And the Evil Empire falls.  Hard.

Pandemonium reigns in Detroit tonight.

The mighty Jackson empire in Los Angeles has fallen.  The Shaq may rule the paint - but the Pistons are the champs.

And to add insult to injury - the games weren't even close.  Before Detroit stopped trying in the fourth quarter, they had a 23-point lead with five minutes to play.

Po' widdle Shaq and Kobe.  I could hardly be happier. (snicker)

Asshats who take candy from babies

When I was but a lad, I'd go to the minor league hockey games in Fort Worth.  They had a pretty decent team - even won the league championship one year.  Fun thing to do.

Part of that particular ritual was to stand behind one end of the rink during pregame warmup and try to corral a puck as it came over the plexiglas.  It'd hit the overhanging concrete leading to the upper deck, then drop to the ground.  If you were quick about it, you had a souvenir.

One of the unwritten rules of the ritual was this:  If you saw someone get the puck - especially a kid - the game was over and you waited for the next puck.  Whatever you did, you didn't  dive into the pile and attempt to wrest the prize from whomever had first claimed it.

Apparently this rule was lost on a fat-assed shithead at a Texas Rangers baseball game the other day...

Nick O'Brien, the area's most famous 4-year-old, sat cross-legged on the floor in his family's TV room watching the Discovery Kids network, oblivious to the commotion unfolding a few feet away.

[...]

Nick was knocked against the seats during a third-inning scramble for a foul ball Sunday at the Rangers game in Arlington. Since the man who grabbed the ball refused to give it up, Nick and his parents, Jeff and Edie O'Brien, have become celebrities.

Okay, so - got the picture?  Foul ball lands almost literally in this 4-year-old boy's lap.  In the ensuing scramble, this fat-assed son-of-a-bitch jumps two rows to get to the ball, throwing the kid out of his seat and pinning him to the ground while said lardbutt laid claim to the ball.

And as if that weren't bad enough, he then  flaunted the ball in the face of the kid's mom.

Well, at least now  he has one.  Ball, that is.

The Sachse home of 28-year-old landscaper Matt Starr was dark and quiet Tuesday night.

Teams of news reporters circled the home, filming the neatly clipped lawn where neighbors said Mr. Starr and his wife sometimes play catch.

Boy, I can just see it now:  "Honey, do you remember when I shoved that little punk outta the way to get us this ball?"  "Good thing, too, sweetie - if we'd've had to buy a ball, we might be living back at the trailer park, duh-huh..."

A longtime friend and neighbor stopped by the house to retrieve the mail. Through him, Mr. Starr declined to comment and asked his acquaintances not to speak to the media.

You wouldn't want to talk to the media, either, if you'd exposed your ass in front of a national audience.

At the nearby Sachse Assembly of God Church, friends of Mr. Starr's stood in a circle and prayed for the truth to emerge about him.

The truth???   You people can't handle  the truth!!!  The truth is that your buddy Matt Starr is an asshatted fuckwit who gets his rocks off shoving four-year-olds out of the way to grab a friggin' baseball,  fer Gawd's™ sake!

Members of his childhood church said he is a former youth minister who once coached the women's softball team. He participated in international outreach missions, they said.

Oh, now there's  a shining example for the youth of America to follow.  Hey, boys & girls, you too can be like this fat-assed fucktard and run over little kids to get what you want!!!  Woo-hoo!!!

Senior pastor Rick DuBose said he sent a message to Mr. Starr urging him to speak to the news media to correct what he and others say are distorted perceptions.

"But it's been very hard for him," Mr. DuBose said of the media attention. "He's not the bad guy he's been made out to be. He loves kids; he always has. ... He probably got a little aggressive and did something he regrets. But that's not Matt. He's a good kid, a good young man."

Uh, Bosie?  No, he's not.  He showed us what kind of asswipe he was on national television.  Do us a favor and quit lying like your mentor Jimmy Swaggart, okay?

Teresa Rea of Sachse, who worked with Mr. Starr in 1997 when the Sachse Youth Community Center started a youth summer program, said he always worked well with children.

"He had a great time, and the kids really loved him," she said.

Yeah - well, I'd certainly like to know what they think of him now.

But what I'd really like to know is this:  In all this fracas, while little Nicky O'Brien was getting his entrails crushed to liquid under the weight of Avoirdupois Ass there at the ballpark, WHERE THE HELL™ WAS THE FATHER, EH???

I'm serious, people.  Had that been either my son or my stepson, this fat fuck Matt Starr would have eaten  that baseball in front of a national TV audience.  And I mean that literally - I'd have made that ball his fucking lunch for what he did, had it been either one of my boys.  Yet the father of little Nicky O'Brien was nowhere to be seen - in fact, he let the child's mother  handle the duty of scolding our little (???) one-balled wonder.  Way to stick up for your boy, Mr. O'Brien.

As it is, Matt Starr, lemme tell you this much:  I'll be happy to meet you anytime, anywhere, so I can take that ball and shove it so far up your candy-ass that it'll be your new fuckin' Adam's-apple.  You just name the time and place, chumpzilla; I'll be absolutely delighted to come kick the shit out of you.

Fat-assed little fuckstick...


UPDATE:  Well, it looks like another MIIS (My Influence Is Spreading) has occurred (yeah, right).  About an hour after I unleashed this, the guy agreed to apologize, send the ball to little Nicky, and even pay for an undisclosed number of future tickets for the O'Briens.

Nicely done, Mr. Starr.  Perhaps next time, though, you might just give the ball to the boy in the first place.