The Wussiest Thing Ever Said During a Fight

By: AndyKissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com, MU Class of '02.


So I was bored at work and YouTubed my alma mater, Miami University. None of the resulting hits really caught my eye until this one. It's title mentioned a fight in the bar district, so I figured it was worth a look.

The fight itself is pisspoor and unwatchable. However, the first 3 seconds of audio stole the show. Not only is it the pooniest thing I've ever heard yelled during a fight, I think it's the pooniest thing one could yell during a fight. Granted, I think it was yelled by an onlooker, but that still explains very little.

I mean....I'm really at a loss after witnessing that....I can't even believe this clip is real.....How it crosses someone's mind to say THAT while jacked on adrenaline from watching a fight is simply beyond me. I feel like it's a dubbed-over spoof like you'd see on Conan O'brien or something.

Enjoy/point and laugh. I'm so ashamed. Your college is better than mine. I admit it.





If you can leave a comment in the comment box below and think of something wussier to scream during a fight, It'd really make me feel better about myself. Thanks.

Pointed Perspective of a Pulchritudinous Pats-ophile

So the editor of this site wanted to get the perspective of a Pats fan regarding the Super Bowl. Assuming you've stereotyped me already, I will just get it out of the way immediately: My team is better than yours, I think I am better than you, and you need to get over Cameragate, and my dad could beat up your mom*Deep exhale* I feel better.
I was joking with the last sentence. I'm really not one of those kinds of Pats fans, but I'm sure there are plenty of them out there that have severely annoyed you over the past few years, so I apologize on their behalf. I'm not the most intense Pats fan there is, and I like to think I can stay pretty objective about the team and their place in history and why they're disliked.
Here is how I think the game will break down.

I like their chances. I don't think they're a shoe-in to win, but I'd rather be on the Patriots than on the Giants right now. Not being a meathead- I will entertain the hypothetical of the Giants succeeding: for the Giants to win I think they would have to play at least 95% of their absolute best AND have the Pats throw in a clunker. What scares me most about the Giants is their bruising running tandem matching up with the Patriots linebacking crew late in the game. Coughlin did a brilliant job of saving Ahhmad Bradshaw for the third quarter and perforating the defense for when Brandon Jacobs came back in to. That was a great strategy, and could prove equally effective against the Patriots as well, especially if the Giants offense is able to stay on the field a lot in the first half. That's how every team tries to beat the Patriots, and the Giants have proven that they can win against teams with that exact strategy. If the Giants are to win, they will have to do much more than just that, but I think that will prove to be their key to victory.

That being said- Eli, however isn't particularly scary. At his best he is very efficient, but no better. He won't single-handedly carve up a defense or steal a win by sheer brute force, but he still can wield an offense very efficiently. Teddy Bruschi, Junior Seau, Adalius Thomas, or Richard Seymour could really rattle his cage at some point(s) too. But if the New York running game comes to eat, Plaxico Burress is still on fire, and if Amani Toomer can actually show up, they could hold their own and make it interesting for a while. That is if ALL of those happen, mind you.

On the flipside is the Patriots defense, and they tend to be on when the stakes are highest. While it's fashionable to claim that they have coasted (i.e. underachieved) in the latter half of the season, their zero losses certainly does not support that claim. They're savvy, clutch and are used to taking a team's best shot in high-stakes games. They aren't the sexiest defense, and they're tackling could be better, but they always come prepared and they never disappoint.

Which brings us to the matchup of the Patriots offense against the Giants defense. I can't think of something to tell you about their offense that you don't already know; except maybe that their offensive line is inhuman and never seems to get any credit. Everyone on the New England offense is not only good, but an "X-factor" of sorts. Brady and Moss can humiliate a defense at any point, if you doubleteam Moss, then Welker is going to eat your lunch, with Stallworth and Gaffney getting his leftovers. At worst Mulroney and Faulk can keep you honest and wear down your defense by the 4th quarter- or on a good day, they can take over the game. And even if you don't let any of the aforementioned singlehandedly beat you- Brady still can with a prolonged efficient attack that is blunder-free. Belichick does an outstanding job of making the opposing defense pick their poison.

I mentioned earlier that the Giants could win if the play 95% of their best game possible. The converse of that is that the Pats will win if the can hold the Giants to playing A- or B+ ball, while eeking out an 80% of their max. That's how I handicap horse races: If horse A can win at 85% of his max, while horse B would have to run 98% of his max to win, I bet on horse A, since his threshold is much easier to achieve.

That was pretty much what I'd tell someone if I were asked that in mixed company, or a fellow blogger friend asked me to write something for his website. But what I'd tell my friends from their couch is that I'm quietly (very) confident. Admittedly, this game seems so easy for the Patriots that I'm just afraid hearing about just how huge an upset this was (if in fact the unthinkable occurred), and how I was such an arrogant anus leading up to the game, that it makes the Patriots (ergo, mine by default) loss all the more hilarious. That 2% possiblility of vitriolic retribution is basically the only reason I'm not being overwhelmingly obnoxious about this. But back the horse racing analogies; each year there are a lot more horse races than NFL games, and I've seen the impossible happen on plenty of occasions (I was at the Belmost where Smarty Jones lost as the 4/5 favorite. You don't remember that horse? Nevermind).

As an armchair psychologist I also think Eli's visions of sugarplums dancing in his head are going to get obliterated the first time Seymour or Thomas hits him, and then lands on him. While I think most people are happy that Eli is no longer laughingstock, that doesn't mean they have any fear of him outdueling Tom Brady in a Super Bowl- let's be very honest about that. I keep picturing Eli, fresh off watching his brother's miracle Super Bowl run, thinking that he's next, and this is somehow his Manning birthrite and all things will magically fall into place, and instead of going to DisneyWorld, after the game he'll be awarded a unicorn covered in gum drops, with a tail made of a never-ending supply of cotton candy. Then once the first two imperfect plays happen, he'll realize that a win is not inevitable, he'll panic, then go off to the sidelines and put a rubber nipple on his Gatorade squirty bottle and begin a perma-Eli-face that will continue sometime until the year 2013.

In all honesty, I don't expect The Super Bowl to be compelling late. The Pats have too many ways too hurt you, and don't even have to play their pristine best. That is not to say that New York got here by a fluke or poorly represents the NFC- they deserve to be here, but are just not the Patriots, and that's not an insult.

New York has had a very nice season and have provided some noteworthy storylines- Coughlin became less of a Tyrant, with Tiki leaving and Strahan ostensibly becoming more team-oriented, this team seems to be more cohesive and less suspicious of Eli's ability, and Eli has transcended under-achieving and is finally showing us that his draft-day arrogance wasn't completely unfounded. All of those stories tell us that the Giants improved greatly this season in a number of different ways. They are now an elite team, and have had a truly memorable season. But again, unfortunately for them, that doesn't mean they are in the same class as the Patriots.

I don't write about the NFL often so I'd like to end this with three admittedly random points that I haven't seen mentioned in the media so I wanted to do so.


1) Why doesn't anyone ever credit the Patriots front office? The Patriots have gotten so much media coverage, that despite being maybe the best team of all-time, you cannot say anyone is UNDERrated on that team. It has ALL been said. About the players. But someone put that team together, and it wasn't the players or the coach. I'm sure Belichick has some suggestions and some sway, but doesn't write up contracts, or make phone calls to GMs. Scott Pioli deserves a TON of credit.

Think about it. A lot of times when the Pats win, all you do is shrug and say "Well no, shit. If my team had that roster and lost a game, I'd picket the stadium! Of course they win! Quit fawning over Brady when he has that line, those receivers and that defense. I'd hope he could win with all that!" And the front office can't get credit in post game interviews for PR reasons.

After a lopsided win Belichick can't say "Well, we are better than them. It's very easy, our men are more talented than theirs and simply do their jobs better." That is the height of condescension and even the Hooded One isn't that bold. After a win he can either 1) praise fellow coaches and/or scouts, and/or, 2) praise his players. AND if he praises the front office, that disnfranchises his players who busted their buns out there. Secondly, when the players are interviewed- they have to either 1) praise their supporting crew, or 2) praise their coach. They can't praise the front office for the same reason as their coach- you can't just say "well, we ARE better. That's why we won. Don't act surprised if we beat them by 35, I mean seriously, did you look at that roster?"

As a result, the front office doesn't get much credit. But someone traded a Fourth Round pick for Randy Moss.....


2) Why has no one mentioned Favre blowing ANOTHER NFC Championship? I can't be the only person who remembers how god effing putrid his interception was against the Eagles in 2005 in OT or late in the 4th he threw such an awful interception that I specifically remembering thinking "he is far too good for that. The mafia really might have something to do with this." It was worse than abysmal. Then he does it again and no one commented. I'm not the hugest NFL fan out there, there are plenty of people that noticed a resemblence and just kept quiet. Mancrushes will do that to a man.

3) Can we stop with the tired metaphor already of "This guy's a home-run hitter" this is the 2008 version of "It is what it is". It sprang up from out of nowhere, worked on some level fairly well at first, then EVERY person used it immediately, and it was excruciatingly tiresome 6 weeks after it's inception.

What's wrong with "big play guy", "deep threat", "game breaker", "X-factor" and the like? Since October, you can't hear an NFL broadcast without hearing "Home run hitter". Enough. Be original, or at least, don't pass off banality as something cutting edge.

If anyone hears anything like "Randy Moss is the Patriots home run hitter, and it is what it is" please 1) castrate the commentator, and 2) euthanize me.

The Last 3 Nights of Kwanzaa: My Closing Arguments

By: Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com


Night #5 of Kwanzaa: Nia. Nia suggests to us that when you are setting your personal goals and making resolutions, keep in mind to ensure that these benefit the community. I find this applicable to players who are deciding whether or not to take performance enhancing drugs. They should think about how their choice would impact those around them like fellow players, the fans, and the sport itself- basically anyone mentioned in my previous article (Ujamaa). Oh, then I hope they choose not to use PEDs.



Night #6 of Kwanzaa: Kuumba. This night's principle encourages us to use our creativity for the purpose of bettering the community. I hope Donald Fehr, Bud Selig and the other powers-that-be within baseball make use of Kuumba to solve its complex array of problems. The problems that I think will take the most creativity to solve are defining more clearly which drugs are legal and illegal, improving the testing status quo, and what to do about voting alleged PED users to the hall of fame.

Defining Drugs- Isn't Cortizone a drug? Doesn't it enhance performance? Why isn't it deemed a banned performance enhancing drug? Why is it legal but HGH is not? When is HGH legal? There seems to be an awful lot of gray area. Sharper, consistent definitions would benefit everyone. Is it possible to get some kind of marking on supplement labels, like they have for Kosher foods, that indicates that a substance is banned from MLB? That way athletes can't claim "I'm not a doctor and I didn't read the label. I figured if it's available at GNC it would be legal". Between that ocurring and Mitchell Report-named players claiming they thought HGH was legal since they got it from a doctor, and new supplements sprouting up all the time, keeping up to date with discovering new drugs and alerting the players regarding its legality will have to be improved.

Testing- One resultant of my brainstorming for ideas was this- Is it feasible to catalog hair or urine samples, to retroactively test players after a test is devised? If next week scientists find a way to test for The Clear, other designer steroids or foreign HGH- wouldn't it be nice to have a stash of Bonds' hair from 2003, or Sammy's wiz from 1998? 1998 was a fine vintage year for Sammy's tinkle from what I understand. Testing really is the key here. If our testing were 100% accurate for 100% of the drugs, we wouldn't have any more problems with banned substances regardless of how senseless the policies were.

Hall of Fame- Bob Costas suggested adding a modern-era wing to the Hall with a disclaimer saying something to the effect of "a lot of steroids were taken during this era and some records were possibly broken fraudulantly as a result. We aren't pointing fingers, but just be aware that it happened while these guys were playing". Should we do that? Should we just trust the writers to police this. since they were appointed to basically be the keepers of the Hall? Should they just disclose drug test results on all of their plaques? Should we presume innoncence until proven guilty per judicial law?

Night #7 of Kwanzaa: Imani. The precept for this last night of Kwanzaa calls upon us to strive to be the best person that we can be so that we can better or community with our improved self. I hope Imani inspires PED users, past and present, not just to come forth and admit their usage, but also to admit truthfully the extent of their usage. While I am very glad a few Mitchell Report-named players have admitted to using HGH, I suspect some are fibbing about the extent of their usage. It is obvious that a lot of steroids were used in the last decade by a lot of players. So when a player admits that he used HGH, but used it only twice, does little good. Sure some small-scale good comes of it- but it does very little "greater good". I thank the players for admitting their use, but I hope future admitters admit more. What baseball's drug scandal desperately needs isn't a sporadic peppering of good- it needs some "greater goods". Soon preferably.

For a guilty player to admit only to minimal usage is a cop out. That's like if you were to leave a group of 10 third-graders in a room with 100 cookies and tell them "Ok kids, I'm going to leave the room for an hour. You are not allowed to eat any of the cookies; so when I come back there better be 100 cookies." Then when you come back you find all the cookies were eaten. When you try to get to the bottom of the issue- if three kids admit to eating only two cookies, that helps, but not much. They know they won't get punished since, 1) they look more honest than the others at this point, 2) Since they admitted first they know we still have 7 more kids and 94 cookies unaccounted for, so now we're lead to believe the confessors aren't the large-scale-cookie-eaters we're looking for since math dictates that there's a 10-cookie-eaten-per-kid average. Those minimal-confessors know that since we believe they weren't the problematic eaters, now the eaters still at-large are presumed to have eaten more, which just ratchets up the intensity of the witch hunt. Until a kid steps up and says "I admit I ate 17 of them. I regret it, but I don't want to compound the problem by lying about it.", you aren't making much progress with your investigation because you haven't attained much of the greater good.

I find it hard to believe that a player who took HGH only two times, somehow became well-known enough as an HGH user to be named to the Mitchell Report. Look, we know players took steroids. So many of these generation-old records crumbled in the span of a few years. We know it happened. You did it, just come clean. You can right some wrongs, so please just admit it. We know the cookies were eaten, so we won't get more mad about it upon finding out who ate what. America will forgive you. If McGwire and Bonds gave us full disclosure, it would restore a lot of the respect for them that America lost. If McGwire and Bonds have the courage to cheat America in 1998, and the courage to break Maris's/Aaron's record in front of the Maris family/Aaron, and the courage to cash all of those endorsement paychecks that resulted from those record chases, wouldn't you think they'd then have enough courage to admit that they took performance enhancing drugs? How do P.E.D. users have so much courage for nefarious activity and none for magnanimous activity? Like the adage (and please note: all adages are old so I refrained from the redundant "old adage" which is a pet peeve of mine) "a mistake doesn't become an error until you refuse to correct it". We don't think you're bad people, just people who made a mistake. So correct it- for the greater good. We will thank you.

Night #4 of Kwanzaa: Cash Rules Everything Around Ujamaa

By Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com


Night #4: Ujamaa. This principle stresses the importance of cooperative and collective economics, and acting within your community in an economically responsible way. I guess you could call it a different kind of Green Movement. Or you could call it getting your Marcus Garvey on.

On the night of Ujamaa I can't help but think of those that have been economically displaced by steroids. The classic example of course is Mike Greenwell, who finished second in the 1988 MVP voting to a steroid user (Jose Canseco). Same is true for Frank Thomas in 2000 (Jason Giambi), Albert Pujols in 2003, Luis Gonzalez in 2001 (he finished third behind Bonds and Sosa. In case you think Gonzalez juiced- Pujols, then Berkman followed him in voting), A-Rod and Pujols in 2002 (Tejada, Bonds, respectively), Pujols again in 2003 (Bonds), Adrian Beltre in 2004 (I think Beltre juiced. Who finished third that year? Yup, Pujols).

In the spirit of Ujamaa, it's festive to think of these and other victims of steroids. Those were just the MVP votes. I didn't mention the Cy Youngs, batting crowns, series MVPs, Gold Gloves or any other awards. But the economic unfairness hardly stops at those either. Sure, losing out to 'roiders pushes non-'roiders further out of the spotlight and affects endorsement contracts and playing contracts, but that effects only the top tier athletes who are already very wealthy.

Steroids also hurt the lower-echelon players by taking roster spots. Players like Jason Grimsley and F.P. Santangelo are hardly household names, yet their impact isn't without consequence. It's possible that steroids represent 100% of the difference between them and the guy whose roster spot they stole, thereby sending an honest player back to AAA ball and cutting his honestly-earned salary by about 90%. I'm sure that honest player's children had some pretty lame Christmases that year.

But there are of course others that have had their finances adversely affected by steroids. It's impossible to quantify but I'm sure there are honest relief pitchers who gave up home runs to steroid users and were demoted as a result. Maybe if it weren't for steroids, what was a walk-off HR would have been a harmless pop-out. The relief pitcher would have been credited with a save, and taken the ball the next day in the 9th. Maybe a fresh-faced call-up got his only major league at-bat against a steroid-using pitcher. Maybe that pitcher struck him out on a fastball thanks to the added MPHs from steroids, and that rookie never saw major league action again.

You could play that game all day long. Here's a sexier hypothetical: What if we were to learn that Dave "He stole second!!!" Roberts took HGH in 2004? Maybe if he hadn't juiced then Posada would have thrown him out attempting to steal second base in Game Four the ALCS. Boston then would have very likely lost that game (the longer the game went on the more likely that would become). Being that they were down 3-0 before the game, that means Boston would have just been swept. Then the Yankees would have won another ring (don't kid yourself, St. Louis) and they'd still be the Evil Empire. If he gets caught stealing second, then the Yankees are no longer the only MLB team to lose a series in which they lead 3-0. Maybe such a humiliating sweep causes Theo Epstein to think that their current (2004) lineup isn't working, so he trades Manny. That could have resulted in the Sox not winning in 2007- meaning that the curse of the Bambino (remember that?) would still be intact. Additionally, Maybe ticket sales suffer for the Sox in 2005, 2006 and 2007 and budgets are cut and 15 Fenway employees lose their jobs, etc. etc.

HGH would have singlehandedly changed all of that if Roberts had juiced. Alternatively, what if Posada isn't as honest as we all assume and had juiced enough to throw out Roberts? That stolen base planted the seed for something that significantly altered the two biggest MLB franchises and changed the lives of a lot of players and team employees, not to mention how it changed the lives of countless fans. Well, ok, I guess I did just mention it.

I am certainly not accusing Dave Roberts of using performance enhancers, nor am I a Yankees fan. But if the Mitchell Report implicated players of such limited impact like Phill Hiatt, Cody McKay and Adam Riggs- it is certainly plausible that a Dave Roberts-like role player would juice to stay on a major league roster. Not every play was as dramatic and impacting as Roberts' stolen base, but every play has some impact to someone's career in some way. Steroids have affected roster changes, player transactions, injuries, ticket and concession sales, budget cuts, and organizational hirings and firings on every conceivable level. For every change that results, a family that depended on that paycheck was affected.

Night #3 of Kwanzaa: Mark McGwire and the Dummy Can of Tuna Conspiracy Theory

By: Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com

Throughout Kwanzaa I will be taking the lesson of that night's Kwanzaa principle and applying it to the steroid users in baseball. Tonight is night #3 of Kwanzaa, and conversely the third installment in my investigation.

Night #3 of Kwanzaa: Ujima. This Principle reminds us of our role not just in our family and community, but also in the realm of time: past, present, and future. To illustrate this principle I will delineate three distinct ways to make our community smellier, then I will assume the role of police detective and go back in time. Kind of.

There are three tiers of effectiveness for surreptitiously trying to make someone's living room stink of tuna.

The first and least effective is mere child's play: opening a can of tuna (reader: PLEASE note I did not say "tuna fish". If you don't call steak "steak beef", or carrots "carrot vegetables", then there is no reason to refer to tuna as "tuna fish") and hiding it in barely obstructed view, like under an easy chair. In a few days, the victim realizes it smells like tuna, he looks around for the source of the stink, moves some things, then finds the source before the stink gets overwhelming.

The second tier of cleverness is considerably more clever. This is where you remove a heating or a/c vent, place a can of tuna in the duct, and screw the vent back on. This is substantially more effective as the victim would rarely assume that the source of the stink is coming from somewhere where he never goes with tuna (i.e. inside the duct), and the can would be totally hidden from view even if every piece of furniture were removed from the room. All of those factors are then compounded by the fact that the can is in the middle of his air circulatory system. In a week's time the stink will be nearly overwelming- and that's something to be very proud of.

The third and most mysterious tier is known only to the Doctorate-level Wisenheimer. So cloaked in secrecy is this nefarious task that I'm breaking an oath by mentioning it. Its evil genius and destructive power reside in its simplicity: The third tier is simply combining the first two tiers; you put a can of tuna in a semi-obvious spot, like under a chair, AND a can in a very difficult to find spot, like in the vent. You can see how this plays out- the mark sniffs around, locates "the source" of the stink under the chair and assumes the problem is solved. Little does he realize all he found was the dummy can. A day later when the stink still persists, the duped fish smeller will chalk this still-lingering stink up to poor ventilation. He'll think that once he gets some air circulating in that room, this stubborn stink will be gone forever. Obviously this will not help, especially if he tries to dissipate the scent with some freshly pumped-in air conditioning or heat. He will curse the day he made you an enemy, and you will be an evil-genius of the highest merit.

So that is how you can stink out a living room in a few easy steps.

But how does this relate to Mark McGwire and steroids? Well, do you remember in 1998 when a reporter noticed a bottle of androstynedione tucked away in McGwire's locker? All of my Doctorate-Level Wisenheimer readers just figured out how this relates relates to McGwire and stopped reading.

Once that bottle was discovered we had caught Mark McGwire!! Game-set-match, we knew where all of his super human power came from! He was taking andro!!! His newest power surge came from a relatively obscure supplement that was legal, but still borderline shady. We caught him, alright. We the public felt like a bunch of mustachioed detectives with suspenders and Styrofoam cups of cheap black coffee glad-handing and saying "Well boys, another crime solved. Another plot foiled by our vigilant detective acumen. Good work men! And oh yeah, hey, Rodriguez- your tie has so much powder from all those donuts you been eatin', Sarge might think you're in business with that Columbian we busted last week!" Then Rodriguez smiles, raises his palms, and shrugs his shoulders. Freeze-frame role credits. Good guys win again.

A man by the name of Ace Ventura once said, "Fiction can be fun. But I find the reference section a bit more enlightening." Little did we, the tuna-scented-living-room'ed public know that Andro was merely the can of tuna under the love seat. The dummy can. We thought we found the source of the juiced-ball-era stink, but that was merely the dummy can to throw us off McGwire's foul, cheater scent. The truly stinky can, doing all the real stinking, was the can of steroids hiding out smugly in the ventilation duct. But we stopped looking for the steroids in the ventilation system once we found the can of andro underneath the easy chair. The stink that that second, hidden can brought has now completely overwhelmed our living room that we Americans call our National Pastime. McGwire, you tried to use your Doctorate-level-Wisenheimer shrewdness to further your own agenda and have tainted your community and the history books: Past, present and future. Same goes for Bonds and Sosa. Nothing could be less Ujima than what you have done.

You thought you were gonna get away with it, didn't you, McGwire? You almost did, you almost did. Just one little problem: you tried doing it on Detective Kissko's watch. I'm sure you can play a lot of Cover-The-Stink behind bars, where you belong. You. Make. Me. Sick....Ok boys, take the bad man away. I gotta get home soon anyway, my wife is makin' meatloaf......

A Very RivalFish Kwanzaa

By: Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com

I wanted my next article to be my two cents about steroids and the Hall of Fame voting, and how I hope that no 'roided players are ever inducted into the Hall. Once I realized my article would be segmented into a few different arguments/points, I thought it would be much more festive to break these articles up into 7 different entries and let them serve as my Kwanzaa gifts to the readers, since Kwanzaa started yesterday.

I'm already a day late so I'll post two here. Kwanzaa is seven nights long and each night represents a different Guiding Principle, that are collectively called the Nguzo Saba. The first night represents Umoja.


First Night of Kwanzaa- Umoja: The first night of Kwanzaa symbolizes Umoja, this principle stresses togetherness within the family and within the community. That being said, my first entry is....

Doing steroids is like having an affair

With all of the steroid HOF (gotta love how you can't spell "Hasselhoff" without the HOF. Am I the only one that thinks that everytime I see Hall Of Fame abbreviated?) you commonly hear a few of the same arguments. The one I find the stupidest is- "But steroids/HGH weren't even banned substances then! He wasn't breaking the rules, he did nothing wrong!!" What a truly stupid argument. You know what else is 100% legal in the United States? Extra-marital affairs. It's true. 100% legal between two consenting adults (just to be annoying I almost typed that it's "literally 1,000% legal"). Just because its legal doesn't mean it's a good idea.

If steroids were not wrong in any way, why wouldn't players have admitted to it back when they were doing them? You hear players saying their power numbers went up for a lot of different reasons: dietary changes, a new strength coach, a new prescription for their contact lenses, a new batting stance, a great new hitting coach, the Lord, etc. How come not one juicer ever said "Well, Dave I'll tell ya why I'm hitting so many more home runs this year. I started injecting steroids into my buns thrice weekly. I start the cycle up again next Tuesday, so keep an eye out!" Funny how with all the juicers getting asked all those strength-related questions over all those tainted years NOT ONE player ever mentioned steroids or HGH. So that's just a coincidence? Andy Pettitte told us that he didn't think it was a very big deal that he did HGH- heck he did it only twice!! Since it's such a minor detail, why didn't he tell us the day after he did them? Funny how that works out.

In my estimation that would be like if your buddy with the hot wife were out of town for the weekend, and since affairs are legal and all, you decided you'd spent the weekend at his house railing his wife in every single room- closets, attic and laundry room included. So when he gets back and asks you "Hey man, what did you do this weekend?" You will probably tell him about the ball games you watched, the movie you saw, how you ran some errands and then washed the car. Funny coincidence how you forgot to mention wearing out his old lady. So why wouldn't you tell him? Since it's legal it isn't a big deal anyway, right? Whatever the reason you wouldn't tell your friend about what happened on his kitchen floor while he was gone, is probably pretty similar to why the juiced sluggers didn't volunteer that they were juicing.

Night #2 of Kwanzaa: Kujichagulia- This principle serves as a reminder to make our personal goals, goals that would benefit the greater community and not just ourselves. It made me think of how in 1998 unbeknownst to us then, steroid usage by two notable players did do the public some temporary good.

Another pro-juicer argument/defense that I find moronic is the one that goes something like, "Well, in 1998 we all called him a hero for being supersized and hitting all these home runs, we can't just turn our backs on him and label him an immoral jerk now, after we revered him 9 years ago!" Here is my response to that: Ummm, yes we can. Heck, you can watch me do just that if you'd like. THEY knew they were cheating back then, even if we didn't. Just because we had no idea about their 'roids and we trusted them to be moral, doesn't mean we consented to their cheating. We all just assumed they weren't cheating. Sure we got fooled, and in retrospect we should have not been so gullible. But just because we were fooled by them, does not mean that we approved of it.

That would be like a 14year-old (we will call him Mark M.) telling his parents that he is going to stay the night at a friend's house. Then Mark M. goes over to his other friend's house, we will call him Sammy S., whose parents are out of town. Sammy S. also happens to be hosting a 3-keg blowout that night. Then the next day after Mark M. sobers up and goes home he doesn't get caught. His parents had no idea he was drinking the night before- he had pulled it off!! Three days go by, same thing- his parents are still none the wiser. Then a week later his parents get a phone call. Turns out one of their other friends who attended the party and got wasted, whom we will call Barry B., got caught by his parents the night of the party when he came home. Then after a week they decided to call the other parents and tell them about what happened a week ago at Sammy S.'s house. Then after Mark M.'s parents find out- 10 full days after the party, they yell at him and ground him, and tell them that they're disappointed. (Don't worry, I'm getting around to the tie-in finally....) How stupid would it then be for Mark M. to then tell his parents "Wait a minute! You guys didn't care a week ago that I was at Sammy S.'s house drinking! If me drinking is such a huge deal to you, why didn't you yell at me the next day? Why do you care all of a sudden 7 days later?"?

Would Mark even have a point? How could his parents have yelled at him 10 days ago since they didn't even know he had broken any rules. Had they known earlier he was drinking, of course his butt would have been grounded earlier. It's not like they knew all along and decided to start caring 10 days later.

Unlocking the Mystery of Gunther

By Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com

When a truly special piece of art is released, rarely is it understood fully by the public right away. Very much like Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, or Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase no. 2, and Fountain, the essence of Gunther's lyrical artwork may be difficult for the untrained ear and eye to interpret. Since we at RivalFish feel that this man's artwork is too important to go unappreciated in these trying times, I will provide a veritable Cliff's Notes if you will, for a sample of his videos. The song lyrics will be in boldface with their accompanying interpretation following.


Tutti Frutti Summerlove





This is the land of forbidden fruit, bananas and melonas, yeah. It's a hot hot summer love. Yeah- The land of forbidden is of course a reference to the Bible's Old Testament story about Adam and Eve. Unlike Adam and Eve's setting however, this particular land harbors two forbidden fruits- Bananas and melonas. We the listener are left to ponder what those fruits could symbolize. After briefly wrestling with what this could possibly be, the video provides clues- this is in fact thinly-veiled sexual imagery.

It's a no/no and you like it- A reference to his biblical first line- with the "no/no" representing the forbidden fruit. Gunther then plays a brilliant game of cat-and-mouse with the listener with the line "and you like it". Is that line a mere throw-away or does this line foreshadow an Adam-and-Eve-like result that sees them give into their temptation? With such questions looming Gunther tells the listener that the game of romance is now afoot.

It's a no-no and I like it- Gunther has given in and admitted he needs this romance's consummation as much as his Eve-symbol seductress. Despite this romance being a "no-no", he has fallen victim to his melona-bearing temptress and is not only willing to relent, he is eager. This amorous tango has rendered Gunther a victim of the Stokholm syndrome of the heart, if you will.

Come and take your chance and do the naked dance, bananas and melonas yeah. It's a hot hot summer love. Mmmm- What he actually means isn't "let's dance in the nude" rather "Let's have sexual intercourse, you bring your forbidden melon-symbolized fruit, and I'll bring my forbidden banana-symbolized fruit, and we'll totally bone and stuff."



Ding Ding Dong





Oohh, you touch my tralala/ mmm... my ding ding dong- At first the listener is left to ponder what Gunther's "tralala" is and what that word means. Remember here listener, that Gunther could use any word he wanted to in this song and he deliberately chose a word with an uncertain meaning. Knowing that "tralala" is not in our language, Gunther boldly leads the listener down the hall of ambiguity and into the parlor of vagueness. He does not want us to know (yet?) what a "tralala" is. We will have to listen and hope that he lets us in.
Then all of two seconds later, we learn that it is synonymous with his "ding ding dong" which we the listener, would be wise to interpret as his phallus.
So we know that his paramour touches his tralala (ne ding dong) But how does she touch it? Literally or figuratively? Will he tell us? Again, we are left to wait with bated breath and hope that he lets us in.
SPOILER ALERT: Ok he never does tell us what it means. He just kept the non-sensical hook. He basically provided no other discernible details of this latent-romance- ostensibly in an attempt to symbolize the oftentimes non-rational aspect of lust and love.
But still that song was awesome.



Gunther featuring Samantha Fox- Touch Me





Touch me, touch me now-. Gunther would like to have sexual intercourse with an unnamed woman. That's pretty much it.



Now that I've lead you by the hand in interpreting these works, I will leave you to interpret these next videos on your own. If you have questions, you may email me or leave a question in the Comments section.

Christmast Song




Gigolo

It Is With Great Shame That I Announce This: I Have Also Benefited From Steroids

By Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com

I'd just like to clear the air and get this off my chest. There's a cat in this bag of mine that needs to be released and this skeleton in my closet would like to follow. Apparently the record was crooked - now I'd like to set it straight. I would like nothing more than to spill the beans. I now wish to address the elephant in the room and sweep the dirt out from under the rug and back onto the middle of the floor. I will now let the Virgin Mary (who was without sin) cast a stone at my glass house, or something. What I'm trying to say is this: I am guilty of benefiting from steroids. It's true. Steroids have made my involvement with Major League Baseball much better. They tempted me, won me over with their charms and eventually I was relying on them. For this I am truly sorry.

I'm actually being serious. No, I've never played MLB, nor have I taken steroids (please refrain here not only from snickering and sarcasm, but also from all forms of testicular shrinkage jokes) but I have benefited from steroids. I would also venture to guess that you have also.

I am talking about my starry-eyed glee during the Sosa-McGwire historic HR chase in the fall of 1998.

To provide some autobiographical context: forgiving has never interested me. If I like you, I hope you enjoy being liked to such an extent that you do not wish to do anything to change that. It's pretty simply, really. If you show me that you don't value my appreciation, then it's permanently revoked and that's that.

So in 1994 when the players staged a strike I quit following. I still loved the game, just not MLB. The 1995 season started and I didn't care. It ended and I didn't care. Same for '96. 1997? Even easier. Going into '98 I still didn't care about MLB

Then McGwire and Sosa started doing their thing. I'm a Cubs fan and I was drawn in. I couldn't help it; that's like dangling a pizza slice in front of a starving obese kid. My Cubs had been miserable for so long I'd forgotten about my stubbornness. Roger Maris's 61 home runs was a number every kid knew growing up, yet felt no connection to. Between it's magnificence and it's antiquity, that achievement was alien to my generation. We couldn't really put a face with Maris. We'd never heard anything about him other than his home run total for that year. It was just a dusty old number in the MLB record books. truly mythical. Finally in 1998 someone from the era might actually break this geriatric record and give it meaning to me.

Not only was this historic record in jeopardy for the first time in nearly five decades, but we were not even sure which one of two sluggers would do it!! Two in one year!! After so many unhindered years, this record was being assailed by not one but two players! One of them on my team!! Needless to say my cold shoulder toward MLB turned warm (I don't know what that means either) and I was hooked so thoroughly that I'd never quit the sport again.

Fast forward to 2007.

Both of those guys were on drugs. Roger Maris's record of 61 should still stand. So should Henry Aaron's mark of 755. This is where the shame comes in.

My father was right. Everyone was on steroids. He is the only person I heard ever say anything of that nature at that time. I'm not ashamed for being a baseball fan now. But I am embarrassed knowing that the reason I follow this sport again was something that was glamorous due to its illegality. Baseball commissioner Bud Selig certainly knows I'm not the only 1998 convert, but he and his fat pockets didn't care.

Since 1998 I'm not sure how much money of mine Major League Baseball has seen. But it's a pretty good amount. Between game tickets, concessions, apparel, patronizing bars that show baseball games, and visiting MLB.com daily during the season, I've helped line their pockets. What's weird is all of that money plus all the money I ever will spend on baseball is really no better than drug money.

Bud Selig doesn't exactly have blood on his hands, but he has steroids on his hands. And now we know Roger Clemens has them in his ass.

The Rivalfish Mitchell Report Fantasy Team

By Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com

Our good friend at SimonOnSports, in conjunction with EpicCarnival, has set up the Mitchell Report Fantasy Draft. Please note that this idea is credited to the Max Kellerman Show, and we decided to pay homage to the idea by actually staging a draft. You can check out the teams on EpicCarnival.

The run down:
I slept in late today and was not aware that the draft (existed or) was going on. The rules are rather straightforward as mentioned on EpicCarnival. If your dude is mentioned in the Mitchell Report you get a point, most points wins. I didn't actually consult with anyone on RivalFish about my selections, so it wasn't a group effort per se, but being that I'm the only RivalFish writer in the pool (who doesn't have my own blog) I figured I'd share the wealth.

After the first eight contestants picked their five players another late entrant
joined and picked his team off of waivers before I joined and did the same. Phrased differently, my picks were #s 46-50, not exactly a wealth of riches but I think the previous 9 left a little meat on the bone (sorry vegetarians). I went with Benito Santiago, Jeremy Giambi, Scott Spiezio, Julio Franco and Steve Finley. Here is a breakdown of my picks.


Benito Santiago:

My circumstantial evidence: He went from being a light-hitting catcher for his first decade-and-a-half, then emerged from what seemed like his own ashes to be a muscular slugger. After turning 77 he just decided to start lifting weights and trying to hit for power? Really? If that isn't his excuse, I just hope he'll plead that the jeri curl and 'stache weighed him down- that I actually would believe. Seriously, how porny is his card on the left??

Jeremy Giambi:

My Circumstantial Evidence: These two men are brothers. The one on the right was on steroids at the time this photo was taken; I have his doppelganger brother on the left.
You know how poker players wear sunglasses to hide their facial expressions? Don't you get the vibe that he is wearing those shades to mask his projecting of 'roid shame? Me too! Oh my god that's so weird!!

Scott Spiezio:

My Circumstantial Evidence: Admittedly, this isn't the biggest slam dunk pick of all time. However, he had two things really going for him- 1) he peaked in 2002 (i.e. before 'roid testing) and, 2) He missed a large portion of the 2007 season because he was in drug rehab. The drugs
mentioned were alcohol and "other drug(s)" that were not specified. While I'm not one to find humor in addiction or belittle someones struggles with drugs- especially those that admit to having a problem, this does create circumstantial evidence for possible steroid abuse.

Less Likely But Potentially Damning Nonetheless: A little known fact about heroin users is that many of them get a star tattooed on the inside of their "shooting arm" to help them locate the "mainline" where they wish to inject. If you put the needle in the center of the star you'll hit the sweet spot everytime. Do you think Spiezio's red soul patch could somehow be the steroids equivalent?? Only time will tell.

(The last paragraph was my homage to how parents and old fart journalists always trying to act hip and in-the-know when it comes to drugs. Like how last year how Nightline blew the roof of a naughty little drugs secret- kids are now doing some drug called "Ecstasy")

Julio Franco:

My Circumstantial Evidence: Here is what you need to know about him (apart from the jeri curl and stigitty stigitty 'stache). No one knows his real age. He is LISTED as being born in August of 1958, but it's widely held that he is in considerably older. In 2007 hee set the record this year as being the oldest player to hit a home run. This skinny guy in '83 is now a 50+ year old slugger. Again, if he wants to take the Benito Santiago defense and claim that he lost his mind when he did away with the jeri and shaved the stash and that resulted in his steroid abuse, I'd have to forgive the poor fella.

Steve Finley:

The circumstantial evidence against him: This is another selections of the non-slam-dunk varietal. He had the best season of his career at age 40, and as this photo details: he shares a steely embrace with admitted steroid abuser Ken Caminiti.

That's the list- results will follow on EpicCarnival and on here. Good luck Team RivalFish!

Third Grade Spazz Soundly Defeats BCS Brain Trust in Chess Match

By Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com


Fort Wayne, IN (AP)- In 22 minutes the match ended with a whimper. The ballyhooed chess match's official ending took place in the 22nd minute, but the result was in never in doubt.

Timmy McMichael, a third grader at Aboite Elementary, handily defeated a team of 12 men who represented the "Brain Trust of the BCS" (Bowl Championship Series). Despite this being the first time playing chess, McMichael easily dispatched his adversaries as he was watching a SpongeBob SquarePants episode from an adjacent television set. When asked about his level of chess experience before his match, Timmy said "My dad taught me the rules of chest (sic) this morning and gave me a sheet of the rules to look at in case I forgot them."

Despite his surprising victory over 12 Ivy-League-educated men, the next Bobby Fisher this is not. Upon Timmy's bishop capturing the Rook of the BCS Brain Trust, he shrieked "King me!", and repeatedly referred to his Knight as his "horsey". After losing his White Bishop and learning that "do-overs" were not part of chess, McMichael cried.

The Brain Trust's members were not made immediately available to the media after their disheartening loss. Their spokesperson, Steven Rogers, fielded questions after the match, albeit in decidedly defensive tone: "I can assure you that these 12 men are the most intelligent, judicious, and forthright thinkers involved in NCAA athletics today. If they were unable to defeat Mr. McMichael today, it was because Mr. McMichael was unbeatable today. Their body of work as a unit prior to today speaks for itself. Since the inception of the BCS, they have crowned at least one champion every year. Let me repeat that: EVERY. SINGLE. YEAR.... at LEAST one..... They are obviously amazing at their jobs, they just ran into a buzz saw today."

Today that buzzsaw wore Pokemon sweatpants and consumed nearly 4 candy bars during his 22 minutes of play. Rogers was later asked to speculate on the scope of McMichael's achievement and what this means for Chess, "What was proven here today was absolute, thorough, definitive and as black-and-white as it gets, folks: Timmy McMichal is the US Chess Champion. How someone could even question that just baffles me. It honestly makes feel sympathy for the questioner's intellect. You have two astounding Chess entities- Timmy and the BCS Brain Trust- and a computer matched them up, and Timmy won. End of story. Forever. And ever and ever and ever."

After the BCS Spokesman asked the field of reports to stop laughing he defiantly fielded another question that asked how this seemingly random pairing of two chess combatants could represent the two most deserved chess players to decide the National Championship. After a long, condescending sigh, Mr. Rogers stated "Ok...First all, for all you Madison Avenue hotshots who think you know so much about chess, let's get something straight- computers decided this pairing. Computers. Not some hillbilly, alcoholic liar of a human who can never be fully trusted to decide anything, and not some loser elected to the CCS (Chess Champioship Series) just because his daddy was a wealthy contributer for years- computers did this. Computers. This election wasn't voted on by a gaggle of some Florida geriatrics in Depends who can't read a Butterfly Ballot. The reasoning these computers used, and the magnitude of their computational capacity is not fathomable to our simplistic, carbon-based minds. For you all to presume that you could produce a better chess pairing is not only arrogant, rude and incorrect- it's dangerous."

Upon being asked by Mikhail Cuchikokov, the editor of ChessWorld, "Yes, but who do you think it is that programs these computers and inputs their computational schematics?", Mr. Rogers replied "Other computers".

The last question Mr. Rogers was asked is if he, or anyone on the BCS Brain Trust, felt a touranment might be an even better means to determine the US Chess Champion- "Listen. The day we put in all of our numbers into the computer and the computer says: (Mr. Rogers then did a robot voice and weakly did a version of the robot dance) 'cannot compute. must. hold. tournament. to pick winner.'- I promise you, we'll hold a tournament. Until that happens, this is the only possible solution."

During Timmy's post-match conference he took a more rational approach to question answering. Upon being asked if Billy felt he was the rightful, undisputed US Chess Champion he exhaled, paused and thought deeply. After a pregnant pause he then asked what "undisputed" meant. Once it was explained he answered, "No way Jose. I was happy I won today, but there are probably like a million people in this country. The only fair way to pick a winner is to have a chess tournament, everyone knows that. Doesn't every sport do that? I know that I like watching the World Series with my dad and brother and sister. Everyone here in Indiana loves March Madness- businesses shut down just to watch it. My cousins in Canada love the Stanley Cup Playoffs. I'm only 10 years old, but I've never heard anyone complain about any of those playoffs. Again, I'm real happy I won, but I wouldn't feel like a champion unless I won a tournament and beat a few other good players in a row. You can't give out trophies if there isn't a tournament."

With that Timmy McMichael, unaware of having chocolate marks all around his mouth and on his cheeks, got up from the table and exited. As he met his congratulating friends in the waiting area, this slayer of the dragon that is the BCS Brain Trust, was overheard giggling as his friend made the classic "Milk, Milk, Lemonade...." joke.

Things I Don't Understand:

By Andy Kissko, AndyKissko@yahoo.com

When people start sentences with something like, "If you would have told me 10 years ago, that I'd be doing X today...". Think about that. How odd would it be if you're sitting there watching the game with your buddy and he turns and looks you in the eye and says "In 10 years you'll be a married father of 3 living in Arkansas and you'll be an ice cream telemarketer." then turned back and watched the game? Who the hell would do that in the first place? What group of friends sat around and predicted aloud each other's futures- then one of them went on to be surprised that none of those predictions were correct?

Chicks always being chilly, then never wearing a jacket when they go out on weekends despite it being like 27 degrees.

Sending a mass text message and saying "Hey everybody..." when we wouldn't know it were a mass text if they didn't say "everybody". It's a great way to put out the "I'm thinking of you" vibe, but also adding "but not any more than I am thinking of everyone else."

Chubby chasers.

Nickelback. If I'm gonna get rocked by a dude- you can bet it won't be from a McMetal band lead by a dude with a goatee and a dyed-blond perm.

Ugg boots. I get them if they're used in inclement weather, but when it's nice outside and chicks wear them I am just perplexed.

Not laughing when you hear a fart. Especially when it's from anyone outside of the male 10-50 year old demographic.

Why someone would ever be a paparazzo. If paying your mortgage or financing your children's education is dependent on you taking a picture of Frankie Muniz in a bathing suit or Brendan Fraser eating al fresco, you are the worst person of all time.

How people with nervous laughs laugh after every sentence they say and expect us to find every single declarative sentence they state to actually be humorous. I think I get why they're nervous all the time, though- it's probably because they're like "oh crap, that last joke really sucked. I HAVE to make it up in the next sentence....crap, I don't have anything funny to say....but I gotta try SOMETHING.....here goes nothing...oh man I really need this one......."

Hoodies under blazers. Just a truly, truly horrible idea. Even if mixing and matching is your thing, try to mix and match good ideas instead. Mixing stupidity and matching that with a huge mistake, does not a chic outfit make.

Putting chopped nuts on ice cream. Just a preference. No puerile joke here, I just really hate that combination.

When people are praying and are "telling" God what to do. Why the hell don't they ever say "please"? They're talking to their fucking God, for God's sake!! Yet they're talking to him more rudely than they would talk to a bartender- you at least say "Can I have a Manhattan please?". "Deliver us from evil", "have mercy on us", "forgive us our sins", etc. It's not ok for your kid to tell you, "Pour me a glass of orange juice, Dad" without saying "please", but it's ok to order your God to "forgive us our trespasses"?? It's GOD!!!!

Facelifts for aging celebrities. We can all tell you had work done. It makes you look creepy, fake and shallow. Seriously. If you're 65 you aren't getting jobs because you're a wrinkle-free piece of ass. Not even tabloid media makes fun of people for having crow's feet, it happens. And if you are wrinkle-free thanks to a fake face you're never gonna get called an ageless or timeless beauty. Instead they'll say "Man, that fake-looking chick has had some major work done. Lay off the surgery." With that you've defeated the purpose. It's like pouring concrete over a flowerbed because the flowers aren't in full bloom anymore. Fading flowers still look way better than concrete.

People who watch Leno over Letterman.

Same for people who watch Craig Ferguson instead of Conan.

Fanny packs. If you're ever in mime school and your assignment is to non-verbally convey the message "Hi there, I'm not from around here. In fact, I'm not even from this time zone. And ya know what? Lately I've been slipping on my diet and to be quite honest with you, I'm not too up-to-date with my current events either." All you'd really have to do is put on a fanny pack and you're done with the assignment.

Jean shorts. When coupled with the fanny pack it isn't so much a case of two wrongs making a right, it's a case of two wrongs loudly proclaiming "I tell you what, I love NASCAR and I keep my chewin' tobacca right here, you sumbith."

Non-athletic pants with elastic waistbands for those over the age of 12. I mean, the theory makes sense, "It's great because my weight can fluctuate yet I can still wear the same pair of pants." but not really. Firstly, they look awful. Secondly, it isn't like every part of the pants stretches. What if your problem area is your ass and thighs? Then what? Then you're screwed. But hey, at least you saved $7 by not having to a buy a belt.

Picking your nose being a social taboo. You can fix your hair in public, you can tuck your shirt in. You can pick your afro, you can pick your ears, you can pick your teeth- if you have a toothpick. You can even blow your nose. What's so different about picking your nose? Now you're going to say "because picking your nose results in having boogers on your fingers, dumbass." But what if you demurely deposit them in a napkin or tissue and throw them away, like you do blowing your nose, or with a used toothpick, or if you cleaned up a mess with a napkin? I really don't see a difference.

Dog owner's who don't train their dogs to the point where the dog doesn't seem to be aware of its own name. Having dumb dogs is like having dumb kids- you just can't do it. You got a responsibility! You get off your ass and you train that fucking dog! (I'm hoping the Billy Madison reference didn't go unnoticed.)

Not having your toll/bus money/ticket ready as you approach the toll/bus. As my dad would say "Surprise! Toll! Surprise!!!" If your stupidity slows you down you deserve it. But if your stupidity slows me down, I'm going to have a problem with that.

Doughy broads showing midriff. I can understand why fit women would consider their sightly abdominal region to be an asset and wish to show it off. Clothers realized this and made clothes for them, women purchased them and they were all happy. So too were the guys who looked at those women. But when did women with unsightly abdomens think "Ooooh, that's a great idea! Men are attracted to shorter shirts apparently." Apparently, clothing companies then said "There are women out their flaunting their physical imperfections out there and making the public world less attractive- I want our company to be associated with that movement."

When you’re in crowded area and someone says “Damn, what’s up with all these people being here?” -not realizing the irony that I'm thinking the same thing as I look at them, or similarly, when six fratty dudes walk into a party and proclaim “Whoooaa…sausage fest”

People who don't seem to be aware that they have bad breath. How do you have no idea that your mouth tastes like hot garbage? If I could make food that tasted like their breath smells and they ate it they'd be vomit. Yet they don't mind the taste if it's lingering? How does THAT work?