I have been asked many a times whether or not I actually serve daily or not, and judging by the fact that I do not post everyday, the answer is no. While some have taken this news in stride, others, including my grandparents, have criticized me and sent me highly-threatening emails telling me to change the banner at the top, or else. Because it took me so long to make, however, that portion of the Soup Kitchen will not be changing.
Having my first study-free, normal week was good for a change. The most entertaining day was by far Wednesday. No, it wasn't because of the Lost season finale (which was an amazing episode, by the way). This wednesday, just like any other wednesday in fact, was so special because the Sobels were graced with the presence of our beloved Aunt Judy. She comes pretty much because she has absolutely nothing else to do with her life, considering she is now retired. Needless to say, Aunt Judy is undoubtedly one of my favorite people ever.
One of which is that she can't cook. As many of you probably know from the Easter Day post, Judy makes mashed potatos worse than your normal 2 year old. You would think that after a while, she would at least improve or seek out some advice as to how to improve these pieces of matter she calls food. This never happened. While the potatos did get a little better over time, I would probably rather consume a live animal rather than eat her mashed potatos. Fortunately for all of us involved, Judy has stopped making the mashed potatos. The bad cooking carries over to most of the other things she makes. Pasta, for example. You are all probably saying to yourself for me to stop, that it is impossible to mess up pasta. Not for Judy. A few years back, Uncle Kevin stopped by Judy's (Just so all of you know, Kevin is Judy's nephew. Aunt Judy is actually my great-aunt). She offered to make him pasta and he happily accepted. Judy put the pasta in the boiling water and went to talk with Kevin. She got a little preoccupied, and by the time she remembered that she was actually cooking something, there was no water left and the pasta was hardened, inedible, and sticking to the sides of the pot. I'm pretty sure only Judy would ever let that happen to her, but it really doesn't surprise me.
Judy is the biggest chatterbox the world has ever seen. When I said that she got a little preoccupied last paragraph, I meant that she was yapping non-stop, which is pretty typical of Judy. If you can imagine hearing this, but for all times of the day, you know what it feels to be around Judy. I have been searching all my life to find out how long it took Judy to stop talking. I finally found out this summer. Judy went with her other friends to Italy on a two week vacation. When they were going home, one of Judy's friends asked her if she was alright. Judy said she was fine. The friend told her she was concerned and asked Judy why she wasn't talking. To this Judy responded: "I guess I just ran out of things to talk about." So there it is, the question many have asked but few have ever been priveleged to know the answer to.
Not only does Judy talk a lot, but she talks extremely loud as well. It might be that her elderly ears cannot judge how loud she actually is, but either way, if Judy is in the same zip code as you, it won't be too hard for you to hear her. She isn't just loud in normal conversation either. She kicks it up a notch when attending or watching sporting events. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for being an enthusiastic fan. Judy can get a little overzealous. She has a good reason for yelling when the Philadelphia teams are playing, but it's a different story with other sporting events, such as horse-racing. Even though she has probably never watched a horse race before, Judy became the number one fan of Mine That Bird on the Kentucky Derby. She lives about 30 minutes away, across the bridge in New Jersey. I kid you not when I tell you I heard her yells for the horse all the way from my house. As to why she was rooting for Mine That Bird, she had no explanation. It is this innocent enthusiasm for the game that keeps the people in appreciation of Judy.
Most believe this enthusiasm to be a product of Judy's inner child. While the children inside of us typically leave regular adults around the age of 20, Judy has actually never lost hers, and she is 66 years old. She enjoys trips to Friendly's more than I, and she doesn't even get the Happy Endings. I kid you not when telling you that she orders off of the kid menu. Not only does she love Friendly's, but she also loves amusement parks. I feel like I have to be the parent around her because she would spend all of her money on tickets if I wasn't around.
Besides all of these things, the rest of Judy's attributes are pretty standard. It is the things above that make her stand out above the rest.
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I have to give a shout out to Jayson Werth for stealing four bases, three in one inning, including home, in a recent game. Even though he could have conserved his energy and actually scored from the bases being walked, it was much cooler stealing three bases on his own for one whole inning. I also have to ask J.A. Happ whether to pronounce his first name with 2 syllables or one. The one syllable would be assuming he pronounces it Jay, and I have heard rumblings concerning the fact that he does indeed do that.
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The following video was sent in by a viewer who was more secretive than the Illuminati concerning their name. I do love this song, however, and am more than willing to accomodate them in their request.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
From the Vault: Easter Sunday
While I'm finally done with all of my busy things that I have been preoccupied with for the past two weeks, keeping me from posting, I realized that I don't have much to write about. It was that which caused me to take a story from the vault. If you may recall, I was about to do an Easter Day post when Harry the K passed. I had already written it out but decided to save it up for either next Easter, or a time like this.
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Before I talk about my interesting Easter Sunday, I would just like to talk about my last post. I have been asked by several people whether I think the Phillies will be chumps throughout the year. I am guessing this came about from the title of the post, particularly the Champs to Chumps part. To answer your questions, no I do not think the Phillies will be bad this year. In fact, I am predicting another excellent season. From now on, try not to take the titles so seriously, I typically go for alliteration or something catchy, just to get the attention of my beloved viewers.
For staying with me through that unbelievably rambly paragraph, I offer this hilarious video as a reward. Onto my Easter Sunday. I woke up much too early just to beat the crowds at the 8 o'clock mass. While at first a little bitter, I realized it was well worth it. The fact that I had to get ready in 5 minutes really came back to bite me later, as I will let you know about in a bit. Back to mass, now. My mother, Jeffrey J., and I were seated right behind a young couple with two little kids. One of the kids was pretty much exactly like yours truly. He was blonde (I used to be blonde when I was a wee little tike), unbelievably loud and disruptive, and most importantly, he rocked the sweater vest. Although this little fellow of 2 years old probably did not dress himself, its pretty safe to say that he has a lot of potential. He could be my heir apparent to wearing sweater vests, or he might even surpass me. Judging by the attitude he showed while strutting his stuff, he will be a pro in no time.
After mass was over, I remembered that O-Star Superstar would be in attendance at 8 o'clock mass. I quickly seeked him out and found him, and I have to say, I was extremely taken aback by his attire. While usually seen sporting 15 junkie undershirts, O-Star was actually wearing a respectable sweater. I have a feeling his mom dressed him up that morning, because there is no way Omar would have the brains to put the sweater on. After ribbing him for it a bit, we left for home.
When we arrived back at the house, I made a casual discovery that the Easter Bunny had dropped by for a visit. While he is only my second favorite rabbit (that's right I'm talking about you, Raul), he left some mean treats this year. I found some cash money, Twizzlers, and the little Reese's Cups that everyone likes (On the subject of Reese's. Does it rhyme with pieces or does it have the pronunciation of Reesie's? I've always wondered that, especially when pronunciating Reese's Pieces. As you can see, it can be quite problematic, for me at least). After dabbling into my Easter candy, it was time to head off to Aunt Judy's house for Easter dinner.
If you don't know my family, they all read the blog and are huge fans. One such fan is my Uncle Kevin. I have to give you a little background information on my Uncle Kevin before I go into what happened at Judy's. Kevin owns a boat. He is cool. That's about all you really need to know about Kevin and you could probably spend every waking moment with him like you are best friends with him. But I'll let you know a little more about him. He has an interesting gift-giving pattern. Instead of doing the ridiculous extra work of giving gifts two times a year, one on your birthday and one during the holidays, Kevin just takes care of it all at Christmas time. Sometimes he gets a little backed up, and gives us our Christmas presents on our birthday, and our birthday presents on Christmas. No matter what he does, he always seems to be giving us a gift from a time before. I really have no idea how or when the cycle will end, but I look forward to receiving more belated gifts. Kevin is also a smart betting man. He proposed a seemingly impossible bet to win, that Penncrest would beat Strath Haven in the Media Bowl. I believe the last time this occurred was all the way back in 1983, yes even before the year 1985 inspired a hit single by Bowling for Soup, which, if you might have guessed, I have some emotional ties to. Anyway, I bet him a birthday cake since it was his birthday. Strath Haven went on to lose to Penncrest, and it still haunts me to this day. I still have not given him his birthday cake, but considering he always owes me gifts, I guess I owe him one now.
Back to the main point about Kevin. When I woke up early Easter morning, I had to throw on something very quick. While I would normally rock the sweater vest in any situation, I put on a regular sweater that day. It shames me to say that I was too negligent to take it off during my resting period at home. I walked into Judy's house and saw Kevin in a sweater vest. As you can imagine, it was more awkward than that ridiculously creepy and unbelievably sexual Quizno's commercial. I had to deal with the constant put-downs from Kevin. Even though he called me a sell-out, and probably every synonym for that in the thesaurus, he still got the shout-out that he rightfully deserved.
The best part about the dinner itself was not having to force-feed Judy's mashed potatos down my throat. No offense to Judy, but she is not the best cook. She comes over every Wednesday, with her mashed potatos as flavorless as P.J. Blands and pork as dry as the Sahara. Thankfully, Kevin came up big in more ways than one when he made the mashed potatos for the family. In reality, Kevin took no part in making the mashed potatos, that would be his wife and my Aunt Mary. But he took credit for them, and that's all that matters. Judy did do a great job with the ham, however, seeing as it wasn't too dry. Job well done indeed. I'm sure none of you care what other food we ate there, but the kielbasa was deliciously made by my Grandmom. As was the disgusting-looking orange gelatin blob. It actually looks more grotesque than it does in the picture because it has pieces of carrots in it. But believe me, it's the secret weapon because it surprises you. It's kind of like Susan Boyle: it's downright hideous on the outside, but it can really surprise you when it shows what it's capable of.
Besides dinner, the highlight of the rest of the night had to be sitting back with my Grandpop and watching Angel Cabrera, the real "El Pato," pump his fists in ecstasy after winning the Masters, only to hear a few groans from the crowd. It reminded me a lot about this video at the 2:13 mark.
That just about sums up the Sobel Soup's Easter Sunday.
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Fat Dub must have been very hungry during our big test, because right in the middle of it he let out a huge bellow of the stomach, or so he claims. I thought it to be flatulence, but the world will never be sure. I'd just like to tell Ibo DeGrouchy to hang in there. He really needs help at a time like this, when he actually did his answers in a number 1 pencil instead of a number 2. Oh, Ticonderoga. Always tricking your loyal customers.
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This video has been sent in by loyal fan, and beatboxer, Saumon Oboudiyat. The guy in this video is unbelievable, as you are all about to see. Enjoy.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
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Before I talk about my interesting Easter Sunday, I would just like to talk about my last post. I have been asked by several people whether I think the Phillies will be chumps throughout the year. I am guessing this came about from the title of the post, particularly the Champs to Chumps part. To answer your questions, no I do not think the Phillies will be bad this year. In fact, I am predicting another excellent season. From now on, try not to take the titles so seriously, I typically go for alliteration or something catchy, just to get the attention of my beloved viewers.
For staying with me through that unbelievably rambly paragraph, I offer this hilarious video as a reward. Onto my Easter Sunday. I woke up much too early just to beat the crowds at the 8 o'clock mass. While at first a little bitter, I realized it was well worth it. The fact that I had to get ready in 5 minutes really came back to bite me later, as I will let you know about in a bit. Back to mass, now. My mother, Jeffrey J., and I were seated right behind a young couple with two little kids. One of the kids was pretty much exactly like yours truly. He was blonde (I used to be blonde when I was a wee little tike), unbelievably loud and disruptive, and most importantly, he rocked the sweater vest. Although this little fellow of 2 years old probably did not dress himself, its pretty safe to say that he has a lot of potential. He could be my heir apparent to wearing sweater vests, or he might even surpass me. Judging by the attitude he showed while strutting his stuff, he will be a pro in no time.
After mass was over, I remembered that O-Star Superstar would be in attendance at 8 o'clock mass. I quickly seeked him out and found him, and I have to say, I was extremely taken aback by his attire. While usually seen sporting 15 junkie undershirts, O-Star was actually wearing a respectable sweater. I have a feeling his mom dressed him up that morning, because there is no way Omar would have the brains to put the sweater on. After ribbing him for it a bit, we left for home.
When we arrived back at the house, I made a casual discovery that the Easter Bunny had dropped by for a visit. While he is only my second favorite rabbit (that's right I'm talking about you, Raul), he left some mean treats this year. I found some cash money, Twizzlers, and the little Reese's Cups that everyone likes (On the subject of Reese's. Does it rhyme with pieces or does it have the pronunciation of Reesie's? I've always wondered that, especially when pronunciating Reese's Pieces. As you can see, it can be quite problematic, for me at least). After dabbling into my Easter candy, it was time to head off to Aunt Judy's house for Easter dinner.
If you don't know my family, they all read the blog and are huge fans. One such fan is my Uncle Kevin. I have to give you a little background information on my Uncle Kevin before I go into what happened at Judy's. Kevin owns a boat. He is cool. That's about all you really need to know about Kevin and you could probably spend every waking moment with him like you are best friends with him. But I'll let you know a little more about him. He has an interesting gift-giving pattern. Instead of doing the ridiculous extra work of giving gifts two times a year, one on your birthday and one during the holidays, Kevin just takes care of it all at Christmas time. Sometimes he gets a little backed up, and gives us our Christmas presents on our birthday, and our birthday presents on Christmas. No matter what he does, he always seems to be giving us a gift from a time before. I really have no idea how or when the cycle will end, but I look forward to receiving more belated gifts. Kevin is also a smart betting man. He proposed a seemingly impossible bet to win, that Penncrest would beat Strath Haven in the Media Bowl. I believe the last time this occurred was all the way back in 1983, yes even before the year 1985 inspired a hit single by Bowling for Soup, which, if you might have guessed, I have some emotional ties to. Anyway, I bet him a birthday cake since it was his birthday. Strath Haven went on to lose to Penncrest, and it still haunts me to this day. I still have not given him his birthday cake, but considering he always owes me gifts, I guess I owe him one now.
Back to the main point about Kevin. When I woke up early Easter morning, I had to throw on something very quick. While I would normally rock the sweater vest in any situation, I put on a regular sweater that day. It shames me to say that I was too negligent to take it off during my resting period at home. I walked into Judy's house and saw Kevin in a sweater vest. As you can imagine, it was more awkward than that ridiculously creepy and unbelievably sexual Quizno's commercial. I had to deal with the constant put-downs from Kevin. Even though he called me a sell-out, and probably every synonym for that in the thesaurus, he still got the shout-out that he rightfully deserved.
The best part about the dinner itself was not having to force-feed Judy's mashed potatos down my throat. No offense to Judy, but she is not the best cook. She comes over every Wednesday, with her mashed potatos as flavorless as P.J. Blands and pork as dry as the Sahara. Thankfully, Kevin came up big in more ways than one when he made the mashed potatos for the family. In reality, Kevin took no part in making the mashed potatos, that would be his wife and my Aunt Mary. But he took credit for them, and that's all that matters. Judy did do a great job with the ham, however, seeing as it wasn't too dry. Job well done indeed. I'm sure none of you care what other food we ate there, but the kielbasa was deliciously made by my Grandmom. As was the disgusting-looking orange gelatin blob. It actually looks more grotesque than it does in the picture because it has pieces of carrots in it. But believe me, it's the secret weapon because it surprises you. It's kind of like Susan Boyle: it's downright hideous on the outside, but it can really surprise you when it shows what it's capable of.
Besides dinner, the highlight of the rest of the night had to be sitting back with my Grandpop and watching Angel Cabrera, the real "El Pato," pump his fists in ecstasy after winning the Masters, only to hear a few groans from the crowd. It reminded me a lot about this video at the 2:13 mark.
That just about sums up the Sobel Soup's Easter Sunday.
___________________________________________________
Fat Dub must have been very hungry during our big test, because right in the middle of it he let out a huge bellow of the stomach, or so he claims. I thought it to be flatulence, but the world will never be sure. I'd just like to tell Ibo DeGrouchy to hang in there. He really needs help at a time like this, when he actually did his answers in a number 1 pencil instead of a number 2. Oh, Ticonderoga. Always tricking your loyal customers.
___________________________________________________
This video has been sent in by loyal fan, and beatboxer, Saumon Oboudiyat. The guy in this video is unbelievable, as you are all about to see. Enjoy.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Thursday, April 30, 2009
TBD Takes His Shot at a Guest Post
I'm guessing you've all seen the title of this post, and have probably had a bigger freak-out than the present swine flu scare. I have some explaining to do as to why I am letting a guest post on now, reaching no significant hits number. My reasoning is that I haven't been posting at all recently, and I would just like to give the people what they want. Apparently that means voting for TBD over Fat Dub, who was shockingly beat out on the last day. Before I let (the former) TBD take over, I would just like to say that I do not condone his opinions on old people. As in Jack's guest post, I will be inserting my two cents where necessary, in the form of Editor's notes. Without further ado, here is The Former T.B. Deegy.
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Hello readers, you probably know me as TBD, but that is in my past. You guys can call me Jake. I would like to thank all of those who have voted for me in Soup's poll...especially Mr. Miraglia, aka Coach. I appreciate that you took time away from your girlfriends to vote for me. First, I would like to give a little b-round information on myself.
Most of what you need to know about me is listed on my Facebook in the activities section. Here they are: MLB Showdown, Quarterbacking football teams, going to Acme, playing golf, heckling the piss out of division three athletes (Editor's Note: except Swat athletes, they are our boys), going to cross country meets (I don’t run in them), and frisbee. Another activity that I partake in is baseball, which brings me to my first point.
This past Saturday, right after I ate some nice burgers from Burger King, (who knew that there was a difference between small fries and value fries? I certainly didn’t, but now I do thanks to the fat cashier worker who freaked on me) I went to my little brother’s baseball game. We like to call my little brother Fats or Crisco, FYI. So anyway, we were sitting behind the left field wall which is right in front of a different field. After fats grounded out to third we heard a roar. This was no ordinary roar, it was an extremely high pitched roar. So I turn around and what do I see? A bunch of little kids enjoying the game of baseball. They were in the league where instead of a pitcher or a tee, there was a pitching machine. Normally, I would just turn back around thinking to myself, wow these kids have nothing, everyone knows you can’t be any good at baseball until your balls drop (Ed. Note: That's why I love TBD). But I was drawn into the game. I was drawn by the love that the kids had for the game, and the fun that they had while playing. After the end of the inning, the home team was trotting in to their bench to hit. That is when I noticed the bench players from the away team. Each and every one of them was sitting on the bench with their helmets on. They wouldn’t have been hitting for another 15 minutes, but I just loved the dedication. I also love the different outfits I see during these little little league games. One kid had on shorts, one was wearing sweatpants, one wearing jeans, and always the true ballers that were wearing baseball pants. I continued to watch the game and I continued to love what I saw. The first batter of the inning grounded out to first base, and before he was half way to the base, the first baseman stepped on the bag for an out. The batter was cheering for himself the entire way to first, along with his whole entire bench. They were absolutely loving that fact that he had made contact with the baseball. A couple groundouts, flyouts, and hits (not really they were all errors) later, the final batter of the inning stepped in. He swung at three straight pitches and did not hit a single one of them. Now I think, the batter would have been a tad more successful if he had not swung his bat in the same spot every pitch. No matter how high or low the pitch was, the kid would always swing in the same spot, right down the middle. I came to the conclusion that any contact that was made was pure luck. Anyway, as he was running back to the bench his team was cheering for him and then he said, “That pitcher is throwing too hard!” which made me lol.
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The next topic that I would like to discuss is old people. Old people are one of a kind, or should I say one in a generation (I don’t even know if that makes any sense). One thing is that they don't like and aren't used to change. Back in their day defective things or people were just done away with. Today midgets roam the earth. Old people do not like this. (Ed. Note: Debatable, I'm not going to support this claim) A perfect example is this.
On the same subject, old white people do not like black people (Ed. Note: Also debatable. Ditto from the last editor's note, I don't support this claim either. Sorry, T.B.). Last year at one of my baseball games a very insensitive yet funny moment occurred. A young black boy from the middle school came up to the bench and stole one of the player’s glove. What he did not know is that the team manager, Porkchop (very old) was watching him. He got up and yelled at the boy: (Editor's removal: What Porkchop said was unbelievably racist, which is why I can't really say it on here. We on the Soup Kitchen are kind and courteous to all.) Luckily my coach restrained Porkchop from doing any serious damage to the boy. (True story folks).
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Old people have that distinct smell that only they have. I always thought this was true until my friend came over to my house. It was the day after Christmas and he came over in a fleece, baby blue North Carolina sweat suit. Kid smelled exactly like old people. I was astonished. I kicked him out of my house a few minutes later because of the smell. This friend goes by the alias of “X”.
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Old people can get away with whatever they want whenever they want. One time I saw an old man get caught stealing applesauce at the acme. The acme worker yelled, “Hey geezer, you have to pay for that applesauce.” The old man replied, “But I’m ooooooold. I am really old.” The acme worker thought about what the old man said and let him go. Soon after the old man left the store, he defecated in his pants. Most likely, somebody else would have to clean him up. What a beast. I wish I could just drop a deuce in my pants and make someone else clean it up. (not really…not at all actually) Old men also graced us with this pure entertainment. (Ed. Note: This is probably the funniest thing I have ever seen that has to do with old people, you need to click on this link.)
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I love Bobby Flay, but if I hated him, this is what I would say. Wow Bobby you are a (Editor's removal: see jerk). Your show THROWDOWN is a win/win situation for you, and a lose/ "ehh" situation for your opponent. You challenge them at their own game. If you beat them at their own game, you come off as a genius while your opponent feels like complete crap because they just let some chef come in out of nowhere and beat them at their own game. If you lose, you don’t lose any reputation because you can always say, "Whatever, I don’t even cook this stupid food," while all your opponent can say is "ehh" I was supposed to win anyway. For all of you out there that don’t really watch the show and just watch like the first ten seconds of the intro, don’t get confused. Throwdown isn’t really a fighting show, it is not even close. So I really don’t know why Bobby would be doing this at 0:49. Come on now, you aren’t looking for fights, you’re looking to perfect other peoples dishes, which is a d-move in and of itself. Honestly, Bobby, nobody is scared of that 2 piece (punch combo). Who are you trying to kid. You’re a cook. You’re not tough. Come to my house, we can “throwdown” whenever you want. (Ed. Note: TBD has been known to be a knock-out perfectionist in his hay-day, so if I were Bobby Flay, I wouldn't take him up on the offer)
Yours truly,
Jake Enteriln (Ed. Note: I could have fixed Jake's name, but I found it hilarious that he misspelled his last name at the end of the post)
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This video was sent in by Fat Dub. I would have let Jake pick, but this video is just too funny to pass up. It really made me want to visit Cleveland. You can check out the second video of the tour here. Trust me, you want to check this video out, but not before you see the first one. I could write so much more about these videos, but it would take probably three other posts to cover it all.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
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Hello readers, you probably know me as TBD, but that is in my past. You guys can call me Jake. I would like to thank all of those who have voted for me in Soup's poll...especially Mr. Miraglia, aka Coach. I appreciate that you took time away from your girlfriends to vote for me. First, I would like to give a little b-round information on myself.
Most of what you need to know about me is listed on my Facebook in the activities section. Here they are: MLB Showdown, Quarterbacking football teams, going to Acme, playing golf, heckling the piss out of division three athletes (Editor's Note: except Swat athletes, they are our boys), going to cross country meets (I don’t run in them), and frisbee. Another activity that I partake in is baseball, which brings me to my first point.
This past Saturday, right after I ate some nice burgers from Burger King, (who knew that there was a difference between small fries and value fries? I certainly didn’t, but now I do thanks to the fat cashier worker who freaked on me) I went to my little brother’s baseball game. We like to call my little brother Fats or Crisco, FYI. So anyway, we were sitting behind the left field wall which is right in front of a different field. After fats grounded out to third we heard a roar. This was no ordinary roar, it was an extremely high pitched roar. So I turn around and what do I see? A bunch of little kids enjoying the game of baseball. They were in the league where instead of a pitcher or a tee, there was a pitching machine. Normally, I would just turn back around thinking to myself, wow these kids have nothing, everyone knows you can’t be any good at baseball until your balls drop (Ed. Note: That's why I love TBD). But I was drawn into the game. I was drawn by the love that the kids had for the game, and the fun that they had while playing. After the end of the inning, the home team was trotting in to their bench to hit. That is when I noticed the bench players from the away team. Each and every one of them was sitting on the bench with their helmets on. They wouldn’t have been hitting for another 15 minutes, but I just loved the dedication. I also love the different outfits I see during these little little league games. One kid had on shorts, one was wearing sweatpants, one wearing jeans, and always the true ballers that were wearing baseball pants. I continued to watch the game and I continued to love what I saw. The first batter of the inning grounded out to first base, and before he was half way to the base, the first baseman stepped on the bag for an out. The batter was cheering for himself the entire way to first, along with his whole entire bench. They were absolutely loving that fact that he had made contact with the baseball. A couple groundouts, flyouts, and hits (not really they were all errors) later, the final batter of the inning stepped in. He swung at three straight pitches and did not hit a single one of them. Now I think, the batter would have been a tad more successful if he had not swung his bat in the same spot every pitch. No matter how high or low the pitch was, the kid would always swing in the same spot, right down the middle. I came to the conclusion that any contact that was made was pure luck. Anyway, as he was running back to the bench his team was cheering for him and then he said, “That pitcher is throwing too hard!” which made me lol.
___________________________________________________
The next topic that I would like to discuss is old people. Old people are one of a kind, or should I say one in a generation (I don’t even know if that makes any sense). One thing is that they don't like and aren't used to change. Back in their day defective things or people were just done away with. Today midgets roam the earth. Old people do not like this. (Ed. Note: Debatable, I'm not going to support this claim) A perfect example is this.
On the same subject, old white people do not like black people (Ed. Note: Also debatable. Ditto from the last editor's note, I don't support this claim either. Sorry, T.B.). Last year at one of my baseball games a very insensitive yet funny moment occurred. A young black boy from the middle school came up to the bench and stole one of the player’s glove. What he did not know is that the team manager, Porkchop (very old) was watching him. He got up and yelled at the boy: (Editor's removal: What Porkchop said was unbelievably racist, which is why I can't really say it on here. We on the Soup Kitchen are kind and courteous to all.) Luckily my coach restrained Porkchop from doing any serious damage to the boy. (True story folks).
___________________________________________________
Old people have that distinct smell that only they have. I always thought this was true until my friend came over to my house. It was the day after Christmas and he came over in a fleece, baby blue North Carolina sweat suit. Kid smelled exactly like old people. I was astonished. I kicked him out of my house a few minutes later because of the smell. This friend goes by the alias of “X”.
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Old people can get away with whatever they want whenever they want. One time I saw an old man get caught stealing applesauce at the acme. The acme worker yelled, “Hey geezer, you have to pay for that applesauce.” The old man replied, “But I’m ooooooold. I am really old.” The acme worker thought about what the old man said and let him go. Soon after the old man left the store, he defecated in his pants. Most likely, somebody else would have to clean him up. What a beast. I wish I could just drop a deuce in my pants and make someone else clean it up. (not really…not at all actually) Old men also graced us with this pure entertainment. (Ed. Note: This is probably the funniest thing I have ever seen that has to do with old people, you need to click on this link.)
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I love Bobby Flay, but if I hated him, this is what I would say. Wow Bobby you are a (Editor's removal: see jerk). Your show THROWDOWN is a win/win situation for you, and a lose/ "ehh" situation for your opponent. You challenge them at their own game. If you beat them at their own game, you come off as a genius while your opponent feels like complete crap because they just let some chef come in out of nowhere and beat them at their own game. If you lose, you don’t lose any reputation because you can always say, "Whatever, I don’t even cook this stupid food," while all your opponent can say is "ehh" I was supposed to win anyway. For all of you out there that don’t really watch the show and just watch like the first ten seconds of the intro, don’t get confused. Throwdown isn’t really a fighting show, it is not even close. So I really don’t know why Bobby would be doing this at 0:49. Come on now, you aren’t looking for fights, you’re looking to perfect other peoples dishes, which is a d-move in and of itself. Honestly, Bobby, nobody is scared of that 2 piece (punch combo). Who are you trying to kid. You’re a cook. You’re not tough. Come to my house, we can “throwdown” whenever you want. (Ed. Note: TBD has been known to be a knock-out perfectionist in his hay-day, so if I were Bobby Flay, I wouldn't take him up on the offer)
Yours truly,
Jake Enteriln (Ed. Note: I could have fixed Jake's name, but I found it hilarious that he misspelled his last name at the end of the post)
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This video was sent in by Fat Dub. I would have let Jake pick, but this video is just too funny to pass up. It really made me want to visit Cleveland. You can check out the second video of the tour here. Trust me, you want to check this video out, but not before you see the first one. I could write so much more about these videos, but it would take probably three other posts to cover it all.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Monday, April 27, 2009
The Speech
I would just like to say, I am apologetic to each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart for not posting with the frequency that I would like to over the past few weeks. You see, I am what is normally regarded as a procrastinator. It has now sunk in that I should start studying for an important exam that I have in a few weeks instead of spending my free time posting, so that is why my posts have been few and far between. The early predictions are that Fat Dub will be the next guest-poster on the Soup Kitchen, but as of now there is still one day to vote. A lot can change in a small amount of time, so we shall see. Besides posting, my schedule has been kept somewhat busy by watching the playoff teams and doing nefarious activities such as the one I am about to describe to you. The following was written by yours truly, and it has been regarded as quite possibly the greatest pump-up speech mankind has ever laid eyes on. First, for some background information: Saumon Oboudiyat, a huge fan and somewhat frequent subject of some Soup Kitchen fame, entered a dodgeball team into the tournament at school. Although the team was set, Saumon asked me to participate by being the coach/inspirational speaker. Because I had a track meet the day of the tournament, however, I could not attend. I figured I would send the team my little bit of spirit and inspiration through a well-crafted speech, which would incorporate a little pump-up from the great speeches of yesteryear. Saumon informed me only that the team was called Team Thriller (O-Star Superstar's idea) and that the team uniforms would be a white tee with some high socks. With that information, I set off on a journey only a privileged few are allowed to make. I am fully expecting about half of these lines to end up on those quote sites under the category of either greatness, BA-ness or Sobel Soup quotes. Without further ado, I give you The Speech.
To Whom It May Concern (I refuse to write “To Team Thriller,” that is the stupidest name ever),
Today, you young lads may have a chance to achieve greatness only a privileged few are able to reach. I am of course talking about the dodgeball tournament at stake on this fine April evening. As Lou Holtz once appropriately said, with his cute little lisp of his, “I can’t believe that God put us on this Earth to be ordinary.” I’m now paraphrasing with the line after that when he said “And I’ll be damned if (Team Thriller) isn’t (victorious in this dodgeball tournament).” Look, you guys just had a Lou Holtz pep talk. Yeah, it was pretty cool watching him give it in his personalized white tee, with his high socks of course. Let me assure you, he put more heart and soul into this speech than in the song, and believe me, that’s a lot. I literally felt like I was watching Braveheart. Now, I know exactly what we are thinking. You are going to save all of this heart and soul for the games that matter, and you will take it easy on the little guys. Well men, there would be no great ones if there were no little ones, like my main man George Herber used to say. That means I want you to step on the competition's throat. Castrate them if you must. Show no mercy. I don’t care if you have to kill someone in order to win. That is because sacrifices must be made in order to achieve greatness. I’m sure any one of you would be ready and willing to kill a man and spend your lifetime plus 20 years in prison to win this, simply because I know how committed to a man you are. If you do not win, I can guarantee a week won’t go by in your lives that you won’t regret letting them get the best of you. But I’m not worried about that because failure is not an option. Let no man, woman, or unknowing passer-by forget how menacing we are, we are lions. We are like a big bear, man. Nothing can stop this group, and you know why? Because he who reigns over his own domain, he who is the master of his own destiny, can conquer all burdens of which The Almighty may place upon him and emerge victorious. (Editor's Note: I totally made up that line for the sole purpose that it end up on a great quote page, so someone please do the Sobel Soup the favor of sending that in. If you do I will most definitely give you a personal shout-out.) So guys, this is your time. Victory or Death. At the end of the day, I want to be able to say to you fellas "Yo Adrian, we did it." And look guys. It’s not about how hard you hit them, it’s about how much of a hit you can take and keep going forward. It’s about the fundamentals: Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive and Dodge. THE FUNDAMENTALS!!!!! THAT’S HOW WINNING IS DONE!!!!!!! And as I leave you gentlemen and let you go out on that court today, I firmly believe that you will become winners on that battlefield. So fellas, do us all a favor, and win one for the Sobel Soup.
If you want to tell me to my face that my speech is neither inspiring nor stirring in any way, my reaction would be more emphatic than a Dikembe Mutumbo finger wag. It turns out the dodgeball tournament was cancelled because of a lack of participation. Some may view this as a wasted endeavor. Let me assure you, it was. The positive of this situation is that if I ever need an inspirational speech, I can just use this. Also, for those of you planning on using this, this speech has been trademarked by the Sobel Soup, so don't get any ideas.
___________________________________________________
As you may recall in my last post, I challenged Saumon Oboudiyat to complete Definition by Blackstar. Although you may think Saumon rapping Mos Def is more out of place than a Big Butts Spongebob Squarepants commercial, think again. I was quite impressed by his performance and have given it a passing grade. Congrats Saumon, I look forward to more great work.
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As many of you have probably noticed, the Flyers have been knocked out of the playoffs. This is supremely disappointing, especially since I am subject to listening to Marc-Andre Fleury spew what some believe to be a primitive form of the English language out of his mouth for at least a few more weeks. As you may have guessed, the playoff beard has changed a bit. Although I am still growing for the Sixers, it would have been beyond me to not shave at least part of it of in honor of the Flyers. I ended up shaving off the 'stache, which I had nicknamed the trash 'stache, because it pretty much made the beard, and the Flyers were pretty much the reason why I started growing in the first place. I still have my chin stubbles, which are starting to become darker, growing out for the Sixers with my boy Fat Dub.
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This video was sent into sobelsoupkitchen@gmail.com by an anonymous reader. While they didn't include their name and the email address was quite confusing, they did pick out an excellent clip from Seinfeld, which is probably in my top 10 favorite Seinfeld moments (believe me I have a lot of them).
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
To Whom It May Concern (I refuse to write “To Team Thriller,” that is the stupidest name ever),
Today, you young lads may have a chance to achieve greatness only a privileged few are able to reach. I am of course talking about the dodgeball tournament at stake on this fine April evening. As Lou Holtz once appropriately said, with his cute little lisp of his, “I can’t believe that God put us on this Earth to be ordinary.” I’m now paraphrasing with the line after that when he said “And I’ll be damned if (Team Thriller) isn’t (victorious in this dodgeball tournament).” Look, you guys just had a Lou Holtz pep talk. Yeah, it was pretty cool watching him give it in his personalized white tee, with his high socks of course. Let me assure you, he put more heart and soul into this speech than in the song, and believe me, that’s a lot. I literally felt like I was watching Braveheart. Now, I know exactly what we are thinking. You are going to save all of this heart and soul for the games that matter, and you will take it easy on the little guys. Well men, there would be no great ones if there were no little ones, like my main man George Herber used to say. That means I want you to step on the competition's throat. Castrate them if you must. Show no mercy. I don’t care if you have to kill someone in order to win. That is because sacrifices must be made in order to achieve greatness. I’m sure any one of you would be ready and willing to kill a man and spend your lifetime plus 20 years in prison to win this, simply because I know how committed to a man you are. If you do not win, I can guarantee a week won’t go by in your lives that you won’t regret letting them get the best of you. But I’m not worried about that because failure is not an option. Let no man, woman, or unknowing passer-by forget how menacing we are, we are lions. We are like a big bear, man. Nothing can stop this group, and you know why? Because he who reigns over his own domain, he who is the master of his own destiny, can conquer all burdens of which The Almighty may place upon him and emerge victorious. (Editor's Note: I totally made up that line for the sole purpose that it end up on a great quote page, so someone please do the Sobel Soup the favor of sending that in. If you do I will most definitely give you a personal shout-out.) So guys, this is your time. Victory or Death. At the end of the day, I want to be able to say to you fellas "Yo Adrian, we did it." And look guys. It’s not about how hard you hit them, it’s about how much of a hit you can take and keep going forward. It’s about the fundamentals: Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive and Dodge. THE FUNDAMENTALS!!!!! THAT’S HOW WINNING IS DONE!!!!!!! And as I leave you gentlemen and let you go out on that court today, I firmly believe that you will become winners on that battlefield. So fellas, do us all a favor, and win one for the Sobel Soup.
If you want to tell me to my face that my speech is neither inspiring nor stirring in any way, my reaction would be more emphatic than a Dikembe Mutumbo finger wag. It turns out the dodgeball tournament was cancelled because of a lack of participation. Some may view this as a wasted endeavor. Let me assure you, it was. The positive of this situation is that if I ever need an inspirational speech, I can just use this. Also, for those of you planning on using this, this speech has been trademarked by the Sobel Soup, so don't get any ideas.
___________________________________________________
As you may recall in my last post, I challenged Saumon Oboudiyat to complete Definition by Blackstar. Although you may think Saumon rapping Mos Def is more out of place than a Big Butts Spongebob Squarepants commercial, think again. I was quite impressed by his performance and have given it a passing grade. Congrats Saumon, I look forward to more great work.
___________________________________________________
As many of you have probably noticed, the Flyers have been knocked out of the playoffs. This is supremely disappointing, especially since I am subject to listening to Marc-Andre Fleury spew what some believe to be a primitive form of the English language out of his mouth for at least a few more weeks. As you may have guessed, the playoff beard has changed a bit. Although I am still growing for the Sixers, it would have been beyond me to not shave at least part of it of in honor of the Flyers. I ended up shaving off the 'stache, which I had nicknamed the trash 'stache, because it pretty much made the beard, and the Flyers were pretty much the reason why I started growing in the first place. I still have my chin stubbles, which are starting to become darker, growing out for the Sixers with my boy Fat Dub.
___________________________________________________
This video was sent into sobelsoupkitchen@gmail.com by an anonymous reader. While they didn't include their name and the email address was quite confusing, they did pick out an excellent clip from Seinfeld, which is probably in my top 10 favorite Seinfeld moments (believe me I have a lot of them).
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Catching Up On Lost Time
Chances are high that once you entered the Soup Kitchen, you noticed a large change about the site. Yes, I did change the background color for all of you who have been complaining to me about your eyes hurting. While it may seem like a subtle change, that is not all that will be changing on the Soup Kitchen. Jack Eiel has avoided contact with me at all costs during this entire week (not really, I see him everyday), and it seems that he is refusing to write another Soup Kitchen guest post. He says that he has writer's block, which doesn't make much sense, considering he would be writing a blog about nothing. For all of you who it so concerns, please belittle, bad-mouth, and blister Jack to no end. To take a page out of Samuel Gallu's book, "Give 'em Hell." Instead of having Jack post at every odd multiple of 500 views, I have now changed it to every 2,000 views from 500. So that means 2,500. I will be free to adjust it as I please, considering it is my blog, and I am the master of my own domain (literally).
I can make one promise to all of you, and I pinky-swear I won't go back on this one. This one takes a bit of explaining to get to, however. First, I have to let you all know that I first made this blog because of Mark Titus, the creator of Club Trillion. For those of you who do not read his blog, which I am assuming is most, if not all, of you, his arch-nemesis is Evan Turner. He received the nickname "The Villain," because, according to his Facebook status, Evan Turner is chillin'. Evan Turner somewhat resents this nickname, and calls himself "The Kid" (self-appointed nickname, mind you.) Being inspired by Mark Titus, I came to be comparing my blog situation with his own. I figured out that I was Titus, blogger extraordinaire, Jack (previously) was Keller, a not-so frequent guest poster, and Omar is Evan Turner, the arch-nemesis and receiver of much teasing from the blog. A similarity can clearly be seen between the two men* (debatable). Besides the fact that they look very similar, they both appoint nicknames for themselves (The Kid and O-Star Superstar), they are both stars on the basketball courts (but not in our hearts, like Rahlir), and are goons off of it. Furthermore, they both love Asher Roth. To quote the Villain: "OK, I know this is random, but for real y’all need to go get Asher Roth’s CD when it comes out next week. That dude opens his mouth and greatness flows out. Just a little advice from The Kid. Back to what I was saying." I also received an Instant Message tonight from none other than the Superstar saying "yo asher roth's new album is crazy, i love it." Clearly we have a case of long-lost brothers here. Recently, Club Trillion went over 1,000,000 hits, and to celebrate the occasion, Mark Titus allowed The Villain to guest post. I worked out a deal with Omar that at 15,000 views, I would let him get on and do a guest post. Yes, I realize it will most likely be awful, but you will just have to bear with it until the next post. Also, please give me your input with who you would like to have guest post on here with the poll in the right-hand column. If you want a shot, you are going to have to email me your post at sobelsoupkitchen@gmail.com. I will read over it and decide whether or not you have what it takes to make it in the Soup Kitchen.
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While Sweater Vest Thursday has officially died, along with the counter, the Sobel Soup did rock the sweater vest better than Jim Tressel to one of his dances. Yeah, the ladies were impressed and yeah, I looked really good.
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The playoff beard is growing strong, there is noticeable peach fuzz on my beard now and the 'stache is getting pretty junkie. I worked out a deal with Fat Dub, who is growing a Sixers playoff beard. This states that I will not shave my facial hair until both Philadelphia teams are out of the playoffs. Speaking of the playoff situation, I am thoroughly pleased with the way both teams performed today. The Flyers had won a must-win in Game 3, while the Sixers won Game 1 in thrilling fashion thanks to Andre Iguodala and my boy, Big D, Donyell Marshall. Also, I have to give AMPAP (look it up in my post to the ladies) to Xander "Cran" Rizzello for committing himself to the growth of a great playoff beard as well. His 'stache is more grown in, but his beard does not have as many peach fuzzies as mine does. Nonetheless, it takes a lot to be a team player and grow the beard, but X is doing it, and doing it big.
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This video clip was sent into me by a devoted fan, Saumon Oboudiyat. He too shares the love for the Fresh Prince. I was conversing with Saumon recently when he told me he would try to do a cover of Definition by Blackstar, which includes the beginning by Mos Def. I personally thought it would be impossible, so I told him if he could pull that off, he would get a spot on the Soup Kitchen. Yes, I formally challenged him to do it, so we shall see indeed if he can complete his mission.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
I can make one promise to all of you, and I pinky-swear I won't go back on this one. This one takes a bit of explaining to get to, however. First, I have to let you all know that I first made this blog because of Mark Titus, the creator of Club Trillion. For those of you who do not read his blog, which I am assuming is most, if not all, of you, his arch-nemesis is Evan Turner. He received the nickname "The Villain," because, according to his Facebook status, Evan Turner is chillin'. Evan Turner somewhat resents this nickname, and calls himself "The Kid" (self-appointed nickname, mind you.) Being inspired by Mark Titus, I came to be comparing my blog situation with his own. I figured out that I was Titus, blogger extraordinaire, Jack (previously) was Keller, a not-so frequent guest poster, and Omar is Evan Turner, the arch-nemesis and receiver of much teasing from the blog. A similarity can clearly be seen between the two men* (debatable). Besides the fact that they look very similar, they both appoint nicknames for themselves (The Kid and O-Star Superstar), they are both stars on the basketball courts (but not in our hearts, like Rahlir), and are goons off of it. Furthermore, they both love Asher Roth. To quote the Villain: "OK, I know this is random, but for real y’all need to go get Asher Roth’s CD when it comes out next week. That dude opens his mouth and greatness flows out. Just a little advice from The Kid. Back to what I was saying." I also received an Instant Message tonight from none other than the Superstar saying "yo asher roth's new album is crazy, i love it." Clearly we have a case of long-lost brothers here. Recently, Club Trillion went over 1,000,000 hits, and to celebrate the occasion, Mark Titus allowed The Villain to guest post. I worked out a deal with Omar that at 15,000 views, I would let him get on and do a guest post. Yes, I realize it will most likely be awful, but you will just have to bear with it until the next post. Also, please give me your input with who you would like to have guest post on here with the poll in the right-hand column. If you want a shot, you are going to have to email me your post at sobelsoupkitchen@gmail.com. I will read over it and decide whether or not you have what it takes to make it in the Soup Kitchen.
___________________________________________________
While Sweater Vest Thursday has officially died, along with the counter, the Sobel Soup did rock the sweater vest better than Jim Tressel to one of his dances. Yeah, the ladies were impressed and yeah, I looked really good.
___________________________________________________
The playoff beard is growing strong, there is noticeable peach fuzz on my beard now and the 'stache is getting pretty junkie. I worked out a deal with Fat Dub, who is growing a Sixers playoff beard. This states that I will not shave my facial hair until both Philadelphia teams are out of the playoffs. Speaking of the playoff situation, I am thoroughly pleased with the way both teams performed today. The Flyers had won a must-win in Game 3, while the Sixers won Game 1 in thrilling fashion thanks to Andre Iguodala and my boy, Big D, Donyell Marshall. Also, I have to give AMPAP (look it up in my post to the ladies) to Xander "Cran" Rizzello for committing himself to the growth of a great playoff beard as well. His 'stache is more grown in, but his beard does not have as many peach fuzzies as mine does. Nonetheless, it takes a lot to be a team player and grow the beard, but X is doing it, and doing it big.
___________________________________________________
This video clip was sent into me by a devoted fan, Saumon Oboudiyat. He too shares the love for the Fresh Prince. I was conversing with Saumon recently when he told me he would try to do a cover of Definition by Blackstar, which includes the beginning by Mos Def. I personally thought it would be impossible, so I told him if he could pull that off, he would get a spot on the Soup Kitchen. Yes, I formally challenged him to do it, so we shall see indeed if he can complete his mission.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Monday, April 13, 2009
Harry the K- Outta the Park But In Our Hearts
Just as a prelude to this post, I would just like to inform you all that I was planning on writing an Easter post. However, when the tragic news broke from Washington, I had to write about this. We are nearing 1500 views and as you all know, that means Jack will be posting. Most of the dry humor usually put into my blog posts will be all but out, at least in the Kalas section, just out of respect for Harry.
Onto the horrific news that cast a shadow over the whole Southeastern Pennsylvania region: the death of Harry Kalas. While the athletes come and go, broadcasters make a home in their cities. That is exactly what Harry Kalas did. He crossed four decades here in Philadelphia, making genuine friends out of every single person who ever watched a Phillies game. Not only did he go through decades, he was the voice for three generations of Phillies Phans. My grandfather, Jeffrey J. and I are all stunned at the loss and feel as if we lost someone special. For nearly every Philadelphian, he was a family member. People opened up their homes to him on a nightly basis. Thus, all of us feel as if we have lost a family member. In the broadcasting field he was rivaled by few, yet respected and beloved by all.
All of us have our favorite Kalas moments. I, unfortunately, was not there to witness and hear his calls of the '80, '83, and '93 teams or hear him call a game with his great friend Whitey. It was fitting that Kalas's last season ended in a world championship for the Phillies, his call of which was phenomenal, still sending chills down my back. The fact that the call does not even break my top 3 Kalas moments is a prime example of the exuberance that he displayed day-in and day-out dealing with the game of baseball. Whether it was in the dog days of July and August or a World Series game, Harry brought with him a fresh, fun outlook on the game that goes unrivaled across the sport. My personal top 3 Kalas moments are probably different from most, if not all, of you.
3. With Chase Utley on second base, Ryan Howard hit a high chopper down the first baseline. Howard was thrown out but Utley's all-out hustle allowed him to score. What followed from Harry was classic: "Chase Utley, you are the man!!!"
2. Last season, with the Phillies down 5 to 4 in the 10th inning to the Giants, Pat Burrell stepped up to the plate to face Giants closer Brian Wilson. He ended up hitting a walk-off, to which Harry gave his "Long Drive! Watch this baby, outta here! Walk-off home run, Pat Burrell!"
1. Although the Phillies ended up losing in the first round to the Rockies, the fact that they made the playoffs in 2007 was a great memory, just to know that they got there. Harry topped this off with a rendition of "High Hopes" for the ages.
I first heard this news from Omar, who interestingly enough has the best Kalas call I know with his "LOOOOOOONG DRIVE!! THIS ONE IS OUTTAAAA HERE!!! HOME RUN BOBBY ABRAY-HU!!!" (Emphasis on the -HU, just like Harry did it.)
The Phillies season, according to Mark Kram (whose name is the same forwards and backwards, isn't that super cool?), went from sweet, with the ring presentation, to bitter, with the death of Harry Kalas. The beautiful thing about baseball is that we keep playing, but we never forget the touching life of this inspirational figure. He will surely be missed, and may he rest in peace.
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I do have to give a big shoutout to my boy, Davy Gross, for writing up an article about the blog in the Panther Press, the school paper. The support and publicity is greatly appreciated Davy, keep up the good work.
___________________________________________________
It is once again playoff time in Philadelphia, with the Flyers entering Stanley Cup Playoffs as the 5 seed. This of course means it is time for the Sobel Soup to grow his world-famous playoff beard. This tradition started last year, when I promised not to shave until the Flyers were out. I grew close to what growth Sidney Crosby had on his face last year. Jeffrey J. unfortunately made me shave it off before the Pittsburgh series. Of course they lost that series. For the Phillies, however, they ended up winning the World Series without me shaving. I am back to do it for the Fly-guys, and I promise, no shaving. I will keep you all updated on the status of the playoff beard/stache. For all of your sakes, you should hope the Flyers make it all the way to the finals, so I can look like a full out baller.
___________________________________________________
I again have to bypass the video requests for this week to make way for the legend that passed on today. Harry, you will always be missed and never be forgotten. I apologize for the quality of the video, but it is too good to pass up.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Onto the horrific news that cast a shadow over the whole Southeastern Pennsylvania region: the death of Harry Kalas. While the athletes come and go, broadcasters make a home in their cities. That is exactly what Harry Kalas did. He crossed four decades here in Philadelphia, making genuine friends out of every single person who ever watched a Phillies game. Not only did he go through decades, he was the voice for three generations of Phillies Phans. My grandfather, Jeffrey J. and I are all stunned at the loss and feel as if we lost someone special. For nearly every Philadelphian, he was a family member. People opened up their homes to him on a nightly basis. Thus, all of us feel as if we have lost a family member. In the broadcasting field he was rivaled by few, yet respected and beloved by all.
All of us have our favorite Kalas moments. I, unfortunately, was not there to witness and hear his calls of the '80, '83, and '93 teams or hear him call a game with his great friend Whitey. It was fitting that Kalas's last season ended in a world championship for the Phillies, his call of which was phenomenal, still sending chills down my back. The fact that the call does not even break my top 3 Kalas moments is a prime example of the exuberance that he displayed day-in and day-out dealing with the game of baseball. Whether it was in the dog days of July and August or a World Series game, Harry brought with him a fresh, fun outlook on the game that goes unrivaled across the sport. My personal top 3 Kalas moments are probably different from most, if not all, of you.
3. With Chase Utley on second base, Ryan Howard hit a high chopper down the first baseline. Howard was thrown out but Utley's all-out hustle allowed him to score. What followed from Harry was classic: "Chase Utley, you are the man!!!"
2. Last season, with the Phillies down 5 to 4 in the 10th inning to the Giants, Pat Burrell stepped up to the plate to face Giants closer Brian Wilson. He ended up hitting a walk-off, to which Harry gave his "Long Drive! Watch this baby, outta here! Walk-off home run, Pat Burrell!"
1. Although the Phillies ended up losing in the first round to the Rockies, the fact that they made the playoffs in 2007 was a great memory, just to know that they got there. Harry topped this off with a rendition of "High Hopes" for the ages.
I first heard this news from Omar, who interestingly enough has the best Kalas call I know with his "LOOOOOOONG DRIVE!! THIS ONE IS OUTTAAAA HERE!!! HOME RUN BOBBY ABRAY-HU!!!" (Emphasis on the -HU, just like Harry did it.)
The Phillies season, according to Mark Kram (whose name is the same forwards and backwards, isn't that super cool?), went from sweet, with the ring presentation, to bitter, with the death of Harry Kalas. The beautiful thing about baseball is that we keep playing, but we never forget the touching life of this inspirational figure. He will surely be missed, and may he rest in peace.
___________________________________________________
I do have to give a big shoutout to my boy, Davy Gross, for writing up an article about the blog in the Panther Press, the school paper. The support and publicity is greatly appreciated Davy, keep up the good work.
___________________________________________________
It is once again playoff time in Philadelphia, with the Flyers entering Stanley Cup Playoffs as the 5 seed. This of course means it is time for the Sobel Soup to grow his world-famous playoff beard. This tradition started last year, when I promised not to shave until the Flyers were out. I grew close to what growth Sidney Crosby had on his face last year. Jeffrey J. unfortunately made me shave it off before the Pittsburgh series. Of course they lost that series. For the Phillies, however, they ended up winning the World Series without me shaving. I am back to do it for the Fly-guys, and I promise, no shaving. I will keep you all updated on the status of the playoff beard/stache. For all of your sakes, you should hope the Flyers make it all the way to the finals, so I can look like a full out baller.
___________________________________________________
I again have to bypass the video requests for this week to make way for the legend that passed on today. Harry, you will always be missed and never be forgotten. I apologize for the quality of the video, but it is too good to pass up.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Champs to Chumps- Opening Night With the Phillies
Before I talk about my night somewhat well-spent with the Fightins, I do have to comment on the pathetic performance my Villanova Wildcats put on for the entire nation to see Saturday evening. Although they did only lose by 14, the moment my astronomical expectations came in touch with reality, I looked sadder than Queen without Freddie Mercury. I totally enjoyed Dante Cunningham's emotional locker room interview with tears running down his face: it was raw emotion at its finest. I only hope he doesn't make an NBA Live commercial proclaiming that once he gets to the NBA "more people will cry" (I think the only people that have cried because of Adam Morrison are those in Los Angeles subject to viewing the worst 'stache in history perform nightly). The fact that the Wildcats lost to the eventual national champion, North Carolina, would make it a little bit nicer, except for the fact that it has happened 4 out of the 5 last years. I'm not quite sure how I would have reacted had the Wildcats pulled off the upset and won the championship, I suppose neither the world nor this blog will ever know. One could base it off the last, and only, time a team the Sobel Soup has rooted for has won a championship.
I am of course talking about the Philadelphia Phillies, your 2008 World Champions of baseball. If you are not aware of the spring weather, baseball season has again started up. This brings a breath of fresh air with it, not for the particular reason that I get to watch the Phillies again. It is mostly refreshing because when describing the baseball season, I only have to use one year. As opposed to the other sports, where they play before and after the New Year, the baseball season avoids confusion by playing all of its season inside of new years. Besides that, Sunday's Opening Night was an exciting one, because the Sobel Soup was in attendance. That's right, Jeffrey J. pulled some stunts to get three standing room admission tickets. We had an extra ticket, so we decided to bring along O-Star Superstar, who you all know pretty well by now. Our trio's pregame buzz was all but ruined when we saw a man drop his pants and proceed to take a leak right in front of us while we walked to the stadium. I'm fairly certain that is illegal, and with all the police surrounding us, he must have had some kahonas, or he probably would have had to squat. It was quite awkward walking by him, as you can imagine none of us made eye contact. Now, I take a leaker in public as much as the next guy, but usually one does the common courtesy of positioning themselves in a somewhat concealable manner. Not this guy. He literally started to pee right on the sidewalk. Luckily he was facing the other way, so none of our eyes were permanently damaged. As for the reasoning behind this man's bold move, one can never be certain.
After looking for about five minutes for the ESPN cameras outside the stadium that show people walking around, we decided to head inside. Once we got in, a huge advertising opportunity awaited me. Standing right in front of us was a gigantic Phillies championship t-shirt ("Phinally" bore the front) that was available for Phan signature. The pressure was on when I took the Sharpie, and since I spent my time searching out a spot to write, I had no idea what to sign. I ended up putting "Sobel Soup." In retrospect, this would have been the perfect opportunity to write out "sobelsoupkitchen.blogspot.com." It would have been a mouthful, sure, but I would have gotten it done. Anyway, if someone is ever in the presence of that big shirt, look at the very bottom right hand corner and you will most likely see the Sobel Soup's signature.
The pregame festivities were all pretty fun. The best had to be when the parachuters came down. For those of you that saw it on TV, I'm guessing you didn't get to see this fine display of money well-spent by the United States government. Parachuters actually landed in the middle of the field. If you couldn't guess already by the description, it was really cool. It was also hilarious because one of the parachuters landed outside of the stadium. Either that or he somehow got lifted up into the air again and came back down onto the field, but I'm bargaining on the former. All of the parachuters stuck the landings to make it even more ballin' than it already was.
After all of this, the crowd was ready for the game to start. If you don't already know, the Phillies had lost 3 straight opening day games. The Phillies winning the World Series last year made about as much of a change to this trend as moving Sportscenter to the West Coast did for that fine piece of programming (I'll give you a hint: that means it didn't change!!). Brett Myers looked to be in his mid-season form by channeling his inner minor-league self for yet another year.
Even though the Superstar and I were displeased by the play on the field, we were thoroughly entertained by the couple standing next to us. This included several things, one of which included getting beer spilled on my shirt. I'm pretty proud of myself because I did indeed handle it very well. The woman bought me a soda to make up for it, and she probably would have offered to buy the Phillies for me if she had not had to leave, the reason of which was her boyfriend flipped the bird to a Braves reliever. This whole beer-spilling experience was worth it simply because Omar made a fool out of himself. We were leaning on a ledge when it was spilled and I took my shirt off. No, the ladies did not get a free show by getting a good, long glimpse of the Sobel Soup at his finest without his shirt on: I did have an undershirt on. I accidentally placed the tail end of it back into the mess when I was taking it off and getting it cleaned. Omar proceeded to call me "such an idiot" for this act. It was a few minutes later when he came back to eat his words when he realized he was still leaning on a part of the beer puddle, and that his sweatshirt had gotten wet because of it.
The time that we didn't spend getting beer spilled on us, we spent listening to how this girl's brother plays catcher for the Rhode Island baseball team. Apparently, like Derrick (I had to put this link in because it is the best rendition I have ever heard), he too has not had a carb since 2004. Believe me, I have searched the website for a freakish, 6-4, 250 pound catching prospect who could someday play in the majors, but I have yet to find him. He is supposedly "the biggest guy (the man next to me has) ever seen." Besides this, the man taught us many a life lesson, including do not go to Temple, major in business and earn $1 million a year because it simply is not worth it. We should go out West and enjoy the good life. The last highlight of the night with this inspiring figure was when he got in a fight with a woman named Tina, who unjustly accused him of turning around and then proceeding to talk about her with his girlfriend. When she called him out on this, he told her that she has "some kind of inferiority," but that she had to "deal with it on (her) own and not bring (him) into it." (I am doing the word-substituting thing the papers do, it's more professional that way) Score: 1 for the man with the insight, 0 for Tina.
That just about sums up the highlights of the night.
___________________________________________________
I did have a suggestion for this week which I will have in the next post. The reason I am not putting that in is because when I saw the video below, I knew that it had the Soup Kitchen written all over it. It is fairly recent, so I am imagining that some of you have already seen it. Even if you have, you probably know that it is well worth another look. Just a little note, my two favorite passengers would have to be the guy in the front left with the pen in his mouth and the guy at 2:17 that does the nice gang sign. Killer.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
I am of course talking about the Philadelphia Phillies, your 2008 World Champions of baseball. If you are not aware of the spring weather, baseball season has again started up. This brings a breath of fresh air with it, not for the particular reason that I get to watch the Phillies again. It is mostly refreshing because when describing the baseball season, I only have to use one year. As opposed to the other sports, where they play before and after the New Year, the baseball season avoids confusion by playing all of its season inside of new years. Besides that, Sunday's Opening Night was an exciting one, because the Sobel Soup was in attendance. That's right, Jeffrey J. pulled some stunts to get three standing room admission tickets. We had an extra ticket, so we decided to bring along O-Star Superstar, who you all know pretty well by now. Our trio's pregame buzz was all but ruined when we saw a man drop his pants and proceed to take a leak right in front of us while we walked to the stadium. I'm fairly certain that is illegal, and with all the police surrounding us, he must have had some kahonas, or he probably would have had to squat. It was quite awkward walking by him, as you can imagine none of us made eye contact. Now, I take a leaker in public as much as the next guy, but usually one does the common courtesy of positioning themselves in a somewhat concealable manner. Not this guy. He literally started to pee right on the sidewalk. Luckily he was facing the other way, so none of our eyes were permanently damaged. As for the reasoning behind this man's bold move, one can never be certain.
After looking for about five minutes for the ESPN cameras outside the stadium that show people walking around, we decided to head inside. Once we got in, a huge advertising opportunity awaited me. Standing right in front of us was a gigantic Phillies championship t-shirt ("Phinally" bore the front) that was available for Phan signature. The pressure was on when I took the Sharpie, and since I spent my time searching out a spot to write, I had no idea what to sign. I ended up putting "Sobel Soup." In retrospect, this would have been the perfect opportunity to write out "sobelsoupkitchen.blogspot.com." It would have been a mouthful, sure, but I would have gotten it done. Anyway, if someone is ever in the presence of that big shirt, look at the very bottom right hand corner and you will most likely see the Sobel Soup's signature.
The pregame festivities were all pretty fun. The best had to be when the parachuters came down. For those of you that saw it on TV, I'm guessing you didn't get to see this fine display of money well-spent by the United States government. Parachuters actually landed in the middle of the field. If you couldn't guess already by the description, it was really cool. It was also hilarious because one of the parachuters landed outside of the stadium. Either that or he somehow got lifted up into the air again and came back down onto the field, but I'm bargaining on the former. All of the parachuters stuck the landings to make it even more ballin' than it already was.
After all of this, the crowd was ready for the game to start. If you don't already know, the Phillies had lost 3 straight opening day games. The Phillies winning the World Series last year made about as much of a change to this trend as moving Sportscenter to the West Coast did for that fine piece of programming (I'll give you a hint: that means it didn't change!!). Brett Myers looked to be in his mid-season form by channeling his inner minor-league self for yet another year.
Even though the Superstar and I were displeased by the play on the field, we were thoroughly entertained by the couple standing next to us. This included several things, one of which included getting beer spilled on my shirt. I'm pretty proud of myself because I did indeed handle it very well. The woman bought me a soda to make up for it, and she probably would have offered to buy the Phillies for me if she had not had to leave, the reason of which was her boyfriend flipped the bird to a Braves reliever. This whole beer-spilling experience was worth it simply because Omar made a fool out of himself. We were leaning on a ledge when it was spilled and I took my shirt off. No, the ladies did not get a free show by getting a good, long glimpse of the Sobel Soup at his finest without his shirt on: I did have an undershirt on. I accidentally placed the tail end of it back into the mess when I was taking it off and getting it cleaned. Omar proceeded to call me "such an idiot" for this act. It was a few minutes later when he came back to eat his words when he realized he was still leaning on a part of the beer puddle, and that his sweatshirt had gotten wet because of it.
The time that we didn't spend getting beer spilled on us, we spent listening to how this girl's brother plays catcher for the Rhode Island baseball team. Apparently, like Derrick (I had to put this link in because it is the best rendition I have ever heard), he too has not had a carb since 2004. Believe me, I have searched the website for a freakish, 6-4, 250 pound catching prospect who could someday play in the majors, but I have yet to find him. He is supposedly "the biggest guy (the man next to me has) ever seen." Besides this, the man taught us many a life lesson, including do not go to Temple, major in business and earn $1 million a year because it simply is not worth it. We should go out West and enjoy the good life. The last highlight of the night with this inspiring figure was when he got in a fight with a woman named Tina, who unjustly accused him of turning around and then proceeding to talk about her with his girlfriend. When she called him out on this, he told her that she has "some kind of inferiority," but that she had to "deal with it on (her) own and not bring (him) into it." (I am doing the word-substituting thing the papers do, it's more professional that way) Score: 1 for the man with the insight, 0 for Tina.
That just about sums up the highlights of the night.
___________________________________________________
I did have a suggestion for this week which I will have in the next post. The reason I am not putting that in is because when I saw the video below, I knew that it had the Soup Kitchen written all over it. It is fairly recent, so I am imagining that some of you have already seen it. Even if you have, you probably know that it is well worth another look. Just a little note, my two favorite passengers would have to be the guy in the front left with the pen in his mouth and the guy at 2:17 that does the nice gang sign. Killer.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
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