the form of game times, a move designed to counter Buck’s statement that neither he nor a majority of baseball fans can afford to expend the time it takes to watch and/or listen to a brand of baseball that typically exceeds 3 ½ hours per night. Parker continued to bring up what I thought was an extremely valid point. Knowing well that the length of games in Major League Baseball is perpetuated primarily by the advertising space broadcasting outlets sell to an endless variety of companies, the revenue from which, in turn, is used pay the outrageous salaries of big-name sportscasters such as Buck, Parker suggested FOX should find itself a new high-profile name, one willing to take a reasonably smaller pay check without compromising passion. Bob Costas—a self-proclaimed baseball purist and, interestingly enough, a fellow St. Louis man—was the only candidate whose name was mentioned.
I have no immediate problem with the tactics of either Bayless or Parker, for both bring up noteworthy points that deserve some thought. Perhaps Buck should step aside and let someone new command the FOX baseball booth. If what he said on Cowherd’s program is actually true, it would be best for him to end his ten-plus-year run as the voice of FOX baseball and concentrate solely on football and whatever future ventures he has planned. After all, it seems as if Buck’s maximum efforts are slowly gravitating toward his NFL responsibilities, which you would think require far less research and “cramming” due to football’s lighter schedule.
But what I don’t agree with is how Bayless and Parker took advantage of their air-time to publicly ridicule Buck for doing something that each has taken the liberty of doing himself. Bayless amassed accolades at a number of well-known publications for his journalistic abilities, only to presumably lose interest in his craft and surrender to the bright lights and increased exposure of the television studio. It wasn’t long after Bayless ignited a publicized feud with his editor at the Chicago Tribune over column length that he pulled up anchor and relocated to the West Coast, a transition that ultimately led to his move to television and his decision to “go Hollywood.”
And the same goes for Parker, although he does still contribute to his paper. He managed to maximize his talents and increase the effectiveness of his brand by working at ESPN Radio and appearing on Stephen A. Smith’s roundtable discussion program, Quite Frankly. Parker expressed his displeasure with Buck’s feather-weight workload, yet he writes a column for Detroit News (from the look of the paper’s site) but once every four days as one of the publication’s more well-known contributors. The point is that people either tend to lose interest in their professions, forcing them to seek more fulfilling opportunities, or they aspire to find new arenas in which to showcase their talents.
Skip and Rob, the two of you proclaim your frustration with sports, teams and players on a daily basis. Don’t chastise someone for taking the opportunity to speak his mind, certainly when you have made a living doing so in a manner that warrants much more questioning.
**In-Segment Update** The aforementioned Buck tried to clear the air and put whatever rumors exist to rest Thursday, when he spoke with Richard Sandomir of The New York Times.
Therapy Session
Every so often, it’s absolutely necessary to release whatever’s on your mind, regardless of the consequences. And because it has already been eight weeks since The Leak emerged from the womb—and I am yet to provide you with a segment completely void of journalistic integrity—I thought this would be as good time as any to fire off a mindless rant that satisfies both parties.
As painful as it is for me to even fathom, it appears as though the Cubs are for real. In a not-so-critical holiday weekend clash at Busch with the Cards, the 1908ers showed their offense can definitely score some runs, and do so without all the cylinders churning at once. The pitching is there, but the Schmubs could still use another dominant starter to compliment Tons of Fun (Carlos Zambrano), especially on the road. Forget his past temper tantrums on the bump; “Big Z” apparently has turned over a new leaf and now takes out his frustrations in a more playful manner by making a public mockery of his teammates who are vertically challenged (i.e. Ryan Theriot). No, seriously, not to tell the Windy City citizens anything they don’t already know, but your team needs to win away from the Wrigleyville Shoebox as well, because despite your most recent wins in St. Louie, 20-26 on the road just ain’t gonna cut it.
A-Rod: Snap out of it, buddy. Not only do you bathe in the finest oils and wipe your bottom with $100 bills, but you could be doing them both in one trip to the can, while your gorgeous wife awaits you on 10,000 thread-count sheets made of Egyptian cotton. And here you are rumored to be ‘jonesing’ for Madonna, like your some Latino modified version of Ashton Kutcher. Before you leave your trophy wife (or before she leaves you…wait…she may already have) and you embark on some perverted Cougar hunting trip, do us all a favor and take a good, hard look at yourself in the mirror. Consider the facts: If you hook up with Madonna, she’s not going to go away quietly. Her one-night stand, Sean Penn days are long gone. Secondly, she’s demanding. You’ve seen how she drags Guy Ritchie around by his leash from one movie premiere to the next, constantly doing his interviews for him. Is that what you really want? To top it off, the Material Girl will rob you blind, not of your money, of course, because she has plenty of that. No, no, no—she will steal your humanity. And she’s carrying the guns to pull it off if you throw up any resistance. Play it smart, accept your impending divorce, which I hear is going down on Monday, and spend your contract money putting the girls from Scores through college without having to worry about any attached strings.
On designated nights, I like to fizzle away a couple brain cells by watching E! Entertainment Television, or whatever the hell it’s called. The simplicity of the programming soothes my overloaded brain, and it’s quite refreshing to watch a network that puts so much effort and money into rebuilding the career of a once-fallen star with a first-year-film-major attempt at a thirty-minute show, only to bring that same celebrity back down into the grips of despair in the following half hour. Now, will all of the jibber-jabber you just read make me turn the channel? Of course not, because like anyone else, I can not turn away from a good train wreck. But it’s pretty scary to think that one privileged kid from Laguna Beach, Bruce Jenner’s talent-less son, some Vietnamese bi-sexual named ‘Tequila,’ Heidi Montag’s boobs and Spencer Pratt’s peach fuzz can all count on E! to discuss their daily lives and help promote their, uh…being alive.
Katy Perry, singer of the Billboard no. 1 single I Kissed A Girl and unofficial destroyer of today’s youth: I don’t believe you. I believe this professed moment of morbid experimentation is all for show. If you were truly bi-curious, you would have made an appearance on Rock of Love or Tila Tequila’s Bi-Sexual Beach Party by now, or at the very least, coaxed a photo opportunity with Lindsay Lohan so that the paparazzi could give us all something authentic to go on.
Fun with Sports Illustrated photos
The photography over at SI is so renowned and captures the moment so damn articulately that we are afforded the chance to plug in whatever caption we like without having to fret about diminishing the images’ vividness and luster.
Red Sox left-fielder Jacoby Ellsbury braces for the inevitability of a brutal shot to the junk during a game last month at Fenway Park.
New Wimbledon champ Rafael Nadal asks the chair umpire if he knows the name of the sultry brunette with the surgically enhanced chest sitting in the front row during his epic five-set win over Roger Federer on Sunday.
Shazaam! A man appearing to be the theoretical judge and jury at Nathan’s July 4th Hot Dog Eating Contest at Coney Island—as indicated by the 20s-style straw hat—has an orgasmic experience in the waning moments of Joey Chestnut’s dethroning of reigning champ Takeru Kobayashi (left) Friday.
Tags: A-Rod, Camilla Belle, Chicago Cubs, Colin Cowherd, Curlin, Erma Bombeck, ESPN, Jacoby Ellsbury, Joe Buck, Joey Chestnut, July 4, Katy Perry, Kevin Smith, Madonna, Nikolay Davydenko, Rafael Nadal, Rob Parker, Rocco Mediate, Ronie Leitgeb, Skip Bayless, St. Louis Cardinals, Takeru Kobayashi
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