Thank You Matt, Trey and Peter Griffin

It was late. I was sitting at the Wagner family dining room table flipping between highlights of Pedro Martinez’s seventh consecutive start without a win and The Reality TV channel’s newest hit “Who Wants to Be a Honduran Rodeo Clown," while trying to figure out a way to force the Texas Rangers to trade star infielder Michael Young to the Cubs for Kerry Wood (unfortunately, I could not seem to get past the inevitable fact that Rangers management would likely insist on Stephen Hawking Hairston being part of the deal, once they realize that he has roughly the IQ of a glazed donut – c’mon Texas GM Jon Daniels…We’ll throw in a brand new MRI machine!). I may even have dozed off.

Suddenly, the TV flickered to a rerun of the vastly underrated cartoon The Family Guy and, before I knew it, I found myself face-to-face with South Park creators and renowned troublemakers Trey Parker and Matt Stone. With Eminem’s hit single “The Real Slim Shady” playing in the background, Matt and Trey reminded me of the importance of laughter. They reminded me that if we cannot poke fun at the world around us, it promises to be a much more boring place. Most importantly, they reminded me that, in the end, whether Chief Nokahomer or Big Chief Triangle is offended by what is written in The Random Thoughts is ultimately about as important as whether Jessica cheated on Nick or Nick cheated on Jessica or whether he finally realized that for all of her “attributes,” she makes most of the chicks that appear on the Howard Stern Show look like Mensa candidates.

You know, I think that Matt and Trey may have a point…

So, the Illini shall continue to be the Illini, the Braves shall, henceforth, remain the Braves, and Kansas shall forevermore be Team Voldemort. Just because the NCAA is buying into all of this political correctness crap, doesn’t mean that I have to. The NCAA’s ridiculous crackdown on the use of “offensive” nicknames is not going to permeate the Random Thoughts. And does it really matter if it is slightly offensive? Heck, “offensive” humor is some of the funniest stuff out there. Remember the small hilarious book that everyone wanted to get their hands on in third grade…titled Outrageously Offensive Jokes? No? Then think about Matt and Trey’s true work of art “South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut.” If you can honestly say that you did not laugh at that movie, you either did not see it, had the sound turned off, or find nothing funny about the concept of an Uncle F*cker or the idea of black soldiers being tied to the front of tanks and planes. In any case, I pity you.

Eric Cartman truly said it best… The NCAA wants to ban the use of Illini, Seminoles, and Warriors? That’s a bunch of tree-hugging hippie crap!

So, here is your official warning. Today, I am going to play on stereotypes big time and I just may offend some. In fact, in response to the idiocy of Myles Brand and his minions, I hereby declare this as the first official Random Thoughts tribute to political incorrectness (maybe ABC will let me replace Bill Maher on the late night schedule). If you do not like it, I’m sure that Oprah has a lame website where Dr. Phil can chastise you for failing to respect your own inner self or you can always divert your attention by painting some birds and flowers or by decorating some doilies. Just don’t forget to pick up your apron, Brutus. The dry cleaners called. They said that they couldn’t get the fondue and sushi stains out.

And if you feel left out…keep reading. Your turn is probably coming…

* We are only a day away from the start of the 2006 World Cup to be played in Germany (yes, Germany. The motherland that counts prostitution rich Hamburg among its larger cities. Better cancel the travel arrangements of the Duke Men’s Lacrosse team). I feel compelled to say that, in my opinion, the World Cup truly is an extremely exciting event and I really get a kick out of it (oh, I kill me!) every four years. Guys getting kicked lightly in the shins, yet acting like Rodney King after a run-in with the LAPD, squirming around the field and whining like Jeff Garcia and Ellen DeGeneres after finding out that neither the Indigo Girls no Melissa Etheridge can make it to the exclusive showing of Brokeback Mountain, and radical skinheads treating the paying customer like towel-headed prisoners are treated at Guantanamo. That said, I actually really enjoy watching the games and you simply cannot beat Andres Cantor calling a goal by Brazilian star Kaka. Goooooooooooooalllllll!

Except of course for Chris Singleton’s trademark call of a Jim Thome home run… “Thome hits the ball. It is flying. Over the wall. Home run. Explain to me again how I got this job? Steroid Sammy, that retarded guy who screwed up my order last night at Popeye’s and Fenster from the Usual Suspects must have all been unavailable.”

But, think of the devastating effect that the World Cup is sure to have on the worldwide economy. It is estimated that up to 40% of the population in some countries will skip work to watch their favorite team play. In fact, I remember sitting around in a Mexico City government office in 2002, waiting for a 9:00 am meeting to start. The meeting finally kicked off at 10:15, once Mexico had their jumping beans stuffed up their butts by Team USA. The meeting did not go well.

Now, I do not plan on taking the day off to watch the Americans in their opening round game against the Czech Republic (it’s a good thing “thewife” and I cannot afford a cleaning service anymore, huh?) and I honestly do not expect any of my co-workers to miss time either, so the World Cup is unlikely to have a direct impact on me and my profession. That said, you can bet that millions of Americans, semi-Americans, guest-worker program Americans and people who if discovered may very well get a well deserved one-way ticket back to the tortilla, landscaping equipment and steroid factory in Manzanillo, will be conspicuously absent in the next couple of weeks. And it is the little everyday inconveniences that are going to get on my nerves. I mean, who in the heck wants to bus their own table?

And now I see that both Japan and Korea are in the tournament, as well? Sheesh, Roger Clemens had better buy some new clothes or risk getting awfully upset with his dry cleaner again. And Brutus, I’d head over to pick up that apron before Toys R Us has a one-day only sale on Hello Kitty accessories. You’ll need it to make that soufflé you were planning.

* Speaking of Roger Clemens, I am dumbfounded that ESPN actually thinks that the world cares enough to broadcast his minor league start for the Lexington Legends on Tuesday evening. Isn’t there anything else that the network could have showed last night? Isn’t there a 24/7 camera focused on LeBron James? You are already broadcasting an insipid program where Keyshawn Johnson and Hines Ward play Madden video football for the viewer's “enjoyment.” How about a show where we get to watch King James and the single greatest basketball player in God’s creation, Dywayne Wade go one-on-one at NBA Live 2006 in LeBron’s Hummer? Can’t we watch Michael Vick practice overthrowing receivers? No? How about him practicing under-throwing receivers then? A program dedicated to Mario Lemieux getting his lymph nodes cleaned out or Brett Favre attending a painkillers anonymous meeting? How about a new show titled Bonds on Lebron? Or LeBron on Vick? Or Vick on throwing the perfect pass…to the other team. Or Vick on fumbling? Or Vick on putting up with a horse’s ass for a brother? C’mon Worldwide Leader in Sports! Get with the program.

For gosh sake, there was even a Red Sox –Yankees game that you ignored. Do you realize how pissed off fans in Boston and New York are at you ESPN? Liam, Patrick and Seamus O’Flaherty, along with all 26 of their siblings (all between the ages of three and 29) are threatening to haul their drunk selves over to Bristol to jam a Guinness bottle and some corned beef and cabbage up Dan Patrick’s well manicured arse. Over in Gotham, Vinny DiSincenzia is planning on calling up Fat Tony, Legs and Louie and asking them to pay Stuart Scott (c’mon Stu, Kenny Mayne acts more black then you. Boo-Yah? Please…) a visit. Don’t call me if you wake up with the head of a horse in your bed. Fugetaboutit!!

* In the past, I have accused Scotty Pods of making a deal with the devil. After spending so many unproductive years in the minor leagues, it just did not make any sense to me that he could suddenly blossom into a terrific major league player. Well, once Scotty brought his 2006 average above .250, I was forced to issue Pods a lukewarm apology.

Well, did you know that Scotty’s fine bride is actually former Playboy playmate and St. Pauli girl Lisa Dergan? Yep. With the huge boobs and everything. This only goes to prove one thing…his deal obviously had a renewal clause. Either that or he was able to blackmail Bobby Jenks into going on a date with Olga.

* That begs the question…why doesn’t Jenks just make his own deal with the devil? After all, former playmate ditz-queen Nikki Ziering is now available after finally realizing that her husband Ian Ziering is, well, Ian Ziering, and ran faster than the prisoners at Abu Ghraib when they saw Lynndie England on her way. Look, you are only allowed one deal with the prince of darkness per lifetime and I think it is plainly obvious that Jenks bargained to have an all-you-can eat pork rind and pig hoof bar opened up near his home in the on the south side.

* Did anyone catch Mike Kiley’s recent article in the Chicago Sun Times on Ron Santo’s illness and the fact that he would not be traveling with the team on the Cubs’ current 10-game road trip. Before the team left for St. Louis, Kiley commented than Santo was bed-ridden and would “likely miss the first two legs of the trip.” At least, he did not write that Stevie Wonder would see to it that “I Just Called to Say I Love You” is never covered by Clay Aiken or that you have got to give former Angels, Yankees, Sox and Brewers pitcher Jim Abbott a hand for his relatively successful 10-year career. Remember folks, humor is just the absence of terror.

By the way, I just wanted to say that I’d sure like to meet famous teen surfer Bethany Hamilton. I hear she comes armed with a great sense of humor.

* The Big Ten Conference announced that Indianapolis will be the exclusive home of the men’s and women’s basketball tournaments from 2008-2012. First of all, let’s get the women’s issue out of the way. I don’t care. If I wanted to watch extremely tall girls playing sports, I’d either get a Misty May/ Kerri Walsh highlight tape or beg the Chicago Bliss to sign the vertically blessed Brooke Shields and Elle McPherson to play in the new Lingerie Football League (other teams include the Dallas Desire, the New York Euphoria and the Los Angeles Temptation). Exploitative to women? Hell yeah!

Wait a minute, did I actually read the Big 10’s press release correctly? Indianapolis was chosen over Chicago? Oh yeah, this makes a lot of sense. Instead of dining at Charlie Trotter’s, Tru and Nine, you can stuff your face at the horrible Buca di Beppo and Cousin Shane’s All-Night Feeding Trough. Instead of staying at the Ritz Carlton on Pearson, you can spend the night with a collection of roaches at the Motel 6 on Hicksville Avenue (the city swears that it will be paved in the spring of 2017).. Instead of spending the off-days visiting Navy Pier, looking at the interesting sea life at the Shedd Aquarium and shopping the Magnificant Mile, you can visit the 1,001 Uses of Corn Museum in Noblesville, look at the interesting road kill on Market Street and get yourself a brand new John Deere straw hat and overalls at the Farm and Fleet. Speaking of road kill, check the scrawl on the chalkboard when you swing open the barn door at Cousin Shane’s. If the braised ‘coon is on special, get it. That’s good eatin’!

All kidding aside, Indianapolis is actually a very good choice. The city literally rolls out the red carpet for the tournaments and treats it like the only show in town (wait, a minute, it is the only show in town. Rifle Ray’s Gun show don’t count). Chicago, on the other hand, is too interested banning foie gras to care. Indy’s facilities are more centralized and Canseco Fieldhouse is reportedly top notch.

* Random Thoughts commenter Orange Whip wants to know why one of the Cubs’ only legitimate power hitters Phil Nevin is not playing everyday. Maybe it is because the Cubs have been playing a lot of day games (please ignore the fact that the game yesterday was played with the Minute Maid Park roof closed…it kills the joke). After all, dude, c’mon…everyone knows that minorities can play better in the heat of the day. They are used to the heat, man. Right Dusty?

Then how do you explain yesterday’s performance of Astros rookie pitcher Chris Sampson? I didn’t actually watch the game, but according to his little picture on MLB Gameday, he certainly isn’t planning on demanding special rights because his uncle’s great-auntie’s next door neighbor’s sister’s former cellmate’s father spent 37 days picking cotton in the fields of Georgia. Hey look, my people spent 40 years roaming the desert and had to run away from that bastard Pharoah so quick that the entire city of Skokie is now forced to eat crappy matzo for an entire week, instead of yummy muffins and cakes and brownies and we are not sitting around crying. You think you have it bad? Try living in a world where gifilte fish is considered a delicacy and instead of eating ham you have to eat kosher latkes (thanks Kyle!).

That actually gives me quite an idea… “Hello admissions counselor at Harvard. This is my daughter Sun Moon LaQuinisha Rabinowitz and my son Shaquille Phu Bien Demoreaux.”

* The NBA Finals kick off tonight on ABC. Good to see that the games will be broadcast in HD. There is nothing I like more than seeing money falling out of Mark Cuban’s pockets in high definition.

Will I be watching? Hell no and if you have to ask why, you had better check your TV programming grid. So, will I be watching George and Weezie on MeTV, channel 23? Once again, heck no! After all, the annual MTV Movie Awards are tonight!! Now, I do not give a rat’s behind about who is the best villain (I nominate A.J. Pierzynski, by the way) or who shared the best kiss (unless it somehow involves the aforementioned Lisa Dergen and surprise bi-sexual Jillian Barberie – the [former?] weather girl on FOX NFL Sunday). Nope, the hostess of the show is none other than Random Thoughts hottie, Jessica Alba! Set your TiVos boys.

* Unfortunately, the NBA Finals does not include two-time league MVP Steve Nash. Nash is a terrific team player, who has made household names out of players like Boris Bell, Raja Barbosa, and Leandro Diaw. The fact that the Phoenix Suns made it all the way to Game Six of the Western Conference Finals is truly amazing and a testament to Nash’s ability to make the players around him better.

But did you actually watch the games? Is Nash really the league MVP? In my mind, that question is still up for debate. I did watch the games and the guy covers people about as well as Charles Tillman. Simply stated, he does not play defense. But, I suppose you have got to give him his props since he actually made many of us in the U.S. who wanted Phoenix to win cheer for a Frenchman, Boris Diaw. Mind you, the guy probably doesn’t bathe and every time the chips are down he puts up as much of a fight as all those wuss men’s tennis players who “retire” in the middle of their matches because their ovaries hurt and begs his American teammates to bail him out, but for a couple of weeks there I was ready to board a plane to Paris.

* Nash, as you may know, is not French, but rather Canadian. I suppose that Gordie and the missus are happy that native-son Steve is no longer playing in the NBA playoffs so they can concentrate 100% on the NHL Stanley Cup Finals. In case you missed last nights game because you were busying watching over and over in slow motion the Old Spice commercial with the sweaty hot girl (I’m guilty!), the Carolina Hurricanes took a 2-0 lead on the Edmonton Oilers in the best of 7 series.

Somewhat surprising, it seems as though ice hockey has really caught on in Carolina. Oh sure, for a while there they had to promise a free autographed picture of Rosco Purvis Coltrane and a die-cast miniature of the General Lee to get people to attend the games, but eventually the fine folks figured out that a red Hurricanes hockey sweater goes quite nicely with a pair of paint stained cut off jean shorts and a pair of 1965 Chuck Taylor high tops. And that “In Rod We Trust” bumper sticker sure looks nice next to the Confederate flag decal and the Toby Keith For President license plate holder on the back of a pick-up.

In fact, things have gotten so rosy from an attendance standpoint, they actually had to cancel an appearance by Dick Trickle at the Wal-Mart and the new exhibit at the Greensboro Municipal Museum featuring the best in discarded chewing tobacco sculpture drew nary a soul during last night’s game.

Meanwhile in America Junior…things…do….not…look…good…eh? Remember what the Simpsons episode when Bart gets sent into the remedial class taught us…they are not really slow they have just been kicked in the head one too many times by a moose.

* Any other White Sox fans interested in sending Juan Uribe and his wife the official “Black Nurses Volumes 1-58” collection on DVD to make sure that he remains "in the mood." Starting shortstop Uribe, hitting a robust .204 on the season, missed the last two games to attend the birth of a child. His replacement Alex Cintron only hit a three-run home run to win the game Tuesday night and followed up those heroics with a game winning single in last night’s big win over the Tigers.

* So it turn out that Sox reliever Cliff Politte has Jamesedwardsitis. This surprises you? Jerry Reinsdorf does own both the Bulls and the White Sox, after all…

* Tonight’s matchup in the Cubs-Reds game…Bronson Arroyo versus, yep…you guessed it, Gopherball Glendon. Oh boy. I hope the baseball fans sitting in the bleachers at the Great American Ballpark remember their gloves.

* Finally, anyone watch the NCAA women’s softball championship series, won by Arizona two games to none over Northwestern? I must admit that I have never had the opportunity to step into the batter’s box against a Jennie Finch or a Lisa Fernandez and I must assume that hitting a ball that is coming awfully fast from a distance of only 43 feet is terribly difficult. That said, when I watched parts of the games, it did not appear as though there was really any real skill involved. Frankly, it just looked like the girls would indiscriminately stick their bats out and hope that the ball hit it. Kind of like Thing Two when he steps up to the plate.

Truth be told, it really does not matter, I guess. I have yet to meet a man who is going to be impressed by the fact that a girl can hit a softball 300 feet. Show us you can cook us a big steak. Clean the spilled beer and nachos off the coffee table. Watch the dang children while we play poker with the boys. Now that’s talent!

*** Have a good night. If I survive the night with my wife (after those last couple of comments), don’t get run over by Jose’s lawn tractor, am not whacked by Guido from Queens, and don’t get a cap popped in my ass by anyone from the hood, I’ll enlighten you with my thoughts about Jason Grimsley and HGH tomorrow.