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Genital Cosmetic Surgery Takes Off

Some women may be happy with their breasts, stomachs, legs, noses and lips, but they aren't entirely happy with their bodies.

In a New York Times story titled The Most Private of Makeovers Mireya Navarro reports:

They are tightening vaginal muscles, plumping up or shortening labia, liposuctioning the pubic area and even restoring the hymen, sometimes despite their doctors' skepticism about the need for such cosmetic measures.

They're opting for "vaginal rejuvenations," which the Times describes as "surgical techniques to enhance sexual satisfaction and improve the looks of the genitals."

Women who have had kids or, I guess, really small partners are undergoing a vaginoplasty, a procedure that tightens the vaginal muscles. Others with large labia, which they consider unsightly, are going for a cosmetic trim.

"Now women shave," said Dr. Gary J. Alter, a plastic surgeon and urologist with offices in Beverly Hills, Calif., and Manhattan who has come up with his own "labia contouring" technique. "Now they see porn. Now they're more aware of appearance."

Silly women and all that porn they look at. The Times goes on to report possible drawbacks from the surgeries: painful intercourse, scarring, hypersensitivity or nerve damage that could result in loss of sensation.

Why the fuss? Beats us guys. Says Mark Kernes, a senior editor with the trade magazine Adult Video News, "I really don't think most men care."

(Thanks, Larry, for the link.)

Other News Links:

• Girl Who Plotted Own Mother's Murder Blogs About It — Some creepy stuff here. A 16-year-old with a blog plotted her mother's murder on vacation in Alaska, then returned to her blog and posted, "Just to let everyone know, my mother was murdered. I won't have computer access until the weekend or so because the police took my computer to go through the hard drive. I thank everyone for their thoughts and e-mails, I hope to talk to you when I get my computer back." I saw the post on her blog Monday, but it's since been deleted, along with a few other recent entries. I guess we'll see her next blog entry in 40 years or so.

• Harley Crowd Doesn't Require Cologne, Thanks — A reaction to American Chopper marketing their own Full Throttle men's fragrance. The best part of the article, though, is the mention that Harley-Davidson sells thongs in sizes as big as XXXXL. Gives new meaning to the word "hog," huh? Or how 'bout a new t-shirt? "If you can read this, the bitch went to McDonald's." (Thanks, Art)

• Carmen Electra: Sex on Beach Is to Gritty — "Sand gets everywhere — it's not all it's cracked up to be," said Electra, who, interestingly enough, seemed to have no problem having sex with Dennis Rodman.

• TIME: Coolest Video Games 2004 — A buyer's guide of sorts from the news magazine that knows two things: cool and video games. Actually, Chris Taylor is a good tech writer, so have a gander.

• 25 Ways to Make Your Next Flight Easier — The Washington Post on ways to avoid going postal at the airport. Here's a couple from me: don't travel with my mom, don't sit next to the old creep flipping through Hustler in the magazine shop, don't under any circumstances stay sober on the flight.

• Di Videos Reveal 'Odd' Sex — Not what you think. Videos of Lady Di reveal she said Prince Charles wanted sex from her only once every three weeks. Which would be once every three weeks too much for most women.

Weekend Sports Wrap: Golf's Insulting Skins Game

Imagine the gut-wrenching tension that must've surrounded that Skins Game three-hole playoff between Tiger Woods (career money earnings) and Fred Couples (career money earnings) on Sunday, with $340,000 going to the winner. Together they're worth about $100 zillion, so forgive me for not chewing up my nails waiting to see who won.

The AP reported: "Minutes after hitting into the water to blow a chance at winning the Skins Game, Tiger Woods smiled and jokingly walked arm-in-arm down the fairway with Fred Couples."

And that's the problem. Four rich golfers battling for tons of money they don't need. And it's sponsored by Merrill Lynch. Nobody involved in this thing even gives a shit about $340,000! "Stay tuned to CBS Sports to see how much your life sucks!"

I have some advice for CBS. If you want me to watch a foursome duke it out for $1 million, don't give me people whose nerves are going to be unaffected by the purse. Give me an MTV intern, a DMV clerk, a barback, an elevator operator, the guy who collects carts at Wal-Mart, Cecil Fielder, a hotel maid, a porn theater mop boy, Ron Artest or anyone from The Surreal Life. And most of all, give me people who suck at golf!

I don't need to watch Bill Gates and the Sultan of Brunei play poker for $1 million pots, and I don't need to watch Tiger and Fred battle for new furniture for their private jets.

Other Sports Ruminations:

• During a Giants commercial break, I flipped to ESPN and watched a PBA skills challenge. They were playing a game of H-O-R-S-E, but with bowling balls. Some dude converted a split by throwing two balls from one hand, and his challenger matched it. Can't say I wasn't impressed. I can say I saw about 50 guys with porn 'staches in the crowd. And maybe a few gals with 'em, too.

• True bowling story: In my teens I entered a junior tournament and threw a pretty good game, something in the 180s or 190s. But I lost to a chick who broke 200, and I don't just mean her weight. Anyway, her family was there and they were cheering her on, which is fine. But they also cheered when I missed a spare or something. Jeez, ya think adults could at least control their excitement when a 15-year-old fails at something. Of course, I was the ever the fountain of class, offering congratulations after the match, though in my head I was thinking, "Nice game, slut."

• The Bengals won a shootout with the Browns on Sunday in part because of two touchdown receptions from T.J. Houshmandzadeh. Try saying that three times. Shit, try saying it once.

• If Jeremy Shockey has been reduced to "doing the T.O." on first-down catches, even he's come to the realization that our season is finished.

• I hope everyone enjoyed my Top 10 Seinfeld Sports Moments piece. It was on top of ESPN.com's most-sent stories index from Wednesday through Sunday.

• I swear Paul Maguire has a foot fetish. He's always telling me to watch people's feet. Sometimes four times on one replay.

• Jeff George is back in the NFL, and it brings back memories to year-after-year of fantasy football magazines predicting his upcoming seasons in the same way: "George has a strong arm, but has never been very consistent. He could shine with his new team but, frankly, we have no clue what you'll get out of him. Do not draft him unless you have to."

• I'm so pumped for my No. 4-ranked Syracuse basketball team that I think I'll drop $20 on ESPN College Hoops 2K5. The video game features a recruiting process, by which you can scout games, visit a recruit at home, etc. Unfortunately, you cannot buy him a hooker, get him drunk with current teammates, hand him an envelope of cash, assure him that his grades will be taken care of or do any of the things that really convince a guy to play for your honored institution of higher learning.

• I don't know why people fume so much over the BCS. You're not getting a playoff. Fans want it, but fans don't make the decisions. All the BCS does, and does well, is prevent the Nos. 1 and 2 teams from not being able to meet for a championship due to old-time conference links to certain bowls (Pac-10 and Big Ten to the Rose, Big Eight/XII to the Orange, SEC to the Sugar). It was never meant to solve the issue of subjective ranking or the possibility of there being more than two deserving teams of a national title shot. Simple as that. Get over it.

• I'm going to my first Army-Navy game in Philly next week. As a military outsider I don't think I'll get too much into it, but we'll see. Pics from the game surely to come, though.

Today's Sports Links:

• Flag Football Hall of Fame — I know there wasn't a dry eye in the house back in 1979 when Wilson Sporting Goods was inducted. Just as good, the national flag football ejected players list.

• The Iced Foot Effect — Science News examines whether time outs called to ice an NFL kicker have any effect on the outcome. And ya know what? It works. Not as good as farting when your buddy lines up for one in Madden 2005, but it works. (Found on Sports By Brooks)

• WWE RAW Opener Pokes Fun at Desperate Housewives Skit — An article and a link at the bottom to view the clip. Funny stuff from Vince McMahon, who takes shots at the NFL and NBA, saying the WWE cannot lower itself to their level of indecency and ugliness. Ha.

• Forum: Favorite Bill Walton Quotes — A full 11 pages of user reactions to Big Red's commentary. The best I found was Walton on Larry Johnson in 1999: "What a pathetic play from a pathetic human being."

• The South Rises With The Tide — George Will on some fans' obsession with Alabama football, including the couple who went to a game instead of their daughter's wedding. Not exactly Father of the Year material there. (Thanks, Art)

• Anna Benson in FHM — A photoshoot of and interview with MLB's most famous wife. This chick is an open book. She tells of having sex at Three Rivers Stadium and PNC Park, fooling around on the highway, being attracted to Jeff Weaver, shoving suppositories up Kris Benson's ass and getting hammered all the time.

Photos: Thanksgiving Weekend in New York

I've got a new album of photos from a walk I took Saturday evening after Syracuse put the finishing touches on a 43-17 thumping of Boston College.

The tourists are jamming the streets, the stores are bustling, the weather is quite mild. It's all good.

Included are Lincoln Center, 57th Street, Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Center and Times Square, a photo journal of the life and colors I get to enjoy when I'm not surfing the internet for topless chicks on foreign beaches. I'm artistic like that.

Thoughts on Peyton Manning's Legend-Building Day

These were my thoughts as Peyton Manning warmed up to face the Lions on Thanksgiving Day:

• The over-under on his total TD passes is probably four. Which means the Lions are likely to need to score at least 29 points, something they haven't done all season, to win.

• If he threw seven touchdowns, I wouldn't be floored.

• He's had only three days to prepare for the Lions' defense. Not exactly the 2000 Ravens, but still, three days.

• He's got a shot here to introduce himself to an audience of very casual sports fans as the NFL's best player.

And then Manning tore apart the Lions with this sick, sick stat line: 23-for-28, 236 yards, 6 TDs, 0 INTs, 141.4 passer rating ... in less than three quarters.

• When you throw 28 times and throw fewer incompletions that touchdowns — and you're not even shocking people by doing it — you're in full Superman mode.

• No longer can you debate the NFL's greatest QBs without including Manning. Now is when you can rank him up with the best. Not best career, mind you. No one would trade Joe Montana's or John Elway's career for Manning's right now. But if you're starting a team and can pick any QB ever and sign him for four years, you're putting Peyton Manning 2004 right up there with Dan Marino 1984 or Randall Cunningham 1990 or Steve Young 1994 or whoever you want. Think about any QB who ever tore up a league over a sustained period and ask if Manning isn't right up there.

• Manning obviously studies defenses, but is there a cap on how you can prepare for Manning? The great caveat, of course, is the four picks he threw in last year's AFC title game, but I'm starting to wonder if Manning is turning the theory that "good defenses beat good offenses" on its head. It's like in Madden 2005 — every defensive set can be beat; it's up to the player to figure it out.

• Is there any question Manning could have thrown eight touchdown passes if he stayed in the game?

• If you watched the fourth quarter of the blowout Indy-Detroit game, with Jim Sorgi and Mike McMahon playing quarterback, you are a true NFL fan.

• I can't remember the last time a white wide receiver scored three touchdowns in an NFL game, as Brandon Stokley did Thursday. Maybe Ed McCaffrey did it at some point. Talk about a mark not to be broken anytime soon. My former classmate at Syracuse, Marvin Harrison, also had a trio of scores, bringing his season total to 11, his sixth straight season of double-figure TD receptions.

• If Manning gets 60 TDs this year — he needs 19 TD passes in the final five games to do it — it's got to go right up there with the greatest season in any sport. Just has to.

• Manning has 10 days to prepare for the Titans on Dec. 5. Look out.

Best 'Seinfeld' Sports Moments

I got the assignment of a lifetime — albeit my questionably significant lifetime — Tuesday when I was asked to pen a piece for ESPN.com on the greatest sports moments in Seinfeld history.

I don't think I've ever been so committed to doing a good job. Well, not since I lied my way out of going to work after I stayed out till 5 a.m. the night of Super Bowl XXXVI.

So have a read. And remember, in this season of giving, to send all your friends an e-mail with the article's URL in it.

Meet John Green. He Throws Beer at People (at 39!)

The man alleged to have thrown the initial cup of beer/whatever at Ron Artest last Friday has been identified as John Green (pictured). Green hasn't admitted to have thrown the cup, but he made appearances, accompanied by his lawyer, on Good Morning America and Larry King Live on Tuesday. He had a bit to say, certainly more than what I would have said if I was mistakenly accused of inciting a riot. "I didn't do it," would have been it from my mouth.

I caught the Larry King segment, and I almost hurled when, not only did his lawyer refer to him as great fan, but Green himself called Artest a "punk." Might not be the most inaccurate description but, as we learned in second grade, it takes one to know one.

Green is on probation for his third drunken-driving offense. Third! How many times do you think he wasn't caught? He's also been convicted of assault, carrying a concealed weapon and writing bad checks. This is a 39-year-old man with no respect for society, and so it's not surprising that he would be the answer to a trivia question: What kind of cowardly asshole throws things at people from the anonymous protection of a crowd?

John Green is that kind of cowardly asshole.

You'll not soon see John Green at an NBA arena near you. You will assuredly run into people like him. Don't let them take away our enjoyment of attending sports events. Get up to go to the bathroom, quietly tell security to keep an eye on a specific person or group of people, and let them handle it. That doesn't make you a pussy. It makes you a real fan. And security will act instead of risking letters from honest fans charging that they were unresponsive to abusive behavior.

Finally, you can't say it better than Dave Hyde of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel, who writes in a column titled What About the Jerk in the Stands?:

"Everyone is targeting him as the villain,'' Green's lawyer said. `"He's not a villain. The Pacers are the villains."

Green is the action. Artest is the reaction. And each is an equal and opposite villain in this mess."

The Smell of Bankruptcy: Get Donald Trump, the Fragrance!

It's about time for me to head to Sephora (or to the discounters on Canal Street) for another cologne purchase. Last year I asked the female readership of the site to pick one for me, and, being women, they all had something different to say. I settled on Burberry Touch, to which I guess I owe a bit of gratitude, and, once again, you're encouraged to post a comment on your favorite.

I know which one I will not be getting, however: Donald Trump, the Fragrance.

Yep, the Donald has his own stench on the market, one that "contains citrus notes with hints of mint, cucumber and black basil." Being that I don't have a dead racoon hanging around the apartment to glue to my head and complete the look, I don't think I'll be partaking in this aromatic orgy of cucumber, basil and other things found in a kitchen.

In a series of radio ads I almost threw-up to, Trump boats that his funk "guarantees that a man can get any woman." He doesn't clarify what you can "get" said women to do. I'm guessing laugh uncontrollably.

Todays News Links:

• Undoing the Industrial Revolution — The latest edition of web usability expert Jakob Nielsen's Alertbox claims: "The last 200 years have driven centralization and changed the human experience in ways that conflict with evolution. The Internet will reestablish a more balanced, decentralized lifestyle."

• Bill Gates Gets 4 Million E-Mails a Day — No doubt that two million are related to Viagra and penis-enlargement pills. I'm thinking it might be kinda tough to sneak through that one legit e-mail telling Bill that happy hour is at 5:30 p.m. and not 5 p.m. (and that he's buying).

• Dodgeball Questions Raised in N.Y. Court — Please tell me not a single penny of my tax dollars is in any way tied up in this case. By the way, I'm playing in a co-ed adult dodgeball league starting in January. Sure to be among the top-five nerdiest things I've ever done, but I'm already working on a side-arm delivery and plan to keep track of hit rate, average speed on throws, and number of men doubled over with shots to the balls.

• New York Times 25 Most E-Mailed Articles — An index of all the news that's fit to generate the most interest.

• What the Web Taught FedEx — Business 2.0 on how the Internet forced FedEx to change for the better. Someday, I'll do a piece on ways the Internet has made our lives more efficient, and package tracking will definitely be up there. I'll love keeping tabs on my porn tapes, as they travel from the warehouses in California to the distribution center in Manhattan.

Weekend Sports Wrap: A Brawl That (Shocker!) Wasn't Worth It

I once read a quote from a certain Charles (either Oakley or Barkley) saying that NBA players could get into a fight every night if they wanted to. The play is that physical, the fans that confrontational. And so I guess, for the most part, they don't want to fight.

I can understand that. Why, after working your entire life to reach the dream of playing in the NBA, would you risk physical injury or suspension that would jeopardize the fruits of labor required to be among the top one percent of one percent at what you do?

For Ron Artest, who was suspended for the rest of year by NBA commissioner David Stern, it was because a fan chucked a cup of beer at him. That was enough to scratch an entire year from his NBA life. As we know, professional sporting careers have a limited lifespan, and Artest cost himself a full year because he needed to protect his manhood.

There are no winners coming out of Friday's fracas. Isn't it the way it always works? There will be more fights, in bars and at stadiums, that are fueled by alcohol, and there still won't be any winners. There will be injuries and scars, suspensions and jail time, but there will be nothing but losers.

It isn't surprising that the cups flying in Detroit were filled not with soda or water, but rather beer. Not surprising that the aggressive fans were men. Sad and pathetic, dangerous and cowardly, but not surprising. This is our live sporting culture, one fueled by alcohol and mob violence, and we'll see more scenes like Friday night in Detroit until teams hire enough security to offset beer sales, and until fans recognize their responsibility to help said security, by pointing out infractions that endanger viewing enjoyment, if not physical well-being.

Other Weekend Sports Takes:

• The Pistons obviously banked some significant coin on beer sales Friday night. They could do worse than donate that money to a good cause, as a reward for those who did imbibe and didn't embarrass themselves.

• Now, if I may laugh a bit at this, I ain't fucking with the Pacers in a dark alley anytime soon. Artest dusted that innocent Steve Bartman lookalike in about .42 seconds. It was like he disappeared down a Mr. Spacely escape hatch. Then they just crushed that fat blob who was carrying the most deadly of weapons, a towel. If there's anything funnier than a macho chunkmonster getting flattened it's ... Jamaal Tinsley brandishing a metal dustpan over his head. When shit gets tight, he goes straight to the janitor's closet. Obviously, one of the most unintentionally funny moments in sports history. EA Sports has got to add a "get a dustpan" cheat code for NBA Live 2006.

• I went to Giants Stadium and a game of Madden 2004 broke out! Yep, I was there Sunday to see the dawn of Eli Manning's career and the end of the Giants' season. I picked up a couple of below-face seats high in the end zone, so my perspective of the game was just like in Madden. Not only that, but some of the stadium music was the same as in the game, the Giants forgot about their wide receivers (just like I do) and I swear Michael Vick performed exactly the same. He'd turn the corner easily for 15 yards a pop. I've posted some pictures from the game, but none of the late third-down penalty that may have been the worst I've ever seen live at a football game.

• Shared by PK.com reader Art, this comment from Steelers owner Dan Rooney on what his father would think about the current NFL culture: : "I don't think he's be too thrilled about what's going on today," said Dan Rooney who has run the Steelers since his father's death. "I can remember him telling me, 'You'll rue the day you take all the money from the networks. It won't be our game as much anymore. It'll be their game.' He even told us late in his life that it would be OK if we ever decided to sell the team. He reminded us we weren't big money people."

Today's Sports Links:

• Can't Stand for It — Peter Vecsey's take on the brawl. "Anyone who tuned into ESPN with 45.9 seconds remaining in the Pacers' persuasive 15-point victory must've thought the Vibe Awards had broken out."

• Blame it on Dumb View of Respect — Mitch Albom on lengths the Pistons, Pacers and fans went to because they felt disrespected.

• How Syracuse Can Muddy Utah's Status — According to this article, if Pittsburgh (+4) can upset West Virginia at home Thursday and Syracuse (+10) can upset Boston College on the road Saturday, then the Orange will prevail in a four-way, first-place tie for the Big East's BCS slot. I haven't been able to confirm this elsewhere, either because it's not true or, more likely, Syracuse has no chance to actually beat a team better than Rutgers.

• College Football's 10 Best Helmets — An interesting, if completely subjective, list by SI.com. For a look at all helmets, pro and college, current and past, visited the remarkably complete Helmet Project.

• Gammons: Projecting 500-HR Guys — Toward the end of this column, Peter Gammons runs down active MLB players projected to reach 500 career home runs. Barry Bonds with 918? I don't think so. Jim Thome (now 34) with 644? Could happen with five more good years. Also of significant interest, projected 2005 stats for this winter's free-agent batters.

• Mark Cuban Fined for Blogging — It was bound to happen, the Mavs' owner writes, and it did. (Thanks, Shumpy)

• SI Writers Pick Their Sportsmen of the Year — About 40 columns dedicated to the magazine's biggest honor. I have a feeling I'm not gonna like the selection, though I guess there's an outside chance that Barry Bonds could finally get one, or that perhaps he'll share it with Roger Clemens as an over-40 salute.

• SI.com's Hot Stove Analysis — Quick takes on free-agent signings. Sure to pick up in the coming months, so keep it bookmarked.

• Tentative 2005 Yankees Schedule — The official sked has not been released but a superfan pieced together a schedule, with some holes, based on tentative schedules already released by other teams. Cubs at Yankee Stadium from June 17-19 is a must-go, as is at least one more weekend trip to Baltimore.

Photos: Syracuse Wins Coaches vs. Cancer Classic

No. 6-ranked Syracuse was in town Thursday and Friday nights for their first of four trips to MSG this season — Coaches vs. Cancer Classic, Jimmy V. Classic, vs. St. John's and the Big East Tournament — and I was there to root on my alma mater as it beat two ranked teams (Mississippi State and Memphis) in November for the first time since the 1988-89 season.

How's that for a stat that means nothing? But how good is it to have two quality wins in the bank well before NCAA Tournament seeding?

Thanks to there being a sparse attendance of about 5,000 people — about 99% of which were rabid Orange fans — I was able to get in for way below face value ($20 on Friday, and even that was probably too much) and move around to take some really sub-par pictures.

On Friday, I sat next to one of the only Mississippi State fans in the crowd. When he asked who I was rooting for, I flashed my Syracuse t-shirt to him and he said, "I'm sorry." Sorry about what, man? That I didn't fly thousands of miles to see a game packed with empty seats? Or that I went to real school? Or that my team won the 2003 national championship? Or that the last time we played you was when we kicked your ass in the 1996 Final Four? Or that we're ranked ahead of you? Or that we were about to go on a 17-0 run that buried them?

As we struggled in the first half Thursday, the f-bombs were flying out of my mouth quicker than Dick Vitale can make an ACC reference. Mr. Mississippi was a little offended by that and said at the halftime buzzer, "Hey buddy, I'm with my wife. Can you watch your language?" I was taken aback, though not in a bad way. "Wow, I've never heard that in New York before. I'll try." That was a genuine response, and I felt kinda bad. Thankfully, I had no reason to curse in the second half, when we fucking kicked ass.

Great find on the SU forum, filled with people who get tired of Vitale's admiration of the ACC:

Did anyone else think it was hysterical in the first half when for no reason at all, Dicky V blurted out "You know who's a tough point guard? John Gilchrist at Maryland" and then went back to calling the game. I don't think he's even consciously doing it anymore.

Otto the Bus Driver's 12 Essential CDs

When it comes to music, everyone's a critic, but hardly any of the critiques are entertaining. Not so when The Simpsons are involved, so I am obliged, for your entertainment purposes, to violate copyright law in 46 states, 23 territories, 18 back alleys and 12 strip clubs by sharing an except from a recent issue of Entertainment Weekly that contained Otto the Bus Driver's 12 Essential CDs.

1. Metallica, Metallica — "This is the record I lost my hearing to."

2. The Otto-Man Empire, Satan's Henchmen — "This is the album I recorded in my garage, back when I had a garage."

3. Poison, Look What the Cat Dragged In — "This band played at my wedding. I never paid them."

4. Blue Oyster Cult, Don't Fear the Reaper — "I dare you to find a better cowbell-based album."

1. Metallica, Metallica — "Did I say this one already? I forget, I'm so wasted."

6. Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin IV — "If you have to ask why, you must die."

7. Spinal Tap, Smell the Glove — "I feel like I was their bass player in another life."

8. Frank Sinatra, Songs for Swingin' Lovers! — "I don't really like it, but it's great to hide my stash in."

9. The Simpsons, The Simpsons Sing the Blues — "Everyone should go out and buy this album again."

10. Ted Nugent, Motor City Madness — "The music sucks, but anyone who kills an elk with an arrow is okay in my book."

11. Ramones, Road to Ruin — "For when I'm feeling thoughtful."

12. Ssgt. Barry Sadler, Ballads of the Green Berets — "My dad killed himself to this."

Hilarious stuff. Once the statute of limitations has passed (say a few weeks), I'll rip off this idea and provide my own list.

Today's Web Finds:

• Recap of Shaune Bagwell's Appearance on Howard Stern's Radio/TV Show — I missed the original E! airing, so if anyone knows when it repeats, let me know.

• OverweightDate.com — Twice as good as Match.com, because you get twice the date. No, seriously, a guy sent me a nice e-mail asking if I'd plug this niche dating site, so I'll be a gentleman and not make a joke about what plus-sized people must put down when they answer survey questions like, "Three Things I Can't Live Without."

• Meet Virtual Bartender Tammy Plante — Fleshbot uncovers the gal behind the Virtual Bartender craze. Now go tell her to kiss a girl. Trust me.

• Obnoxious E-Cards — Did your neighbor's annoying dog finally kick it? Send him a card that reads: "Your beloved pet is now in a better place ... if you consider a dumpster behind the vet's office a better place." (Thanks, Matt)

• Crazy Kent — Some nut travels the country to be pictured in a trash can. Like Oscar the Grouch with HTML skills. Here he is in New York City.

• Google Help: Cheat Sheet — Did you know you can limit searches to only those listings added in x number of months? Or that you can find all definitions of any word from around the Web? Google is also a great calculator, map-locator and a database of about 12 billion pages of porn. (Found on Book of Joe)

• Video: Girl's Skirt Torn Off by Taxi Door — So orchestrated it's ridiculous, but she does a decent job of acting panicked.

• Contest: World's Most Amazing College Story — Win $1,000 for sharing some crazy tale from your college days. You might even want to be truthful. CollegeStories.com already has a wealth of write-ups sorted by topic, ranking and school, including my alma mater, Syracuse University.

• Office Space Script — "Well, look, I already told you. I deal with the goddamn customers so the engineers don't have to!! I have people skills!! I am good at dealing with people!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!!!!!!"

• Circuits Girls' Most Recent Bikini Contest — A new gallery from my friends at 95South.com. Once again, I'd like to give Hurricane Charley a big "fuck you" for canceling my Bahamas trip to party with 95South and the Circuit Girls.

• More Celebrity Impersonators — I always get a kick out of lookalikes, especially ones who look impersonate Babe Ruth, Howard Stern and, ah yes, Britney Spears.

Coming to the Stage, a Funny Guy ... Roddy Piper!

Being that "Rowdy" Roddy Piper was born in 1954, you'd think he'd be dead by now, as the life-expectancy of a former pro wrestler is about 42. But Piper, one of the most entertaining villains the industry has ever known, is alive and well, performing stand-up comedy in Oregon.

I know what you're thinking: Oregon isn't exactly the hot-bed of comedy, unless you count the Blazers' rap sheet. Headliners there probably list cutting up their fifth-grade class on their resumé, but Piper has left people rolling in the aisles for decades.

As ring-master of Piper's Pit, he once railed Jimmy Snuka about his native Fiji, before cracking him in the head with a coconut with such force that not only did the coconut explode into a million pieces, but Snuka brought down the $15 cardboard set. Piper then presented him with a banana, which he smashed into his face. Good times, man. (Video linked from this page.)

On another occasion, he rewarded the late Frankie Williams, an all-time jobber, with some TV time, exploring the mind of a hard-working wrestler not quite up to snuff with the Big John Studds and Rocky Johnsons. He then explored how much pain Williams could endure by kicking the living shit out of him, commanding him to "Shine my boots! Shine 'em up, boy!" He ended the segment with one of wresting's most famous quotes: "Just when you think you know the answers, I change the questions."

At Wrestlemania V, Piper didn't take kindly to Morton Downey Jr.'s violation of his no-smoking policy, so Piper ordered him to zip it by unleashing a fire extinguisher all over him. An all-time Wrestlemania celebrity cameo moment, right up there with the times Pete Rose was tombstoned by Kane.

This man knows how to make people laugh, and if he ever makes it one of the many fine comedy clubs in New York City, including Dangerfield's (of course I've been there a few times), I'll be the first in line.

Random Note: Patrons who talk during comedy shows? Easily one of my top-10 pet peeves. Drives me absolutely crazy. Not to mention the clowns who think they're part of the act and keep yelling shit out. Can't they just drop a card on each table reminding of comedy-club etiquette? Why leave it up to idiots to figure it out for themselves?

Other Roddy Piper Links:

• Roddy Piper's Greatest Hits
• Photos of Piper, and Others, Before They Were Stars

Today's News Links:

• Hostettler Mounting Campaign to Change the Name of Interstate 69 — Dude, I'll take it. You can run it from the bar down the street to my apartment. And, yeah, I kinda think the use of the word "Mounting" in the headline was intentional. (Thanks, Larry)

• David Lee Roth Learning to Become Paramedic in NYC — And when he gets his license, I will never again leave the house. Roth says that he's been on 200 individual rides and "not once has anyone recognized me." Don't worry, man, when the fifth season of The Surreal Life airs, we'll recognize ya. (Speaking of, the fourth season is now being taped.)

• E-Mail Seymore Butts to Get Into Porn — He's looking for a few hard men, reads this news item. In case you missed the audition — and I gotta imagine it's quite an interview process — you can e-mail Mr. Butts at aprstorm@aol.com (Thanks, Art)

• Sorry, but I'm Not Buying It — A column on ESPN.com, which, like ABC, is Disney-owned, reads that the network should have never apologized for the Monday Night Football opener that some people complained about, because, quite simply, ABC wasn't really sorry. And they shouldn't have been.

• Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese Back Up on eBay — What's news to me is not that some crazy item on eBay attracted so much attention, but that how people leverage the attention to put "grilled cheese" in their own eBay listings that have nothing to do with the news item. Check this eBay search for "grilled cheese" now to see what I'm talking about. Selling a pair of socks? Get more eyeballs by using a subject line such as "Brown Socks (With Holes) - No Grilled Cheese."

• Naked Man Jumps into Bronx Zoo Reptile Pit — The story begins, "An apparently emotionally disturbed man stripped naked and jumped into an exhibit with two young caimans at the Bronx Zoo..." Yeah, apparently. Kinda like the way Hugh Hefner apparently is not a virgin.

• Don't Write Martha, Just Buy! — The New York POST's Richard Johnson, a man whose first and last names mean "dick," reports that fans who write to Martha Stewart in prison are being told, by form-letter, that they can show support for inmate #55170-054 at the Federal Prison Camp in Alderson, W.Va., by buying her products.

• Transcript: P. Diddy With Chris Matthews — Earlier I wrote about how P. Puffy Diddy Combs was nonsensical in an interview on election night with Chris Matthews. Do a simple find for "Combs" in the transcript to see his Q&A. Included is his response to whether it was surprising to him that young people were split 50-50 on whether to go to war in Iraq. He said, "No. I mean, I think that a lot of young people are dealing with issues right here at home, real-life issues." Say what?

Full Disclosure: Aaron Gleeman of HardballTimes.com

Baseball, like searching for paparazzi pictures of Britney Spears on secluded beaches, is a year-round obsession here at PK.com. It's our national pastime, as American as using any means necessary to defeat one's foes, whether it be money, drugs or espionage.

Here in New York, we're lucky that baseball keeps our interest during the cold winter months when Herman Edwards tries to manage a clock, Kurt Warner eats carpet like a lesbian porno star or the Knicks show up to an arena. God knows how ugly it'll get if the Rangers and Islanders ever take the ice.

All of which makes The Hardball Times a great destination for baseball fans, in New York or otherwise, who don't want to kill themselves. It's chock full of original and interesting analysis, with a slant toward the statheads — Bill James disciples, if you will — for whom the number 69 is considered elusive, not because their sex life is deader than Marge Schott, but that no player has ever led the league in steals with that number. (See, you learn something new here every day.)

Today we chat with Aaron Gleeman, a HardballTimes.com silver slugger, about his site, a new THT publication and baseball in general.

Give us a quick synopsis of the The Hardball Times. When was it started and by whom? Who's your audience and what can they find there?
The Hardball Times is a baseball site I started up, along with Bill James' former assistant, Matthew Namee. It debuted in March of this year, a couple weeks before the start of the season. We currently have a lineup of 14 writers, along with the occasional guest piece from someone, like James himself.

Our audience is basically anyone who is passionate about baseball. We have plenty of stats, but we also pride ourselves on having a lot of great stuff that has absolutely nothing to do with numbers. We have a little something for everyone, from stats, research and analysis to humor, opinion and news.

You've published a 300-page review of the 2004 season, available in printed and electronic formats. What's in it?
We've got plenty of articles covering the 2004 season, from in-depth division reviews and a recap of the postseason to looks at the year in the minors, college baseball, the Japanese leagues and fantasy ball. We've also included some of our very best work from the website over the past year, as well as a ton of stats (so it's not only a good read, it can be a reference guide for those into such things).

One of the many stats found on your site is Win Shares. Can you explain how those are calculated and what they mean?
Win Shares is an invention of Bill James and it is different from most stats because it is rooted in a team's win-loss record. Each win by a team in worth three Win Shares and the stat is all about splitting the credit for those wins among the players on a team, giving each player a single number that represents their contribution. It counts fielding and clutch performance, along with the usual batting and pitching stuff.

One of the cool things about Win Shares is that it can look at every player in MLB history, so we can make comparisons across eras. And it puts players at different positions on the same scale, so you can compare Tom Seaver to Joe Morgan to Dan Quisenberry.

I see that Derek Jeter, one of four Yankees to rank among the top 10 AL players in Win Shares, had a Field rating of 7.2, fourth-highest in the league behind Minnesota shortstop Christian Guzman (9.6), Oakland catcher Damian Miller (7.9) and Oakland shortstop Bubba Crosby (7.5). Does this mean that Jeter does not, in fact, suck in the field?
For the first time in a long time, Derek Jeter did not, in fact, suck defensively this year. Of course, most Yankee fans will say he never sucked in the field, but the stats have generally been very clear that he did. Jeter's Fielding Win Shares this season were a career high, and far higher than any total he's posted since 1997. The previous three seasons, his Fielding Win Shares were 5.9, 4.6 and 1.4. However, as I wrote earlier this month, there was no way he deserved the American League Gold Glove, for a number of reasons.

A lot of people have wondered how Jeter could have had such bad fielding numbers for so long and then had a season where they were dramatically improved, but I think the answer is fairly simple. The same way hitters (Brady Anderson's 50 homers in 1996, Darin Erstad hitting .355 with 25 homers in 2000) and pitchers (Esteban Loaiza's lone good season in 2003) have great seasons out of nowhere, a fielder can do the same.

Some other theories I've heard are that he benefited from Alex Rodriguez being at third base and that the Yankees were better positioned defensively with Willie Randolph replacing Don Zimmer as bench coach. Or maybe Jeter just got better or played better. Next season will tell a lot, because each year is really just another data point, a sample of 162 (or fewer) games.

How would you rate Bud Selig as a commissioner? The owners sure are pleased with him, enough to unanimously extend his contract through 2009.
Yeah, and the owners seem to be the only ones, which might be a reason for concern. For awhile I refused to refer to Bud by name, calling him "The Devil" instead, so you could say I'm not a real big fan. I'm a lifelong Minnesotan and huge Twins fan, so the whole contraction thing sort of rubbed me the wrong way.

I think his solution to perceived problems has often been to radically change things, which is usually a bad idea. There's also the fact that he presided over the 1994-95 lockout, continued his involvement with the Brewers well past the time he became commissioner, jerked the Expos around, blackmailed various fans for new stadiums through threats of contraction and relocation, had some questionable bookkeeping, and said he'd step down when this term was up and then ... well, didn't. Plus, I refuse to take anyone with that haircut seriously.

How would you rate Bud Selig as a wingman on a night out in New York with Derek Jeter?
As if Jeter needs any help in that area. A little while back I wrote something sarcastic and disparaging about Captain Dreamboat, and one of my Yankee-fan readers sent me a very short, simple e-mail with a link to a story and the famous words: "How you like them apples?" I clicked on the link to find that, among other offenses, Jeter was now "dating" Jessica Alba.

The moral of the story is that I'm trying to convince people that the Jeter hype is way out of control while he's out banging supermodels and the star of Honey. I do wonder if Tim McCarver gets jealous when he reads about Jeter's off-field exploits; that is if he can take his face away from Jeter's ass long enough to read a newspaper.

If you could change three things about Major League Baseball, what would they be?

1. The commissioner.

2. The DH rule. As someone born in the 1980s, I'm not vehemently against it like a lot of fans I know, but I'd really like to see the same rules in both leagues, particularly since the AL and NL are no longer all that separate. It's the only major sport where teams can play games under vastly different rules than they normally do.

3. Did I say the commissioner already?

Ever seen a fan wearing a Barry Bonds No. 25 Giants jersey outside of San Francisco?
You know, I haven't, but I live all the way in Minnesota, where Vikings jerseys outnumber regular clothes by at least 3-to-1. However, I once bought a Bonds No. 25 Giants jersey online, had it shipped to me, and then found that it was far, far too small. So I sent it back and figured it was God's way of telling me he didn't want anyone wearing them. And it was too small because I was too big, but not in the "Bonds' head is the size of a Buick" way, just in the "Aaron likes to eat White Castles too much" way.

As I explained in a column earlier this year, Bonds is actually one of my all-time favorite players, along with Ted Williams, Frank Thomas and Rickey Henderson. Clearly, I am a big fan of huge jerks who are really good players. I can't really explain it, other than that it's probably the same sort of thinking that goes into me giving Jeter a hard time when he is constantly getting praised by the media. I do think there a lot more fans of Bonds than the media would have you believe, just because the public doesn't really care so much that he's not a great quote for beat writers.

If Curt Schilling's postseason performances were so gutsy, how come I don't recall seeing any close-up shots of him grimacing after throwing a pitch? Was FOX just not interested in that kind of drama? Or were they just satisfied with the ketchup-stained sock they gave him?
In FOX's defense, they didn't have time to show much of anything aside from the House, MD commercials ("YOU'RE RISKING A PATIENT'S LIFE!"). There's just no way real, live drama like the playoffs could compete with a show about a quirky doctor who walks around with a cane and a five o'clock shadow yelling stuff at people. When that show gets canceled — and it will, soon — it'll have the highest commercials-to-ratings ratio in the history of mankind (which is one of the only stats we don't track on THT).

Incidentally, I'm assuming you haven't yet seen the pictures of Schilling's ankle from the latest Jayson Stark column at ESPN.com. That was no ketchup.

Factoring some of the more sophisticated stats studied today, who would you consider to be among the most overrated and underrated players of today and all-time?
No one is as overrated by the average fan as Jeter (hear me out before you lynch me, please). He is, without question, a very good player, and perhaps even a Hall of Fame player if he continues to play at a high level for the rest of this decade. At the same time, if you ask the average fan, they will say he's one of the greatest players in baseball. And if you use some criteria other than "COUNT THE RINGZZZ" to judge players, that's simply not the case. At the same time, I think Jeter is actually underrated in the world of "statheads," a group which I call myself a member of (most of the time, at least).

The natural reaction to all the praise and hype and overrating Jeter gets is to go completely to the other side and say, essentially, "he stinks." That's just as wrong as the people who think he's one of the best handful of players in baseball. And I fully recognize just how difficult it is to discuss this subject with Yankee fans. I'm sure if I grew up in New York City instead of St. Paul I'd have a hard time listening to anyone bash Jeter too.

As for all-time overrated, the first player who popped into my head is Joe Carter, who racked up some impressive-looking RBI totals while generally being a very mediocre hitter. Jim Rice is also incredibly overrated by most people.

Underrated? Well, those guys aren't as fun to talk about, but I'd go with someone like Bert Blyleven or Joe Morgan. Also — and I know this sounds silly for a seven-time MVP — but I think Bonds is underrated in the sense that a lot of people don't realize just how above and beyond the rest of the competition he has been. Jorge Posada and Bernie Williams are underrated, too, which is a tough thing to do while playing in New York.

Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson and Barry Bonds are all over 40, yet remain among the best players in the game. Do you think Andy Stankiewicz, who turned 40 on August 10, hung it up too soon?
Unlike Jeter, Andy Stankiewicz is clearly a God among men. Because of that, I believe he is just biding his time until he makes his triumphant, messianic return to the world of baseball.

Also, you forgot to mention Boomer Wells in your 40-and-over list. He'll be 42 next year and he's pitching as well as ever, so perhaps the key to longevity is twinkies and booze.

Care to plug a few Hardball Times articles that you'd consider among the site's greatest hits?
For the Yankee fans in the crowd, I would suggest Larry Mahnken's (who is a huge Yankees fan) brilliant and hilarious ALCS preview, entitled "YANKEES ROOL!!! Boston is teh suck." Larry also does a weekly back-and-forth column called "Rivals in Exile" with Ben Jacobs, who is a Red Sox fan.

If you're into baseball history, we have a guy named Steve Treder who writes a column that is always one of my favorite things to read each week. And I guess I might as well plug my writing, which appears 4-5 times a week at THT.

PAUL'S RECAP: Great stuff from Aaron, despite the fact that he fails to recognize Derek Jeter's eternal greatness. Count the ringzzz, bro! Also, I'm not buying the whole Curt-Schilling-on-one-leg thing, considering he wasn't wearing any type of special shoe and basically admitted there was no pain. I saw Emmitt Smith win a game with a separated shoulder. I saw a flu-ridden Michael Jordan nearly collapse after an NBA Finals game. All I saw from Schilling was his head in a towel, the usual over-dramatization we're used to when he knows the cameras are on him.

I can see how Joe Carter was overrated. A .306 career on-base percentage average? A .464 slugging percentage? Yet, he was the highest-paid player in the game for three seasons. I can't see pitchers losing sleep over a guy they can get out seven out of 10 times. (Unlike, say, Jason "The Parasite" Giambi, who boasts a .411 career OBP and a .540 SLG percentage.)

Jim Rice being overrated, however, is a new one to me. His Similar Batters entry on Baseball-Reference.com show he's up there as a Hall of Fame candidate. And he's not even in Cooperstown, unlike Phillip Francis Rizzuto, who, while we all know was baseball's greatest shortstop not named Jeter, maybe kinda sorta possibly doesn't fit in with Ty Cobb and Jimmie Foxx.

All that being said, you should definitely check out The Hardball Times, quite an interesting resource for baseball aficionados and know-it-alls ... like me. I'll be looking forward to their analysis when the Yankees add Carlos Beltran and Randy Johnson to a 101-win team in 2005.

P.S. The DH rules. If I wanna see people hit .120, I'll watch women's softball, where every final is 1-0.

Review: Jury Duty (Not the Pauly Shore Movie)

One of the great ironies about serving in our democratic justice system is that you pretty much wanna kill everyone you come in contact with. Dane Cook refers to the Department of Motor Vehicles as "Satan's Asshole," and the civil and criminal courts of New York Country aren't far off. Satan's Armpit, perhaps, if that hasn't already been reserved for Shea Stadium.

Before I go point-by-point on my eight-day experience, let me say that no frustrations were borne out of the way I was treated by anyone actually working for the courts. The security officers and clerks and judges were all pleasant, at least seeming to be in a better mood than the general public, the significant majority of whom just wanted to get the hell out of there.

The Background: I'd never served on what you'd call a typical trial. Rather, in 1995, I served a month on federal grand jury. The job was simple: listen to a prosecuting attorney, and at least one witness, make a case for there being enough evidence to go to trial. I think every one involved a huge amount of drugs, informants, recovered weapons and the like. We rubber-stamped every one — these cases were more hardcore than Jenna Jameson — and none of the proceedings lasted more than an hour. Why did we have to serve a month? I have no fucking idea.

Reporting for Duty: On Nov. 1, I showed up at 111 Centre Street at 8:45 a.m. — way, way, way too early for me. The last time I was up at 7:30 a.m., I hadn't gone to sleep from the night before. Maybe the last five times. But I was serious about this. Because it takes about one minute surveying a room full of freaks to understand the importance of having at least some people with a brain deciding who's going to jail.

The Jury Pool: Of course, I wasn't the only one called for service. Maybe a couple hundred others also had to endure a long line in the lobby, where airport-style security screening was tighter than Andy Pettitte's and Roger Clemens' courtship. Camera phones were also checked at the front desk, lest we snap a picture of our fellow nose-picking jurors.

Once in the pool room, roll call was taken, and we waited. And waited. And waited. One of us sniffled 12 times a minute. Yep, I counted the number of times the annoying guy next to me sniffled per 60-second intervals. It was 12, or every five seconds — for hours. He was wearing a suit and a shirt with French cuffs. To jury duty. French cuffs. His look said, "I'm too important for this. I need to get to my job." But I didn't focus much on his looks, just the sniffles. Every five seconds. For hours. I had my juror's handbook, but it said nothing about a minimum sentence for first-degree murder. I was a little curious.

We sat in a main room, waiting for roll calls that would send us to a courtroom to be voir dired, a series of questions posed by a judge or attorneys for the purpose of evaluating potential jurors' neutrality. Most of us read newspapers or books, but there was also a TV room, where the show of choice was strictly first-come, first-served. And the winner: Springer! I'm sitting in Satan's Armpit next to a guy sniffling every five seconds (for hours!) a few feet from some mutant cackling at an episode of Springer! I would have almost rather watched a DVD of the 2004 World Series while Jared Fogle rubbed suntan lotion on my back. Hell on earth: Room 1024 at 111 Centre Street.

Time for My Audition: At 4 p.m., after sitting on my ass all day, save for a lunch break, I was one of 20 people called to select four final jurors for an assault case. One only has to last two days without being selected in order to complete service and be exempt for four years, and I had almost made it through half. I believe my exact words when called were, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Um, Here!"

I was in the first juror's seat, and the judge asked where I grew up, where I live and what I do ("You mean for fun?" I asked her). I was pressed directly and indirectly, by the judge and counsels, whether I could be unbiased, laughing when asked, "Do you think this man is likely to be guilty just because he's been charged with a crime?" Um, no, I'm not an idiot. She might as well have asked, "Look, do you want to be here or not?"

Potential jurors dropped like flies, as they admitted (perhaps even truthfully) bias in some form or another. Were they smarter than me? No, any fool can get out of jury duty. But they call it duty for a reason. I was in, as expected, as the final juror, with three others selected as alternates.

The Case: Interesting assault case stemming from a skirmish outside a nightclub at 3 a.m. on New Year's Eve. No uninterested witnesses (meaning, none who weren't already friends of the complainant or defendant). Here's what we know: the complainant snapped a picture of his compadre trying to buddy up with someone's wife. The wife wasn't having it. The wife's brother gets aggressive. Ends up with the brother getting knifed (stabbed, raked, cut — semantics played a big role here) by the complainant/photographer, who pleaded innocence based on self defense.

The Testimony: If you asked me to direct a movie based on this case, I'd have to shoot two versions and flip a coin as to which would be released. Four eye witnesses on the prosecutor's side tell one story: the complainant's friend put his arm around the defendant's sister, didn't take kindly to their protest, instigated them with more pictures, threw the sister to the ground and pulled the defendant off the complainant, who stabbed the complainant twice in the back.

The defense's version: The defendant was the physical instigator by punching the complainant's friend, his sister was never thrown to the ground, and he was "raked" in the back with a knife by the complainant, who saw no other way to avoid serious physical harm while on his back.

The Evidence: We got to see all the pictures taken on the defendant's digital cam, and of this I am sure: He's the worst photographer I have ever seen. Ever. But there were no photos that suggested anyone needed to be punched. In fact, there's no legal justification for punching anyone for taking any picture, ever. In fact, there was only one close-up picture of the defendant's friend with the complainant's group. A few others were taken down the street from the club, which convinced me, at least beyond a reasonable doubt, that the complainant pursued them down the street to cause trouble.

Miscellaneous Case Notes: About 15 people attended the case daily in support of the defendant. Family members, including his parents, siblings, cousins, grandparents, whomever. That's not supposed to influence a jury, and I don't think it did for me, but clearly that's a bit of gamesmanship suggested by the defense attorney to help elicit sympathy. No one showed for the complainant. I had sympathy for no one but the family members. They were the only ones who didn't get into some stupid fight on New Year's Eve. We could not talk about the case till deliberations, not with fellow jurors, not with anyone. It was hell. One evening, I took an elevator alone with the prosecutor. We just stared at the floor. How uncomfortable.

The best part: The defendant's friend, after the two were tracked down by cops and arrested a few blocks away, puked in his cell that night. Thirty-four-year-old man can't go out on New Year's Eve without jumping into pictures with strangers and puking. In deliberations, we all found him guilty of being an asshat.

The Deliberations: We were to decide on three counts: assault in the first degree, attempted assault in the first degree, and assault in the second degree. I thought we'd be in there for maybe 30 minutes.

The testimony, in my eyes, was crap. No two witnesses corroborated anything that was said. A lot of, "I can't recall what was said" and "I'm not sure where everyone was standing at the time." It's not that I didn't think the defendant could have been guilty of excessive force or that his stupid friend may have first struck the defendant's sister, it's that neither was proven to me, because this was, in effect, a case of he said-she said.

When our initial vote turned out to be split down the middle, I was floored. Did these people know what reasonable doubt means? There was no way it was proven that the defendant was not under threat of serious, or potentially deadly, physical injury — the justification for using deadly force, which we weren't even sure a rather minor knife wound was (though, clearly, a knife in itself is a deadly object). Trying to hammer the point home, I told the jury that, if it would help them decide, I would go out and have eight drinks, force one of them to the ground and start throwing punches. And we'll see if they felt obliged to grab a legal knife residing in their pocket.

We needed three hours of deliberations Thursday to conclude we were stuck. I returned Friday morning and said to a fellow juror, "Today is really gonna suck." Having wiped out the first two counts, we were deadlocked on the third: 5 guilty, 4 not guilty, 3 undecided. That's when I went to work. We asked for re-reads and to see evidence, but I kept saying, "It hasn't been proven to me that the defendant was not under threat of very serious physical injury." Almost everyone kept an open mind, save a couple of men on both sides who seemed more interested in their books. Reading during deliberations: not helpful. But we weren't getting anywhere. We were basically locked in a windowless room for 9 hours and, again, it was hell. How 12 people can agree on anything with such subjective terms as "reasonable" and "excessive" to define, I have no idea. In the end, we were 8 not guilty, 2 guilty and 2 undecided. After 12 hours of deliberations, we had a mistrial on the final count, and I guess it might be re-tried.

I felt like we'd failed but, at the same time, people on both sides held firm on their decisions. Some people think that using a knife against an unarmed man was a crime under any circumstances. I may have agreed if I understood the true circumstances better. But 3 a.m. on New Year's Eve is not a time most people recall with clarity. And I couldn't convict a man for defending himself against another who let alcohol affect his reaction to a picture being taken of his sister. (What, a sober man would start a fight over this?) In my eyes, they were both losers, and both had at least lost a bit already, with (thankfully) minor injuries and embarrassment in the eyes of their families.

Weekend Sports Wrap: Syracuse's Tale of Two Programs

When I interviewed with the admissions office at Syracuse early in 1990, part of our guided tour was a trip to the Carrier Dome to see the undefeated and unbeaten Orangemen basketball team practice. There was Derrick Coleman, a future No. 1 pick in the NBA. There was Billy Owens, a future No. 3 pick in the NBA, a former prep star so lauded that he adorned a 1988 cover of Sports Illustrated before his freshman season. This was a basketball school, and I was sold. No thanks, I don't need to see the library. Wasn't like I was gonna spend nearly as much time there as I did the Carrier Dome or the wealth of bars on and around Marshall Street.

Then we turned into a football school. The basketball program was penalized by the NCAA for recruiting infractions and slipped from its perch as a truly elite national program. Enter Paul Pasqualoni, promoted to head football coach to replace the departed Dick MacPherson, who guided the Orangemen to a 20-4 record in his first two seasons, including New Year's Day bowl victories over Ohio State and Colorado. Regular-season victories over Florida and Texas in those seasons served notice: we could play with anyone.

Then the basketball team advanced, quite unexpectedly, to the 1996 national championship game, and it was clear we were a basketball school. This was the team we cared most about, if only because expectations had been so high in the mid- to late-'80s.

But that was just after Donovan McNabb's freshman year, when he led 'Cuse to a 9-3 record, including a 41-0 bowl victory over Clemson in the Gator Bowl, again on New Year's Day. The next season, he'd lead Syracuse to nine wins in its last 10 games, while the 1996-97 basketball squad failed to even make the NCAA Tournament. Yep, we were back to being a football school. Two more years of Donovan, Heisman hype and consecutive Big East championships, leading to appearances in the Fiesta and Orange Bowls. In 1997, we started the season by thumping Wisconsin, 34-0, streaked through the midseason with consecutive victories over East Carolina, Rutgers, Temple and West Virginia by a combined score of 206-20. Granted those opponents weren't the 1995 Cornhuskers or 1993 Seminoles, but 206-20 says a lot about your program. In 1998, we would embarrass Michigan in its first home game after winning the 1997 national championship, and later bitch-slap Miami, 66-13, in McNabb's final home game.

The next year, the football team would lose to Rutgers. A year later, consecutive losses to Cincinnati and East Carolina. In 2001, they turned in a fine record, 10-3, but one that included a 33-9 loss to Tennessee and a 59-0 loss at Miami. In 2002, they'd lose to Temple. Our football program had crashed worse than tech stocks.

Thankfully, just before the football team put the finishing touches on a 4-8 record in 2002, Carmelo Anthony was beginning his Syracuse "career." He scored 27 points in his first game and 20 in his last, the latter involving some net-cutting in New Orleans. The hoops program was back among the elites. The Carrier Dome, Jim Boeheim and a crowd that can stretch in the 30,000s have always been there, but a new generation of recruits was introduced to the backbones of the program.

Today, several players from that national championship team remain on the No. 6-ranked Orange, coming to, yes, New York City, this Thursday and Friday for the final rounds of the Coaches vs. Cancer Classic at Madison Square Garden. They do so on the heels of the football team being embarrassed at Temple, 34-24, on a day when Syracuse could've moved into the driver's seat for the final Big East football championship. We're a basketball school again, with the best rep since Coleman left town to (allegedly) piss in the middle of restaurants. Meanwhile, the football program is floundering. Seems to me we could use a man like Donovan McNabb again.

Today's Sports Links:

• ESPN Predicts Destinations for MLB's Top 50 Free Agents — I guess they're 0-for-1, as Omar Vizquel signed with the Giants and not the Red Sox. I'm kinda thinking that wrapping up Carlos Beltran — along with already-signed Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez — through the end of the decade might be a good thing for the Yankees. Can't say I'm overly thrilled with the options available at the positions the Bombers really need help — starting and lefty relief pitching, second base and a new designer steroid for Jason Giambi.

• College Basketball's Least Rootable Teams — SI on Campus writes up some shoddy programs in college hoops, a sport can leave you with a film of guilt sometimes, unless you completely turn a blind eye to an often seedy recruiting process, athletes who never plan to honor a four-year commitment, and weeknight games played over a period of several months. Also see: Most Rootable Teams

• NFL First Half 'Ricky' Awards — Bizarre happenings at the midway point of the NFL season. The Saints make a few appearances, which really isn't a surprise to anyone who's watched them at all in the, oh, last five years or so.

• ESPN Motion: Bill Walton on Ron Artest — Big Red defends Artest because he's only 25. But the best part of the video: Walton using his favorite words: "terrible," "horrendous" and "egregious." Also, Bill says the NBA represents "hope" and "peace." I love this guy. I think he should do stand-up.

• Pick MLB's Blooper of the Year — MLB.com provides highlight clips of the biggest blunders of the 2004 season (not including the signing of Kevin Brown). Of course, I love Manny Ramirez cutting off Johnny Damon's throw on an inside-the-park home run, but this was the first time I saw a fan in Colorado steal a ball out of Vinny Castilla's glove. Dude, chill! It's a $10 ball, for god's sake. It's not gonna change your life.

• Jersey Giants — A survey of the best-selling NFL jerseys. Ya know why Brian Urlacher's is always up there? Because Chicago is a huge city and they hasn't been another Bears player worth touting since Neal Anderson retired. Seven losing seasons in their last eight? Ugh. Even the Chargers and Bengals have reached .500 more often (2) in that time. As a bonus, this link includes a picture of Tara Reid's hard nips.

• Q&A: Mike and the Mad Dog After 15 Years — I don't know how well-known Fatman and Froot Loops (as they are known by Don Imus) are outside of New York, but their weekday afternoon sports talk show is so popular here that it's syndicated live on the YES TV network. Mad Dog is good for about four factual errors an hour. The best was when he could pronounce Jerome Iginla's name during the NHL FInals. Wasn't like that was Iginla's first playoff series, either.

Review: ZogSports

On a couple of nights each week, I might be socializing with a some friends I met, at least indirectly, because of al-Qaeda. Not that I hang around holded-up asshats who drink goat's milk straight from a goat's tit. Directly, I met them through ZogSports, a charitable sports recreational league in New York founded by Robert Herzog, a former insurance broker at Marsh & McLennan, whose life was spared on 9/11 because he was late to work. Almost 300 of his coworkers perished in their offices.

Herzog didn't leverage 9/11 to market gas masks and Cipro (remember those text ads that flooded Google's search results pages?). Instead he crafted an organization that would bring together New Yorkers in a fun environment that benefitted countless charities. The formula is quite simple:

• Manage co-ed sports leagues for everything from touch football to softball to volleyball, soccer and even dodgeball.
• Allow people to sign up as a team or register individually and be placed on one, at the level of competition they feel most comfortable: Competitive, Casual and Extreme Casual.
• Teams designate charities for whom they play to win cash awards.
• Bars affiliated with the league host weekly post-game drink-ups attended by the entire league, donating 10% of the tab to charity.

There hasn't been a business plan this successful since Hugh Hefner made a fortune publishing pictures of beautiful women he'd had sex with.

With 9,000 members in its stable, ZogSports is pursuing an increasing number of social activities with a philanthropic twist — holiday parties, a bachelor/bachelorette auction, winter ski trips, etc.

This weekend, my Chico's Bail Bonds football team makes our first playoff run, looking add on-field success to our Best Drinking Team award in the spring, which went to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Needless to say, I have breasts on my mind with every beer I drink. This winter, Chico's will compete in dodgeball, a sport I probably don't have the temperament for, but if I can get a nut shot or two in there, I think it can be fun.

Newsweek recently featured ZogSports, concentrating on the off-field encounters between male and female players, certainly a fringe benefit of playing sports and getting toasted. Being that I don't talk about my personal life on PK.com, I cannot confirm or deny that I have ever partaken in such inter- or intra-team flings or relationships, but let's just say that if a hot chick asks to you sub for her softball team, just say yes and see if going 4-for-4 garners any interest in the free-agent market. I also cannot confirm or deny that in a game later in the year, with a playoff berth on the line, she tried to test my arm by going from first to third on a single. Silly girl, there's no walk of shame quite like returning to the bench after being pegged out by 10 feet.

Other ZogSports notes:

• One of the football teams actually has a mini-playbook stuffed into a wristband worn by each player. I'm embarrassed to say it's ours.
• You have a better chance of seeing Ann Coulter pleasuring Bill Clinton on the White House lawn than you do seeing a pass-interference call. Might as well throw some Mr. Fuji salt in a receiver's eye. No one's gonna call it.
• Just like in the majors, deals are being forged this winter as teams jockey to build a softball power for the summer. I've already got a handshake deal to switch teams. Details of the arrangement are still being ironed out.

Other Worthwhile NYC Charitable Efforts:

• Tramps Like Us 9/11 Benefit Concert — Once a year, the best Bruce Springsteen tribute band plays at the Lion's Den in support of the Marc S. Zeplin Foundation, named for a father killed in the attacks. I can't endorse this event enough. I seriously look forward to it every fall. So come on out Saturday for some great tunes, great people and a great cause.

• Mustaches for Kids — My buddy Jeff, a double-softball title-winner with ZogSports and my TIME world championship team (if you define "world" as six publishing teams consisting mostly of nerds), runs a four-week, mustache-growing competition to benefit the Make-a-Wish Foundation of Metro-New York. Wearing No. 23 on my football jersey is about my limit when it comes to honoring Don Mattingly, the Greatest Living Ballplayer, but I'll definitely be making a donation. And so can you, even if you're not a New Yorker with a desire to look like Lieutenant Jim Dangle from Reno 9-11!

• Manhattan Society — My buddy Chris' portal for NYC social events, many of which are for great causes. Since I wear jackets and ties only to wedding and funerals, I'm almost never present at these happenings, but that's me, not you. Perhaps it's more your scene.

Random Web Links, for the Hell of It:

• Ron Artest News Items — I'm going with a link to a Google News search here. Haven't found a really compelling article on Artest's request for a month off from his duties with the Indiana Pacers to rest up from his work on a rap album and to spend time with his family. I thought the Pardon the Interruption guys said it best: it's not even that funny; the guy has some serious problems. This is a guy who admitted he doesn't even know what "compromised the integrity of the team" means, and he's not kidding.

• Dave Matthews Band's Waste Management — When you dump human waste from a tour bus off a bridge, best to make sure a boat full of tourists are not cruising below. (Thanks, Larry)

• CNN.com Slugs Bush Photo as asshole.jpg — I've worked for a few major online media operations, and you never want to tempt fate like this ... though I do know a guy who inserted himself into an MLB box score in the last issue of The National Sports Daily. (Found on GorillaMask.net)

• Ladds Gallery: WHy I Love Boobs — An essay written by a PK.com reader. Read why his wife Ashley's boobs are the most interesting set he's ever experienced.

• The Superficial — A blog about attractive female celebs made famous mostly for all things related to traffic spikes in search engines: one-time Playboy spreads, stolen home movies, nipple slips and Hollywood nude scenes. (Thanks, Mike)

• Nominal Me's Q&A With Sgt. Sapper, A Soldier In Iraq — A most interesting interview conducted by another PK.com reader. Remember, everyone gets a plug, if you just ask.

• Bodyguard Says Minnelli Made Him Have Sex — From the AP report: "After many repeated attempts by Minnelli to compel (Soumayah) to have sex with her, (he) eventually succumbed." No word on whether he waited till she succumbed first.

• Top 30 Players in College Basketball — I'm gonna be all over college hoops this year as Syracuse (No. 6), looks so promising. They started the season with a 24-0 run in a 104-54 win over Northern Colorado on Thursday. Interesting note about the list: defending champ UConn doesn't have a single rep among the top 30. We gotta take the Big East title this year. It's been way too long.

• 20 Questions with Vixen's Jan Kuehnemund — Not the most verbose woman in the world, but these Metal Sludge interviews with retro glam-rockers are always worth a peek, if only for the photos. And did you know Vixen was featured in the movie Hardbodies?

New Photos: Golf, G-Strings and Other Great Views

It's been awhile since I pimped some of my photos, always a big hit when I don't feel like writing anything among true connoisseurs of art. Especially those old ones of PK.com World Headquarters. Man, you people are nosy. Then again, who doesn't peer into strangers' apartments when they leave the door open? Ya know, just to see if there's four dead bodies laying around, or if some hot chick is walking around naked. Trying to avoid looking in is like trying not to stare at a midget. It's just not possible.

So let's catch up with the newest pics, documenting my, um, not-so-hard-living life.

Golf at Crystal Springs
These photos were actually taken by my friend Scott, with whom I drove to Vernon, N.J., to tear up — and not in a good way — one of the most picturesque courses to ever be haunted by my presence. In these shots, you'll not only see the beautiful colors of fall foliage, but how I am to golf what John Madden is to ballet. If I'd posted all the shots of me missing two-foot putts, I would've run out of storage space.

Miscellaneous NYC Photos
A new dumping ground for random shots that I snap around town when I'm not playing Three Card Monte in Times Square, something all New Yorkers love to do. Unfortunately, I don't have any of my friend Tom, dressed in a shirt-sleeve shirt and shorts at 4:30 a.m. last Sunday morning, breaking my record at Gray's Papaya by downing 10 hot dogs. If I learned my math correctly from Jared Fogle, Tom ate the fat equivalent of 48 six-inch Subway sandwiches in about 20 minutes.

Erocktica at Pussycat Lounge
(Important: Password to view folder is "erocktica") You know this band is fun when they ask to make sure you have your camera, in order to document girls rolling around in whipped cream and bikinis (or less), while Pink Snow belts out lyrics to P.O.R.N. in America, 38D and Size Queen. All for a $5 cover; the best bargain in town, save those delectable Gray's Papaya hot dogs. These photos are password-protected ("erocktica") just so none of you accidently view pictures of naked women, because I don't want your mommy or tight-ass boss getting on my case. Typing in the password basically puts the burden of choice on you; it says, "I'm a pervert, too."

As Predicted, it Was Class vs. Ass

A week ago, when I noticed that Terrell Owens was going to play in Pittsburgh on Sunday, I thought about the juxtaposition between a self-serving, attention-getting bad comedian and a franchise once owned by the ultra-respected Dan Rooney, currently coached by old-school Bill Cowher and featuring a future Hall of Famer, Jerome Bettis, who, despite being third all-time in rushing attempts, had given it his all in a limited role this season.

And Terrell Owens did not disappoint! Not by scoring and doing some dance he rehearsed all week — and you know he rehearsed something — but by yapping at Donovan McNabb up and down the sideline when things went sour, just as so many people had predicted. McNabb, to his credit, tried to walk away, putting up with much more than any MVP candidate deserves to put up with.

Owens: 7 receptions, 53 yards
Bettis: 33 rushes, 149 yards

Allow me to remind you why you should not have to defend Owens. Because you can bring down the house without bringing down your standards of sportsmanship.

And here's why: Wayne Gretzky, Randy Johnson, Bobby Orr, David Robinson, Derek Jeter, Sandy Koufax, Julius Erving, Brooks Robinson, Ray Bourque, Willie Stargell, Bill Walton, Steve Yzerman, Roberto Clemente, Cal Ripken.

All champions. Why settle for anything less?

Today's Sports Links:

• Was Owens Really the Voice of Reason When yelling at McNabb? — San Francisco writers are having a field day over this one. Kinda like one, big, "I told ya so."

• Gammons: GMs Gather to Chatter — Yankees to go hard after Pedro Martinez, Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek? Mets in a three-way involving Preston Wilson? Sounds kinky! (And totally gay.)

• Jake Roberts Found Guilty of Animal Cruelty — Roberts is found guilty of starving his snake, and it has nothing to do with his sex life. (Found on SportsByBrooks.com)

• How Soccer Is Eating America — The Guardian says, "The rest of the world has been worried for some time that America will try and change soccer. The truth is that soccer is changing America." Yeah, if you consider "changing America" as "trying to get attention, without success, from people over 12 for 30 years."

• 2001 World Series Player Game Percentages Summary — An awesome statistical summary of the true value of each hit that decided the games of the World Series that left me speechless. What a downer.

• NFL's All-Time QB-Receiver Combos — ESPN.com's Page 2 ranks the 10 best. Daunte Culpepper to Randy Moss is No. 2? Whaaaaaaat? Trent Dilfer to Randy Moss could be in the top 5. Me to Randy Moss could be in the top 10. You get the idea. Peyton Manning to Marvin Harrison not even in ESPN's the top 10? Can't believe that one, considering Culpepper-Moss has been responsible for exactly the same number of Super Bowl appearances.

• Praising the Other '33' — Bill Simmons on the merits of Scottie Pippen. And not a single Dawson's Creek reference among it.

And Some Web Finds For the Hell of It:

• Serena Williams' Intentional Nipple Slip — When in France, do as the French do: wave the white flag and show your boobs. (Update: Eddie reports this photos were taken in London.)

• Tara Reid's 'Unintentional' Nipple Slip — Oops! Now everyone's gonna know I'm suing my surgeon.

• 2003 Key West Fantasy Fest Pictures — I don't have the energy to find the latest photos, but let this be a reminder that another Halloween kink party in South Florida has passed. Now hit those search engines!

• Virtual Bartender — Direct some chick with big boobs to do whatever you want. Like I do every day. (Thanks, Shumpy)

• Ice-T's Coco Gets Popped — View some pics of the Copkiller's chickie. True story: I was hanging at the Hard Rock Las Vegas pool a few months ago and some stripper-lookalike walks by in a g-string. I go all J.R. Ross, saying, "Good god almighty." Turns out T was with her, and I didn't notice, not unlike the times when I saw Howard Stern with his babe Beth Ostrosky down the street or Dee Snider's wife at Yankee Stadium. I didn't even notice the dudes.

Clear Jeter's Mantel for a Gold Glove

Thanks to jury duty and a couple of Terrell Owens-related columns due for ESPN.com, the PK.com edit calendar is on hold, but I'm pleased to announce that Derek Jeter has won his first Gold Glove Award. I guess the stat-heads will have their say, and that's cool — I'm a bit of a Bill James disciple, as well — but it's nice to see our captain add a little more hardware to his four World Series rings, one World Series MVP award, one All-Star Game MVP award and one Rookie of the Year award. Not a bad career ... roughly half-way through. And I guess the anti-Jeter camp is equally thrilled, as their teams aren't burdened by such an overrated, poor-fielding scrub.

Other Thoughts From Tuesday:

• The red parts of our electoral map could make for a great junk-mailing list for the Home Shopping Network.

• On MSBNC, shortly after midnight, P. Diddy gave one of the worst political interviews I've ever seen. I think he should refund five minutes of my life. Or try again at actually answering any of the questions Chris Matthews delivered.

Review: Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas

I'm not sure anyone can review Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas within two weeks of its release — it's just too massive a game to get through — but I'll give it a try.

The object is to take control of C.J. Johnson, a black male who returns to his gang-banging roots in San Andreas (modeled after Los Angeles), to avenge the murder of his "moms." With the help of spray paint, fellow "niggas," semi-automatic weapons, low-riding cars, gang-colored clothing, crack-smoking friends, fried chicken and just about every other stereotype you can imagine, you complete missions to get through about one-eighth of the 272-page strategy guide.

Where have you gone, Super Mario?

In essence, the game is GTA: Vice City on steroids. More cars to jack, more street-walkers to shoot and loot, more attributes to build along the way (street cred, muscle, driving and shooting skills). And I got through only about 75% of Vice City, even though it claimed about a month of my life, so forget about me finishing San Andreas.

If you can get past the uneasy feeling of committing a crime that warrants a death penalty in real life about every two minutes, San Andreas pays off big-time