Well, Fuck.

[Homer and Bart are chasing the rolling rotisserie pig. It rolls through some bushes]
Homer: It's just a little dirty! It's still good, it's still good!
[the cart falls off the edge of a drainage culvert, and the pig floats down the stream]
Homer: It's just a little slimy! It's still good, it's still good!
[the pig reaches a dam at the end of the stream and plugs the drain hole. The water pressure builds up behind it, until it launches out of the hole into the air]
Homer: It's just a little airborne! It's still good, it's still good!
Bart: It's gone.
Homer: I know.

A Worry-Filled Week

As we kick off the penultimate Yankees-Sox series, Yankees fans everywhere have to decide whether or not they're true fans. Although recent Yankee history has been filled with first round exits, the idea of missing the playoffs altogether is not one that they've had to face since before I had a single manly hair on my body. This series will separate the bandwagon fans from the bleeding pinstripes crowd.

In honor of this series, the good people at Bronx Banter have collected a number of articles about the history of the Sox/Yanks rivalry. Among those tales of heroes and villains I found this Pedro Martinez quote. As much as I hate to admire an ex-Sock, current Met, this is probably the right way to look at George Steinbrenner:

Martinez replied, "He'll probably buy the whole league. But not my desire and not my heart. He's not going to put any fear in my heart."

Official Blog Anthem

God Bless America.

h/t: Dan Drezner

Yankee Doodle Dandy at the Deadline

In a daring midnight raid, we at FTB have obtained secret audio recordings from the inner sanctum of Steinboro, the secluded underground palace of the Steinbrothers. Our team of trained monkeys labored in bananaless conditions for over 12 hours to transcribe them for your reading pleasure:

Hal: After years of feigning weakness, we have lulled our enemies into a false sense of security. First there was our inspired scrub out against the Indians in the ALDS, codenamed Operation: Kenny Lofton's 25 Bitches. Then we dumped Joe Torre overboard, but not before filling the water with chum. Finally, we opted to pass on Johan Santana and stick with The Big Three--if you square them, you get their ERA! Now we make our move! (cackling)

Hank: (smoking) Brian, have you purified yourself in those fuckin' oils yet? Those midwestern types won't jaw with you unless you've nanced yourself up a bit. They like their New Yorkers a bit whiffy, you know. Confirms all their fuckin' prejudices. 

Brian: Yes, my lords. I am prepared to depart for Pittsburgh to do your bidding.

[Unfortunately, we were not able to place an agent at the meeting in western PA, but our sources indicate that Brian Cashman was able to call in some markers. A posse may have been involved, but reports are spotty. We were able to insert a small recording device into Brian Cashman's lapel when he brushed up against us in a familiar manner on the 4 train on his way to Detroit.]

Brian: Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "why is he holding a bag of poop?" But watch... Look! It's on fire! And this is no ordinary bag of poop--it will burn for a thousand years and light your diamond from a cheery perch atop the pitcher's mound. Now in return for this fecal miracle we ask for only one thing: that washed up 'roid-rod you keep behind the plate. In return, I give you my word--my word, mind you--that this poop will burn forever, and that you will never be left holding a bag of slightly charred offal at some point in the near future. What do you say to that, gentlemen?

(Loud yelling and whooping, cries of "Long Live the Poo!" and--faintly--the sound of Kyle Farnsworth weeping into his hands.)

Cashman's put together a real contract year, folks. Marte, Nady and iRod for some blocked prospects and a relief pitcher who's name inspires a shiver of hatred throughout the Yankees Universe (TM).

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

If I may direct your attention away from the stupid, stupid All-Star Game (bite me, AL), there is some major shit going down on the internet. As Serious Newscaster Man intones in the preview for The Happening, "There appears to be an event happening here."

Joss Whedon has released what's sure to be hailed as one of the top supervillain internet musicals of the last five years. Joss Whedon + supervillains + Doogie Howser + singing = ?? I challenge you to fill the right side of that equation with anything that is not largely synonymous with "OMGAWESOME."



Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog stars Neal Patrick Harris as the titular low-rent mad scientist, working out of a shabby apartment/lair with his nefarious-yet-helpful roommate Moist ("You need anything dampened? Or made soggy?"). He's intent on joining something called the Evil League of Evil, but as of yet their leader Bad Horse ("He rules the League with an iron hoof!") hasn't responded to his application. Also, he's in love with and nerdishly stalking a woman at the local laundromat. Adorably/creepily, he's invented a freeze ray which he sings can "stop the world" so he can "find the time to find the words" to win her heart. He's like a sad, evil puppy dog, and it's hard not to root for him. Especially once you meet his nemesis: the preening, macho hero Captain Hammer (played by Whedonite Nathan Fillion), whose costumes seems to consist of nothing but a pair of comically over-sized gloves and a shit-eating grin.

Anyway, it's ridiculously wonderful, and sure to get better from here. Act I is online now, with Acts II and III to premiere over the next several days. Seriously, watch it. If you liked the Buffy musical (which you almost certainly did, as From the Balcony readers are known for their discerning-yet-geeky taste) you will laugh. Then you will say "Awww," when Doogie looks at laundry-chick with those evil puppy eyes. And then you will laugh some more. The show opens with Dr. Horrible practicing his mad scientist cackle, then explaining that it's just a work in progress, and he's been working with a vocal coach. If that doesn't appeal to you, then you just don't have a human soul.

Good points all around about Bonds. As I type this, the All-Star Game has entered the 14th inning and the AL has only one pitcher left: our very own Scott Kazmir! The same light-out lefty who has a 3.04 ERA and 91 strikeouts in 83 innings this season! *sob*

[UPDATE: Kazmir just got out of the top of the 15th inning. AL has no pitchers left, and Barry Bonds will swap caps with Mr. Met before he comes out for another inning.]

Anyway, I would like turn your attention to women's golf. Yes, I am serious. Jemele Hill over yonder at ESPN's Page 2 has written an interesting article on Michelle Wie and the state of women's golf. Michelle Wie is of course the (former?) golf prodigy who took the amateur circuit by storm by winning a major tournament when she was only 13 years old. The last few years have not bee kind to her. She has never won a professional women's tournament since leaving the amateur ranks in 2006. In 2007, Wie withdrew mid-game from a LPGA tournament and was heavily criticized by Annika Sorenstam, who questioned her professionalism and respect for other golfers.

Wie's been struggling to find her swing ever since. She withdrew from Stanford University this year to focus full-time on golf, but hasn't made the cut in any major tournament. On the other hand, she is 19-years old now and pervy men everywhere have the green light to consider her hot.

Meanwhile, as Hill points out, other young female golfers are rising up to take her place as the poster girl of women's golf. Most notably Cheyenne Woods, niece of Tiger Woods, is dominating the junior amateur circuit.

Okay, this is all fine and good, but do I really care about women's golf? No. So why am I bringing all this up and boring you half to death? Because of a question Hill poses at the end of her article. Hill blames Wie's recent failures on her quick rise to the pro ranks. The other young golfers such as Woods built up their resumes one amateur tournament at a time, going pro once they were ready. Wie, by contrast, was so talented that she basically skipped straight to the pros - and has floundered because she did not develop her skills properly.

Why did she go so fast? Hill blames Wie's father, who served as her manager and caddie, for trying to make the quick buck:

"Certainly no one can blame Wie for accepting the millions Nike and others supplied. But if you're Wie, which would you rather have right now, another seven-figure check or the promise of a meaningful career?"

Way to fuck up a great article, Hill. $30 million??? How can you possibly blame Wie for going for the quick bucks? Wie has set up herself and her family for a generation. Wie is not the archetypal basketball prodigy who declares for the draft too early and flounders out, getting drafted in the second round, and disappearing from the game soon after. She already made more than most women pro golfers make in their entire careers. And hell, she's only 19 years old! Even if she never makes another dollar from golf again, Wie can most certainly go ahead and have a 'meaningful career' in whatever she wants.

She's smart too! She went to Stanford! She's already accomplished two things on every Korean parent's wish list: gold championship and Ivy-equivalent school. Maybe floundering in golf is the best thing that could happen to her. She can go forward now and complete the Asian trifecta by becoming a doctor or a lawyer, and create even more parental pressure for Korean kids everywhere. You go, girl!

Update: Who Needs Him?

Eight wins in a row. Who needs Bonds when you have the illustrious Fernando Tatis?

The Mets are like tuna. I love it when they're on a roll.