Monday, November 24, 2008

The Sarah Palin Turkey Massacre

One small regret about Obama's victory on November 4th: we're going to miss out on countless hours of Sarah Palin entertainment. Here is just a small glimpse of what might have been. Thanks to good friend Craig for bringing this priceless video to McBone's attention.

And what better choice for NOML Moustache of the Month than this wildly smiling executioner?


Tuesday, November 18, 2008

McBone Presents: The 2008-09 Aunt and Uncle Standings

Another year gone by, another year of aunting and uncling in the books. As expected, several solid performances were turned in, while others were somewhat wanting. Like always, the Aunt and Uncle Standings were compiled by a nonpartisan panel of nieces and nephews (me). Results are based on a full, twelve-month year of aunting and uncling and are in no way influenced by last year's standings.


1. Ann - Aunt Ann's meteoric rise to the top will no doubt raise suspicions in rival aunts concerning a certain hot apple pie that was delivered to McBone HQ earlier this year.
2. Susan
3. Fay
4. Gail
5. Denise
6. Susan Good - Though recent revelations that she has been a longtime member of the Republican Party, the NRA and the Church of Scientology were not enough to cause such a shocking and catastrauphic fall, Aunt Sue has been unable to live down a quote that has dogged her since election night: I f---ing hate Obama.


1. Glen - His understated yet rock-solid uncling skills have him back on top after an uncharacteristically poor showing in '07. Uncle Glen's accomplishment is even more impressive in light of the recent erratic behavoir of his wife, whom he has called a loose cannon and unstable.
2. Don Sims (no longer in family)
3. Pete
4. Al
5. Jeff
6. Ed
7. Don Holm - Uncle Don's patented brand of poor uncling has him mired in last place for the 18th consecutive year. His habit of dipping the mayonnaise knife into the mustard jar has only worsened in his advanced age, and should keep him glued to the bottom for the forseeable future.


Monday, November 17, 2008

Garish Pink Gown Holds Country Music Star Captive

On Saturday McBone field agents in Nashville, Indiana spotted a giant pink dress that appeared to contain country music legend Loretta Lynn. The dress, flashing sequins, emerged suddenly on the stage of the Little Nashville Opry, blinding many of the unsuspecting patrons and beguiling others with a thousand pinpoints of hypnotizing light.

The music icon, held captive and possibly under the command of the ornate and extremely pink gown, launched into a set of her own country standards, including One's on the Way, You're Looking at Country and Coal Miner's Daughter.

The demon garment, no doubt sewn by a sinister archfiend from some evil nether-realm, is reportedly still at large. If confronted, extreme caution should be taken. Under no circumstance should the Loretta Lynn dress be approached, addressed, or stared at for extended intervals. Remember, the Loretta Lynn dress has a will of its own, and should not be underestimated.

Pictured above: McBone agents disguised as outlandishly dressed background singers attempt to extract Loretta Lynn from her hideous pink dress.


Thursday, November 13, 2008

Cliff Lee, Cy Young Winner

Wednesday McBone mourned a former Indians left hander. Today we salute a current one. Congratulations to Cliff Lee, who yesterday ran away with the American League Cy Young award, the second year in a row the award has gone to a Tribe lefty. In going 22-3, Lee put up numbers that were not only Cy Young worthy, but also legitimately rank as one of the great seasons in baseball history. Even more incredible is that his achievement follows a season in which Lee was injured, demoted to AAA, finished with an ERA over 6, and was left off the Indians' postseason roster. There was no postseason for the Tribe this year, but for long stretches, Lee almost single-handedly kept his team respectable. With Lee, the Tribe's record was 81-81. Take away Lee's record and the club's record is 59-78.

I was almost certain that Lee would be traded before the start of the year. Now his landmark season has me excited for 2009.

Congrats, Cliff, and keep it up.


Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Reason #97 to Love Cleveland Sports: Herb Score

When Herb Score took the mound against the New York Yankees on May 7th, 1957, he was, at age 24, the best left-handed pitcher in baseball. Two years earlier he had run away with the American League Rookie of the Year Award after posting 16 wins, a 2.85 ERA and 245 strikeouts--a rookie record that would stand for almost thirty years. The 1956 campaign saw Score ascend even higher. Armed with a blazing fastball and curve that was nigh unhittable, the lefty notched 20 wins, saw his ERA fall to 2.53 while his strikeouts rose to league-leading 263. When Hall of Famer Bob Feller retired his right arm in 1955 Herb Score had already taken his place as the game's most dominating power pitcher.

The 1957 season began according to plan. By May 7th, when Yankees infielder Gil McDougald stepped to the plate, Score had another spectacular month of baseball on his resume. Moreover, he was the anchor of a strong pitching staff, and with a young all-star named Rocky Colavito in right field, the future of the ballclub looked secure. Then, McDougald, the second batter of the game, lined a pitch directly into Herb Score's right eye. The young lefty's nose was broken. The bones around the eye were shattered.

Score missed most of the next two seasons, and he would win only 17 more games in a career that ended before he was 30 years old. When Rocky Colavito was inexplicably traded after the 1959 season, the Tribe found themselves without their two cornerstones. The club would not be competitive again for another 35 years. Quite naturally, the protracted era of futility was precipitated by the New York Yankees.

For the first two decades of my life the name Herb Score and Cleveland Indians were inextricably bound. His voice was so familiar over the airwaves that for a long time, I didn't even know he had been a pitcher. Every summer Herb Score on the radio was as dependable as the rising and setting of the sun. Any broadcast of an Indians game featured his understated calling of balls and strikes, his knowledge of the game past and present, and always, always an on-air gaffe. He was never flashy and he eschewed cornball expressions that so often make announcers obnoxious. No gimmicks. Nothing cute. Just baseball. So what if he sometimes mixed up a player's name? Or what city he was in? He was unpolished, unassuming and 100% ours.

More than 10 years later I realize that Herb Score was more like a steady hand whose value you don't realize until it's gone. Who knew that when he first took to the booth in 1963 that he would remain there, calling Indians games, for thirty-five years? Who knew how hard it would be for the Indians to replace him once he was gone? A decade has passed by and still I miss hearing his voice, particularly in the 8 or so seasons he paired perfectly with the more emotive Tom Hamilton, himself a beloved broadcaster who calls Herb Score his mentor.

Score retired in 1997 after game 7 of the World Series, when Jose Mesa ripped out and feasted on the still warm and beating hearts of Indians fans everywhere. He never did see his team win it all, not as a player, not as a broadcaster, but at least he got to call two pennant winners in his final three seasons. And did he deserve it. No one ever watched more bad baseball than Herb Score. And no one more deserved those great Indians teams of the 1990s.

Life after baseball took a calamitous turn 1n 1998 when he pulled out in front of a semi-truck and was nearly killed. He did manage a recovery that allowed him to throw out the first pitch of the 1999 season at Jacob's Field, but health problems would follow him throughout his retirement.

Herb Score died yesterday after a lengthy illness. He was never bitter about what happened to his career, and he was always grateful that he was able to earn a living in the game he loved so much. That, I believe, is what endeared him to fans, and that is why, when Herb Score died, Cleveland lost one of its true icons.

We love you Herb!

Below is a tribute to the great lefty, featuring The Ballad of Herb Score, by Terry Cashman.


Wednesday, November 5, 2008

America and McBone Nation Have Spoken, Sorta

We at McBone like to think we have our finger directly on the pulse of the slice of American society that can be classified as 'flaming liberal,' and our most recent poll reveals just that. When we asked McBone Nation in a month long poll who it would be voting for last week, Barack Obama collected a whopping 26 out of 37 votes cast, good for 70 percent. With John McCain garnering a miserable 7 votes, he actually finished much closer to third-place finisher, Constitution Party candidate, Chuck Baldwin (2 votes).

Knowing Obama is an avid reader (I'm a McBoner, he recently confessed) who often plumbs the McBone archive for wisdom and guidance, McBone would like to send a warm and hearty McBoneulations to the president elect, along with a mandate.

America sent a clear message on November 4th, one that says we've moved beyond our bigoted past and are ready to embrace a more compassionate, inclusive culture. That is, until Californians rained on the parade by approving the decidedly not compassionate Proposition 8, defining marriage as being between one man and one woman. McBone firmly believes that the will of the people should be reflected in the law, EXCEPT in the case of civil rights issues. On May 15th of this year, the California Supreme Court did what was right by stating that a ban on same sex marriage is unconstitutional. Last week 52% of the Californian citizenry announced that it didn't care about equal rights. Never mind that marriage is a legal union between two people and that separation of church and state is one of our country's founding principles. No, instead 5,668,960 Californians decided that a certain small segment of the populace should have fewer rights than the majority. McBone says: that's fucked up, California.*

Like anyone with a pulse, heart, sense of history or the smallest drop of humanity in their veins, I got a little emotional when I watched Obama take the stage with his family on the night of November 4th. I was proud that an inspiring young black man beat a cranky old white man like a drum. I was relieved that 8 years of horror were finally, finally coming to an end. I was hopeful that we had chosen someone wise and dynamic enough to end the war in Iraq, to right our sinking economy, to make a real commitment to the environment and to ensure affordable health care for everyone. More than anything, though, I marveled that in half a century we'd gone from separate drinking fountains to electing a black president.

Inspiring? Oh yeah. But a message of Change, unless acted upon, is, after all, only a slogan. President Obama, denying gay marriage is neither American nor constitutional (nor, if you ask me, is it particularly Christlike). You owe it to all those who paved your road to the White House to side with equality in the civil rights issue of our time. No more bans on gay marriage. No more bigotry written into law. No more backwards bible thumpers deciding what two people in love can and cannot do.


*Don't even get me started on Ohio, who chose to ban gay marriage and re-elect Bush on the same goddam day.
I said that our country would never elect a black man. Fuck me.


Sunday, November 2, 2008

Poet/Recluse M. Patrick Foliglio Sighted at Obama Rally

In a rare sighting outside of his heavily fortified compound in western Ohio, famous poet/recluse M. Patrick Foliglio was recently spotted at Bowling Green State University attending a rally for presidential candidate Barack Obama. The poet, standing just to the rear of vice presidential nominee Joe Biden's right shoulder, can be seen in this short clip laughing maniacally and parading a poster that reads, 'Chan.' What or who Chan is remains a mystery. To his immediate left is Heather, one of Foliglio's seven wives. None of his 29 children appear to be present.

His appearance at a Democratic rally places in doubt Foliglio's purported affiliation with certain other, more extreme political activist groups. The author of more than 18 poems, including Fart, Fart, Fart and Ho Ho Moe (translated into more than 200 languages) had last been seen at a small religious gathering in Toledo, Ohio.

McBone, which has obtained the rights to all of Foliglio's collected works, here presents a lesser known piece in the author's canon, Box:

see those kids in a box
they look like Robots but
their not cause they
are just in a box.