señol, pol favol

Yasiel Puig getting bagged for doing 110 on Alligator Alley



So here's this fucking banana, hammer-down. He emerges from the car in flip-flops and a too-tight t-shirt. It really shows you how clueless and vulnerable he is that he's meekly blathering to the cop in Spanish, the equivalent of gimme a chance, sir, with the über-slang señol, pol favol in effect. Turning the r to l and blanking the s is some real talkin' the lengua hood shit...que tu cree, ah?

The FHP officer must have known it was Puig, because he was patient with Puig when Puig wouldn't follow directions.

Then the roly-poly "cousin"- Bokolis couldn't make out whether he spoke any coherent English- gets out of the car, only to be yelled at by the cop, who, while abundantly patient with Puig, can't take any chances as to primo's intentions.

Meanwhile, the Dodgers, knowing how vulnerable this kid is, having come from a repressed to a decadent society, don't sit him down to have a facts-of-life talk with him. They'll probably coddle him off the field as they have on it. What do they give a shit? They're only paying him $2M for '14, which is not much investment risk.

Meanwhile, the agent, who already shit on his client by allowing the Dodgers a pay structure resembling an American player, doesn't grab this kid and have a real talk with him. With Puig's contract back-loaded as it is, though he can afford a shirt that fits, this cat hasn't yet cashed in. If Puig winds up diving into the swamp, drowned and eaten by a python, unless he took out a policy, that agent ain't seeing shit.

Now, if you've driven on Florida's Turnpike or Alligator Alley, you know that, while the speed limit is 70, if you drive 80-85 in the left lane, you'll get passed off by old ladies giving you the finger. From the feedback I'd gotten, anyone that was pulled over was doing at least 100. So, the first time Bokolis drove on the turnpike, I went by a FHP doing 89 (in cruise control, deliberately staying under 20 over) and the cop didn't even look at me. I took that to mean that I could drive a buck ten and did Orlando to where traffic starts in North Miami in 2:45.

So, if it seems excessive that Puig was getting arrested for doing 110 in a 70, it's because there's less room for a stern word and a summons these days. The truth is, the cop was probably doing Puig a favor, teaching him a relatively painless lesson to lay off the gas, both off the field and on it.

If the cop got spooked by primo and accidently slammed the door on Puig's ankle, I bet the Dodgers and his agent would have given a fuck then. If he panicked and shot primo in the ass, I don't think anyone would've much cared.

rugby for fairies...wild-card post-mortem

Don't go sucking Andrew Luck's dick just yet.  The Chiefs got out to a lead on the back of a TD and a big play where holding by their RT went unpenalized, torched #28 twice in the process, and lost because they had half their team go down- Bokolis expected Jamaal Charles- Andy Reid still can't call a game to save his fat ass and couldn't scheme to load against the one WR on the Colts who could hurt them.

Who knew the Saints would get 4-4 out of their kicker?  The Saints showed some guts but, that Eagles QB has to learn that winners take chances, not sacks.  Curiously, their coach also played it closer to the vest than he did in the regular season.

The Bengals were another no-show.

It took Aikman about eight replays to point out the mugging that Bokolis saw real-time on that Aaron Rodgers escape.  Buck must have been too busy blowing Aikman to point it out.  Lost in the 49ers victory was that they should have had at least 20 points in the first half.  The game should have never gotten to the point where Kaepernick, on the biggest plays, ran out of the fire and to victory.  He threw a bunch of shit balls, but he answered both Green Bay TDs with a TD drive of his own.

As for Bokolis, imagine the mixed feelings having to pull for Kaepernick.  Run, you cunt...first down!  I knew he was going to run before the snap; how the fuck did you not?  I hate the 49ers- anybody but the 49ers.

I quickly realized my ignorance- maybe I should watch all these hype shows- when I learned Reggie Wayne wasn't playing.  I knew Luck favored Wayne and wasn't as effective without him.  While I thought he was back, he's on IR.  I took that ignorance to mean that I was lost on both this and the Eagles, as I was going against things that couldn't possibly happen.  It's also why, as per below, that I didn't double down on the Eagles.  Bokolis did figure that some kind of perverse mean reversion would kick in and I'd get healthy on my lukewarm picks.

The picks as listed were a typically shitty 1-2-1 for the wild card weekend.  In the heat of the moment, Bokolis doubled down on the Colts when the line dipped to -1.5, so I got double...  Making up for it, was that I also pressed the 49ers when the line moved off -3 to -2.5, so I picked up some consolation there.  Going 2-3-1 in the carbon-based world might mean a better losing winning percentage, but it also means more vig.

In that vein, I've already gone in on one game for the coming weekend because I don't want the line to move against me.  I'd've thrown in on the Auburn(+10.5)-FSU game while I was at it, but realized that I don't care.

Rugby for fairies...playoffs?! 2014 Edition

Bokolis watched a little bit of NFL this year.  It's not because I'm suddenly falling in love with this game.  It's on three nights per week and happens to be on at the gym.  Frankly, there is nothing like having live sports on the monitor- they don't have much of a selection in channels; I'll take whatever I can get- to help while away the time on the treadmill.  As long as Tirico and Gruden aren't working the game, I'll even plug in the headphones.

I should probably confess that I've even ducked into a bar or two to watch the whole slate of games.  I will only do this for the later games, as I don't like to spread my attention too thin.  It's not really for the football.  Now that Bokolis is in about the same shape I was in when I was 20- not as jacked, but surely more fit- and now that they make boneless chicken bites with that hot sauce, I can afford an occasional 1500-calorie session, including the beer...I do it for the sauce.

Of course, even if I do need to stay in touch with how they think, sitting among common mongoloids that do this every week still requires holding my nose.  If I have to suffer a cackling GSF*, I have to hold my ears as well.

That is to say nothing of the ever-expanding NFL rule book, the modern communist manifesto.  It also says nothing about the game having turned into arena football, thwarted only when the elements become factors.  When I have little kids questioning why they even call this game football when they never kick the ball, it is all the confirmation bias I need.

While I call it "rugby for fairies," the best suggestion for a name change may have come from my off-the-boat uncle, who, incidentally, loves the run-n-gun version and thinks rushing the ball is an utter waste of everybody's time.  Going a step further than merely questioning calling it football, he says they should officially change the name of the game to Touchdown! because, hey, look how happy everybody gets when a touchdown is scored.  While I don't agree with his assertion that changing the name is a matter of course, it is in keeping with the dumbing down of everything around here.  Hey, Johnny, let's go play touchdown!  Yeeeeaah!

Was Bokolis supposed to talk about which teams impressed and such?  Yeah, umm, P. Manning broke records.  E. Manning broke interceptions records...actually, Bokolis knew from watching 3 minutes of pre-season, when Eli's body language indicated that he'd never even seen a pigskin or heard of the NFL.  Apparently, his old lady gave birth during the offseason and Eli didn't keep his pimp hand strong.  The kid from Eagles tore it up; Vick getting hurt was the best thing that happened to that coach and his offense.  Kaepernick came down from the moon, but he and his team remain formidable.  Seattle is the new Denver, in terms of being a town of dicks.  Pete Carroll, never one to err on the side of caution when it comes to obeying the rules, has his boys on the shit on the level of this year's Red Sox.

So, now it's the playoffs.  Bokolis didn't do so well last year.  I've had good years and bad years.  If they were all good years, I wouldn't be sharing.  I'll put these out there from now, so that I can spend my weekend tending to more important matters.  These are the lines I got.  Don't blame me if you've got to lay 3.

COLTS (-2.5) over Chiefs - Didn't the Colts run train on the Chiefs in the regular season?  When the Chiefs made the playoffs a couple of years ago, I went against them because they hadn't beaten anyone worth beating.  I believe the same holds this year.

EAGLES (-2.5) over Saints - I want to tell you that the Saints outside>>fish-out-of-water analogy may be a bit overblown, but their performances indicate that they will play well enough to lose.  You have to worry that this is the Eagles' QB's first playoff game.  But, they've also won 7 of 8, and that loss was a throwaway.  I think the Eagles are undervalued here.

Chargers (+7.0) over BENGALS - On paper, this has Bengals written all over it, especially with a road win over the Chargers and a 8-0 home record.  The Chargers path to the playoffs isn't doing much to refute that.  But, I'm not laying a TD with that QB, as he throws too many INTs, even before last week.  I'll take my chances that Rivers will keep this close.

49ers (-3.0) over PACKERS - I forgot the term FOX will use to call the Sunday late game...something about America's headliner or some shit.  Well, it's going to be cold in Green Bay on Sunday evening...cold even for Green Bay.  Maybe they can call it America's popsicle dick.

I want to pick the Packers.  It'd be such a cool story, with Rodgers coming back and throwing that late touchdown on 4th down that was so reminiscent of Favre to Sharpe, which I don't think anyone pointed out.  The Packers could be this year's darkhorse, the fourth year running.  But, they played this game last year, didn't they?  They played this game early in the season, didn't they?  The 49ers can be beat, other things given, when your defense can punch with their defense.  I don't think the Packers defense can do that.  Even with Rodgers back and Eddie The Hammer, I don't think they'll have enough.  Besides, I've already anointed the Eagles as the darkhorse.

Respect

On the day we learned of his passing, Bokolis is going to kick it a minute about Nelson Mandela.

On each of our one days, we're going to have to look back and think WTF did we get done while we were here.  Some shlub at the NFL network is going to think back about how he leveraged Mandela's statement on the power of sport, which Mandela meant as glue to connect the people of his nation, to soft-sell the masses on burning energy and brain cells on its presentation of the NFL.

There is a short list of those who have impacted and achieved as much for humanity as Mandela.

Even to this day, I take a very cookie-crumbles attitude towards states of affairs, even if I retain the prerogative to apply compassion to my actions.  As a teenager, with the baby-fat of ignorance, Bokolis had only casually paid attention to- and was even dismissive of- the plight of Mandela and of Blacks in South Africa.  It was one thing to be stuck under the thumb of a colonial power.  For them to be second-class (that might be kind) in their own country, they must be some ass-backwards {redacted}.  Yeah, yeah...

When my favorite player was named best footballer in Europe and gave a shout out to Mandela, Bokolis thought that I aught to learn a bit more. I was confused as to why, if he was so badass, Mandela wouldn't just bounce or get sprung by comrades.  Perhaps he was smarter than us all and realized that he was doing everybody's time, not his own.

After Gullit raised awareness that seemingly (among Whites) wasn't there beforehand, the groundswell to free Mandela steadily gained momentum.  Of course, his own "freedom" was not Mandela's point, even as he aged and suffered the variety of ravages of being locked up.  Getting off the Island- is figuratism wasted on the literal minded- would have served no purpose if he returned to find it as he left.  It's probably as good a rationale as any as to why he was the last one to come home.

Even while imprisoned, Bokolis felt Mandela was destined to become leader of South Africa.  I was eager to see it, too, for selfish reasons.  So often, when you have regime change involving the ouster of a set oppressive muthafuckas, the new regime will involve a similarly oppressive set of muthafuckas, who will want to take a big bite of out the last set for their suffering.  I expected that, when he got to power, he'd have all the Whites- the ones that survived the purge- living on Robben Island.

And would you blame him?  Well, Bokolis was dead wrong about him.

As leader, he did his best to avoid the trappings of power.  That alone would make someone an exceptional ruler.  Mandela went so far as to...

Yeah, they sold you a movie that made it seem like it was just that easy for Blacks to say, hakuna matata; we ain't mad at'cha.

I'm not trying to tell you that he conjured utopia.  Just because Bokolis can now strut up and down Victoria Road while swinging my dick and looking to jam my finger up Charlize Theron's ass doesn't mean things aren't still fuuucked up.  After all, 98% of the non-oppressed world start out as hopeless idiots.  Forget the townships, you will find, in plain sight, right on Victoria Road in fact, all you need to understand that there are still far too many lost causes out there.  You will see some shit in Jo'burg.

But, the relatively painless revolution is an accomplishment.  This is not because it's Africa, because it didn't go so smoothly in the Balkans, or as they chop up the aftermath of the SSRs.  Are those enough links?  I can do Liberia, Somalia, even Cabinda. They never get it right in the Middle East.

I worry that the regard I hold for Mandela is borne out of a Berlusconi-an buy those who get the best of you attitude.  I hope not.  I'd like to believe I've seen a great man in my lifetime, someone to inspire the world to maintain on the road less traveled, that even locked up for over a quarter-century cannot stop you from leaving the world better than you found it.

Bah, with the jokers running around here, who am I kidding?  I just wish I were there to help carry his casket, if they'd let me.

Suave, homes.

Cobra and the Lemon

this one had been sitting in the queue for a hot minute...

In the interest of keeping it fresh, Bokolis recently decided to reacquaint myself with the gym.  This decision was not made capriciously, as it required a departure from my position that working out is for people with no job.

This is a position formed from working in a gym in a prior life.  Three solid years of training out of high school turned Bokolis from a strapping lad into a jacked and (approaching) shredded body-beautiful man. 

At 20 years old, I looked as good and was as strong as any non-PED'ed up civilian was going to get.  I even had a little christmas tree where the tramp stamp goes.  Despite hearing the chirping, I was able to avoid the juice because, besides it not being my way, I was keeping up with the juicers.

At some point- that point being a fucked up shoulder and elbow, it occurred to me trying to keep up with the juicers is a mistake.  Similarly to how, when guys come off the juice, they almost invariably get hurt, the injury bug bit me as well.  The mistake we- juicers and non-juicers alike- make is believing that your body is meant to be lifting such weights without the enhancement.  Juicers always forget what they were before/without the juice and wind up going way too heavy when off the shit.

It wasn't necessarily lifting so heavy that got to me; it was the lifting, combined with the pitching, running, cycling, this, that, the other, the unmentionable, etc. that finally got to me.  I topped out in the low '80's- at 19- but I was no pitcher.  My source of pride was my outfield arm; I had a cannon.  Before Rickey showed me how to dominate a game, there was Dave Parker in the '79 All-Star Game. 



Never mind that, today, it's 50/50 as to whether Robinson Cano would run hard enough to make 2nd base, let alone dig-three like Jim Rice, or that Brian Downing isn't exactly a speed merchant.  That throw to the plate was forever etched in my memory...when people- younger than I- tell me that where is the time going because it's 2013 and I date myself by telling them that I remember when it was 1979, it's Cobra's throws that I remember.  Driven thusly, did whatever I had to do to throw strikes to the plate from 250 feet.


For a little while, I could do it, too.  Unfortunately, both the elbow and shoulder went at 20, with the effects showing up in the gym. It was at that point that I decided that, good as I looked, it was more important to look and feel good at 40 and beyond than at 20. I also needed to have something left with which to play catch with my boy (I can throw lefty just fine, but I'm not going to hose anybody from the outfield). So, I gave it all up. It was probably a good thing, too, as, by 23, the cannon was gone without any putting any further strain on it, but at least it hasn't gotten any worse.


After a burly period, Bokolis got out of Shawshank and have kept myself in reasonably good shape, retained as much speed as can be hoped, and my looks...I don't look my age, that's for sure.  But the time came to get back into the gym- not so much for aesthetics as for preventative maintenance. While I'm certainly doing better with the dings than my younger friends, I'm not without things- including complacency- pulling on me.  Ultimately, the fear of getting old tugs the hardest.

Things are a little different this time.  When people ask, I- with as little arrogance as possible- tell them that I've forgotten more than most people will ever know and that I've come back to try to remember.  While, back in the day, it was very rare for me to use anything other than free weights, these days, I'm fighting with women for the machines.  As a matter of fact, I often have to lower the weight once the machine becomes available; most of the time, they use about the same weight, so it works out.

Aside- some these birds look GOOOOODD.  Back then, they used to cover up their butts, all self-conscious n' shit.  Now, they shamelessly proudly wear this Lululemon gear; their asses look so good, makes you want to bite them slap your mama.  Of course, there are plenty of culones inchiavabile; they don't wear the Lululemon, ostensibly because they're not allowed as Lululemon only makes up to size 12.

aside- I love how women have their cunts in the air about how Lululemon discriminates, how they promote an unhealthy ideal...no they're not. They are in the business of making asses look good in workout gear. WTF do you want them to do with a size 14+ ass? For me, any dumpy 10 and 12 should be thanking their lucky stars that they make something able to mold their rump into something pleasing.

There is a change in the type of bird that now goes to the gym.  Way back when, women typically went to ladies-only fitness centers.  On the co-ed side, you would get the ones that came with their boyfriends and dykes and the occasional random bird.  Bokolis speaks from experience that the ones to come with the boyfriends were usually all-caps-and-three-exclamation-points hot, the random bird was usually a fucking weirdo and a half, with the dyke being the most at-ease.

I used to work the mornings before class in the afternoon, so I got all the wives. Half of them had husbands who would come in the evening, the others were just looking to get somebody to tell them they looked good. {Trailing off look} Bokolis learned a lot of things from those women.


Nowdays, the birds run the gamut.  You've got at least one that looks like Mr. Magoo's mother, liable to hit you over the head with an umbrella (or a dumbell).

You've got the middle-aged hausfrau, the middle-aged hard-up broad, strippers, the typical NY bird who has way too much self-confidence for her looks, her cousin- the Reese Witherspoon wannabe, a weirdo chic a la from 20+ years ago, many birds still carrying winter weight and a lot of the aforementioned cuties with tight, biteable asses, to name a few.
You should expect that people are there alone.  After all, working out is as self-absorbed an activity as there is.

The only type you'll see who is not usually by herself is the stripper; she always comes with another stripper and they are both dressed so that their tits are spilling out of their sports bra tops.  You'd see whale tail, but they probably aren't wearing anything under the tights.

If you do see two regular birds there together, one of them is always going through the motions.

You'd be hard-pressed to find a bird there with her boyfriend.  Unless both are hardcore in their training and must train with each other; it's not the best idea.  What you don't want is a BF/GF combo that both work at the gym.  While workplace romances are typically not optimal, this is the kind to be avoided at all costs.  I've seen some shitshows in my day just from BF/GF that go to the same gym and break up.  If they both work there, it's straight up soap opera bullshit.

Getting away from the birds- Bokolis forgot to throw in the gay dude walking around like a peacock- the biggest change from the old days is that, with them leting just anybody into the gym, you get a lot of ignorant fuckers that don't know the etiquette.  I remember that the "meatheads" used to complain to me all the time about the "bugs" we were letting in there and how, these bugs have some balls, looking like they do, to wear tank-tops to the gym (the hardest of the hardcore ususally worked out in long-sleeved shirts). Given the already-discussed narcisism factor, I could understand the tank-tops.

These days, calling them bugs would insult the bugs of yesteryear. Not having been slapped around, these fuckers have no manners. They leave towels on machines/benches in between sets, as if marking territory, which is bad enough.  But the worst of this is, if I may channel my inner Steve Harvey, here go this sorry muthufucka right here just sitting on the bench, checking his phone.  When Bokolis is trying to fly through my sets as quickly as possible , this is the equivalent of an old lady driving 45 in the passing lane. Back then, that shit wouldn't fly; muthafuckas would've been tossed through the window by the meatheads or thrown out by management. In this age of cunts, you have to suffer their backtalk for being diplomatic. Prodding doesn't help because, instead of getting up and ceding the machine, they will immediately trudge through a set.

Instead of resting between sets - slash - puting the heat ray on them, I go off to do a set for another body part.  Bah, fuck it; at least I look good.

growing up, with a hater rant

Bokolis will talk a little shit from time to time. I'm out there playing sports at (almost as) high levels (as my youth) when most people my age are getting busy dying. Along the way, I impart wisdom to my teammates, all of whom are younger and most much younger.

There are times when people ask me why I'm so fast in my old age. My response is usually that it's because I was super-fast in my younger age and this is what's left. I've also heard that, for a guy that doesn't walk all that comfortably, I sure run well. I tell them that's what the slow-roll is about.

When they bemoan their aches and pains, I needle them with the standard what're ya gonna do when you're my age! But, I always tell them to stay in shape for as long as you can, because you will enjoy playing that much more if you can still- as opposed to standing around, telling your teammates what to do while being too run down to do it yourself- do it after you wise up.

The banter and such tangible role-modeling is one thing, but I've been more and more cognizant that people are watching how I comport myself, how I move. You can call it checking me out, observing, whatevs. I don't know whether to be flattered or impressed, bemused or put off that people would consider Bokolis in choosing how to pattern themselves. For all my shit-talking and gray hair, I don't consider myself all grown up.

Not only that, I operate under the assumption that people are as oblivious of Bokolis as I am of them. I ain't tryna win no popularity contests. As it applied to sports, which was my operating currency in my youth...

rant

Since I had no use for coaches or coaching for that matter, I reconciled early on that I was WAAAY to narcissistic and self-centered, self-absorbed, self-everything to be fucking with team sports. I had no designs on professional or even the high school team. My goal, whether it was baseball, football, basketball, handball, whatever, was to be that cat that could walk on and go toe-to-toe with the best guy on the team and, для меня, do it for me (never mind that they actually had Drago say Для тебя, for you...fudging the language was part of the propaganda- we now know that Stallone was the one on steroids and that Russians are flighty and soulless people; Rocky never would've won them over because they wouldn't have given two shits either way).

That kind of shit: benching what the football players benched, matching their 40-times, dunking at 5'9" (mainly because I couldn't palm the ball, I didn't do it more than a handful of times), shutting down the city champ soccer team in gym class (strangely, they were the only lot, coach too, that gave me real flak for it). Sort of like a playground legend- well, compared to THESE guys- I was better than good, but knew I wasn't THAT good (to be fair, there were guys that were better than I was and got the better of it against me, just not many). These guys didn't know they weren't that good and thought their varsity letters gave them status (it kind of did), so, in true turn-the-hottest-rapper-into-a-beer-vendor style, I thought it my place to check them.

Y'all should've seen what I did to the two best guys on my high school's handball team...playing them one on two, no less. They thought they were so cool because they played with the little (paddle) ball. Mayn, I learned my handball (and basketball) in the hood. Plus, I'm ambidextrous and each hand has unique shot-making ability. After I ran through each of them individually, to 21, I left the two of them on six or something.

/rant

At some point, I absorbed the idea that, for all my ability and attitude, I didn't want to wind up like Samuel L. Jackson's character in Fresh, so scared of success, being wracked by bitterness culminating with a boast of put them on the clock and I'll take out all those muthafuckas that reads more like a lamentation of lost opportunity.

And now...(smiley face) I'm the captain whenever I'm on the field. Maybe that's just how it goes.

Bum Rush

So, some banana on Yahoo! wrote about Rush Limbaugh thinking he now has license to use the casual term, nigga, mainly because of the performance of some bird in the Trayvon Martin-Zimmerman case.

Bokolis would say that Bum Rush is out of his god-damned mind, but it's already been established.  Bokolis would further say that the verdict was bullshit, but those jurors just didn't have the guts to convict Zimmerman.  Ultimately, Trayvon Martin got killed for being Black and nothing was done; it's another stain on our society that this can happen in 2013.  That's the way the cookie crumbles. 
Let's get something else straight- this differentiating of the terms and creation of the "softer" term is bullshit; it's the same word.  It's how you say it that matters.  If you say it around a Black person, it's up to them how to take it.  So, you better know your company.

Personally, I don't say it because 1) the Black people with whom I associate don't use it, 2) I want to steer clear of other white people- like the Yahoo! writer- running around with "racist" paint cans.

However, as a white boy having grown up in- and grown out of- the Ps, I dropped this word during my youth with relative impunity. Go to the 'hood today and you'll still see and hear the same thing from all manner of non-Blacks. It's just people- people who don't know, much less give a fuck about, Bum Rush or Yahoo!- adapting to their environment.

In my case, everybody knew what it was. If, after the drive started to stop using the term, I ever had my nose rubbed in it, it was more to convey the popular c'mon, man, to say, help us out here- we're trying to stop and you're not helping- never racism.  However, I did see my friends whoop up on other white boys for saying it.  Those white boys didn't say it like I said it; they were twisting the knife.

In the years after I left, when I'd see my old friends, I was razzed for both no longer using the word and embracing proper English.  I still say muthafucka- isn't that enough?