Damn you Raimster McShaim

I got this entirely entertaining email today from my friend/nemises who hails from Pittsburgh, PA.

>>

Dear smelly douchefarts,

Beware of the 'Wings. But beware-r of the Pens. Be careful what you wish for when you match up against Osgood and crew Sunday afternoon. You know from the Winter Classic that Detroit is tough, experienced, and disciplined. You may not realize, however, that the team you will see in the Finals, should you shoulder past the defending champs, is both tough yet finessed, experienced yet youthful, disciplined yet reckless. I know you can't look past the conference finals; it'd be silly to. But I hope you spent the last 2 weeks of outrageous rest at least glancing at your brethren in the East to ogle the city storming in from the annals of a recent Super Bowl win, slashing through their historic rivals (Flyers and Caps) in glistening fashion, frothing at the mouth for their next victim. The Pens are ready to exorcise last year's cup loss. But should you eliminate Hossa & Friends, Inc., Sid the Kid will be waiting for you.

Now, we didn't need much motivation to beat the Philadelphia. But Alexander Semin gave us some extra bulletin board material and Coach Cowher is doing the same for the upcoming series. Clearly, if the Red Wings make it, the repeat factor from last year will be enough to boil Geno's blood. But, you Hawks fans, you haven't enraged us...yet. In fact, there is no rivalry here, whatsoever. Bears/Steelers? Illini/Pitt? All we got is the Cubbies/Bucs and, as we all know, beating up on your dyslexic, ring-wormed, lupus-of-the-brained brother is nothing to brag about. I have no doubt your stupid asses will say something stupid though. And you do not want to piss off LeTang.

So fly past Detroit, we'll take care of 'Lina. Let's meet in the Finals. I'm warning you though: You've never seen a Penguin's Dong before. It may be just a sack of testes, but it's not something you want to mess with. See you in 2 weeks.

Love,
Steely McStanley Cup

>>

Now, in most cases, I'd just do what I normally do when someone tries to piss me off: kill their parents, shit on their bed and kill their pets. However, when it comes to the infamous Raimster, it's not so simple.  He doesn't have any pets.

It's also much harder to talk shit when the Hawks just got whooped by the Wings in game 1 and we're the underdog in the series (as opposed to the Crosby's, who are favored to go to the cup).

Aside from some purposful omissions that bolster the argument (you shitsburgites don't even have a basketball team), I have to agree - it's a really good time to be a Pittsburgh fan.

Now go back to rooting for your second rate team (let's be honest here, nobody really gives half a shit about hockey) and sit on your hands until football season.

-KEG

The feud continues...

Love him or hate him, Raimster is a loyal member of the Dong (Donger? Dongite?) and has earned the privilege to send me hate mail.

If you're keeping up with the blog, we're in the midst of a little disagreement regarding the awesome city of Chicago and the sphincter that is Pittsburgh.

To summarize: Pittsburgh has a historically shitty baseball team and can't afford an NBA franchise. The rest of the argument was a little confusing, so I'll conveniently ignore it.

The newest installment from Raimster McShaim:

>>>>>>

Dear DonkeyPornLovers,

Here's what I think of when I think of Chicago: Balls.

See, balls can be wonderful. Toys, even. They can be loving and tender, warm and safe. But balls can also be shriveled and hurtful, embarrassing and disdained. Chicago has such a rich tradition of flat streets, one iconic athlete in the last 30 years, and pizza. But you losers ruin it the same way you ruin everything. You're pessimists. You call it the Windy City and not something more gleeful, like the Breezy City or the Airy City. This is Marketing 101. Lousy negative nancies, you are. Like the picture of my wife you so dutifully exposed to your seven precious readers last week... Sure, she smells like ass and her farts may or may not have caused Katrina, but she's a real peach. Instead of exposing her exposed and sore thighs to the world, why not show the people a picture of the girl who sits next to me every year as I watch my precious black and gold consistently go 7-1 or 8-0 at home.



Kegs, jump on that fast... She turns 17 next week.

Chicago constantly takes the good and makes it bad and that is their facts of life. Which brings me to my next point.

When thinking of the differences between Chicago and Pittsburgh, you can pretty much sum it all up in the TV shows set in our beloved cities. The City of Steel is home to Mr. Belvedere, a wholesome sitcom family, adolescence, and, of course, sports. Mr. Belvedere was raw at times, dare I say racy, but never grotesque or hotheaded. I'd buy any one of the countless high-collar sweaters that covered Tracy Wells' possibly mountainous chest. It ended after a mere 8 seasons, constantly leaving viewers wanting more, not unlike Tracy Wells' sweaters.

Chicago, on the other semen-stained hand, is home to Love and Marriage, a hilarious-if-you-think-a-dude-sticking-his-hand-down-his-pants-is-consistently-funny show about pretty much nothing. The show was annoying every episode. It wasn't just on for a long time. IT WAS ALWAYS ON. It failed to make even a young Christina Applegate appealing and should have been a two minute skit on SNL. Had it been, I probably would have laughed.

In conclusion, I don't regret the day in 1994 I sold my Pirate soul to the devil in exchange for consistently great teams in my other sports.

Don't listen to the TPC, lovely residents of Beaver Falls, Aliquippa, McKeesport. You're a city of winners, optimists, and, most importantly, Mr. Belvedere.

4 hours till Buhrle v.Karstens

Sh. McB.

>>>>>>

So, after shutting out the butt pirates in the first 2 games (6-0), the buckos manage to steal one in the 9th inning of game 3 to salvage a 1-2 series with the ChiSox (despite the Pirates superior record (come on, the NL is a joke anyway). To reverse quote Bobby Jenks:
"The way I look at it is if I blow one out of every 11, and if I get 44 chances, that's a pretty good year."

...And if you put together a good team one out of every 30 years, that's a pretty shitty franchise.

There was also a wonderful article in ESPN this week, outlining the decades of shittitude that the Pirates have had endured since skinny Bonds. A delightful read. 

Sidenote: it's Married With Children (not Love and Marriage, you fuck) and it kicks the living shit out of Mr. fucking Belvedere. And for your information, senior uninformed, Ed O'Neil (aka Al Bundy) was a stud football player in college and was signed by none other than the Pittsburgh Steelers in 1969 as an outside linebacker. Look it up on Wikipedia, babydick.

One last note to our loyal readers - do not allow the hot chick in the Steelers shirt to sway your allegience (uncle Keg will always take care of you):

-KEG

Brad Maynard Hates America

Another dude? This is the last time I let Adrian talk me into a blind double-date.

Courtesy of loyal Dong reader Raimster, we get this gem: Brad Maynard and Adrian Peterson (the Chicago one, not the amazing one) helped load pizzas as part of the Pizza4Patriots initiative to get a shitload of pizzas to Iraq by July 4th.

“When I got the call, I didn’t hesitate,” Maynard said. “For everything they’re doing over there for us, it pales in comparison. This is the least I could do for them.”

Yes, Brad, this IS the least you could do.

Let's think about what he actually did here: Pizza4Patriots made the pizzas. DHL delivered them. The punter put them on the back of a truck.

Man, he must really love this country.

A few words from Raimster himself:

Those soldiers use words like 'honor,' 'code,' 'loyalty...' they use these words as the backbone to a life spent defending something. Maynard uses them as a punchline. Those soldiers have neither the time nor the inclination to explain themselves to a punter who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom they provide, then helps load the back of a truck to deliver them pizzas. They'd prefer the punter just say thank you and go on his way. Otherwise, they suggest he picks up a weapon and stand a post.

In other news, I found this gem - a Brad Maynard blog? I have no idea, but it apparently didn't last that long. Here's hoping Brad (or whoever the hell that is) picks up his blogging post soon.

Raimster was on the Price is Right...

Nice jersey Shaimster...

Douchebag of the week

(Mazel Tov! This is a picture of Raimsters Wife)


Hello Loyal Dong readers,

Welcome to the weekly addition of DBOW!

This weeks choice is very special for me because it is my friend, Ramister Mcshaim.

Raimster had the audacity to rip on Chicago sports and flaunt it on the Dong. No one disrespects the dong, NO ONE.

Shaimster, Shittsburgh is a second class city with about the ugliest fans in the world. Not to mention, besides Crazy Mocha and my sister, there is nothing in the town worth saving. Consider this, would it even make front page news if Shittsburgh was wiped off the map sodom and gomorrah style?

Dong and Pony Show 1: Winners

Well, one contest down, and many to go. Winners, remember to contact us with your REAL address, or you ain't getting shit.

First, let's get the runner-up entry out of the way. The proud recipient of a Luol's Dong raffle ticket is...

CrazyJ8k via E-Mail with this insightful piece of information:

"u guys suk and arent funny. give it up fags. dog the bounty huntr is cooler than cedric an tank combined so u shuld give me the dvd."

We reward honesty here...but only with raffle tickets. Sorry.

And now, the winner of Dong and Pony Show Contest 1?

Raimster via E-Mail:

"Dear Mr. Dong,

I am well familiar with The Bounty Hunter as I, too, once excelled at the art of surrounding myself with a stout-faced, vagina-toting crew of savvy, motivated personnel. Though my posse and I merely ransacked park areas for used condemns (I like the smell, what can I say?) and never chased down evil, I have always considered Duane Chapman a brother...a dog-brother, but a brother no-less. So it is with the utmost of pride that I unleash my pack of wild Chicago athletes unto the world:

1) Bronko Nagurski - everything about this guy is badass. First of all, he's Polish-Ukranian so you know he's seen some things. This beast of Polack was a World Heavyweight Champion and has the biggest hands ever recorded in the NFL at 19.5. (The girl sucking my toes at the time of this writing wears a size 5, just for a basis of comaprison.)

Look at this badass quote from Wiki: According to legend, Nagurski was discovered and signed by University of Minnesota Head Coach Clarence "Fats" Spears who had gotten lost and asked for directions to the nearest town. Nagurski (who had been plowing a field without a horse) lifted his plow and used it to point in the direction of town. He was signed on the spot for a full ride football scholarship.

Oh, and his name is Bronko. It's even spelled wrong on purpose.

2) Jack "Black Jack" Stewart - I wasn't sure who to put on for the Blackhawks component of my team. Then I read the following off of www.legendsofhockey.com. "Stewart used brute force and strength to nullify opposing forwards while his partner used positioning and subtle clutching and grabbing to defend the goal." If this statement doesn't typify what we are all looking for in fellow hunters, in a smooth touch, in life.... then I don't know what does. When I think of the ideal ying to my zag, I think of someone who knows how to use force and positioning with me, someone who can implement subtle clutching and grabbing in ways that will really open my horizons and introduce me to new and exciting ways of scoring, a.k.a catching bad guys. Black Jack, live up to my expectations and will experience things the way they were meant to be expereinced.

3) Benny the Bull - The dude is 10 feet tall and can still tippy-toe, sleuth around like freakin Sherlock Holmes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBbvBvy1peY True, he has some balance issues, but give him three minutes with Black Jack, and he'll be subtly grabbing and clutching in no time. He's got intimidation, he's got quick feet, and he's knows how to beat up the little guy, something key in tracking down good-for-nothing low-lifes, too yellow-bellied to go out and do what their parents did: Get a Job, sir!

4) Al Lopex - This guy was quick on his feet. Lopez was once working behind the plate on a hot day and decided to leave the game even if he had to get the thumb. As luck would have it, the plate umpire was Charley Moran, who, Lopez knew, had been a college football coach in Kentucky. So, between innings, Lopez turned around and baited Moran. "Charlie, weren't you once a famous football coach?" Lopez asked. Off guard, Moran said, "Why yes, I coached the Praying Colonels at Centre College." "Is that so?" Lopez asked innocently. "What were they praying for--a new coach?" In a moment he was on his way to the showers."

I mean, come on. This guy was Carlos Mencia before Mencia was born. Every Bounty Hunter knows he needs a sharp shooter who some nemesis can refer to as "wise-crackin'." Lopez provides the foil for my militia of evil-catchers. He's Joey to our Friends, Michaelangelo to the the Turtles, Earth to the Planeteers.

And so conclucdes my squad, earnest and nimble, reliable and sly as a hungry moose. Go get 'em, ex-Chicago stars. May the Windy City send a gust to help us with our trevails. "

THAT is how you do it, friends! Great post, brings back memories...Ah, Bronko...

Stay tuned for Dong and Pony Show Contest 2, coming soon to a website near you!

Around the horn

News Team, Assemble!!

Apparently, the Bulls are trying to woo Chris Bosh from the Raptors. I don't care if we have to trade Deng, BoGo, Hinrich and Noah for Bosh - he's a younger version of Garnett who will thrive with Rose for the next 10 years. MAKE THIS HAPPEN.

Other rumors have the Bulls getting Amare, Marcus Camby, Chris Kaman, Carlos Boozer and others. These rumors are stupid, as is Sam Smith.

Ozzie Guillen is pushing for a 1 year ban for first-offenses with steroids. Man, Ozzie will do anything to justify getting rid of Konerko...

The Bears 2009 QB prospects get more interesting as Jeff Garcia announced he will not be back with the Bucs next season. That leaves Garcia, Leftwich and Simms as the only big names available right now (not exactly inspiring...  get ready for another season of the Orgasmically Offensive Orton.)

In other news, Raimster (who you may remember from winning ALL of our contests and submitting kickass comments and tips) celebrated his bachelor party in style over the weekend in Atlantic City - lots of booze, lots of gitnu (but not too much chedva) and lots of awesomeness. The TPC ended up losing three weeks pay in an hour (that would be $40). 

Maybe we'll get some pics up of the midget strippers and the goat.

-KEG

Bringing Back The Free Shit

There will be more free shit in the future - this is a known - but what sort of things do you guys want to see? We've had all sorts of shit in the past - DVDs, electronics, and even a special Keggers Outfit.

Tell us what you want to win (realistically, fuckers), and we'll do what we can to make it happen. All we ask in return is that you bring your A-Game when you comment on posts - otherwise that douchebag Raimster is going to win everything like last year.

What do you want to win?

Dong and Pony Show Contest 3: Winners

Solid entries for Contest 3 - there's another one coming tomorrow, so stay tuned.

RUNNER UP: The TPC with this accurate (if not somewhat insighful) entry:

In light of last weeks great performance by Matt Forte, I have settled on a choice.

The most underappreciated Chicago sports athlete especially in my lifetime is Neal Anderson.

Lets think about it, he is the back up of Walter Payton and then is his successor, easily the most beloved bear of all time. The pressure following Paytons exit was enormous, fill the shoes of the best running back of all time. Neal Anderson did just that. He was selected to four pro bowls rushed for over 1000 yards in three seasons. Not to mention, he didnt bitch or moan and actually carried some pretty bad teams.

Finally, the guy is fucking awesome in Super Tecmo Bowl (the greatest video game ever)and actually makes the Bears a decent team to play with. For that reason he is my choice and I dare anyone to fight me on it.

Ps
You can just send me the ipod converter now as no one can contend with me! (Ed's Note: So close, buddy. So close).

WINNER: Raimster. Again. Further proof that your answers don't need to be good so much as that you have to be out of your fucking mind to win. Somebody stop this guy:

Maybe it's the 74 years since his last carry. Maybe it's his mere 32 touchdowns in the pros. Maybe we get distracted when we hear his moniker and suddenly start to think of that awful X-Men sequel.

Whatever the reason, Red 'Iceman' Grange is the duckbutter of football: we don't notice it until it's pointed out and once it's pointed out, we can't help but revel in its aesthetic beauty. Potent yet not flashy, grotesque in its ability to haunt opponents, and inescapable once the image is born, duckbutter can have a truly lasting effect on an appreciator or rival. Like duckbutter, Red Grange's explosiveness came right from the hips.

This legend of Chicago played both his college and professional ball there. Playing for the Illini in a game against Michigan, he returned a kickoff 95 yards for a score and ran for touchdown runs of 67, 56, and 44 yards....in the first 12 minutes. After sitting out much of the rest of the half, he came back to run 11 yards for a 5th touchdown, then passed for another score, ending the Wolverine's (seriously, I'd rather watch Naked Gun 33 1/3 and Nell back to back then watch X-Men 2 again) 20 game winning streak.

After Grange joined Ming Ding Xiong, attendance went from 7,500 to 36,000. Allegedly, Grange spent his first $500 on a raccoon coat. Later, when Grange tried to buy Da' Bears and was rejected by Halas, Iceman said during a game of thumb war,

Iceman: You're so dead.
Halas: No, you're dead.
[they get closer and Halas leans in for a kiss]
Halas: I don't want to hurt you.

Iceman: I'm not afraid.

Anyway, Grange started his own league - good idea - but it totally folded - bad idea. He rejoined the Bears, where he was converted to defensive back and made a game saving tackle in the NFL's first championship game in 1933 against the Giants.

In his 20-game college career, he ran for 388 times for 2,071, caught 14 passes of 253 yards, and completed 40 passes for 575 yards. 16 of his touchdowns were from 20 yards or more and 9 were from 50 yards or more. He appeared on the cover of Time Magazine in 1925 and was named the greatest college football player ever by ESPN earlier this year. Over his high school, college, and pro career he carried the ball 4,103 times for 33,920 yards, or 8.4 yards a touch. Wow. Ee.

Said Chris "Pumpsh" Berman, "I was interviewing George Halas and I asked him who is the greatest running back you ever saw. And he said, 'That would be Red Grange.' And I asked him if Grange was playing today, how many yards do you think he'd gain. And he said, 'About 750, maybe 800 yards.' And I said, 'Well, 800 yards is just okay.' He sat up in his chair and he said, 'Son, you must remember one thing. Red Grange is 75 years old." - Chris Berman

...you just can't compete with that! Well, maybe you can. I hope you can. Winners, send me your various mailing addresses so I can get raped on shipping oddly shaped boxes.