MichaelLortz.com/JordiScrubbings.com

Dearly Beloved,

Here we gather once again to bury those who those lives have reached an unfortunate premature end. For these poor souls were well enough to be respected, but failed to accomplish their lot in life. Some were an improvement from past generations, others a failure in the eyes of their ancestors.

As with the others, we bury them in mass as they will soon be gone from our collective consciousness, a vague memory in the lineage of the ages. For they are the nondescript, the filler, and the forgotten. They are the middle class, safely removed from the bowels of the bottom, but far from the prestige of the pinnacle.

Great Creator Doubleday, please welcome the 2009 Oakland A’s: to your hereafter. For despite every effort to rub nickels and create dollars from 15 cents, their cutting edge frugal initiatives have long lost their sharpness due to the dulling of imitation. Like Lewis and Clark on a transnational superhighway, they are trailblazers in need of a new trail. Until that time however, they will continue to be run over. May they rest in peace.

To their brethren by the bay, the 2009 San Francisco Giants, despite golden arms and the emergence of a panda knowledgeable in the fighting styles of the Shaolin, you still have not reached the level brought to you by the record-setting godson of a diamond legend. Your life however has made many optimistic for the future, when future generations will be the benefactor of the golden arms going platinum and the pandas leading a capable cast that has more bite than the current batch of leaf biters. But until the new generation arrives, may you rest in peace.

As they do in ‘hood, let us pour out a little alcohol for the 2009 Milwaukee Brewers. Still led by the son of royalty, they achieved less than their predecessor, although that was to be expected when they failed to have a wallet big enough to match ducats with the upper class. As it was, their twin pillars of power and collection of miscellaneous cost-efficient flotsam were not enough. May they rest in peace.

Once again, we are burying a denizen of the Second City. This time, we look to the north, and the dysfunctional 2009 Chicago Cubs. Devoid of a Redheaded Messiah, they wallowed in a deep pool of poor production for far too long. Despite sending home the malcontent, they failed to shake the demons of another cursed existence. Now there is call for a new home, one that might possible clear the malignant aura of multiple eons of failure.

Like other bargain bin buyers, the 2009 Florida Marlins lived by the mantra of value shopping. Although they were miserly with the funds, they did lay the groundwork for a new domicile. For they are the first descendants of George and Wheezy, moving on up, to a new deluxe home in the city. Thanks to them, the future generations will only hope the fish won’t fry in their new kitchen because it a whole lot of trying to get up that hill. But in the present day, however, we must bury them six feet deep. May they rest in peace.

Across the nation we bury the 2009 Seattle Mariners. The return of a legend from yesteryear all proved to us all that time stands still for no man, least not one of the greatest of all time. The ancient sailor, coupled with the singling samurai and other passed on pieces, did eventually turn around the vessel, but unfortunately the engines weren’t enough to keep up with the cruisers and battleships of the high seas. They fell leagues behind before eventually limping to port. From here they will be decommissioned and replaced with a newer young model. As time wears on us all, may they rest in peace.

And now we must lay to rest one that I hold dear to my heart, the 2009 Tampa Bay Rays. When you are blessed with so much in the past, to get half of what you wished for in the future is disheartening at best, discouraging at worst. You start wondering what you did right, what you are doing wrong, and if you will ever have the good times again. You open your wallet to attempt to make improvements, only to have them not work as advertised or worse, cause bigger problems. Soon you lose yourself in dismay, aimlessly slipping down a rabbit’s hole into a wonderland of worthlessness. You try to be optimistic, but when the wolves are on the porch and you have traded a famous rifle for a bag of angelic beans and you find yourself unable to slam the door, it is no wonder your family decides enough is enough and they elect to not see you anymore. Soon your heart hurts and it’s time to pull the plug. Whereas your predecessor may have lived longer, this is your end. May you rest in peace.

Dearly Beloved,

We are gathered here today to bury those who were among the ranks of the subpar. Those who were not the meek, but far from the bourgeoisie. They range from the just above pathetic to just at the cusp of the median. Sadly under average, they drifted meaninglessly through their meager existence, too often falling on the wrong side of the line dividing victim and victory.

Some of today’s departed are those with hope, some sadly are not. They include the confused, disparaged, and the disappointed. Some awoke with the greatest of intentions, only to see their dreams shattered by the cold fist of time.

Dear Great Creator Doubleday, please take these poor souls in to your loving bosom. They have become the flotsam and jetsam of the world, and their loved ones yearn only that their lives end in peace and without any necessary suffering. For they and their loved ones have suffered enough.

To the 2009 Cleveland Indians: You began with as good a chance as any. The adoring fans of a heartthrob pushing you to greater heights. Then it all came crashing down. Even the heartthrob broke a few. You bid sweet farewell to your pride and joy, cashing in when the market was high. Before your death you began to resemble your Hollywood doppleganger. May you and your California Penal League squad rest in peace. May you rest in peace.

To the 2009 San Diego Padres: Like those native warriors of the wahoo, you too bid farewell to a blue chip, a homegrown mainstay who had been your most recognized commodity. Now, although you had your new hero, named from the spouse of the Champion of Brotherly Love, you placed your bets on a mortal son of a legend, a White battery, and the patron saint of the super gutsy vertically challenged. May you rest in peace.

To the 2009 Cincinnati Reds: Guided by a mad man with the philosophies of the wayward past, you were caught between the stalwarts of yesteryear and the prospects of the future. Many claimed you may have showed potential, but with your confused general, you had no chance. Now your loved ones must reconcile with the fact that all they have is memoirs of a machine. May you rest in peace.

To the 2009 New York Mets: You were the biggest disappointment money could buy. That has been your legacy, as your ancestors were of the same breed. Admittedly, you limped more often than you walked, but even when you walked, you had no direction. Now you again struggle in the shadow of an Empire hoping for miracles or amazin’ era. May you rest in peace.

To the 2009 Toronto Blue Jays: Once again you were led by a cowboy, although you sought to send him and the horse he rode in on far out of town. When that failed, you shed a former under performing contestant in a longball contest. Other than these not-so-precious moments, you had little identity. May your future generations be the beacon of success in the Great White North. May you, however, rest in peace.

To the 2009 Houston Astros – Middling in mediocrity in the Lonestar State, you are a far cry from the days of the Killer B’s. Now you search for a new identity, firing the man we never knew led you. May you remember the Alamo and rest in peace.

To the 2009 Chicago White Sox – Also playing in the shadow of a more famous neighbor, you barely had a chance for success. You shimmied off a possible hitting legend and brought in an injured ace. You continue in the land of little hope with run down parts and a hodgepodge of has beens or never will bes. May you rest in peace.

(Originally posted on ScalpEm.com.)

For those of us who remember those long ago days when the Seminoles ruled the gridiron, we remember the connection between Florida State and Cretin-Derham Hall, a private high school in St. Paul, Minnesota. Cretin-Derham was the high school of Chris Weinke, field general of the 1999 National Champion team. It was also the high school of Weinke’s supposed heir apparent, Cretin-Derham multi-sport star Joe Mauer.

Then, right before the 2001 season, Mauer turned his back on us. The scoundrel.

That’s why, over at my other writing outpost, I wrote a post on why he should absolutely not be American League MVP this year or any year. Because it’s not about what you do on the field that makes an MVP, it’s your character and intangibles.

Right?

By the way, a few months ago, a former classmate of mine, Seminole alumnus, and current NBCSports.com personality Tiffany Simons interviewed Mauer and asked him why he abandoned Florida State.

Mauer apologizes to Florida State

For the last few weeks I have been reading a biography of blues man Howlin’ Wolf entitled “Moanin’ At Midnight: The Life and Times of Howlin’ Wolf“. Tonight I was ready to get a few chapters done when I came across this line:

“In 1966, while playing with James Cotton, Sam (Lay) accidentally blew off one of his testicles when a loaded pistol discharged in his pants pocket during some particularly vigorous drumming.”

Ouch.

As another baseball season comes to a close, tis the season for the rumblings and grumblings of media folks and bloggers telling us which player should win what award.

Vote for Pujols for NL MVP! He is the second coming of (insert legendary player).

Vote for (Grienke, Sabathia, Verlander, etc, etc.) for AL Cy Young!

Vote for Coghlan for NL Rookie of the Year! He plays for the Marlins! Yes, they are still a team!

Perhaps the most discussed awards race so far is for the American League MVP. There is no dispute several players are having great years. Players such as Mark Teixiera, Kendry Morales, Carl Crawford, and Miguel Cabrera.

Despite the great years by these players, most columns have focused on one of two players, either the Yankees’ Derek Jeter or the Twins’ Joe Mauer.

Mauer has the support of numerous writers, bloggers, statisticians, and analysis web sites. He is leading in most offensive categories, from traditional stats like batting average, slugging percentage, and on-base percentage, to advanced SABRmetric measurements such as Value Over Replacement Player (VORP), OPS+, Win Shares, etc, etc, etc. He is also playing Gold Glove caliber defense at perhaps the toughest position in baseball: catcher.

Jeter has his own supporters in the baseball media, including writers, columnists, reporters, and other die-hard fans. Although Jeter’s on-the-field numbers maybe not be as good as Mauer’s, Jeter-backers advocate Jeter’s intangibles, such as leadership, presence, and clutchiness. They even bring up the fact that he now holds the all-time record for hits by a Yankee.

From reading what has been written so far, you would think the battle is Mauer’s stats versus Jeter’s reputation and body of work. It is of course impossible to make this comparison. There is no way to match performance data with intangibles. None.

So far, the Mauer-backers have taken the lead in matching up the two candidates. They point out that Mauer beats Jeter in every category, bar none. It is their conclusion that because Mauer has better numbers, he should be MVP.

In response, the Jeter-backers call the Mauer-backers “nerds” and “stat geeks”.

End of conversation, right?

As Lee Corso would say, not so fast, my friend.

Where the Jeter-backers fail is that they don’t level the playing field. They sit back and get destroyed by conceding that Mauer is having a better season. They never attempt to hold Mauer up to the standards they hold Jeter to. This is their Achilles Heel. They don’t bring up the fact that while Jeter has led the pristine life of a living Yankee legend seemingly since birth, Mauer didn’t become the man he is until after he put on a Twins uniform.

The bottom line is that Joe Mauer can’t be trusted.

Before his professional baseball debut, Joe Mauer did something so heinous, so outrageous, and so destructive, it should be forever held against him during the consideration of any and all awards.

Joe Mauer turned his back on Bobby Bowden and the Florida State Seminoles.

Following his senior year in high school, Joe Mauer was the most highly recruited quarterback in the nation. According to reports, he won three national football player of the year awards, and had the poise and potential to be among the greatest ever.

One writer claimed, “it is possible that in 50 years people will sit around and talk about those who were football’s finest; they will speak of Sayers and Payton and Unitas and Montana and Marino, but they may very well save a sentence for someone else, and that someone might be Joe Mauer.“

At the time, Florida State was the premier football program in the nation. They had come off three straight national championship appearances and were chock full of future NFL players. And they had Joe Mauer.

Mauer’s verbal agreement that he would be wearing garnet and gold after high school made Florida State the number one recruiting class of 2001. Mauer was to fit in behind Chris Rix and compete with Adrian McPherson for future field general of the Seminoles. With hindsight being what it is, there was probably little doubt Mauer would have even taken the job from Rix before Rix’s graduation. With Mauer, the Florida State dynasty was set to continue.

Then Mauer “turned down (his) football scholarship from Florida State University to enter the Major League Baseball Draft“. Despite a verbal commitment, Mauer was off to play baseball. According to Sam Mellinger of The Kansas City Star, Bobby Bowden remained so enamored by Mauer’s potential he claimed he would “keep a scholarship open for Mauer 12 years after he was done with baseball“.

Would Derek Jeter dare break a verbal agreement of that magnitude? Although Jeter received a scholarship to play baseball in Michigan, there is no evidence he let the Wolverine program hang out to dry. Jeter is a class act and a gentleman. Had someone with Jeter’s character and the skills of Mauer committed to FSU, there is little doubt he would have been a Seminole. He would have followed his word.

It is for that reason that I can not possibly endorse Joe Mauer for AL MVP. Mauer may have the statistical advantage, he may be the greatest player in the American League, and he may even be seven feet tall and shoot fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from his arse. But after what he did to Florida State University, Joe Mauer does not have the moral composition to be a most valuable player.

(This post was of course written by an FSU alumnus.)

E-migo Brian Spaeth is doing a virtual tour promoting his new movie and other ventures. You know what that means: Guest Post!

HOW TO INTERACT WITH GIRLS ON TWITTER

I’ve known Jordi for several years now, and pretty much at every turn I screw him over in some way – one time I had him write on my old website for like 4 months (more like 18 months, ed.), and then I deleted all his posts later.

What’s wrong with me.

Anyway, I know he’s been getting active in social networking and social media and social internetting and being social online and also Twitter. As such – and because I am a self-perceived expert in these areas – I’ve decided to give Jordi something for his website blog.

Here is – as clearly as I can state them – the best ways to meet – and not meet – girls on Twitter. I didn’t create all of these, but I’ve certainly perfected them.

1) Don’t swear. Look at it this way – there are many girls who are offended by swearing, but very few who are offended by not swearing. Swearing was impressive when you were 12.

2) Be action-packed in your picture. There’s a reason I have a picture that’s action-packed looking. It’s so girls think I’m always on an exciting adventure while I do my important Twitter typing.

3) Never, ever talk about how raw Green Lantern is in your profile. Stuff like this maybe only works for me.

4) Legalities aside, if you’re over 24 or so, don’t follow 18-year olds. For real – the 25-year olds find it off-setting, and like…just don’t do it. 19-year olds are fine.

NOTE: In an odd bit of counter-point, I just looked, and 75% of the people I follow are 18-year old girls.

5) Along those same lines, is it “18-year olds” or “18 year-olds”. Hyphen placement perplexes me, especially since my personal abandonment of the question mark. Oh – don’t mess with grammar at all, or imply you lack education. Girls hate this.

6) Don’t do sexual innuendo in public. Like any males who follow you are just gonna think it’s weird, and any females who respond to it are just giggling at you with their friends. They’re not giggling with you.

NOTE: SERIOUSLY, DON’T DO THIS. NO JOKES HERE.

7) Don’t talk about how you hate dogs. This only works for me. In cases where this is done and it’s not me, it’s unsettling for females.

8) Don’t be arrogant and self-absorbed. This is another that only I seem able to pull off.

9) You shouldn’t Tweet about how you’re going to the gym, unless you’re doing it with fake bad grammar with an implication of an aversion to dogs, and also to meet 18-year old girls.

10) Be yourself. Also, if you search for “Grey’s Anatomy”, that’s where all the good-looking girls are. Also “Gossip Girl”, but that’s only for 18-year olds, and you know you shouldn’t be talking to them on Twitter anyway.

Which of these do you think are real and which are not. Also, do you think Jordi should delete this post one day -

Brian Spaeth is the writer and star of Who Shot Mamba?, a Broadband Motion Picture debuting October 13th on Koldcast.tv. You can see the first teaser-trailer on the website, and the second exclusively at the Facebook Page. Brian has also published two novels, and writes regularly at his own blog.

Dearly Beloved,

As we did over at ye other locale, we are here to bury those whose hopes and aspirations have left us. Those who find themselves riding out the end their journey with little but the accomplishments of their parts to show for it. Yet it is in those parts, when taken as a whole, where their failure and the cause of their demise resides.

We are those who hope, love, and feel for the departed. We throw all of our being into their existence. And now, when even the greatest prayer goes unanswered, we are left alone. Cold and shivering as if it is we who are aside Lucifer in Dante’s 8th circle. Yet all we have done is care.

So now, once again we pray to the Great Creator Doubleday. May he take the souls of the departed, and leave us with the memory of better days. When hope sprang eternal and the spark of optimism burned like wildfire.

We begin by burying the most meek of them all, for they will inherit nothing. They have lived a pathetic, meager existence, although if tradition bears true, there is hope that their legacy will plant the seeds of the fruits of success. But even that far off dream provides little shelter from the cold chill and putrid odor of their present failures.

To the 2009 Washington Nationals: Although hope and change rode in to town months earlier, few would waste time believing in you. Despite rumors of immortal wretchedness, you persisted in a dismal, yet comfortable, existence. You were even so bold as to acquire a donkey to help carry you. As if he had shoulders broader than Atlas. Now, of course, we know he was a solitary stopgap. Through your death however will arrive two prophets; the first of whom, the golden arm child, has already been seen. He, along with one who will arrive in the coming summer months, are your future. But for now, may you rest in peace.

To the 2009 Pittsburgh Pirates: Whereas others may have had hope, or even the slightest reason to be excited, your life was doomed from inception. Although you claimed to have a “plan”, you lived a meaningless life, with the only significance being your beautiful, yet underappreciated home. May you rest in peace.

To the 2009 Kansas City Royals: For one who accomplished so little, you were the recipient of the words of many great men. Men with wisdom, men with sage, and men whose advice you blatantly ignored. Although you claimed to want to change, you began your life with an ill-fated philosophy and held steady, like a drunken sailor drifting against a storm. And when the world proved you wrong, and your boat sank with the ease of a lead brick, you laughed with denial. You may even deny your death, but it is true. May you rest in peace.

To the 2009 Baltimore Orioles: Another poor life in a palace home. It is difficult to have pity on you. You have blatantly blasphemed by being below buoyancy and bearing the burden of the bottom. You had history and grace on your side, a heritage of pride and success. Until you and your current generation. I will however say that you have glanced to the future, sacrificing yourself for the greater emergence. But that may be a pipedream, a sham, and a fraud on the way to continuing your new unfortunate tradition of early burial. We shall see. But for now, may you rest in peace.

To the 2009 Arizona Diamondbacks: You hinged your success on the fragile thread of a web. When that snapped, you fell down to the mortal coil. Then you became an enigmatic freakshow of talented youth and inconsistent journeymen. You had the king of misses, the brother of a puzzle, and the son of a gridiron great. Perhaps one day these pieces will be greater than their current places in history. But that day is not today. May you rest in peace.

Blogs are often a reflection of the writer. For many, they are a gumbo of insight, intellect, bias, humor, and pop culture, with a dash of general post-college disillusionment. While they discuss their favorite topics, bloggers speak with passion more often seen at the kitchen table than in sanitized corporate settings.

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Today I went into a CD shop. I bought a used CD. When I went up the counter, the cashier said my used CD was “pre-owned”. I asked him if I left the store with the CD, would he consider it “owned”? He said yes. Then I asked him what he would think if I returned it. Would that be considered “post-owned”? He said if I returned it, the CD would resort back to being “pre-owned”. I’m pretty sure that logic somehow defies Einstein’s laws of space-time.

By the way, the local foodstore had Cookie Crisp on sale, buy one, get one free. I am stocked up through winter.

Today is The Serious Tip’s 3rd birthday. Three years. In Internet years, that’s a long time to be blogging. Here in the online world, where a week of popularity gets you a million hits and a cup of coffee, I’ve been around for an eon. I’ve seen ‘em come and seen them go. I’ve seen people turn their blogging habit into a living and others who have walked away and moved to other pastures.

The Serious Tip started during the Great Sports Blog Emergence of 2006, when sports-related blogs were popping out of the wazoo. Back then I would definitely call myself a “sports blog”. I wrote about the Mets, Knicks, and Noles nearly every post. As the days, months, and years went on, I wrote less about sports, although I have written a lot about the Rays. Even with the success of the local teams on my mind, I have drifted further and further from the sports label. Now, I wouldn’t even call myself a sports blogger. I am more of a “whatever I feel like” blogger.

If I would have to venture a guess as to why The Serious Tip is drifting, I would say that I am getting bored. I still love writing. I love knowing that someone is reading what I write. I love telling stories. I love delving into views and aspects that most people don’t think of. Most of all, I love creating. But unfortunately I am not sure if I am attaining those goals here currently at The Serious Tip.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not planning on abandoning my group of very loyal readers. Some of you have been here since day one. For that I am definitely appreciative. Don’t worry, whatever happens I fully want this site to be part of my personal expansion and development. I have put too much work in to walk away from The Serious Tip. But if you see a few changes around here, please be patient and embrace them. After three years, it is time for The Serious Tip and my writing career to grow up.

Thanks for three great years and here’s to many more. Happy SeriousTipMas.

I found this article by anthropologist Grant McCracken really interesting. McCracken has surmised that Americans have changed how we use the word “really” from one that is “spoken with the upward lilt of a question” to one that “usually comes with an emphatic downturn in tone”.

What do you mean by “really” really?: that American culture is under renovation?

It’s definitely worth your time to read. Really.

(I love this part of one of the comments:

I think of “new” really being said before by Mom’s.
Kid:”I didn’t knock the lamp over, an alien did it!”
Mom:”Really.”)

Personally, I think we should all aspire to have at least one “first-really” moment daily in our lives. Those are the ones made from childlike discovery. We should never assume to know everything that is going to happen. That would make us presumptuous and second-guessing – making us a “second-really” person. Those people should have no friends.

Really.

By the way, the other day I was talking about closemindedness and people’s tendencies to not be open to new stuff as they get older (i.e. the loss of childlike discovery). After I used the stereotypical 50-something white American male as an example, some random guy walked up to me and said “Well, that will be you in 5 years, I guarantee”. This bothered me so much that when I got home I blasted Tupac, popped in a Best of Allen Iverson DVD, and started reading Leonard Peltier.