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Wholesale Chidren's car Wholesale Chidren's car
- From: smallvolume
-
Description:
Every baby should come with two things: a "how-to" book and a quality stroller. For nearly any parent, grandparent or caregiver, the ability to wheel a child around in a stroller is a study in convenience. In fact, the most difficult part of owning a stroller is probably buying one.
There are more stroller styles and features than ever before. Even jogger strollers (specifically made for running or walking) are coming into their own. Many jogger strollers are trading their all-too-utilitarian designs for a touch of luxury. At Consumer Guide, we share expert reviews on strollers and joggers great for nearly any budget, taking care to point out helpful features designed to make life easier for parent and child.
Currently, a number of stroller manufacturers are rolling out new models with improved details. Some manufacturers are paying more attention to how a stroller or jogger performs, adding large pneumatic wheels and all-wheel suspension systems. Others are paying attention to parent-friendly features and adding customized storage, height-adjustable handles and even a one-hand steering option. Perhaps the trendiest feature we have seen is a stroller with an iPod pocket and built-in speakers.
Expect to pay more for a full-size stroller than a lightweight umbrella-style model. The trade-off, however, is a good one: A quality full-size stroller should be durable enough to use for several years. A jogger stroller typically won't have all the convenience features of a full-size stroller, but when it comes to getting a bit of exercise, there's no substitute.While it can be difficult to justify spending hundreds on a stroller or jogger in the face of mounting expenses (such as your child's future college education), initially spending more can sometimes save money in the long run. Compare the expense of purchasing a quality stroller with the cost of buying two or three strollers that wear out or don't perform as promised. It adds up.
Make a few decisions before you begin shopping. If you prioritize your needs (adjustable handles, reclining seat, large canopy), it's easier to sift through the trendy "new" features. It's also important to note that "quality" doesn't always equal "costly." Thanks to a competitive juvenile products industry, careful shoppers can find an increasing number of mid-priced strollers with features once seen only on high-end models.
Expect to spend $75 to $300 or more for a full-size stroller. At the lower-end of the price spectrum, you will find only the most basic models. These are OK if you plan to use a stroller only occasionally. If a stroller will be a big part of your after-baby life, shell out a few more dollars for comfort and convenience features. It will be worth it.
Specialized strollers, such as jogger strollers, average about $200, but some cost $400 or more. Again, if you're a serious athlete planning to put a lot of mileage on a stroller, durability should be a priority. If you will just be walking around the cul-de-sac, a basic model should be fine.
It is a new design ride-on swing toy car. It also named as "Wiggle Car" or "Plasma Car" in USA. If you are looking for something different to a bike, this is your first choice. It is good for party, entertainment and gift for kids.
Therefore, you can refer to above-mentioned information, which strollers best suit your needs and budget.
- Blog post
- 2 months ago
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basilvaldezxlam
- Views: 9
- Since: 3 months ago
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alipervexzsuarez
- Views: 10
- Since: 3 months ago
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4 steps to permanent weight lo 4 steps to permanent weight loss - free ebooks library download
- From: cheapgadgetsguide
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Description:
The Author spent most of her childhood and young adult years struggling with her health. She battled severe allergies, asthma, spastic colon and irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) for as long as she could remember. She grew up sickly, weak and defeated. She was told not to over exert myself, take my medicines regularly and make the best of it.
At times She wasn’t allowed to play outside, for fear of her allergies and asthma “getting stirred up”. Needless to say, sports were out of the question. During her high school and college years she was in and out of the emergency room with complications from a spastic colon, irritable bowel syndrome and poor diet.She married her high school sweetheart Barry (a musician) when she was 20 and the roller coaster began. They moved from their small town of Evansville, Indiana to Dallas, Texas. Three years later they moved to Los Angeles. Let us spare you the “Jerry Springer details” but all that life on the road took its toll.
She had been the “skinny girl” all through High School, mainly because like a lot of teenagers – She just didn’t eat much.
So of course when Barry and her got married she didn’t have a clue how to prepare food. She just did what a lot of young newlywed women do – She went to the grocery store and bought anything that looked good and was easy to cook!The married life has taken too much toll on her health and psychologically impaired her confidence. She became someone forgotten about the past, used to be skinny, now 50++ pounds!
It wasn’t easy and she had to crawl before she could walk - BUT SHE DID IT! The girl who couldn’t even run in gym class or do a single pull-up was jogging daily and lifting weights. She couldn’t believe how her body was transforming before her eyes. She went from being the newly frumpy, sickly girl…to a fit, new improved version of her.
The thing that amazed her the most was that her allergies even improved, anyone suffers from them knows how big of a statement that is! She took control of her health, which eventually helped her focus more on her marriage (now 15 years and stronger than ever), dive deeper in her faith, gain self-confidence and reach true happiness.
And she can proudly say that shenever succumbed to any of those slick ads weightloss-diet products. Never once have she used a prescription or non-prescription diet pill!
She went on to become a Nationally Certified Personal Trainer, Fitness Instructor and Lifestyle & Weight Management Consultant.
For more free ebooks library download, please visit http://myebooksplace.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=62:weight-loss&catid=36:diet&Itemid=89
- Blog post
- 4 months ago
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linktoporn
- Views: 16
- Since: 4 months ago
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Manny Pulled Over by the D.O.G Manny Pulled Over by the D.O.G.
- From: CorneliusButterfield
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Description:
A dark blue Crown Vic pulled up beside them. Stenciled on the door in large letters: Dodgers Obedience Guard. In smaller letters: Protecting Dodger Glory Everywhere.
The D.O.G. inside pointed to the curb, “Pullover. NOW!”
Blue lights flashed wildly.
Manny jumped. “What do I do? Try to out run him?”
“Dog looks real mean,” said Sporty, the sports writer, in the back seat.
“Say something!” said Manny, starting to gasp. “Mr. B., talk to me. You're my agent.”
“I'm thinking. Better stop, I guess, but let me do all the taking.” said Mr. B.
Sporty pulled out his little tape recorder. “This will be good.”
Manny was drinking a can of Mary Jane's Super Klean 13. “Crap,” he said. He gulped it down, burped, looked around and smiled.
As he pulled over to the curb, off balance, he fumbled the can into the glove compartment.
The D.O.G. was right at the window. “Open up.” he said. He stared into the window, blue aviator glasses, blue smokey hat.
“Hey, man. What'd I do,” said Manny, rolling down the window. “I' didn't do nothing.”
“What was that in the can?”
“This is highly irregular, demanding such from law abiding...” said Mr. B, the agent.
“Did I say you could talk,” said the D.O.G. “Sir, my name's Sgt. Joe Sunday. What were you drinking? Tell me it wasn't...illegal in some way.”
Mr B., the agent, took a small card out of his wallet and handed it to Manny.
The card read: 'If stopped by Police, CHP, Border Patrol, IRS, D.O.G, Parks and Recreation Officer, Fashionista or an angry Giant fan, proceed as follows:
Say nothing.
Say either: “I did not do it,” or “I did nothing wrong.” or “It was that way when I got here,” which ever seems appropriate, but sticking with #1 is probably best.
Say, "You know who you're talking to?"
Try a bribe
Plead the McGwire defense
If this doesn't work get down on your knees, cry, say you're oh so sorry
Run.
“I asked you a question.”
“You know who you're talking to?" said Manny.
“Your signed two year contract.” He snapped his fingers. "Hand it over. Now.”
Manny pulled out a $100 bill. Sunday looked at it over his blue glasses. “That's it, $100?”
Mr B. whispered to Manny, and pointed at the card.
Oh yeah” said Manny. “Hey, I don't have to tell you nothing. McGuire never had to answer that?” Manny look pleased.
“Who?” said Sunday.
"McGuire, Mark McGuire, you know the home run guy. You stupid?”
“You mean Mark McGwire? You been reading unauthorized material? They always spell it wrong." He peered inside the car. “Who are these other two. You get permission to talk with them?”
“Permission? Well, not yet. This is Mr B., my agent, and that's Sporty, writes for the...”
“I know you guys. OK, out of the car. And if you run, I'll shoot you where you stand.”
Sunday stood there waiting. “And don't think we can't cut you. You've been suspended, your production, oh boy, and you getting $20 mil a year. Get real.” He breathed deeply. "Please, tell me this isn't happening."
“But Jim Thome, he's playing and he can't hardly walk.”
“What do you know about Jim Thome?” He saw an open copy of the SportingNews on the back seat. “Who said you could read that. You're not supposed to be thinking about anything but Baseball. Not salaries, who is on the DL, negotiations.” He fanned himself with his clip board.
“And what is that?” He saw a small bottle of pills on the dashboard.
“Just some pills...my back's been hurting,” said Manny. “Called Greenies.”
“What?” said Sunday.
“Greenies,” said Sporty. ”Benz, bennies, road dope, dex, dexies, lightening, bumble bees, chicken powder...”
“I know what they are,” said Joe Sunday. “I'm not stupid.” He took the pill bottle from Manny and looked at it closely. “Hide these. I don't want to see them again,” and tossed them back onto Manny's lap. He stood back and said, “Okay, everybody, out of the car.”
He looked down at his clip board, “Sporty, the sports writer, I don't see your name on my list. You're not supposed within 10 city blocks of Manny. Boy, this is going to cost you plenty.”
All three got out of the car and stood at attention on the sidewalk.
Sunday stuck his face a inch from Manny's. “Talking with your agent, without permission. Associating with a known sports writers. In your car no less.” He ripped the small tape recorder away from Sporty, and stomped on it hard with his blue leather boot.
“This is all going into my report...”
As screams came form the trunk.
“What the hell...don't tell me.” Sunday stopped, and his thumb slowly went up. “Pop it.”
"I'm oh so sorry..." said Manny, as he popped the trunk.
“Well” said Sunday. “If it ain't Hannah Hannah from Santa Ana. The Sports Lady. Trying to hide from me, again huh?”
“I was kidnapped, Joe. All I wanted was an interview...”
“I knew it was wrong,” said Mr B, “so we did what we had to do. She's unauthorized, so we were going to take her to Palm Springs, way away, just to talk...”
“Unbelievable.” Sunday stared at her. “Well? Let's go. OUT! We don't have all day.”
Getting no help, Hannah struggled out of the trunk, ripping her tight skirt up the side in the process.
“That won't work with me, sweetheart,” said Sunday, “I got a wife, two kids and a pit bull named Bad Boy. I'm real happy. Besides you'd have to rip it way higher than that.”
She moved quickly and stood between Manny and Mr. B., the agent.
“All I wanted was human interest stuff.” said Hannah.
“Digging up smut. All it was. I know your type, Hannah? And do something with your hair.”
Mr B, the agent, elbowed her and pointed to his card. She blinked, and with a ripped skirt and six inch stilettos, Hannah made her move, off, breakneck, down the sidewalk, high tailing it toward the cab stand near Spagos.
“She won't get far, I know where she lives.” said Sunday. “Okay guys. Listen up, and listen up good.”
Joe Sunday paced in front of the men, hitting his baton on the palm of his hand, “All we hear today is pros going off the reservation, getting their pictures in the paper, drugs, sex, getting shot, whatever. I'm your Guardian. You're no good to us if you lose respected with the fans. Steelers didn't guard their QB close enough. Problems now with college players. Went AWOL. Off the reservation.”
He walked back to his car, threw the clip board inside, and came back. “Assembling with unauthorizeds, sports reporters in your car, meeting your agent without permission. All adds up to no good, Manny. And trying to out flank me, hiding Hannah in the trunk.”
Joe Sunday turned and surveyed the tall buildings along Wilshire Boulevard. He sighed. Then looked down and shook his head.
“Get in the trunk.” He pointed to Mr B. and Sporty.
“What the hell?” said Mr B.
“You're not serious?” said Sporty. “You can't make me...”
“And gimme that cell phone. You can pick it up at Will Call.” said Sunday. “Any questions?”
Silence.
“IN,” said Sunday. “And let this be a warning, Manny. Too nice a day to be inside doing paper work. You were never stopped. You never saw me. I see any of you together on my watch...,” He rubbed the handle on his Glock, holstered at his side. Then he poked each in the stomach hard with his nightstick.
“Got that?”
They both coughed, and crawled in. Manny slid behind the wheel.
“Just a warning...THIS TIME.”
“You won't have any problems, sir,” said Manny. “RBI's all I'm thinking about.”
“NOW GO!”
“Yes sir,” and off he sped, hellbent, dreads blowing in the breeze, happy it was only a warning.
That's my take. What do you think. How far should a team owner go to keep his players in line. Run wild or straight jacket?
CorneliusButterfield.com
- Blog post
- 6 months ago
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Nothin' Much Good Happens Afte Nothin' Much Good Happens After Midnight
- From: CorneliusButterfield
-
Description:
The cold breeze cut right through his thin scarf. So he pushed the the shopping cart a little further forward. His was sitting on the morning's sport section. Picture of a football player under his bare foot. He looked down at it, pulled it out, and started reading it.
They heard a man's heels along the sidewalk.
Ada elbowed him. “Jeeter,” she said.
He looked up from the paper and said, “Spare change, sir.” But the man simply walked on by. He looked away, across the street.
“They don't even look at us anymore. Bastards,” said Ada.
“It's numbers,” said Jeeter. “Somebody's bound to give us something. Don't worry.” He lifted the paper. “See this? I used to play football. Right tackle.”
“Cant just ask for money,” said Ada. “Gotta do a show. Do something they like. Sing maybe.”
“I could do something, I'd have a job.” He laughed, she slapped at him, and she laughed too.
He pulled up his pant leg, and pushed his swollen bare foot further into the side walk. Easier to see.
“I played football, but I wasn't any good. It was tough. Coach didn't much care, he taught science. I wasn't good at school anyway, algebra.” He shook his head.
“See this guy?” He pointed at the paper again. “Guy plays for the Steelers. Some kind a sex early in the morning with some girl in a bar. She called the cops on him.”
"Spare any change sir?” said Ada. Man walked toward them and right on by.
“Football player's make all that money, and they act like they don't have any rules.” she said.
“You think that way? Some do act up, like this guy, I guess.” said Jeeter.
“Money they make. More than I'll see in a...spare any change sir?” She tried to smile.
Jeeter pushed out his foot even further into the sidewalk.
“I remember a guy in high school,” said Ada. “Played football. I thought we were good friends. Said he liked me. But he had all these other girls hanging around.”
“Guy is in a tough place,” said Jeeter looking at the news story. “All that money, people out to steel it from him, you know.”
“Even with money, guys has to know how to treat a lady. Can't be mean. You can tell. Look into his eyes. Here," she said. "Give me the paper.”
It was a picture of the player along side a smiling young girl.
“Yep, I see that...look...in his eye. He did something, I can tell.”
“It's the people you hang with, you know.” said Jeeter. “Says he's already been accused by some other lady two years ago, up in Lake Tahoe. Says he was her boyfriend already, and she still turned him in. That sounds fishy.”
“Maybe she wanted him to stay with her. Only thing she could do.” said Ada.
“Or maybe she was just looking for a big payday, him being who he is?”
“But guys lie,” said Ada. “Get you to do stuff. Maybe nobody never told him no. And when he hears no from a lady, it don't make any sense to him. He just keeps on.”
“You say no, I know what it means.” said Jeeter, looking over at her.
“I know, not talking about you. Hell, we hear no all the time.” They both laughed, and he started coughing. She pounded hard on his back, and he coughed louder.
“Make him work at the Mini-Mart for awhile," she said, "he'd know how the rest of us feel. Then he'd know how lucky he was. All that money. He's just never seen this side of the fence?”
“It's the team's fault,” said Jeeter. “They should keep a better eye on him, seein' he's already got girls turning him in. He makes them so much money. They should watch out for him better. You know.”
“Spare change ma'am.” said Jeeter.
“No, but have a nice day,” said a lady holding four or five bags.
“That was nice, you hear that?” said Ada.
“Or...you know... maybe he can't stop. Like Tiger Woods. Needs some kind of detox. Rehab.”
“Still, gotta do the right thing,” said Ada.
“It says it happened real early in the morning. Nothing much good happens after midnight, I know that. Guy that big should know better.”
Jeeter angled his foot out into the sidewalk, turning it so the swelling showed better. Ada nodded, then looked up with half a smile, “Spare some change, sir.”
Man walked past, head down too involved in thumbing a text message.
“See that?” said Ada. “He wasn't texin nobody.”
“What happens,” said Jeeter, “This first girl, they had sex, she wants to see him again, and when he never calls back, she gets revengeful. Even if it's not true with this guy, nobody'll look at him the same."
“But twice?” said Ada. “That's what you said. This is the second girl?”
She shook her head. “Like I say, people of goodwill and pure heart don't treat other people like crap.”
“Says here with the second girl, they were at some college bar in Georgia, and there was a $20 cover charge. TWENTY DOLLARS!”
“Well,” said Ada, her eyes dark. “That guy better not try no funny business with me, tell you that.”
“Ada. You wouldn't be a hundred miles from this place. Cost $20 JUST TO GET IN. You got nothing to worry about.”
“Still.” she said. She buttoning her coat close around her throat. “Rich people just go on their way.”
“I played ball until I got my knee hit from behind last high school game I played. Never recovered. 30 years now, you know. But to be quarterback you kinda have to be that way.” said Jeeter. “I'm in charge 'cause I know what's right. An Attitude. Sometimes you just have to bully the team. Can't be weak.”
He looked up and down the street.
“Think we'd be like this guy if we were rich?” said Ada.
“I'd just be guessing, you have to ask me again when I'm rich.” He laughed and then started coughing again.
“We still got hope.” she said.
“He's not been arrested yet,” said Jeeter, “so we'll just have to wait and see how this turns out. Maybe he didn't do this stuff?”
“He don't pay now, well, you will down the line. Look at this picture." She pointed at the picture. “Which one you going to believe?”
“He's still a real good player.”
"Oh, yeah. He's a player, all right." she said, her eyes big.
He looked down at his swollen foot, and took a deep breath. “Can't be worrying about rich people all day,” he said. “Time to make something for dinner. Least a couple bucks.”
“Not saying rich people are bad 'cause they're rich. Poor people are bad too. It's just no body cares much about poor people anymore.”
“Yeah,” said Jeeter. “Never see our pictures in the paper.”
Man in a suit came out of the building, saw them and pulled out his wallet.
“Hey?” said Jeeter, quickly pulling in his bare foot.
The man gave each a dollar, stared back into his wallet for a second, then moved on.
“Holy crap,” said Jeeter, his hands shaking. Then they saw another dollar on the sidewalk, one that had fallen out of the man's wallet.
“Shush, don't say nothin'” said Jeeter.
They looked at each other, and Ada's eyes dimmed. “Okay, okay,” he said. Then in unison, “Hey mister,” and pointed at the dollar. The man stopped and looked around. He stood for just a second, thinking, then waved his hand.
“Our lucky day. Our Luck-Key day,” said Jeeter. He hobbled out onto the sidewalk and snapped up the dollar bill. “I'll eat tonight!” He looked at Ada. “Sorry, WE'LL eat tonight.” They both laughed. Then he started coughing, his eyes all watery, and then they laughed some more.
That's my take. What do you think? Do we hold our athletes up to to high a standard off the field? Off the court? Off the diamond? Off the course?
CorneliusButterfield.com - Blog post
- 6 months ago
- Views: 125
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Final Just In: Klansmen 25, Wh Final Just In: Klansmen 25, White Brotherhood 18
- From: CorneliusButterfield
-
Description:
From the radio announcer, “ JimmyJoe Tanner, top of the key, three seconds on the shot clock, fade away, wild, off balance shot, no good, rebound George Tiller, who heaves it down court, misses everything and the ball goes out the far door. Little Tommy Sharkey, run little buddy, he'll go get the ball. Okay, then, that's it. There's the buzzer. From the Macon, Georgia YMCA. The Macon Klansmen 25, the Selma White Brotherhood 18.”
“What a game.” said his color man. “ I think Hiram Wilkins has finally got his one handed dribble working.”
“Good game all around. Billy Ray Smith leading the charge with six points, two rebounds, and did you see that dunk he made in the first quarter. Holy Cow! This win by the Klansmen probably gets them into the playoffs. They'll be up against the Huntsville Heroes of the Fiery Cross and of course the Birmingham Imperial Dragons, the league leaders.”
As the teams left the court, LeMar bounced his ball past the announcers table and began shooting baskets, practicing his jump shot.
“So, this is Jethro Lynch along side Nathan Forrest, sending you back to the station, for a commercial break, then we'll be right back to talk with league President Don 'Moose' Lewis, President of the newly formed AABA, All American Basketball Alliance. The all White League. Don't go away. We'll be right back.”
“Need help with your septic tanks. Call me, Billy Joe Candoo. Offices in Savannah, Macon and Montgomery. Our trucks will pump you out where ever. From Augusta, up to Charlotte, been as far away as Atlanta and Greensboro, if you really need us. So when your tank is full of it, and well...you'll know when it is, oh boy, call me, BillyJoe Candoo! We got the solution to your problem! Okay, now back to the game. Jethro.”
“Thanks Billy Joe. Good guy, out to clean up the community. Okay, okay. The next game for the Klansmen, Knoxville Imperial Wizards. They're having some problems with their venue, seems they can't use the YMCA anymore. They spent too much money on their gray uniforms and got behind in their lease payment to the Y. Anyway, they'll find a way, even if they have to play outside in the middle of the night by fire light.
“That's right,” said Nathan, his color man.
“It's the way it is with a new enterprise. An all white basketball league. And who better to talk about it is league's President Don Lewis. He came to the game tonight. Hello, Mr. Lewis.”
“Call me Moose, everybody does. I'm just fine, Jethro. What a game, huh?”
“Now we've been getting a lot of letters...and well...you've read them.”
“Sure have,” said Moose. “Seems people have the wrong idea about our league There's nothing hatred about what we're doing, I don't hate anyone of color. But white, American-born citizens are in the minority now. We want to emphasize fundamental basketball instead of street-ball played by people of color. Like in the NBA, you got Gilbert Arenas bringing guns into a locker room. Fans don't like the way professional sports are run. So my idea was only players that are natural born United States citizens with both parents of Caucasian race will be allowed to play in our league.”
LeMar dribbled past and hit a 30 footer off the glass.
“You tell me,” said Moose. "Would you want to go to the game and worry about a player flipping you off or attacking you in the stands or grabbing their crotch? In a free country we should have the right to move toward something better."
Moose watched LeMar sink a forty footer. “Anyway,” he said. “If there was an all-black league, would anyone get excited? If someone wanted to start an all-female league because the male athletes had an unfair physical advantage, would anyone complain?” He looked over as LeMar hit another shot off the glass.
“Let's ask the young man shooting hoops,” said Moose. “Hey boy. Got a minute.” LeMar came over.
“You think what we're doing here is wrong?” asked Moose.”
“All white league? I don't have a problem with it. People should be free to start any league they want. Free country.”
Moose straightened up in his chair. “ Your right, son. If there can be the Black Entertainment Television, so why not a White Entertaining Basketball. That's what I'm saying.”
“But.” asked LeMar, “how can you compete with the best players, the ones in the NBA.”
“NBA? That league's been going down hill ever since Larry Bird quit. Too many me-players and thugs. They care less about the game than themselves. It shows on the court.”
“Oh, I don't know,” said LeMar. “There are white guys who like to play with guns, too. If the NBA bans the worst, and stops those big salaries, they won't be acting so crazy.”
A lady from the stands came down. “Been listening on the radio. I like this all white league. At work we have an African/American employees association, Latino association, Chinese association and Gay/Lesbian, but no white person association. They'd be calling me a Nazis, or racists if I tried to start one.
”But I think,” said LeMar. “White people want to really watch the best players play.
A janitor, mopping the floor, came over. “Seems like everyone needs a history lessons here. The main reason there are so many minority groups in this country, especially black ones, is because blacks and other minorities were not allowed into the white ones. As for a pro white basketball league, it's nothing new. They used to all be white.”
Moose waved his hand, “You have all types of black only organizations: NAACP, National Urban League, Rainbow Push Coalition, Miss Black USA, United Negro College Fund, so why can't I start an all white Basketball league?
That's right,” said Jethro. “ I'm thinking you should call Rush Limbaugh. Tuscaloosa's looking for a team. Since the Rams don't want his money, he could invest with us.”
“Here's the problem,” said the Janitor. “Good players wants to be judged by their jump shot, not on the color of their skin. This is a bunch of White Guys who wanna, pass, pass, pass, dribble dribble, dribble, pass pass pass, then a two handed push shot, miss, miss, miss, get sweaty, fall on the ball, hurt themselves, then go for beers and watch real basketball on TV. But hey, they're pros.”
“Well, that's your opinion, sir,” said Moose. “They said nobody would watch. Said no one would ever sponsor it. Whites only is no better than a pick up game. I've heard it, Jethro. But we'll keep going. So, I'm telling everybody. We're expanding. Ten thousand dollars and you're a pro basketball owner! Contact me at all/Caucasian/we/are/not/racist/only /pure/Basketball/.com
“Well, thank you Moose, for setting the record straight.” said Jethro. “So, we'll see you all next Thursday night, against the Knoxville Imperial Wizards. Okay, well...thanks for listening. Now back to the studios.”
After the game, Jethro's wife had a problem with her car so LeMar offered to give Jethro a ride home. On the way, Jethro commenting on LeMar's progress.
“We could use a white guy like you on our team, LeMar. Way you shoot.”
“I'll keep practicing. Somebody might see me, get a pro tryout of some sort.”
“Maybe, if we can't find enough backers for this league, Moose might relax his rules some. People want to see the best players on the court, black or white, you know. ”
LeMar smiled but didn't say anything. They road home in silence.
(For more on this, Google AABA.)
That's my take. Anything you'd like to say to Moose?
CorneliusButterfield@yahoo.com
- Blog post
- 7 months ago
- Views: 114
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NCAA and the RICO ACT NCAA and the RICO ACT
- From: CorneliusButterfield
-
Description:
<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } -->
"Mr Rich, there's a lawyer out her to see you?”
“Not another lawyer,” he said. “Okay,” he coughed, “send him in.”
The door opened.
“Hey, come on in.” He waved away the cigar smoke, and adjusted his vest as he stood up. Two large men, hands in their coat pockets, stood by the door.
“Hello. Mr. Rich?”
“That's me. But, call me Jimmy, we're friends here. So, you're a lawyer, huh?”
“Sorry to tell you this...Jimmy...I have to serve you with these papers.”
The two large men moved quickly toward the lawyer, but Jimmy scowled and waved them back.
“You're getting sued civilly under the Rico Act. O'Bannon vs NCAA. It's a class action.”
“Not again.” he said. He took the papers and toss them on the desk. Then he looked up. “Wait, I never took no lady across no state line for any 'Immoral purposes.' Hell I go to Vegas for that.” He laughed and blew smoke from his cigar.
“No no, that's the Mann Act. This is the Rico Act. The Racketeering act.
“I know, I know, the one they used to bust up the Mafia, Organized Crime, hassle the teamsters. Criminal stuff. But I'm Jimmy Rich, president of the NCAA. Collegiate Athletics. We ain't the Mob. We run a class act here, my friend. I think you got the wrong office. Federal Reserve is just down the hall.”
“No, I think I found the right place. Issue here is whether student-athletes should get paid when you use their images on clothing, and in DVD's, sports games, and TV replays, after they leave sports.
The lawyer put his palms up. “Seems student-athletes have to sign up with the NCAA, or they don't play. They don't really have a choice, do they. How much do you make a year off these athletes?”
“Kind of question is that?” asked Jimmy. He shook his head, looked off at his two body guards. “It's a living. Look around. We do okay. What, making money somehow against the law now?”
“We calculate it's around $4 Billion a year. N.C.A.A. is Tax-Exempt too, right?”
“SO?” He squinted at the lawyer. “We're a business. That a crime, too?” He chewed on his cigar.
“Well, seems you're a lot like a protection racket. Pay me money and we will protect your storefront. If not, a molotov cocktail hits the display window. Poof, no more store, no more income. Same thing, if you don't sign, no way to really play football, basketball, you name it. Athletes work hard for you and get nothing in return.
“Molotov cocktail? What are you talkin'?” He slapped the table. “You been watching to much TV, buddy.” The two large men by the door laughed hard.
“Well...Jimmy...the players have had it. Christian Laettner's three point buzzer-beater in the 1992 NCAA tournament. How much have you made off of that? I've seen it in commercials for nearly twenty years. You pay Laettner anything for it?”
“He'd be nothing without us. Nothing.” said Jimmy.
"All we're saying is that no one has a right to own another person’s image for eternity without paying him for it. Student athletes should have a say in how you use it during their lifetime."
Jimmy poked his cigar in the air. “Look, Mr. Know it all lawyer, we got lawyers too, you know. This ain't the first time we've been sued for this. Ungrateful bastards.” He cleared his throat, took a plastic card out of his bottom drawer, and read it out loud, his finger moving along the line.
'At this preliminary stage of this case, these wild accusations do not diminish the N.C.A.A.’s confidence that we will ultimately prevail in this civil action.” He looked up. “You get all that?”
He leaned back, and jammed the cigar in his mouth. “We're here for protection..er..I mean to protect a young man's ..and woman's amateurism. That's what we do. We're here to prevent all this commercialization. Keep sports clean. Young kids just want to go out there to play ball. That's what they want. We provide all that for them.”
“And it they don't play ball?”
“What?”
“What gives you the right to make money off Ed O’Bannon and his teammates without paying them anything? It's been fourteen years since he's played basketball. We can still see images of him on DVDs and video games. N.C.A.A. cashes in big, but where's his?”.
Jimmy's began to sweat just above his bushy eyebrows. “It's Electronic Arts. They're the real crooks here. Making all that money off all them video games. You think this is an easy job? Computer games. They're the ones you should be hounding, not us.” He pointed his cigar at the lawyer. “Coming in here, talking to me like this.”
“Kinda like slavery”
“What?”
“Kid leaves the plantation and now 15 years later he has a wife and children and the plantation still owns him, no matter what.”
Jimmy jumped up, his chair fell back. The two large men lunged forward. “WHAT? Are you NUTS? Slavery? That's not funny. Get the hell out of here! I ain't no criminal.”
The two large men were now beside the lawyer, hoovering. Clenched fists.
And Jimmy was shouting. “Selling some jerseys, some DVDs. They're getting a college education free of charge. A damn scholarship, and all they have to do is play football, baseball, whatever. They'd do it anyway. Hell nobody cares. They couldn't pay for college anyway. And how about the dumb ones who couldn't get into college any other way, you think of that? We get them in. That's what we do. Why don't you cry babies wise up. Wasn't for us promoting them, they'd never go nowhere. That's what we do . We make it all happen.” Again he pointed his cigar.
“Sonofabitch lawyers come in here. They can always say no. They can always say, I don't want to sign.
“Like that is going to happen.
“They're usually too filled of gratitude. I'm proud of what we do here.”
Jimmy stared at the lawyer for a second, chewing on his cigar. The two large men glowered down at the lawyer. Then Jimmy looked back at the card on his desk. And read, “I deny categorical any infringements of the rights of any former or current student-athlete.” He looked up. “Okay. Like I say, we're big here, too big to fail, like all them banks. You got nothin.' And there's nothin' you can do anyway. Hell, without us there'd be no athletics in school. Haven't you heard? There a recession going on.
“People will be shocked at how down right nasty all this is. It's thievery, you ask me. You're not a public service. You're all about making money. Every place else in America you share the proceeds. Profits here go to men with cigars, and big bellies, not the struggling students, playing soccer, or baseball, or football.”
“Out!” He snapped his fingers. “Get this chump out of here.” The two large men seized the lawyer violently by the arms and jerked him toward the door.
“You got no idea how tough it is in this racke...ah...er...business. Always somebody on your ass to get it done. So what if we make a few bucks. Kids are getting a college education.”
As they pitched the lawyer out into the hallway, he heard these last words on the subject from the N.C.A.A.
“You clowns don't like it you can kiss my...” Then the door slammed shut.
That's my take. Should these student-athletes get a piece of the pie? You tell me.
CorneliusButterfield.com
CorneliusButterfield@yahoo.com
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- 7 months ago
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BatataVadaAndMe
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TonyFrankReese
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tammyattractwealth007
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couponloren319
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roatancharlie
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bRUINS surrender the fort bRUINS surrender the fort
- From: TrojanHorse
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Description:The idea of USC wearing their home darks for the annual crosstown rivalry game with UCLA has been kicked around for over a year now. When Rick Neuheisel became the new head football coach in Westwood, it became more of a possibility, as he played in those early games when the coliseum hosted both home teams. But as I mentioned nearly a year ago, in allowing this to happen, Neuheisel would be giving the Trojans the keys to the house.
Both teams wearing home uniforms are a reflection of old Coliseum traditions. Allowing this to happen at the Rose Bowl would be nothing more than coming to the realization that you are the ugly stepchild renting space in a venue across town, and must succumb to the wishes of the rightful owner. [more] - Blog post
- 2 years ago
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Sports Jabber Sports Jabber
- From: Lee
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Description:Disney World for the Sports Fan!
- 2 years ago
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Turkeys,Lions, and Cowboys, OH Turkeys,Lions, and Cowboys, OH MY!
- From: Lee
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Description:
Turkeys, Lions, and Cowboys, OH MY! | Thanksgiving Football Preview
November 25, 2008 by Lee
There are a few things that are certain on Thanksgiving day. The Lions, Cowboys, and I will pull an eating muscle that can only be treated by several hours of laying on a couch. It’s a tough day but part of the game. I have had this sort of injury so many times that I have become quite good at nursing it. Tradition. This is Thanksgiving Day Football.This Thursday we will be blessed with four football games (if you have NFL Network). First we will give thanks with a little history on Thanksgiving Day Football and then we will dive into the feast of games.
A Bit of History
Thanksgiving football goes back to the late 1800’s. According to the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Thanksgiving Day games in the NFL started in 1920. Teams like Akron Pros, Decatur Staleys, Dayton Triangles, and the Chicago Boosters recorded shutouts that day. Fourteen years later a tradition would start that is still active today. The Detroit Lions on Thanksgiving.
The Lions played their first Thanksgiving Day game in 1934 against the defending Champion Chicago Bears for the Western Division Championship. 94 NBC Radio stations across the country broadcast the Bears 19-16 victory. The tradition that is older than 24 current NFL teams was born. Like it or not, winning or losing, the Lions are on your TV come Thanksgiving.
In 1966 the Dallas Cowboys joined in on the Turkey Day fun. Nov. 24th of 1966 the Cowboys beat the Cleveland Browns 26 to 14, avenging a loss from earlier in the season. You may guess that the games that the Cowboys host each year tend ot boast a little more relevance to what is happening in the NFL as they are more likely to be competing. Classic moment…you know..snow in Dallas...
In 2006 The NFL Network jumped into the Turkey Day Game by broadcasting it’s first. There was quite an uproar from fans that did not have access to the NFL Network. Kinda like having the turkey passed right in front of you at the table and you not getting any. But you can smell it, can’t you?
The Preview
Tennessee at Detroit (12:30pm ET on CBS)
The Lions are 33-33-2 on Thanksgiving day. These two teams have faced off once on the day in 1992 when the Titans were known as the Oilers of Houston (Oilers won). This game would have been more exciting had the Titans not lost to the Jets last week. Sure, there is still the edge of your seat excitement of the Lions getting their first win of the season…but it would have been better if it was against an undefeated team. I always find myself pulling for the Lions on Thanksgiving day.
Seattle at Dallas (4:15pm ET on FOX)
The Cowboys are 25-14-1 on Thanksgiving, 1-1 against the Seahawks. As mentioned above, the Cowboys games tend to have more at stake than the Lions games on this day. The Cowboys are in a position of fighting for a Wildcard spot in the NFL Playoffs where as the Seahawks are fighting for just their third win of the season. This game always has fantasy football relevance for me as I have Marion Barber and Terrell Owens on the same Dynasty League team.
Texas A&M at #2 Texas (8pm ET on ESPN)
Before the NFL had it’s stake on the Thanksgiving Day tradition College Football had it. There is nothing like a good college football rivalry even if you have no stake in the game. Texas and Texas A&M have just plain hate for each other. So for those of you that do not have the NFL Network (that would include me), don’t fret, you have a fine game right here. A&M is having a poor season but this is the game they live for every year. Texas is in at #2 in the BCS standings and looking to keep a shot at a National Championship alive.
Arizona at Philadelphia (8:15pm ET on NFLN)
This is the game that the NFL has chosen to show only to a select audience of NFL Network viewers. How many “Bird” jokes have you already heard regarding this game and Thanksgiving? I will spare you…except I want to throw in the question of whether or not Donovan McNabb’s Goose is cooked after being benched last week. Cheesy, I know. McNabb is supposed to start but the Eagles need a lot to happen to even think about making the playoffs this season. It starts with a win here. The Cardinals are on their way to possibly posting their first double digit win season since 1976 and only their third playoff appearance since then.
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- 2 years ago
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Finnian
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