I found some old YouTube clips of Mark Gastineau and Howie Long engaging in some half-hearted promos for NBC’s old Superstars program. The clips aired during NBC’s broadcast of the N.Y. Jets-L.A. Raiders game from September 8, 1985. (31-0, suck it haters) While I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of enjoying these two clips by your own damn self, I’m about to pepper you with wacky commentary. GAME BOOK STYLE.

0:05 – Gastineau won Superstars in 1985, joining the ranks of former champions such as Tom Petranoff, of javelin fame, and water-skiing’s Wayne Grimditch. Gastineau. Petranoff. Grimditch. Throw in Kiki Vandeweghe and that’s pretty much my sports Rushmore Everest DERP.

0:16 – Dick Enberg claims Gastineau has been reading newspaper articles about NBC’s Superstars program. There are at least two things I do not believe about that statement.

0:20 – Gastineau’s braggadocio would be more foreboding without all that dixieland jazz toodling in the background.

0:28 – Howie Long injured his ankle at the Pro Bowl– an athletic contest slightly more dubious than Superstars. Read the rest of this entry »

Hey you! Looking to buy a vehicle, huh? Well I got a MANLY truck right here that can haul up to eight iron barbecues cooking fresh bison I just killed with my compound bow. It doesn’t have any of your girly frills like a steering wheel warmer or “man-step” or–

(cell phone rings)

Hold on, I gotta take this.

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Say, buddy!  Long time, no see.  Last time I saw you it was — what?  The football playoffs?  Funny how we only bump into each other during major sporting events.  And here you are, still driving a vehicle made for limp-wristed little bitches.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  A truck like that is perfect for a bleeding gash like you.

I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t be so dismissive.  Don’t cry.  You gonna cry?  Gonna cry, little girl?  No?

You sure?

Anyway, I’m over that whole truck-wars thing.  I hardly have the time to be condescending about how weak you are for buying a truck that provides you simple comforts and additional safety features.  I’m more focused on my new SUV-wagon crossover.  Check it out:

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LOW MILEAGE, HAS SOME PETER KING CUM STAINS ON THE PASSENGER SEAT. Brittfar is auctioning off his truck on eBay, naturally because he’s out of a job and struggling mightily in this economy. But how can a land baron lord over his agrarian empire without his noble chariot? That’s a lot of meadow to stroll, Meadowstroller Gunslinger. [Green Bay, Booze and Broads]

Sayyyyy, nice truck you got there.  What is that, a V-8?  Oh, only a V-6?  Well, I suppose that’s okay.  As long as you don’t need your truck to do anything MANLY, like carry heavy shit uphill.  Heavy shit made out of metal, because that’s the kind of heavy shit REAL MEN need to haul.

But no, it’s a good truck. You get good gas mileage?  Yeah?  Well gas mileage is for pussies.  My truck here gets about two gallons per mile.  You know what else gets mileage that bad?  A fucking TANK.  That’s how I know my truck kicks ass.

That’s a nice color for it, too. What is that, “red”? It looks good. I seen some real pretty flowers that color. Me, I don’t need to paint my truck. Primer’s good enough for me. If I had paint it would just get in the way of me doing MANLY SHIT, like driving through explosions in the desert and speeding past giant machines swinging other trucks at my truck. But red’s good, too. Probably looks really nice in the parking lot when you pick your son up from ballet practice.

But I like yours.  Who made it, Tonka?  I’ll bet it plays your Jonas Brothers CDs pretty loud while I’m fucking your wife.  Pussy.

Oh hey, I notice you’ve got a little– what is that?  A “man ramp” to get up into your truck’s bed?  No, no — it looks good.  Must come in handy when you want to help a dainty little man into the back there.  So you can hold his hand and have sex with him and ask him to stay the night, because you’re a needy little bitch.  It works for you.

Whatcha got in the forward cab, huh?   Scented Kleenex and Barbies, I bet. 

(peers in through window)

Well well well.  Looky here.  Seatbelts, huh?

(makes wanking motion)

No, don’t take that the wrong way!  Seatbelts are great for women and babies in little cars.  And trucks for men with tiny little limp dicks.

Listen to me, jabbering on like that.  I should let you go.  You’re gonna be late to yoga class or book group or your… your Cocksuckers Anonymous meeting.  You can park that bad boy next to the hybrids.

Gonna drive with the windows up, huh?  Pffft. Faggot.