Sad news in the world of real, red-blooded football and not the wussy kind they are going to “celebrate” starting tomorrow: Los Angeles no longer has a professional football team.  The bill for University of Seventh Choice: bowl eligibility yanked, 2005 national championship trophy repossessed, scholarships cut drastically.  (“Scholarship.”  There’s a turn-of-phrase for you.  But anyway.)

Of course, Pete Carroll (l., with Reggie Bush) won’t be around for the downfall, in that he is now coaching the Seattle Seahawks.  He bravely hit the silk after last year’s disastrous season (complete with spanking at hands of Tree). 

[Come to think of it, Mr. Bush didn’t fare too badly either, what with his fancy new ring courtesy of the Saints’ winning the Super Bowl in February.  Sadly, though, Reggie may become the second U$C tailback to be de-Hesimaned.  Impressive, when you think about it.]

But all that needs to be said, really: it couldn’t have happened to a more appropriate set of bastards.

While SFL and Your Easily Drunken Host were enjoying delicious burgers in Sandy Eggo’s Gaslamp District last night, a small group of wannabe hooligans were watching a hockey match. Apparently Philly was involved, but we’re too lazy to confirm.

Meanwhile, everyone else was diverted by another momentous event:

Major League Baseball sources with direct knowledge of the meeting confirm that key members of baseball’s hierarchy were to convene this morning in New York to review the circumstances of Umpire Jim Joyce’s erroneous “safe” call at first base in Detroit, which last night denied the Tigers’ Armando Galarraga what would have been the 21st Perfect Game in baseball history and the third in just 25 days.

“Perfect game,” for the uninformed, means a game we have absolutely no awareness of or interest in.

Sources: Commissioner Selig Reviews Galarraga Game [Olbermann]

So, what does it take to put tasering on the national agenda? Three hundred deaths? Grandma getting zapped? “Don’t tase me, bro”?

How about a kid running onto the field during a Phillies game?

The Philadelphia Police Department has said that the officer acted in accord with department guidelines, which allow officers to fire their Tasers to subdue fleeing suspects…

Many police officers argue that cultural criticism of the Taser is largely unfounded since its benefits — the relative safety of the device weighed against fewer injuries to the police officer — are greater than the possibilities for abuse.

“We didn’t get this [negative] reaction when nightsticks were used to split heads open, but because of the technology and what it does, the media have really exacerbated the issue of the Taser,” former Boca Raton, Fla. police chief Andrew Scott told the Monitor in 2008.

So we have here a fleeing suspect, who in years past would have been bludgeoned instead of zapped, since he’s clearly a risk to the fat fuck chasing him. Got it.

Phillies fan tasered: Why police are using Tasers more often [Christian Science Monitor, via Raw Story]

Phillies Fan Runs Onto Field, Gets Tased [YouTube]

Yes, kids — it’s Derby Day again!  And as is tradition, we have for you the Kentucky Derby Open Thread.  Because it can’t be all ecological disasters and Republican dumbfuckery and totally-random traffic stops in Phoenix here at Stinque.  After all: degenerate gambling, especially on Sport, is what makes America great.  (That, and the Bill of Rights and the ample amounts of food and  the national parks and all that.)

Handicapping this is a total mess, because the track is… a total mess.  Rain — lots of it — hit Louisville overnight, and is forecast to continue.  My best guess at it is Super Saver, Devil May Care (a lady horse!) and American Lion (4-11-7 on your picksheets).  But with the usual twenty-horse field, it’s a total guess.  (Dartboards, oddly enough, have twenty divisions, which are numbered for your convenience.  Have at it.)

Post time at 1828 ET.  Fire away.

Ever since socialized medicine decimated the nation’s brackets, everyone’s been huddling in the basement, fighting over crumbs of Cheetos doled out by our new tyrannical overlords.

In a just world, Kansas and Georgetown wouldn’t have taken everyone down with them. In a just world, Duke would have been blown away by the Arkansas-Pine Bluff Golden Lions in the first round.

But we don’t live in a just world. We live in a world where your only hope is to enter the Stinque Suckage Bracket and pray to your puny gods that you’ll be hoisting boilermakers in honor of Purdue’s glorious victory Friday night.

You have until 4 p.m. Thursday to avenge your honor. We think. Ask Mellbell.

So our first thought for a poll this week was tying “March Madness” to Michele Bachmann and Glenn Beck, but hey, we already did the Wingnut Bracket last year. Apparently we also did a real pool, because Mellbell has kindly set up the Second Annual Stinque Bracket for your casual-wagering pleasure.

Being omniscient, we already know the results. But being wise, we’re not telling you.

Geez.  The USA and Canada should think about doing this head-to-head hockey thing every year, for bragging rights.  Get a fancy trophy or something.  I’m serious. 

This plea doesn’t come from a sense of sour grapes or anything, with the U.S. Americans losing.  Two great teams — with the star of the show, Sidney Crosby, writing the storybook ending yesterday — played a hell of a game.  And I know that nothing will ever have the same juice as CAN 3:2 USA (OT).  But, regardless: I WANT MORE OF THAT.

But, of course, we shall get no more of that — at least for a while.  Jacques Rogge pulled the plug last night during what was, to be honest, a disjointed closing ceremony.  Between a bewildering presentation by Sochi, the VANOC clown-in-chief’s speech (including some horrendous French pronounciation), the comedy bits (“sorry!”), and the Busby Beaver sequence, it was a vice-royal mess.  Neil Young wasn’t bad, though. 

(It may be that the ceremonies actually ended on a better note, but the Mothership cut away to The Marriage Ref.  Welcome back to fourth-place, NBC!)

A brief attempt at closing analysis — admittedly, without Bob Costas’s back-up orchestra with appropriate montage sequence — after the jump.

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