Five O'Clock Rock

Chicago Expat Report

From my voicemail last night:

"Message received today at 7:22 PM from phone number 310-xxx-xxxx:

[Sounds of a bar] 'Shoot. Me. Now. Shoot me now.'

End of messages."

Foul and Unbalanced

Fox Sports wanted blood last night. There's no other explanation.

It wasn't enough to identify The Fan onscreen. It wasn't enough to keep cutting back to him, saying (essentially):

That's him. That's the one. Boy, I hope something doesn't happen to that guy. Who's sitting right there, looking kinda weak and alone. It'd be terrible if something happened tonight at 741-1/2 W. Dickens, apartment 24 with the crappy deadbolt.

They had to go and draw a circle around his head.

Why not go ahead and fill in the rest of the bulls-eye, fascists?

Sure, the newspapers have the pictures, too. However, the kind of local morons who will torture this guy tend not to read, or even spell "URL" correctly. Fox had the power to make him a national target.

Throughout the playoffs, they've been mocking people in the stands. Shirtless painted freaks, that's one thing. They want it. But Fox sportscasters go after people just sitting there, repeatedly cutting back between pitches to continue their "fun" commentary.

I thought I hated Fox Sports before, with their blitzkrieg of whooshes and epileptic graphics reducing actual sports content by a good 15 minutes per hour. Now, Fox's mean streak has been extended to some of the most innocent spectators in sports.

Fox, you're like school in the summertime*.

* Joke void in the LAUSD.

Today's FOCR: "Fox on the Run," Sweet, Desolation Boulevard