A couple Lions fans celebrated their team's historic victory with a spot of lower-bowl grab-ass that ended with the two of them re-enacting the Ned Beatty piggy scene from Deliverance. And Detroit was happy once again.

Jerry Jones sold 30,000 "party passes" for the regular-season debut of his new football palace, where, in a standing-room section, every passholder was treated to great views of 29,999 other passholders. The scene turned briefly into something out of Lord of the Flies. Sucks to your pass mar!

This lass had a message for Jesus Christ Football Star, and she wore it on her shirt. It's tough to see here, but please note the gray-haired lady in back, looking on in slowly dawning horror.

Chargers linebacker Shawne Merriman was arrested for allegedly choking his girlfriend, Internet creature Tila Tequila. The case against Merriman was eventually dropped, but he was nonetheless tried and convicted in the high court of Tila Tequila's Twitter account.

A day after LeGarrette Blount decked Byron Hout, Dash made the persuasive argument that the smirking jackass who started it all got exactly what was coming to him.

The bold-face-type enthusiasts of Fire Joe Morgan reunited for one glorious day on our site and, afterward all that was left of poor Allen Barra was a couple mindlessly contrarian opinions and some hair.

Someone dug up an ancient video of a skeevy Cris Collinsworth in which he declared, absurdly: "I like girls that aren't too bright because you can trick 'em a little bit...high school girls love me. Fourteen to eighteen, I'm a big star with them." And then, even more absurdly, he apologized — and not for that Cosby sweater.

Football, as choreographed by Bob Fosse.

In a handicapped stall at Cowboy Stadium, a guy in a Michael Irvin jersey decided to do to a woman what Jerry Jones did to 30,000 fans with Party Passes. We got the video.

And, lastly, there are the Salisbury-Daulerio Letters, a correspondence that stretched across three batshit posts. It was, as AJ noted, the meltiest media meltdown of them all. Sean has not been heard from since. Nor have we heard from his attorneys and "powerful Pr firm .. from NYC." He is out there, though. Somewhere. I like to imagine him on a beach on South Padre, sipping a tall, fruity drink and pecking away at his ESPN tell-all, espn exposed. He nears the end of the book. He thinks for a moment. He considers a passing cloud. And then he taps out the last line, a line to rival them all — Fitzgerald, Hamlet, Bogie to Claude Rains. Sean Salisbury looks at the screen and smiles wryly. "Sent," it reads, "from my iPhone."

What's that? You have no idea what FJM is? So our braggy enthusiasm just came off as ridiculous? And this is embarrassing for everyone? Totally understand. Unfortunately, there is no delete key on this keyboard. So let's just move past it.

Fire Joe Morgan began in April of 1954, as an agitprop mouthpiece for Senator Joe McCarthy and the House Committee on Un-American Activities. In the ‘70s, under new owner Henry Kissinger, it was a communication method for CIA agents involved in the assassination attempt on Generalissino Pinochet. In 1993 it became a Phish fan site. Then a collection of poorly-photoshopped Christina Aguilera nudes. Finally, in 2005, it became what hundreds of tens of people all over the world know it as today: a place where bad sports journalism got yelled at by a bunch of arrogant dicks.

In its three-plus glorious years, Fire Joe Morgan accomplished many great things, including:

1. Introducing the phrase "Fuck the heck?!" into the parlance.

2. Using a lot of food metaphors.

3. That's it. Just those two things.

We don't really know why we were asked to guest-edit Deadspin, so basically we're just going to do the same thing we used to do: link to, reprint, and make fun of dumb sports articles. It does feel a little weird having our stuff up on a website with more than two colors, but we'll try to get used to it.

Let's open the floor for questions.

What have you guys been up to since shutting down FJM?

Junior and Ken are now writing for NBC's Parks and Recreation, which totally coincidentally airs its season 2 premiere tomorrow night at 8:30. dak is still in federal prison and doing great. Hang in there, dak! Only eleven more consecutively-served life sentences!

Other than that, we've mostly just been reading baseball articles, writing really long, foul-mouthed missives about how wrongheaded they are, printing out what we've written, lighting it on fire, and watching the smoke reach up to the heavens. We do this probably eight or nine times a day.

I've already read all these articles you're going to make fun of. Why should I read them again?

You shouldn't! Nobody should ever read the internet. Read a book or spend time with your children. This is all a huge waste of time.

Seriously, though. I'm a sports fan, and this is 2009 — I've read all of these articles on the internet. Many of them have already been made fun of on this very site.

I don't know what to tell you, man.

So, what – you want me to read all of them again just to see how you guys make fun of them?

Yeah. I guess we do. Yeah.

Okay. I will do that. And I will also click on the links of all of Deadspin's advertisers and buy their products.

Sounds good. Thanks.

Let's talk "scrappy." Who gets this year's David Eckstein Award for Seduction of Lazy Journalists By A Replacement-Level-Quality Player?

The fight for the Ecky is as competitive as it is fake. This year, in an exciting twist, lazy journalists were so lazy that they accidentally allowed 2 non-white players to sneak into the Ecky finals: Dexter Fowler and Nyjer Morgan.

In the end, however, the voting wasn't even close. And the Ecky goes to...David Eckstein!

Did you read that thing Murray Chass wrote, where he—

Yeah. We'll get to that.

But it was insane! What is wrong with that guy! I mean-

Dude, I promise, we'll get to it.

Okay! Enough questions. Let's get to the articles, and the cursing, and the wasting of valuable time and lifeforce, and the Food Metaphors. We promise, this experience will be a veritable chocolate fountain of pleasure. Please: don't eat the burnt toast that is not reading these articles.

Enjoy!

But an earlier draft of the script, dated Dec. 1, 2008, is making its way around the Web. It's 129 pages, which means it's up to the intern to parse through it, pick out the good parts and then compile the particularly entertaining excerpts. It wasn't hard to find a handful of lowlights, and in addition to the ones included, there are a surprisingly large number of pointless factual inaccuracies: The Charlotte Knights are Triple-A, not Double-A; Scott Hatteberg never played one year for the Rockies; Bryan Bullington and Roger Ring were not the draft choices directly before Jeremy Brown; and when Olmedo Saenz grounded out in the ninth inning of the fifth game of the 2001 ALDS, there were no outs, not one, thank you very much.

Besides that — and plot twists that pit Beane as an avid concertgoer and convert Paul DePodesta into a weightlifter — the screenplay made me wish some studio would take a chance with this movie, even if Michael Lewis himself didn't see the movie in the book. The first two acts are slow, relying on Bill James to explain sabermetrics to the women dragged to the theater by their geeky boyfriends brothers. The last 30 pages, though, are as action-packed and climactic as a trading deadline and AL West race can be.

And yes, there are cameos from Lenny Dykstra and Joe Morgan, outright allusions to Roy Hobbs and Jimmy Stewart and subtle nods to Bobby Knight and Angels in the Outfield. It's Moneyball, coming to a theater near you... well, maybe never, but hopefully soon.

"OK, Let's start with a naked Billy Beane, the steam rising off the shower and crowning his head, like... God!"

"Great idea, but here's a better one. We'll cut to a Bill James voiceover, and then cite Henry Chadwick."

"Oh, I like it. But it's a bit too, hmm, secular. Let's throw some stigmata in there."

"You sure you want to go that route?"

"Absolutely. And blood! Lots of blood!"

Lest the movie offend the Jewish crowd, Arn Tellem makes a cameo when Beane goes to Tellem's son's bar mitzvah and, like everyone else, struggles to keep a yarmulke on his head. Bobby pins, Billy. That's the trick. And don't be depressed — bar mitzvahs are fun!

A few scenes in and Beane's already throwing chairs against the big board. Nobody pays any attention. Apparently there is fighting in the war room.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful uncomfortably intense friendship.

Because after you seduce an Outback waitress, your next step isn't to call the Indians' general manager in the middle of the night?

Ah, Christmas — makes more sense than you think. But don't bother trying to figure out how It's A Wonderful Life comes into play.

I thought this was the most entertaining soliloquy of the movie, but then everyone's favorite Sunday Night Baseball analyst makes an appearance.

And the Lord said, "Ask and ye, Chad Bradford, shall submarine, no problem."

Well, all of this certainly makes a lot more sense now.

From bar mitzvahs to Auschwitz? Let's hope this was one of the segues Soderbergh edited out.

One of the screenplay's more puzzling revelations is that Jeremy Giambi is obsessed with The Natural. And, apparently, he's so caught up in the climax that he yells, "Yeah, Hobbs!" even though he's seen it hundreds of times. Also, this is why Beane trades him. Yeah, Beane!

Billy Beane and fantasy baseball owners across the country: not so different after all.

Should make for an interesting Spanish subtitle.

Aaaaaaaand scene!

More than 50 people submitted their favorite FJM posts. Some were short, one sentence FJMisms. Some offered links and some listed their favorite posts accompanied by FJM-style commentary underneath. (Unfortunately, these submissions were not that clever so they'll be left out. No need to embarrass anyone.)

But reader Sherrie V. probably said it best though:" How do you choose among so many examples of brilliance? (OMFG!)"

Indeed. I gave it a shot anyway. After the jump, some of your favorite FJM posts of all time.

Victoria J. nominates "Meditations on Jeter":

Most people know him as the late character actor Michael Jeter's little brother, but to me he'll always be the only baseball player whose tears cure malaria in whales. There's been a lot of talk about Jeter in the last few days. Men who deal with numbers have declared him overrated, almost to the point that many are now saying he's underrated. This discussion bores me. How can you overrate or underrate a glorious sunset? A sunset just is. That's Jeter.

Jay G. nominates "12 Minutes of Hell With Colin Cowherd":

Let's play a nerd-game, Colin. Which is to say, let's "think" with our "brains." What if Horace Grant retired, and then didn't make it into the HOF, and then revealed, in a tell-all book and several appearances on like "I'm a Celebrity, Get me Out of Here!" and the like, that he, Horace, was a huge meth dealer in the NBA for 17 years and that the NBA has a massive meth problem. I just don't think that he would be inducted into the Basketball HOF. CC has two arguments — Canseco is famous so he should be in, and anyone who dominates or is "relevant" should be in. Ironically, he then says "infamous is infamous," which only serves to remind us that what Canseco is, in fact, in retrospect, is "infamous." Which is why his "fame" is not exactly what the HOF is looking for in terms of permanent membership.

Clyde R. nominates "Everyone Ready?":

Something new in the Joe-vs.-"Moneyball" war just occurred to me: Joe has not considered the idea that the book contains analysis by people other than its author. In other words, if Billy Beane were the author of the book and not its primary subject — and those of you diehard Joe-vs.-"Moneyball" war fans will no doubt remember several interviews with Joe where he did indeed think that was the case — would he read it then? Beane played on the field. He satisfies Joe's insane demand that only former players can "teach" us anything. Jeremy Brown, Jason Giambi, Scott Hatteberg — nearly all of the book's subjects played the game. So this ridiculous line of thought on Joe's part is actually more meaningless than I previously believed, because Joe doesn't even know enough about the book to understand that it is not just Michael Lewis pontificating about baseball. It is actual players discussing the game Joe loves and refuses to learn about. I thus would like to invite someone, next Tuesday, to make this point in a question to Joe, and then we'll start some real fireworks, by gum.

Sherrie V. nominates the "Joe Chat Marathon" from July 27th:

Here are things that could tarnish Barry Bonds's reputation, at this point:

1. Committing double murder of Tom Brokaw and Dame Judi Dench
2. Defecting to Afghanistan, joining Taliban, leading Afghan baseball team to Gold medal over American team in Beijing
3. Running high-end dog fighting ring where the dog fights take place on Princess Diana's grave
4. Inventing time travel but instead of traveling back in time to kill Hitler using it to go back to 1989 in order to start taking steroids earlier than he originally did

Things that will not make a motherfletching dent in Barry Bonds's reputation:

1. Being labeled a "hired gun" by playing for the Yankees

"Head Bee Guy" nominated "Pags":

In the pantheon of smugly ignorant acronym use, this takes the cake. LLBean is a terrible "nerdy acronym" joke for many reasons: like, that it's not an acronym. And that it appears in an article attacking Billy Beane, which gives one the impression the author is too dumb to think of two different things at the same time. FYI is boring. SOB is a term not heard much by people under fifty. And the whole thing — the collection of five acronyms; two real, three unfunny and fake — is referred to as a "system of analysis." Pags, seriously bro, if you had any idea how sophisticated their actual systems of analysis were...dude. Bro. Your effing head would explode.

Jesse A. nominated "It's Cool":

I just want to announce here on this blog, that if any baseball analyst of any kind tells me that "you really have to watch Jason Bartlett play every day to understand how much he means to this team," and that same analyst is found drowned at the bottom of my hot tub the next morning, and I am found standing upon that corpse, in the hot tub, wearing my trunks and a hoodie and just relaxing and smoking a joint, and maybe ordering a pizza or something, and instructing the delivery guy to come in through the gate because I'm in the back standing on a body in my hot tub — if all of that happens, I would really appreciate if someone could meet me outside, by my hot tub, and float me a few dollars for the pizza, because I will be in no mood to get off of that corpse, or get out of the hot tub for that matter, and plus I will probably have forgotten to bring some money out to the hot tub with me.

Reader Nicholas E. nominated "Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuce":

If you could go back in time and take Nap Lajoie into a room after Rube Waddell K'd him on three pitches and show him a glowing box with a video replay of the at bat, he would call you a demon, slit your throat, tear out his eyes, and generally freak the fuck out. It's a different game, these days.

David V.(and, oh, 12 others) nominated "Honestly One Of The Weirdest Things I've Ever Read":

Sorry — so, the complaint here is that baseball fans talk about baseball too much? Maybe that's because baseball exists and is interesting. Unlike — to give one example off the top of my head that I just like pulled out of nowhere as a thing that neither exists nor is interesting — superbike racing.

I can think of two reasons superbike fans don't go to sports bars, drink beers, and talk loudly about superbike racing:

1. There are only two superbike racing fans in the entire world, and finding a bar exactly halfway between Pittsburgh and Manitoba is tough.

2. If you went to a sports bar and talked loudly about superbike racing, the other people in the bar, who are probably talking about actual, real sports that actually exist and about which people care, would tell you to shut the fuck up.

And by "sit down," I mean, "emailed them questions and waited for them to respond." You know how online journalism works. Anyway, here's my chat with Michael Schur (Ken Tremendous), Alan Yang (Junior) and Dave King (dak). And yes: I did try to talk them out of it. They're hilarious enough in this interview that I feel even worse that I failed.

You guys have gone on somewhat extended breaks before. Why now? Did you guys have a big meeting about it, or did it just sort of naturally drift to that conclusion?

MIKE: No big meeting. A few months ago we were all lamenting the relatively small number of juicy articles we had turned up. That led to lamenting the feeling we were all having that we had begun to repeat ourselves. There's no worse sin to commit as a comedy writer. So we all agreed that we would wait until after the World Series, talk one last time to make sure, and then shut it down. Alan (Junior) and I [last week] suddenly realized we should have announced it in the middle of Game 4 of the World Series, the way Boras announced A-Rod's opt-out. We were mad that we had missed that one last dumb joke.

ALAN: Shockingly, pseudo-sabermetric baseball journalism metacriticism may not be an infinitely sustainable comedy premise. But we'll see. We plan on making at least seven ill-advised Magic Johnson-style comebacks, including one where we return to coach an FJM writing team made up of lovable but underachieving fifth graders.

DAVE: Yeah, it naturally drifted there. We were just posting less, and running out of ways to say Bill Plaschke shouldn’t have a job. We’ve had this problem since, I guess, day two. Hard not to repeat yourself on a hyperniched blog. Also, there were things like jobs and a baby, but stuff like that is never that important.

One of the things I've always found interesting about your site is how accidental it all seemed. This was something that you clearly started out just to amuse each other, and you seemed almost surprised it found an audience. How much did actually, you know, having readers change the original intention?

MIKE: I hope it didn't. We still wrote whatever we wanted, really. There were some moments when we would lazily not post for a few days and a flood of emails would come in — scary, nasty emails, Will — and we would be shocked back into the realization that there are actually people who care whether we write or not.

ALAN: I think it might have made the writing a little better, actually. It's great motivation knowing that there's an audience for your writing, even when that writing aspires to nothing higher than calling Skip Bayless a poo-poo head. You take a little more pride in that poo-poo head insult, you craft it lovingly, and you make sure that you spell poo-poo correctly.

DAVE: It kind of scared me. Suddenly I felt the compulsion to triple check Kevin Kouzmanoff’s WARP3, knowing there would be a small army -– of awesome dudes, mind you -– ready to correct me if I got it wrong. I don’t think it changed the intention of the site though. We were really blown away, especially in the early days, when people started writing in supporting us. The best e-mails were from people who said things like “I’ve been watching baseball for 45 years and until I read FJM I thought batting average was the only stat you needed. You have changed the way I look at baseball. Love, A Beautiful Woman.”

You guys have been doing this forever. Did the site become more fun, or less, when this whole Bissinger/Blogs Are Ruining Everything business started happening?

MIKE: It stayed almost exactly the same amount of fun. That whole thing — and I sure don't have to tell you this — was so overblown and stupid (The MSM does wonderful things the internet cannot. The internet does wonderful things the MSM cannot. Why is everybody yelling?) Ironically, the big unfinished FJM project of my life was: a few years ago, I read all of 3 Nights in August, and was going to post a like 10,000-word review, essentially FJM-icizing the entire thing. There are cryptic references to this Manhattan Project-style project scattered through the site. It just became too unwieldy. But I'm glad I didn't do it, because Buzz might have come after me with a hammer or something.

ALAN: I think if Mike had continued with this project his own baby might have come after him with a hammer. It is a strong baby.

MIKE: Baby? He's like nine years old now. He runs CensureEdWerder.com, which gets like 3.6 million unique page views a day.

DAVE: For about four days after that Buzz nonsense, everything seemed less fun. Not just the site. I mean like eating food and being with friends.

I know a bunch of people who, this month, are being forced to do things they never imagined they would because of a bet they made a decade ago. Specifically: "If Chinese Democracy ever comes out, I'll eat a pile of dog feces." Something like that. Is this why you're quitting the site? The impossible has happened?

MIKE: Yes. In 1991, dak, Junior and I said, "If we ever have a baseball journalism meta-criticism broadsheet," (remember— the internet wasn't around back then) "and then, some time after that, a baseball player wins an award for being the best hitter in the A.L. but somehow doesn't win the award for being the best hitter at his position, we will quit our meta-critical broadsheet/eat dog feces." And lo and behold, Kevin Youkilis wins the Henry Aaron Award but somehow loses the Silver Slugger to Justin Morneau, and now here we are.

DAVE: Murbles has bet me $1,000 that Will Smith will win his party’s nomination for President of the United States by the year 2032. This has nothing to do with FJM, but it seemed like a good opportunity to get it out there in writing.

It's clear more baseball teams are using sabermetrics — or, as a layperson might put it, "trying to make more good decisions than bad ones" — than when you started the site. Do you think the media's gotten any smarter in that time?

MIKE: I would hope that everyone who cares about baseball has gotten smarter. The thing that always drove our faux-righteous anger on the site was how gosh darn common-sensical this stuff is. You don't have to be a genius to understand why OBP is a better measure of a hitter's worth than BA, or why OPS+ is more valuable than OPS. You just have to care enough to learn why. Which takes about eight seconds.

I should add here that we seek no credit for "making people smarter." We're comedy writers with a decent understanding of very basic SABR stuff. There are many, many people who are far smarter than we, and who have been writing about this for far longer. They deserve the credit for any kind of measurable uptick in national baseball intelligence.

ALAN: I think there's less obviously terrible, absolutely infuriatingly dead wrong stuff out there, mainly because Rob Dibble's blog hasn't been updated in two years.

MIKE: I actually haven't checked Stephen A. Smith's Internet/Web Web-Blog Internet Blog in a while. Wonder how he's doing with that.

DAVE: It has absolutely gotten better, not just in the media but even at the ballpark. Every time I go to a different stadium and see OBP displayed on a giant scoreboard, my baseball heart gets a boner. Again, we had nothing to do with that, but I don’t remember seeing that very much when I was young.

There are some dudes who are just never going to change their mind. I worry that in twenty years, we will be those dudes. It’s just like that song “The Circle Game,” I think.

Seriously, you're gonna come back occasionally, right? Please?

MIKE: We are just going to leave the site lying there, and we have the notion that every once in a while we will meander back ... or maybe start something entirely new in a while. As always, we have absolutely zero in the way of planning skills.

ALAN: The site will become a Palin 2012 booster site on December 1.

MIKE: And will be shut down by a joint FBI/ATF task force on December 3.

Did the site become less fun when you stopped being anonymous?

MIKE: It stayed almost exactly the same amount of fun. The only difference was that I would get emails that started, "Yo Mose," instead of "Yo Ken."

DAVE: Certainly didn’t change anything for me. I think oddly it became a little less fun for some of our readers.

While I have you here, Mike, can you please bring back Amy Ryan?

MIKE: She's amazing, isn't she? Unfortunately, her schedule only allowed her to do six episodes, and the premiere was an hour long, so that counted as two...I'm officially off working on the new show, the Amy Poehler project that will debut in April, so I can't say anything definitive, but I know that if it were up to the writing staff of The Office she would be back ASAP.

Do you love baseball as much as you did when the site started? How much do you plan on missing it? I can say this: You'll miss it more than you think you will, no matter how busy you are.

MIKE: Please. What the hell do you know about starting a sports-related website and then deciding to leave it to work on other things and then? How dare you, sir.

I'm 100 percent sure you're right, because I already miss it. As for baseball, as soon as I knew what baseball was, I loved baseball, and I have never finished a year loving baseball less than I did the year before. Even 2003, with the Boone HR. After the cursing and crying and misery, the next day I thought: God Dammit, what a game.

ALAN: Personally, I love baseball more now. I came late to the sport, and I think my appreciation for the game is still growing. I will definitely miss the blog being the premier place on the Internet where jokes about Marcel Duchamp and jokes about Darin Erstad meet and hold hands. Also, food metaphors.

MIKE: Oh, food metaphors. I will miss you most of all.

DAVE: Baseball is and always will be the best thing ever. I will miss reading Ken and Junior’s posts on FJM. (u guys rock fjm crew 4-eva!!) It just comes down to: there was really nothing else to say that hadn’t been said before. But, yeah, food metaphors. That does hurt.

Now that it's over, if you could talk to Joe Morgan today, what would you tell him?

MIKE: 1. Sorry for naming the site after the idea of firing you. That was short-sighted and dumb.
2. You should read "Moneyball." It's really good.

DAVE: And sorry the layout was so terrible.

Hello, everyone.

After 21 years, and almost 40 million posts (we'll have to check those numbers, but it's something like that), we have decided to bring FJM to an end.

Although we have not lost our borderline-sociopathic joy for meticulously criticizing bad sports journalism, the realities of our professional and personal lives make FJM a time/work luxury we can no longer afford.

We started this site with two purposes: to make each other laugh, and to aid and abet the Presidential campaign of Bob Barr. Although we failed in the latter goal, we gleefully succeeded in the first, and thanks to a grassroots internetty word-of-mouth kind of a deal, we appear to have positively affected the lives of actual citizens as well, which astonishes and delights us to this day. We really never thought FJM would be for anyone but us. We are thrilled and kind of humbled to have been proven wrong.

We thank all of you for the kind emails, and the tips, and the support. To each and every person who ever contacted us: hat tip to you.

Perhaps the future holds another project for us on which to waste massive amounts of time. For now, we will leave the site and the archives up as a testament to the fact that if you work hard enough, and blow off enough social occasions, and stare at the internet enough, and get nerdy enough, and repeatedly ignore entreaties from your friends and loved ones to please God stop blogging about Bill Plaschke and get out of the house it's a beautiful day!, then you, too, can...have a blog.

Again, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you. And as Joe Morgan himself might say:

"I really haven't seen them play...slidepiece...Dave Concepcion."

Love,

dak, Junior, and Ken

So, please, I know many of you are fans of the site so please feel free to pass along your favorite FJM posts and we'll do a more fitting memorial service on Monday when there will be many more eyes on the page.

Post #1377: The Relatively Short Goodbye [Fire Joe Morgan]

“The younger generation likes the snarky tone,” says Bissinger. “They like the gossip, they like the juice. I don’t think they really appreciate good writing and reporting, and those, to me, are precious arts. . . . It’s all some interactive gangbang.”

The next time Buzz does a Google search for "interactive gangbang" he's going to be wondering what's become of the regular Katja Kassin links.

Now will somebody please pass the e-lube?

As a general rule, we prefer when bloggers don't go anonymous on us, though we certainly understand when circumstances leave one no other choice. But anyone who has read Fire Joe Morgan over the years realized those guys were too good not to be writing professionally somewhere.

We do hope this doesn't turn into one of those lame, "hey, love your blog, man ... and I'm trying to get into Hollywood, so could you read this script?" type of things. We have faith in the general reading populace.

But more to the point: Mose Schrute is a sports blogger! God, they have to end this writer's strike soon: We want to see Ken Tremendous playing ping pong again.

Era Of Anonymity Ends [Fire Joe Morgan]
Mose Schrute Fan Club [Fanpop]

Turns out, media reporter Richard Deitsch — with whom, in the interest of full disclosure, we once shared a drink ourselves — is a big fan of FJM and set up the whole deal. It was an excellent column by an excellent writer ... in Sports Illustrated, of all places!

ecause FJM occasionally takes other media outlets to task besides the ones that pay a salary to Morgan, Tremendous decided to donate the money SI paid him to the Jimmy Fund "so we don't feel monetarily indebted to a potential source of material." Tremendous jokes that the fact that he got to write for SI while his friends continue to toil away at FJM has created a "post-Yoko Beatles type situation." But he thinks that the fact that the magazine deigned to include his site's URL at the end of his column will ultimately help them all. "I would imagine that we will [see an uptick in traffic]," he tells Gelf, "but that it will be gradual, over the next week to ten years."

We find it incredibly admirable that Tremendous gave his pay for the piece to The Jimmy Fund; uh, we don't do that.

Getting The Call Up [Gelf Magazine]

Lowell's Trick Saves Marlins [Miami Herald]
Hidden Ball Tricks [Retrosheet]
Germane To Virtually Nothing [Fire Joe Morgan]