To Bonds or not to Bonds? That is on the form, and in the form of a question. Whether 'tis feebler in the mind to ignore the syringes with arrows of 'roid-rageous fortitude, or to take pen against a ballot of troublemakers, and by opposing send them away until next year:
Speakin' o' shredding and hallses of fame, what about big baseball buff, bassist Geddy Lee? Such an extra-league enthusiast was he... that a fraction of his balls of fame made it into the Negroes. Dude actually had one that Satchel Paige had thrown.
A few hundred miles over from Cooperstown on the shore of an only as eerie as it is large lake rests the Hello, Cleveland Hall of Bass, Guitar & Drums (and Vox & Keys and MCs and Samples & Breaks). It's a house of pop and/or poll notoriety. Among the enthused throngs at this year's induction ceremony will be those who believe there exists such a thing as "the best" at playing an instrument, which would be the case any year, I'm sure, but this time in triplets, because Kanodean raccers RUSH are being enshroomed.
What if it were revealed that Geddy Lee wouldn't have been able to play the harmonic break in YYZ were it not for a diet of lumpy mashed potatoes and anabolic gravy? Or that Neil Peart had taken the under on Van Halen's advanced reunion tour ticket sales?
Is the reason why Pete Rose continues to be the only baseball player officially banned from its hall of fame because betting on baseball skates a slope to throwing games? Or is the real reality that Roids Rule!? <On my 'If I Were King' List is Lance leaping all over Oprah's couch-of-contrition delightedly declaring just that.)
Why should a continent that claims an inability to get out of bed in the morning without the use of psychopharmica restrict its entertainers from doing all they can to entertain?
Let all Halls of Fame be Halls of Infamy, with a place in the corner for the purists and prudes who'd either prefer to look the other way, or hire a cop for every creature and design a blood-test for every one of our pathetic enhancements.
Baseball is not golf. It is not a gentleman’s game, nor does it pretend to be. Baseball has a culture of cheating that goes back to its inception, of loading up the baseball and stealing signs and corking bats and yes, of drug use. All amphetamines became controlled substances by 1965. Players who took them did so illegally, just as steroid users did. Of course, amphetamines didn’t shred the record books in the same way.That bit reminds me most of how Charlie Hustle became a speedster, which would one day transform hitting legend Pete Rose's nickname into at least a treble-entendre (when you include both his gambling and greenie activity). Anyway, I think that all baseball's banned substances, amphetamines included, if not that which led to shred the books, certainly added tabs. And how! And like, wow, man!
Speakin' o' shredding and hallses of fame, what about big baseball buff, bassist Geddy Lee? Such an extra-league enthusiast was he... that a fraction of his balls of fame made it into the Negroes. Dude actually had one that Satchel Paige had thrown.
A few hundred miles over from Cooperstown on the shore of an only as eerie as it is large lake rests the Hello, Cleveland Hall of Bass, Guitar & Drums (and Vox & Keys and MCs and Samples & Breaks). It's a house of pop and/or poll notoriety. Among the enthused throngs at this year's induction ceremony will be those who believe there exists such a thing as "the best" at playing an instrument, which would be the case any year, I'm sure, but this time in triplets, because Kanodean raccers RUSH are being enshroomed.
What if it were revealed that Geddy Lee wouldn't have been able to play the harmonic break in YYZ were it not for a diet of lumpy mashed potatoes and anabolic gravy? Or that Neil Peart had taken the under on Van Halen's advanced reunion tour ticket sales?
Is the reason why Pete Rose continues to be the only baseball player officially banned from its hall of fame because betting on baseball skates a slope to throwing games? Or is the real reality that Roids Rule!? <On my 'If I Were King' List is Lance leaping all over Oprah's couch-of-contrition delightedly declaring just that.)
Why should a continent that claims an inability to get out of bed in the morning without the use of psychopharmica restrict its entertainers from doing all they can to entertain?
Let all Halls of Fame be Halls of Infamy, with a place in the corner for the purists and prudes who'd either prefer to look the other way, or hire a cop for every creature and design a blood-test for every one of our pathetic enhancements.
