Hellified, sanctified and vilified, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Have you seen the TMZ clip of Beyonce’s sister, Solange, attacking Jay-Z in the elevator? “Wow, I guess a bitch is one of his problems,” said everybody on Twitter.

Noah has become the most popular boys name in the US. The least popular boys name? Donald Sterling Putin.

TMZ  has security footage of Beyonce Knowles’s sister, Solange, attacking Jay Z in an elevator at the Met Gala. That is shocking. That is amazing. Beyonce has a sister?

Solange is a French word that means: Not Beyonce.

Miami Dolphins Don Jones is in trouble after making negative comments on twitter about the St. Louis Rams drafting openly gay player Michael Sam. Twitter: showing us how stupid celebrities are for seven straight years.

Congratulations to the St. Louis Rams for picking Michael Sam, the first openly gay player selected in the draft. Upon his selection, Sam kissed his boyfriend, Vito Cammisano. And that is this week’s story my Uncle Rudy will not understand.

The All-American Sam was the 249^th player chosen. As risky moves go, this is right up there with choosing to go with orange Gatorade instead of the green.

The mansion in the movie “Scarface” sold in California for $35 million. $5 mil. of that is the street value of the cocaine left in the carpet.

Clay Aiken’s opponent in their close democratic North Carolina state congressional primary, Keith Crisco, 71, was found dead in his home. Apparently the strain of trying to find a Clay Aiken CD was just too much.

The St. Louis Rams drafted Michael Sam, the first openly gay player. The All-American Sam was the 249^th player chosen, the seventh from last pick. As token publicity moves go, this ranks up there with the Redskins hiring a Native American security guard.   

“Neighbors” is #1 at the box office. It is a comedy that explains in 96 minutes how a schlub like Seth Rogan ends up married to, and having a kid with, Rose Byrne.

Remember the Tennessee woman who was arrested and they found a loaded gun in her vagina? In Florida you know what they call a woman with a gun hidden in her vagina? “The ultimate prom date.”

Donald Sterling told Anderson Cooper he is not a racist and then attacked Magic Johnson. What did we learn from the Sterling-Cooper interview? Apparently 1.9 billion dollars cannot buy an assistant who can yell: “Just shut the hell up.”

Random Schmandom:

Tommy Lasorda got his wish. Creepy Donald Sterling’s creepy gold-digger, V. Stiviano, was in a car accident. It was a fender bender, but Stiviano lived up to her billing. She rear-ended a car while texting and wearing a dark visor, swore at the person she hit saying; “Do you know who I am, motherf*@cker?” and made her assistant give all the information. This psycho bitch can’t go away too soon.

Come on, Canada, you don’t really think that stuff is bacon, do you?

Bet it was a fun Mother’s Day at Momma Knowles’s house. Beyonce and Solange, if you can’t be civil . . . What is their sister’s name, Futonia?

The St. Louis Rams picking All-American lineman, Michael Sam, the first openly gay player selected in the draft, 249^th is about as brave a publicity stunt as the Washington Redskins hiring a Native American security guard. 249^th is seventh from last. That is worse than last. At least last gets a title of Mr. Irrelevance. Sam has the pressure of being called a draft pick without any of the gravitas.

Here is the deal with little dudes and the debate of Superman Versus Batman.  When you be a little dude, nothing is more fun than pretending to be Superman. You wear the cape, you make the fists when you fly, you bounce bullets off your chest. My first good model I painted well was Superman. Can still see the bright, blood red of the cape and the Caribbean-ocean blue and the bright Canary yellow.

Then, in shockingly quick succession, around ages 6 to 7, you start to lose your fantasy buddies: the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, and the second to last to go is Santa Claus. At this point Superman is the last fantasy buddy, but he is hanging on by a thread.

Then, one day after school, when you’re drinking your milk – that was hand delivered by the milkman – and eating your Graham crackers and watching the old black and white “Superman” with George Reeves, you just can’t ignore the growing gut, the wrinkles in the suit, the wires holding up his cape when he is “flying”. How he has to take a running start with a silly, silly hop to fly.

Turning to Batman is like a mid-life crisis for a little kid, super hero-wise. You can’t love Superman anymore, but you haven’t fallen for Batman. Then you give the comic books a chance. OK, cool mansion, even cooler bat cave. And then, with all mid-life crisis’s, it comes down to the car. Fire blasting turbo engine, parachutes to stop, cool, cool, loud humming noise.

With Superman it is love at first sight that fades with growing up. With Batman he slowly wins you over with the bat-pole, the bat-signal, the bat-rope, the utility belt – man, I loved that when I was a kid.

Just leafing through Laird Hamilton’s  “Force of Nature” book and I noticed his training and nutrition tips – not just from Laird, but from world class trainers – and there is a common theme: 80:20. If you work out hard 80% you can rest for 20%. If you eat well and light for 80%, you can binge a tad. Maybe not as high as 20%, but a good amount.

This is a common theme in other workout articles I have seen in “Sports Illustrated” and online. We tend to be a 100% or nothing culture, and that just isn’t needed nor is it practical.

No doubt I am guilty of what I call my Warrior/Spartan mode or my rock star mode. If I am working out and eating right it is all Warrior/Spartan grilled fish and water. Rock star mode is the other way. Drink booze and eat grilled red meat.

Since this is pretty universal with trainers these days – train hard but give them a binge/carrot to look forward to – I can’t help but wonder if this is contributing to the incidents of athletes getting in big trouble. They train hard for 8 days and then go on a day or two binder. That is a recipe for disaster.

The old days, Joe Namath and Paul Hornung partied all night every night. This continued as recently as Lawrence Taylor through Dennis Rodman. They were just gifted athletes whose talents were other worldly and they had no peers.

These days other athletes eat too well and train too well to get away with anyone doing the every night partying. But when they do go out, now, they go nuts. And this causes problems with the law.