Thou Shalt Not Worship False Idols

First things first. I like The Sports Guy as much as the next guy, I really do. As a fellow thirtysomething white male whose worldview is informed equally by the seemingly disparate entities of pop culture and sports, your Uncle Grambo has long enjoyed the canon of Bill Simmons. He's funny, he's smart and his columns are so enjoyable because they are so unique in their perspective. But I'm dead fucking serious when I say that it REALLY disturbs me how many white guys are out there just lining up to give this moderately talented guy a lapdance and a reach-around. Ferreals.

You see, with the recent release of his memoir, Now I Can Die In Peace: How ESPN's Sports Guy Found Salvation, with a Little Help from Nomar, Pedro, Shawshank and the 2004 Red Sox, Bill Simmons is riding a cresting peak of buzz the likes of which sports journalism hasn't seen since Condescending Baggins spent a few months in an convalescence home stroking off an old git. His book is currently on the Top 100 list at Amazon and is hanging on the periphery of the NYT Non-Fiction Best-Seller List. His book signings are drawing huge crowds (see DC coverage from Leaf and NYC coverage from Leitch), and he's even forming an Eggers-esque literary cabal with like-minded author (and Uncle Grambo personal fave) "Chuckles" Klosterman. But it doesn't stop there.

Last week, Slate's Bryan Curtis published a column about Simmons that crossed the line from critique into come-on territory. By lavishing The Sports Guy with superlatives like "generous", "intimate" and "a genius ... who knows where the action is", this reader was genuinely surprised when the column didn't end with an XOXO. What all the people lined up to swing on the bozack of "sports' moral arbiter" are conveniently failing to forget is that we're talking about a guy who as recently as Wednesday vomited out 2,600 words (!!!) on the new Matt McConaughey / Al Pacino gambling movie. Are you fucking seers? Even the normally reliable and altogether best ever dudes like the Information Leafblower (aka Leaf) spend two hours standing in line to spend 30 seconds talking to him; dude, I did that a few years ago for Liz Phair but it's mainly because I thought I might be able to bang her!

I guess what baffles your Uncle Grambo the most is when dudes like Will Leitch (himself an accomplished author and all-around solid brosnan) fawn incessantly (and repeatedly) over Bill Simmons. I know that part of The Sports Guy's appeal is that he positions himself as "one of us", but doesn't that really mean that you probably have friends that are just as witty and just as smart but don't have a pulpit like ESPN.com from which to preach from? After all, the dude is no Chuckles Klosterman — someone I consider to be a real (and underappreciated) talent who uses pop culture resets as a means to explore the ways our generation interacts with and digests the world around them. Comparatively speaking, Simmons is just a guy with a penchant for putting together a decent analogy from time to time but relies far too heavily on early-to-mid `90s television shows as a base from which to work from. Unless you hail from the Beantown area, I just can't fathom slapping down $24.95 to read a memoir that surely contains a 4,200 word treatise on why Valerie Malone is really the perfect lady for Theo Epstein. Worst.

At the end of the day, the guy is what he is — a fun read. And that's that. But all of this Simmons worship has GOT. TO. STOP. Your Uncle Grambo wishes all of you orbiting around Simmons' ego a safe trip back to real world. Bovs.

The only thing better than Slow's is when Melody Baetens writes about Slow's. BAETENS!

Uh oh. This spells nothing but trouble for dudes like Pink.

The Gurgling Cod digs deep to find the heretofore unknown connection betwixt former Oilers RB Earl Campbell and Cliff Huxtable. So, so best.

QOTD: "I love painted boobs." — Keira Knightley. Who knew? I say click-through for something that's classy AND sexy, Renoir stizz.

Do the good people at Radar really think that anyone cares about gossip from the set of "Kill Reality"? This is their second feature on the E! reality show which, if my count is correct, is two more than ANYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD ... EVER!!! Who's zoomin' who? Tough to tell the line between gossip and PR these days, if you smell me.

Grambo out. I'll be spending tonight and tomorrow in Skokie, Illinois. Shout-out to Herbert Wise, y'all. Focus groups revealed! Catch ya on the flipside, y'all.

Introducing Darko Dunkenstein

24 minutes. 7 points. 4 rebounds. 4 blocks.

That, my fine feathered friends, was Darko's statline from last night's season opening exhibition game against the Chi-Town Bulls. Not too shabb shabbs. If last night was any indication of things to come, it seems like all signs are pointing to Flip giving Darko the shot to contribute that he's been (not-so-subtly) bitching about for the last two years. Now that he's in line to grab some decent minutes off the bench, here's hoping that Darko can make Dumars and the City of Detroit proud. Don't get me wrong, I'm still coming to grips with the fact that we should have a backcourt featuring Chauncey and Dwyane Wade. But at least now Pistons fans will finally get the chance to see what kind of commodity we got with the #2 pick in the 2003 NBA Draft. THE BALL DON'T LIE!

Welcome to the party, pal! The NY tabs are finally getting around to reporting on Wacko Jacko White and Karen Selson Blue's baby buzz.

Doesn't the headline "Fluxblog Approved Militant Dancepop Fails To Annoy" read like something you'd expect to find in The Onion, rather than The Village Voice? That said, propers to Perpetua for continuing on the warpath to world domination.

AMG's Andy Kellman gives the new Mark Gardener jawn, "These Beautiful Ghosts", a mixed-review: "Gardener (has become) more skilled as a singer, which could either be a good or bad thing, depending on what angle you're coming from: you'll either think he sounds better than ever or miss the charmingly naïve boyishness heard on Nowhere (or both)." Anyone have a copy your Uncle Grambo can burn baby burn?

Everyone who knows the difference between C.S. Lewis and Lloyd Alexander knows that Aslan is really s'posed to be Jeebus. That said, focusing the marketing of "The Chronicles Of Narnia" squarely on the right could either be the most brilliant or most stupid idea evs. I'm betting on the former ("Passion" steez), although methinks that only releasing a Christian rock soundtrack is taking things a little too far.

Man, anyone else out there think think that we're primed and ready for a big-time celebrity drug overdose? What, with your Conjurers and your Karma Chameleons and your coked-out young starlets and even your washed-up British boxers all over the fishwraps and glossy weeklies b/c of their tawdry exploits with the White Lady, doesn't it just seem like a foregone conclusion that we're about to have another River Phoenix or Lenny Bias situation on our hands? All its gonna take is for one of these nightclub hopping hopheads to mistakenly snort a bag of H that they think is Bolivian Marching Powder and WHAMMO! We've got a Miss Mia Wallace sitch on our hands (or, even worse, another Mellie and Maria). Here's hoping that prognostication never comes to fruition, but cocaine use seems to be on the rise everywhere, `specially the burbs. Ergo, your Uncle Grambo believes it's only a matter of time before US Weekly has to stop fellating celebs for a week and instead concentrate their cotton candy journo skillz on demonizing street drugs. Am I right or am I right?

We Call It Amtrak But Some Call It The Train

The Hot Short from American Apparel. Some say even better than "The Hot Rock" from Sleater-Kinney (this coming from a dude who's always kind of wanted to rail Corin Tucker).

Huh. Seems like maybe Kwame knew what he was allegin' after all. Freman Hendrix's son sure seems like he's livin' the T.H.U.G.L.I.F.E, y'all. How much you wanna bet this comes up during the next debate? Set your DVRs for 7pm on October 20, yo!

File this one under "WHO KNEW???" ... Noah Baumbach is married to Jennifer Jason Leigh! Um, I repeat, WHO KNEW??? Little piece of advice for you, Noah ... when it comes down to making out with her, whenever possible, put on side one of Led Zeppelin IV.

I'll tell you what. Mark Pytlik's Pitchfork review of the new Ladytron jawn was singlehandedly responsible for my iTunes purchase of the LP this weekend. And he's dead on about the overall besteverness of the first single, "Destroy Everything You Touch" (mp3). Highly recommended for the crisp weather conditions out there.

Is there anyone out there who thinks that Giant Magazine is anything other than a colossal letdown? I bought the first two issues last year and found them to be stultifying. Yet every month I pick up the latest issue on the newsstands and flip through it, hoping that they've found their way. And each month, I continue to be disappointed. Take, for example, what they did to Krucoff's graphic comparing Tom Cruise and Christopher Walken. Instead of taking a chance and showing some sack, they tucked their proverbial tails between their legs and whimpered off gently into that good night. Which, if truth be told, is pretty much where this entire magazine is headed. No buzz.

RELATED: When's Gooch Jr. gonna bring back Gear?

Pizza from a vending machine? I've heard crazier ideas.

I downed a 20 ouncer of Pitch Black II last night on the way home from work and felt like I had just bumped like 14 rails with The Conjurer. That shizz is crazed! Yet best. I highly recommend pounding one of these limited edition sodas the next time you're feeling a little letharj.

C'mon, all you lonely screengrabbers out there! How come your Uncle Grambo hasn't seen any grabs of this momentous occasion whilst trolling The InterNerd™?

And finally, in a rare case of common decency getting the better of the almighty ratings point, WKRK-FM just fired the homophobic meathead supreme Gregg Henson from his "Motor City Middays" show. You see, 3G got shitcanned for publicly slandering Channel 95.5's Tic Tak, reportedly for calling him "gay" on-air and alleging that he was a pederast ("8 year olds, dude"). Honestly, I couldn't be happier.

You see, Henson made his reputation locally at stations like WDFN and WXYT for being "controversial" on the airwaves. However, in this listener's eyes ears, his idea of being "controversial" revolved less around pushing the envelope of what could be said (à la Lenny Bruce or Howard Stern) and more around kowtowing to the "morals" of the dirt ass masses of Macomb County. He appeals to the same angry white males that dudes like O'Reilly and Limbaugh cater to, only 3G didn't couch his obtuse opinions under the guise of political rhetoric. In other words, until last week, he was as boorish and sexist and anti-gay as he could get away with on-air. His popularity around town has ALWAYS irritated me, but never surprised me. It's sad but true, but there are a lot of closet rednecks in the metro Detroit area; spend about 2.5 seconds reading the comments on his blog you'll see exactly what I mean.

At the end of the day, what Henson did to Tic Tak was wrong, plain and simple. But does he accept any personal responsibility or take the time to apologize to the man that he so clearly slandered? Not so much. I'm sure that he has been counseled by his lawyers not to comment (word on the street is he might get sued), but how in tarnation does he have the moral turpitude to say something as inflammatory as "Thanks lezzies!!!!" on his blog while still in the wake of something like this? Answer: that dude is WORST!!! I say good riddance, yo. I also say bring on Dave TV!