(EDITOR’S NOTE : the following was first posted on February 8, 2004. Since our archives from year one are on permanent vacation — or so it seems — you’ll just have to take my word for it. No one in their right mind would boast of republishing this recipe on an annual basis for 14 fucking years if it weren’t true . Of course, no one in their right mind would watch a half-sped NFL exhibition game when they can watch Chris Jericho suspended in a cagefreedom crumbling before our eyes.
If every person reading this who enjoyed my recipe for Pro Bowl Chili donated $1 to the National Immigration Law Center…the NILC would be in serious trouble. It would be quite remarkable if I could find one person who enjoyed the Pro Bowl Chili and have them donate $5 million, but perhaps it would make sense to address a wider audience. – GC).
Excuse me for having to spell this one out for our European readers. Pro Bowl Sunday is a BIG event for Americans. All over the country, families come together for Pro Bowl Parties. Advertisers pay hundreds of dollars to televise commercials featuring their newest products. Each year on Pro Bowl Sunday, battered womens’ shelters report the number of victims admitted to their care decreases by two percent, testament to the calming nature of the contest . If the NBA All-Star Game is, in the words of Michael Wilbon, Black Thanksgiving, then the Pro Bowl is sort of like Yom Kippur for Gambling Degenerates & Football Obsessives of All Races.
In this household, the Pro Bowl’s importance is matched only by that of the NHL Skills Competition (skate-sharpening, carrying Eric Lindros off the ice) and the entire NASCAR calendar. And with that in mind, here is CSTB’s Award Winning Pro Bowl Chili Recipe :
Once upon a time, cantstopthebleeding.com was one of the nation’s top sports blogeterria (blogoterrarium? blogtoxcity?) destinations, appealing to the friendless and socially challenged and/or persons hungry for LOTS & LOTS RECRIMINATIONS. As the nu media wars wore down, the site retreated into near dormancy, maintained by an automated system devised by the same brilliant minds behind Do512 the Atari Jaguar
I’m not sure how familiar you are with the phenomena of “artifical intelligence”, but about 9 years ago the cyborg in question began organizing an annual free show in the middle of March at a respected Red River venue. From day one the event was sponsor free and impervious to the crony-heavy network of booking agents, garbage labels and the like. In short, it made no sense whatsoever but since the bill is always super hot and there’s no cover, hardly anyone complains.
However, I won’t lie to you folks, times are tough. I’m still paying off the legal fees after last March’s embarrassing vomiting-on-the-Mr. Robot-ferris-wheel incident, and as such I’ve had to partner up with two dubious organizations this year. One is some bogus “indie” label no one’s ever heard of, the other some shadowy lobbyists who may or may not be funneling money to assorted hate groups. I need to do a little more research. At least the bill is super strong, and since none of you give two fucks about how the sausages are made, that’s all that matters
Past participants have included but not been limited to Dan Melchior, Complete, the Homosexuals, Tyvek, Spray Paint, Protomartyr, Obnox, Golden Pelicans, The Muffs, The Blind Shake, TV Ghost, Puffy Areolas, The Spits, Endless Boogie and far too many examples of yes-you-totally-blew-it-by-going-to-see-the-Oh-Sees-for-the-50th-time-instead. This year’s lineup is no different, except perhaps in that it is THE GREATEST EVER. And it’s after dark. And yes, there the aforementioned affiliation with a bogus indie label and an alleged paper-cup advocacy group that might be a front for something well & truly evil.
Portland based Rebecca Gates is perhaps best known for her amazing run of 1990’s recordings as the voice/guitar behind The Spinanes. That’s all well and good but her subsequent incarnation(s), including but not limited to 2012’s 12XU LP, ‘The Float’ have solidified her status as one of music’s sharpest minds. Her Central Texas appearances are rare — at least those we’re allowed to tell anyone about more than a few hours ahead of time.
Outer Spaces (Baltimore) — spearheaded by ex-Witches vocalist/guitarist Cara Beth Satalino, Outer Spaces are coming off one of 2016’s best albums in the form of ‘A Shedding Snake’ (Don Giovanni) and a run of East Coast dates supporting Ted Leo & The Pharmacists. I’m beyond thrilled they’re taking part in this show (especially the part about not having to pay them).
Thigh Master (Brisbane) – no less an authority than Sir Douglas Mosurock has said their ‘Early Times’ debut LP “is loaded with sunny, ragged hooks and big, sloppy singalongs,” likening the combo to, “a lost Flying Nun band.” High praise, but not hype. There’s a new 7″ on 12XU coming in March, and with any luck this won’t be their only Austin show that week. Also, if you’ve got a couch they can crash on, HIT ME UP.
Street Eaters (Oakland) – a few years back, the duo of Megan March and John No opened for Cruddy’s LP release show here in Austin and it was nothing short of one of those, “did anyone get a look at the gaudy advertising on the side of the bus I just missed?” moments in life (especially as I actually missed their set while watching that movie about the guy who invented the intermittent windshield-wiper blades). But everyone who was there told me they were awesome and subsequent visits to this part of the world revealed those folks weren’t lying. And their records are killers, too.
Xetas (Austin) – this is not the time or place to leak new music from Xetas’ forthcoming 2nd 12XU LP, ‘The Tower’. For starters, no one’s reading this. More to the point, why make everyone else on the bill look feeble by comparison? (NOTE FROM PAPER CUP COUNCIL EDITOR : take that part out before publication).
The Gospel Truth (Austin) – how do these guys manage to top one of 2016’s most stunning albums, the filler-free ‘Jealous Fires’? To paraphrase Michael Angelo Battio, giving you the answer would be handing over the keys to the Lamborghini. Suffice to say subsequent new material from Mark Tonucci and collegues reveals they’re not even close to peaking.
Borzoi – I haven’t seen a better live band in the last two years. That I’ve been under house arrest during that stretch should not diminish the importance of that statement. Borzoi have pivoted from a powerful debut 7″ for Austin’s Pau Wau label to a genre-obliterating 4 song EP on 12XU this Spring ; catch the trio on tour this May or watch ’em from the back of the room like a smug, self-satisfied cultural tourist this March. Better yet, why choose?
When someone pointed out to Curt that @sidneyponson had a mere 43 followers and the profile included the disclaimer, “not the real Sid,” Curt replied, “his tweets are about as stupid as the stuff he said in real life.” Harsh, but possibly accurate.
Northwest quartet The Slants (above) are currently embroiled in a dispute with the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, with the latter denying the band’s application for trademark protection on the grounds their chosen name is considered disparaging to a particular ethnic group (in this instance, one they’re part of). The Washington Post’s Robert Barnes points out that a victory for The Slants might establish precedent for the Washington Redskins, “whose legal battle to hold on to its revoked trademark has been put on hold pending the outcome.”
Slants band members abhor the Washington nickname and wince when the team’s fate is linked to their own.
“I don’t want to be associated with Dan Snyder,” founder Simon Tam said, referring to the team’s owner.
Indeed, the Redskins’ amicus brief in the case contains 18 pages of offensive-to-somebody registrations from the Patent and Trademark Office, beginning with Afro-Saxon clothing and working its way down to Yardapes landscaping.
In the team’s amicus brief, Washington lawyer Lisa S. Blatt argues that “the PTO has registered countless marks that meet the government’s exceptionally broad definition of disparagement, i.e., potentially demeaning to even a small segment of a race, gender or religious group.
“Just for musical bands, the PTO has registered White Trash Cowboys; Whores from Hell; N.W.A.; Cholos on Acid; Reformed Whores; The Pop Whores; Hookers & Blow; The Roast Beef Curtains; Flea Market Hookers; The Pricks and Barenaked Ladies.”
ROH fixtures Christopher Daniels and Frankie Kazarian (above) have co-writing credit on an upcoming independent film, “In The Ring”, which offhand sounds like one hell of a way to squander the considerable talents of Dalton Castle. From the Hollywood Reporter’s Alex Ritman :
The film is described as a “Major League-style ‘underdog’ comedy,” in which a group of misfit wrestlers, led by Sledgehammer Sullivan (Kurt Angle), takes on a multinational corporation and a rival, “extreme” federation headed by Matt Manson (Tommy Dreamer) to gain a network-TV contract in a winner-takes-all pay-per-view.
With a cast of onscreen wrestlers made up primarily of actual TNA and Ring of Honor performers and former WWE stars, In the Ring also stars Daniels, Kazarian, John Morrison, Ken Anderson, Jay Lethal, Joey Ryan, Candice LeRae, Chavo Guerrero Jr., Kevin Kelly, Nick “Magnus” Aldis, Chad “Gunner” Lail, Dalton Castle and The Briscoe Brothers, with other wrestling names yet to be announced.
In less than two years’ time, the Derby has transformed from the bane of many people’s existence — including that of Bud Selig’s delightful wife, Sue, as mentioned in my 2015 piece — to a legitimately enjoyable night for both those attending in person and those watching on TV. It’s easier to watch, thanks to the revised format (a head-to-head bracket, a four-minute time limit instead of “outs”), and it’s now easier to listen to it, thanks to Berman’s significantly reduced schedule, which was announced Thursday.
Look, I still think, thousands of years from now, folks will put the Derby in the “Cons” column when assessing these times. We’ve got to aim higher as a species.
It doesn’t matter who will assume Berman’s role as the Derby’s head carnival barker. It could be another jock-sniffing broadcaster, or Jim J. Bullock, or Ted Cruz. It will be better now, rest assured.
Really, if baseball can turn its Home Run Derby from a galactic debacle to a bona fide asset, then what can’t we accomplish on this planet?
It took nearly a dozen years, but finally there’s someone else in sports media with the guts to play The Jm J. Bullock Card.