What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Chris Berman is Unacceptable!

November 03, 2008

Chris Berman is Unacceptable!

During halftime of tonight's Monday Night Football broadcast, Chris Berman -- patron saint of moronic catchphrases, fake hair, and incessant player nicknames that incorportate their last name -- will interview our two presidential candiates, Sens. McCain and Obama. Fuck me.

I can already hear it:

Berman: On my left, Senator Barack "Don't Call Me" Hussien Obama, and on my right, John "I'm So Old That I Require the Use of a" McCain "to Walk With."
Obama: Thank you, Chris. I'd like to also thank Senator McCain for a spirited campaign and...
Berman: Great. So, Senator McCain, isn't it true that you love this country?
McCain: Why yes. I love this country with the white hot heat of a thousand suns.
Berman: Whoa, Senator. That's a lot of hot love.
Obama: Sun metaphors aside, Chris, I think what the American people can expect from...
McCain: Don't vote for a black.
Berman: Rumblin', stumblin', stumpin', banana-fanna-bo-humpin'. (awkward silence from all) Back to Steelers-Skins, tied going into the second half.

See, America. Tonight we all lose.

2 comments:

Marie Debris said...: my birthday gift to you mr basura, is an obama victory! happy birthday my dear friend!; 8:24 PM
Scrap Heap Pete said...: Yucky. Who spilled all of the politics into my sports? It tastes terrible!!

Berman actually asked both candidates what the best advice they got from their sports-playing days. Is it even possible to respond to this without using cliches?

Happy Birthday!! Welcome to 31. It's like 30 but with less knee cartilage.; 9:50 AM

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A History Of Trash

Trash, at first, was a pretty cool guy. You know, he’d come over with some beers, and you’d hang out and have a couple of laughs. Maybe Trash brought some weed with him, and you guys tried to sync up Dark Side Of The Moon with The Wizard Of Oz until you remembered you lost your VHS copy of that movie sometime in college and that you fucking hate Pink Floyd. Good times were had, nonetheless.

But then, you don’t know what changed, but Trash started to overstay his welcome. He’d just linger for hours, never taking the hint you wanted him to leave, no matter how many times you yawned obnoxiously or mentioned how early you had to get up tomorrow. Trash just didn’t get it. You were getting older. You didn’t have the time anymore to stay up until 3 a.m. to talk about the Port season of “The Wire” or how much you miss Jawbox. Eventually, you just stopped taking Trash’s phone calls and no longer replied to his group e-mails about sneaking into abandoned mental hospitals.

Last time you saw Trash, he was smoking alone outside a local dive bar, looking down at his decaying and mismatched shoes. You hoped he had been doing well. You hoped he had not been hurt by the disintegration of your friendship. And if he had, you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that even though people move on with their lives, it doesn’t mean they stop caring. You wanted him to see in your eyes a sincere appreciation for the time you shared, because all the relationships in our lives help make us who we are, and even if you weren’t the best of friends anymore, you wanted him to know that there would always be a piece of Trash in your heart.

But instead, you looked away and crossed the street. You were with your new girlfriend, and you really didn’t want to have to explain Trash to her. She’d never understand.