ESPN goes on strike
Look hard. Can you spot the bullshit? No, it's not the fact that 10 percent of the screen is advertising.
Tonight while channel flipping I happened to catch the last two outs of a game between Boston and Minnesota on ESPN. The first thing that caught my eye was a strike zone graphic. My first thought? “That shit is lame.”
I kept waiting for it to go away. It didn’t.
Don’t get me wrong. I have no problem with the thing on an instant replay, especially on an interesting pitch, situation, or questionable call from the ump.
But to leave that thing on all the time? It’s grotesque.
ESPN calls it the “K-Zone.” If a pitch “should” have been called a strike, regardless of what the umpire called, the box will briefly turn yellow.
Personally I think ESPN is missing a bit opportunity here. Why not fill that space with a Nike logo or a few Viagra pills? More advertising, baby!
As a matter of fact, why not convert the whole grassy area of the ball park into a giant logo. PETCO Park? The athletes could literally be playing on PETCO field!
Speaking of the athletes, there is way too much unused space on their uniforms for more advertising. Perhaps FOX News could adapt their “crawl” to display there. You could be entertained by baseball, learn about important products and be educated in the myriad of ways that Obama sucks – all at the same time!
Talk about multitasking!
Of course, every three seconds or so a blimp should fly across the screen to remind you that it is time to “grab some Buds.”
A few more ideas:
- Display the position over player’s heads at all time. P for pitcher, C for catcher, 1B for the first baseman, etc. Remember: Fans are idiots.
- On fly balls have a little robot run across the screen and display the odds the fielder will drop the ball.
- Display Lady Gaga videos on the mound during the game, because, oh hell! Where else would she be?
Come on, MLB! Think outside the bun! That reminds me. All the bases should be tacos and home plate should be a chalupa.
Something cold and clammy
Not the world’s best photo, I know. I obtained this image at great risk of life and limb after angering a nearby indigenous personnel. He approached me at the gas station and asked what I was doing.
“I’m taking a picture of that Budweiser and Clamato sign over yonder,” I said.
“Why?” he grunted, scratching his head.
“Because,” I replied, not yet sensing danger. “That has got to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.”
At this point the fellow appeared to become angry and I had to leave before I could fiddle with the door and obtain a better shot. I guess sometimes photography can be dangerous!
If you’re like me, you see a sign like that and your first response is, “Whiskey tango foxtrot?”
Somehow, don’t ask me why, I already knew that “Clamato” was some sort of clam juice. Who was the first person, I wonder, who ever looked at the humble clam and said, “You know what? I’d just bet that thing will make a great juice!” Now that takes true vision.
How is it I live in a world where clam juice is freely available yet banana juice is not? These are the kinds of big thoughts that I like to ponder. (Answer: Because bananas are hard to juice.)
According to Wikipedia, Clamato is “a drink made primarily of reconstituted tomato juice concentrate. It is flavored with spices and clam broth.” The inventors apparently wanted to create a beverage that was reminiscent of Manhattan-style clam chowder.
When you combine it with Budweiser beer, though, apparently is becomes something known as Chelada. The Wikipedia has something to say about this as well:
The Michelada or cerveza preparada is a term loosely defining a Mexican alcoholic beverage made with beer, lime juice and assorted sauces, spices, peppers, tomato juices or Clamato. It is served in a chilled salt rimmed glass. There are numerous variations of the beverage throughout Mexico and Latin America. A common variation includes Clamato or Tomato juice.
All I can say is I must not have traveled this world very much. Somehow I missed out on Cheleda.
I’m proud to say that is no longer the case!
My wife confused my interest in the sign with desire and the other night a gigantor can of Cheleda appeared on the dining room table. “Fascinating,” I said.
“You don’t have to drink it,” she quipped.
“Oh no. I’m not about to miss out on this,” I daringly replied.
I have to say. I was more than a little underwhelmed.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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