Monday, November 30, 2009

You Can't Stop the Prophet

As we all know Samuel Dalembert is a man who's myriad talents can scarcely be described by words. He is a shot-blocking machine, the Goya of goaltending and the Picasso of the personal foul. Not only that but he can tell how fresh a fish is by looking in it's eye! So is it any surprise to find out that Sammy D is a modern day Nostradamus, capable of foretelling the future through his dreams? From the sporadically informative Phil Jasner comes this astounding tale of prophecy:

"I told you about the dream I had before the season," the 76ers' center was saying during a weekend crammed with Allen Iverson-back-to-the-Sixers rumor and speculation. "I dreamed A.I. was coming back."

And then, late last week . . .

"I had the dream again," Dalembert said. "I woke up at 6:30 in the morning in my house, wondering if it could be true."

Could there be any doubt in any of our minds that the return of AI is anything less than guaranteed at this point? All the logical signs point in the direction of an Iversonian redux: the Sixers are a team stuck in perpetual neutral and going nowhere fast, they have the worst attendance in the league, and their point guard options are either A.I. Lite (Lou Williams) or 19 year old Jrue Holiday. They've got somewhere north of $200 million tied up in players who can't or won't take control of the game in crunch time, and the closest thing they have to veteran leadership is a 28-year-old Haitian center who would rather be a computer technician than an NBA player. Signing Iverson solves all those problems in one fell swoop!

(But EDG, you might ask: how does the signing of A.I. eliminate the $200 million that Iggy and Brand are stealing? Simple, I say. One hit of Iversonian weed will send both on a Harold and Kumar mission to the White Castle on North Broad, where they will be robbed of their wallets by a disguised Marreese Speights and Dionte Christmas. Enlisting Sammy D's computer expertise, they will steal Brandguodala's identity, and use the new ID to purchase bootleg DVD's of Rescue Dawn from Chelten Ave, thus violating a contractual clause forbidding the purchase of pirated material and rendering both contracts null and void.)

On the other hand, would the return of A.I. actually be beneficial to the Sixers? After all, do we really need a veteran presence if that veteran is shooting 35 times a game and teaching young and impressionable players how to smoke weed, skip practice, and hang out in TGI Fridays until 5am?

I say yes. And I say that if it's been prophesied by Samuel Dalembert, it's only a matter of time until it becomes reality. Better have the riot gear ready.

Hittin You From Every Angle

Apologies for the redundancy, but an accompaniment to Firm's post, in low quality but non-sideways form. I, for one, don't think it's a coincidence that Sammy D and Timmy D share all but two letters.

UPDATE: Video removed due to sad begging and pleading of the subject, who frankly had nothing to be ashamed of. RIP this awesome video and the dignity of it's subject. (Requests for copy of video via email will be honored)

Sunday, November 22, 2009

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!!

Yes all.
It's awards season in La Republique Dalembert. Despite a bit of a sophomore slump, the DR, like our fearless leader himself, has taken a step back only in preparation for a great leap forward. The below nominees, though lesser in number, nonetheless exhibit all of the charm, creativity, and joie de vivre of a goaltend into the third row. I know you are all eager to get to the goods, but first, the rules:

There are 7 categories this year, each with 5 nominees. You may vote for one nominee in each category. Voting will be done via email. Make your selections and email them to with the subject heading “Awards Ballot”. There is no standard format for the ballot; just make it clear. Anyone is eligible to vote regardless of age, race, sex, intelligence, citizenship, however, you must identify yourself on your ballot by full name or easily identifiable pseudonym (one person one vote people—it’s the law!).

Many of these nominees may make no sense to some of you. That’s ok. Vote anyway. The voting process requires you to take a little time, go back, re-read, get a sense of the context. Don’t be lazy—you will certainly smile, you might laugh, and there’s at least a chance you will vomit.

Voting will remain open until Friday, November 27th, 12:00am. The winners will be announced at the Second Annual Dalembert Report Awards Dinner and Strip Club Gala on Saturday, November 28th.

Bitching, whining, complaining and politicking for you personal favorites (nominated or not) is encouraged, either via email or (preferably) in the comment section. Let’s hear it for Dalemocracy!

The Bring It Head Award for Best High School Reference

1. "i think he's schemin' on Mrs. Workman. I bet she's a straight cougar these days." Comment to School Days, Eldiablogrande

2. "Barry fucking Bonds had no business breaking Hammerin' Hanks long-standing home run record when he's jacked up on roids like Evan Carr catching wreck in the Little Gym." - Don't Hate the Game, Hate the Players (Association), Trapped Under Rice

3. "
Have an amazing time in Cali, Chief. Say what up to the west coast heads for me. Maybe you can catch a Dana Carmel show while you're out there." - Comment to Junk Food for Thought, DVDubs

4. "McNabb is to blame, he doesn't want to take Pam Lutz's or Mr. B's job, he wants to be paid to be the helmsman of a middle/working class town's football team, he therefore is subject to scrutiny and criticism." - Comment to GOD-DOG-IT, Trapped Under Rice

5. "I definitely need to tell Ginnie Lewis to stop running to third instead of first. I need to tell Pete O'Donnell to stop eating his own dandruff. I need to tell Hank Lopez to eat a fucking sandwich. I need to tell Neil to stop getting socked in the face by other players on our team. I need to get a restraining order barring John Tuton from al the games. I need to tell Danny Van Wert to stop sharing private parts with my daughter and Ruth NA under the slide in the playground, to stop wearing brown cordouroys on the field, and to stop wearing his A's T-shirt 24/7 off the field. Oh yeah... And I definitely need to tell that litte douche on the mound to stop crying every inning." - Comment to Burning Questions, Bo Wittles (DVDubs)

The Jerny Firm Award for Picture of the Year

1. Beanie at the Eagles Game - Burn, Meadowlands, Burn, Flintskinz

2. Muggsy & Manute - Of Love & Basketball, Big Firm

3. Need Money for Beer - Recession Update, Eldiablogrande

4. Young Harry the K - R.I.P., Flintskinz

5. Young J. Werth - "Werth" the Stupid "Puns", Eldiablogrande

The Latarian Milton Award for Video of the Year

1. Crying Giants Fan - Love Me Some Sweet Sweet Internets, Tha Bul Bubak

2. Ron Artest: Storyteller - Growing up Hood, Big Firm

3. Daggering - What the Bumbo Claat?, Big Firm

4. Ron Artest MJ Tribute - Michael Michael Michael You My..., Tha Bul Bubak

5. Fantasy Baseball Camp - The Black Abbott & Costello, Flintskinz

The Let’s All Hope Dan Wins So He Doesn’t Hang Himself with an Aged Stripper’s G-String At the Dolphin Tavern After the Awards Dinner Award for Comment of the Year

1. "Fuck Shop-Rite. what gives them the right to judge peoples names. Last time I checked its not illegal to name your kid Adolf. I have been lobbying tyhat it is time to start the healing. fuck shoprite and the liberal elite." - Comment to Mo, or Less?, Tha Bul Bubak

2. "think about it. he is a gorilla. he probably comes from the wild, where there is neither cadbury, drumsets, or phil collins. sad sad life, right? however, when he enters civilization, he tries a cadbury chocolate delight and is struck by the feeling of "a glass and a half full of joy". immediately after his first bite of cadbury, phil collins starts bursting out from over his head, and when he looks down, he finds that he is seated at a grade A top quality drum set. not knowing what else to do, his monkey brain tells him to rely on his instincts and embrace the warm chocolaty feeling that is filling up his heart and telling him "play, monkey, just play." and that is exactly what he does, and what we are all capable of doing, if we simply eat some cadbury chocolate." - Comment to Tryin' to Play Gorilla, Willa

3. "Just for kicks, here are the Phils we most resemble:

Flintskins: Joe Blanton
Big Firm: JC Romero
Chief Naka: Chan Ho Park/ Shane Victorino
DVDUBS: Matt Stairs
EDG: Chris Coste
Stand Watie: Jay Happ/ Peter Happy
Tha Bul Bubak: Mick Billmeyer" - Comment to The Chuck Wagon Never Disappoints, DVDubs

4. "No one told Ron that his friend was a vampire. What happened was no accident. Well played, Van Helsing, well played." - Comment to Growing Up Hood, Flintskinz

5. "What's next? Former NBA'er Sam Mack being arrested for pimping? Stephen Jackson arrested for kidnapping a young boy? Shaquille O'Neal arrested for some manner of alcohol related offense?" - Comment to It was only a matter of time, Flintskinz

The Bloody Fucking Womb Award for Quote of the Year

1. "He's the leader who can lift the rest of the team with his sheer intensity, ginormous heart, and trusty mobile phone that contains only one number in it: God." - A Few Words About Brian, #1 Chief Naka

2. "The game begins and I'm stunned that A)the mohawk indeed belongs to Von Wafer B)Von Wafer starts for Houston and C)Von Wafer is not a vampire from Dusseldorf." - Oh Yeah...the Sixers, #1 Chief Naka

3. "I won't lie, it took a lot of self-restraint to not title this post "He's Outttttttta Heeeerrrrrrrrre" but I thought that it may be viewed by some as callous (no pun intended)." - R.I.P., Flintskinz

4. "I urge you all to close your eyes, throw on your favorite Beenie Man jam, light some incense, and imagine Giul getting dragged onto the dance floor by Hussain Bolt for some good ol' fashion daggering." - What the Bumbo Claat?, Big Firm

5. "I definitely need to tell Ginnie Lewis to stop running to third instead of first. I need to tell Pete O'Donnell to stop eating his own dandruff. I need to tell Hank Lopez to eat a fucking sandwich. I need to tell Neil to stop getting socked in the face by other players on our team. I need to get a restraining order barring John Tuton from al the games. I need to tell Danny Van Wert to stop sharing private parts with my daughter and Ruth NA under the slide in the playground, to stop wearing brown cordouroys on the field, and to stop wearing his A's T-shirt 24/7 off the field. Oh yeah... And I definitely need to tell that litte douche on the mound to stop crying every inning." - Comment to Burning Questions, Bo Wittles (DVDubs)

The Homerun Kim Batiste Award for Best Obscure Philly Athlete Reference

1. Kim Batiste - Comment to A Few Words About Brian, Mike W.

2. Clarence Weatherspoon - Oh Yeah...The Sixers, #1 Chief Naka

3. Donnie Carr - Comment to Don't Hate the Game, Hate the Players (Association), Tim

4. Chuck Kornegay - I Can't Think of a Funny Title, Big Firm

5. A. Chism - Comment to Growing Up Hood, Tha Bul Bubak

The Dalembert Award for Post of the Year

1. Donovan Rides on the Highway of Broken Stars - #1 Chief Naka

2. Unconditional Love - Big Firm

3. Women, Can't Live With 'Em, Already Know Everything About 'Em - Big Firm

4. Act II - Eldiablogrande

5. Rodney Dangerfield Lives! - Flintskinz

6. Burn, Meadowlands, Burn - Flintskinz

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Money Be Green

With the exception of our one reader who wouldn't watch the show when season 1 was lent to him, like most rational adults, we can all agree that The Wire was one of, if not the best show ever made. So, on this random Tuesday I am posting this epic video of the top 100 quotes from The Wire, as compiled by some random person with decent knowledge of video editing software. Block out 10 minutes and enjoy, if for no other reason because it's far more entertaining than watching the Sixers.


Monday, November 9, 2009

Fair Eastside

If you need a morning pick-me-up, as I do, this should do the trick.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Moving On

It's early November, and I am hungover. The impetus for my hangover has both immediate and slightly more removed beginnings. On the one hand, I was out with Fine Tone last night. Nuff said. On the other, I've been dating the Phillies since mid-March. Much like a night filled with Jameson served in plastic cups, a season with the Phillies can be bitter, nauseating, yet simultaneously fulfilling. And here I sit, comfortably resting on my overpriced couch, oddly pleased that the Phillies season is over. In recent days, I've had an opportunity (largely because I don't have shit else to do) to recount the wild ride that we all have just endured.

To begin with, let me say this: the Phillies were fuckin great this year. We all must remember that the Phillies--let me reiterate...the PHILLIES-- just played in their second straight world series. And while the season undoubtedly ended in disappointment, and I may or may not have wished horrible pain upon Pedro Feliz due to his awful tendency to leave people on base, the fact of the matter is the Phillies were the second best team in the land. They are the Jason Mann to Peter Rook. They are Fake Dude to Dude. They are Jonah to Leon in a drinking contest! Although none of that makes sense, the point is we had a stupendous year and I am proud to wear copious amounts of red. Next year we will rise again, these are the glory days people!

The playoffs damn near killed me, for the record, and not because there isn't a pill purple enough to cure the heartburn triggered by the sight of Brad Lidge's mole. They damn near killed me because they turned me into an old man, constantly in need of more sleep and frustrated by the slow pace of the game. While Jorge Posada might find it necessary to suck on Any Pettite's earlobe twenty times in the first three innings, I prefer Cliff Lee's brisk pace, 7:05 start times, and national anthems sung by celebrities, not Lower Merion police officers. On a related note, how do the Yankees get John Legend and Mary J Blige to sing the anthem, and we get the fuckin cast of Glee?!? Shiyeeeet, if that doesn't explain our porous showing at the Bank, I don't know what does. Whatever, I mean, I'm not complaining. The Phils added an additional month of anticipation to my life. Very few things get my blood pumpin, and work aint one of em. So thank you Phirries, you make me want to dance.

But now that the love-fest is over, I turn my attention to two teams that, truth be told, underwhelm me. The Eagles, for certain, are a good team, albeit not a great one. We have skinny superstars, worthless superstars, injured superstars, and bipolar fatties who we thought were going to be superstars. We dominate one week, lose to the Raiders the next, and secretly begrudge the more successful team across Pattison Street. Let it be known, I will ride or die with the Birds, but until the playoffs start, I reserve the right to latch onto this train with a rather ambivalent clutch. Safe to say, there will be no pre-game face-painting on Appletree street, bukaki aside.

And then there's the seventy-sixers. Whereas the Phillies inspire, by the look of the crowd at the Wachovia Center, it's apparent that the fans don't realize two important things: (1) Ed Pickney is the new mayor of mixville; and (2) the new Dei Lynam could get the bottom lip. Here's hoping someone pulls an Erin Andrews on her. It would seem, however, that the fans are focused a bit more on the lackluster rotation Coach Eddie is throwing out there on the floor. Without question, I am increasingly frustrated by Sammy's dwindling minutes, Elton Brand's aversion towards scoring in double-digits, and Jrue Holiday not being Ty Lawson. But I want to believe! I want to foresee anything other than a 42-40 season, an early playoff exit, and Giul wasting all his time in those god-forsaken seats! There is no white towel in my linen closet, rest-assured, but the Sixers are dangerously close to being unmistakably insignificant.

And finally, I note that the annual celebration or our existence is creeping up on us. That's right, the annual DR awards -- in the Gianni room --is less than three weeks away. I can't speak for the rest of you, but I intend to shamelessly flirt with the cougar hostess. Get your outfits ready, press your pocket squares, dust off your favorite public league ball-cap, and load up on brown liquor. Remember, if we don't celebrate Sammy, no one will!

Monday, November 2, 2009

Getting That Get Back

There is no need to discuss specifics, we all know what the Phils are facing. We can do this, and not to sound actually serious for once, but we have to do it one game at a time. Find below some needed inspiration. This is not new in any way, but most of the best good luck charms are not.

Let's hope Mr. Lee brings the gangster tonight. Go Phils, bitches.