Olympic Sprinter Tests Positive for SPANX

World record holder in the 100 and 200 meter dash and reigning “fastest man alive” Usain Bolt tested positive for the popular women’s undergarment accessory favored by single women, new mothers, and female screenwriters. His participation in this year’s Olympic games are now in doubt.

“Spanx’s dynamic combination of seventy percent nylon and thirty percent lycra means that Usain is more aerodynamic than anyone else on the track,” said U.S. track and field men’s coach Andrew Valmon. “This certainly calls into question his legacy and presents the athletic community with yet another performance enhancing obstacle.”

The Olympic racing community hasn’t been this rattled since sprinter Marion Jones was found to have used steroids to help catapult her to the top of the track and field world. Jones had multiple Olympic medals taken away, and spent six months in prison as a result.

U.S. hurdler and fellow London Olympian Lori “Lolo” Jones, weighed in saying, “I thought about asking Usain out after the Games. Just something casual outside the Olympic Village where we could really get to know one another. But now that I know his body’s a lie…honestly, the appeal’s kinda gone now.”

Bolt’s PR firm had no comment, except this photo:


Ken Burns announces 11-part docuseries on Quidditch

The respected auteur best known for his acclaimed PBS Home Video series The Civil War and Baseball, as well as “The Ken Burns effect,” recently announced plans for a new docuseries charting the evolution of Quidditch from an airborne game played by the young wizards and witches in the beloved Harry Potter books, to an earthbound game played by America’s finest liberal arts undergraduates. “I feel like I barely scraped the surface of things in both Baseball and The Civil War,” said Burns in a statement issued earlier today on Deadline Hollywood. “The relatively short but rich history of American Quidditch will allow me to (fingers crossed) take a consummate look at Quidditch’s rapid ascent as one of the premiere dicking around games played by college students today.” Principle shooting is set begin at Middlebury College, at the start of the 2012-2013 school year. To date, the yet-to-be named project will feature the voice talents of Philip Bosco, Amy Madigan, Wallace Shawn, Bob Costas, Tilda Swinton, and James Earl Jones, with narration from Garrison Keillor.


A group of neighborhood adults had a intense game of kick ball late last night.  Despite the hustle, organization and training for the event, onlookers agreed it was pretty “silly.” The “athletes,” comprised of neighborhood dads and two or three moms, created a charity kickball game three years ago; however, tensions grew between each side grew.

Numerous parents began intense physical training, pushing their middle aged bodies to the limit.  Some would power walk as many as four miles a day (every two days for those with younger kids), others finally put their elaborate home gyms to the test.

But when all was said and done, most of the spectators still went to watch “neighborhood kickball.”  Many did not even notice the “obvious” training; most did not even watch the game.  There were complimentary beers and snacks on the sideline where many onlookers stayed.

The competitors swore this was all jealously since half there were finally cuts this year.

After the game the parents revealed all proceeds for the charity were spent on personal trainers and in one case, steroids.


The Artist is the winner of Best Picture at Academy Awards LXXXIV!

I'm going to Disneyworld because Euro Disney SUUUUUUUCKS!

After being down at the half, producer Harvey Weinstein gave a rallying speech to eventual Best Director Michael Hanagdjsnsdkfbdh and Best Actor winner Jean DuJardin, the rest is history.  Hanhgdjnshdjd made a miraculous performance late in the game against heavyweights Martin Scorsese (movies’ Vince Lombardi), Woody Allen (movies’ Ditka) and Terrence Malick (the mumbling disgruntled Belichik).  No one thought such a throwback team could win the big dance, but without a conventional team on the map, The Artist took it home during the ensuing free for all.

Continuing the win was DuJardin, Hnagdhsjsbs’s teammate on The Artist.  DuJardin miraculously got this far in the rankings* despite speaking only two words in his film; a brilliant display of game managing and little showboating.  His win was all but secure: regular titans George Clooney (movies’ Tom Brady) brought his A game by appealing to straight and gay backings with some delicious arm candy at the start of the game and a beautiful man on man kiss with host Billy ‘The Kid’ Crystal early in the game; a shocking move not seen since Clint Eastwood arrived grimacing with a handgun in 1992.

*I know, we need a playoff. 

DuJardin’s other top contendor was Brad Pitt (movies’ Tom Brady) whose Moneyball, a film about the Oakland Athletics, had a strong regular season but faltered quickly in the playoffs.  The Frenchman stood firm and smiled throughout Crystal’s painful, gun wrenching jokes and mugging in order to give an emotional and screamy acceptance speech, the way a champion only can.

In the woman’s… ah who cares no one watches them anyway.

The Artist winning the Best Picture certainly was not shocking, but was it the Best Picture this year?  On an even cinema in Kansas would it win 9 times out of 10?  5 out of 10?  We’ll never know.  Unless we actually count the wins from the Independent Spirit Awards, Golden Globes, SAG Awards, WGA Awards, LA Film Festival, Cannes, Producers Guild, etc.


(*NOTE: As the writer is not a Harry Potter fan, attempted puns may be erroneous or nonsensical.)


“Total broomstick.”

“Omigod, I can’t even imagine.”

“Weeeeeell ladies… some of us don’t have to. Wand.”

“GET OUT!!!! That’s a shame.”

“I don’t care– I’d let that thing transmogrify me anytime.  After all, it’s not the size of the wand, it’s the motion of the potion.”

“Yeah, but careful, Marce! Present company excepted, you don’t know where that wand has been!”

The girls dissolve into a fit of laughter and high-fives, only stopping to sip their drinks and refocus on the next tasty dish that crosses their line of sight. On it goes, at least until the dance floor starts to fill up– once senior captain Blair Treedle and her squad get up to make their way into the sea of people and shake it to some Ursher, who knows where they’ll be leaving from to get to tomorrow’s team meeting?  Despite this, all the girls will agree that it’s still a “light night” for the Rutgers University Women’s Quidditch Team. The self-dubbed “Scarlet Wenches” are known campus-wide for practicing hard, playing harder, and hooking up with a frequency beyond the comprehension of a normal Muggle.

“Look. We don’t run, ’cause we [are] fly,” Scarlet Wench sophomore forward (or something) Tamara Black tells me. “And when you fly like us, you tend to land on whatever spot down there looks good!” The other girls nod in assent as the music pumps around them. “So when lame-ass bitches see us roll in, they [unintelligible; possible disappearing-spell incantation] theyselves out the way and let us get ours!”

And they’re not unique. A new poll by Quinnipiac University reveals that, all across the country, women’s Quidditch players are getting de-scarved more than any other team on campus. More than men’s lacrosse. More than women’s soccer. Even more than football.

The men and other women at the bar aren’t surprised. “Some of the sororities are pretty bad, but the Wenches are out of control,” says a male junior who doesn’t wish to be named. “I heard that, in the captains’ house off-campus, they have a huge board with the name of every officer in every frat, and all the student leaders. Like, 60% of the names are crossed off. And it’s not like they’re just laying down for us; these women will break you in half. They deliberately try [to] draw blood.”


The stories repeat from school to school. Some think that it’s been the administration keeping Duke Lacrosse in check in recent years, but most on campus suspect that Lady Devils Quidditch has a lot to do with keeping the boys satiated– or dominated, depending on who you ask. The University of Miami’s Magicanes and the Lady Gators from Florida have reputations from Key West to Daytona. Taunting chants fly back and forth in matches between the Boston University Lady Terriers (“We screwed the b****-*s!” Clap, clap, clapclapclap) and the Boston College Lady Eagles (“We used BC!” [i.e. “birth control”] Clap, clap, clapclapclap). “Stop the Ducks” chants (“STD! STD! STD!”) are as popular at Oregon State as a wide variety of Beaver-related humor is at Oregon.

Despite all of this, there is a sisterhood amongst female Quidditch players nationwide. “Yeah we’ll beat ’em down like half-breeds on the field during a tournament, but a lot of times we turn around and tell ’em where the hot spots are for after,” Junior defenseman Marcie Shale says. “After all, there’s nothing like getting that golden snitch, right ladies???” At this, the girls raise their glasses and let out a hearty cheer.

Rony Josaphat, honorary Scarlet Wench


Early Friday morning, baseball-playing ostrich A.J. Burnett was sent from the New York Yankees to the Pittsburgh Pirates for two prospects and a gratuitous but oh-so-delicious $13.1 million. The trade did not come as a surprise to the 35-year-old mega-bird, but the announcement still moved him to tears.


Above, the Burnett boys.


Sources close to Burnett say that, despite his struggles on the mound, he wanted to stay in New York. As a child in North Little Rock, Arkansas, Burnett yearned to escape to the Big Apple, a desire inspired by the 1990 commercial smash Goodfellas. And once he arrived, he never wanted to go anywhere else.

“A.J. fell in love with the movie in the first five minutes,” his father said, in a TITSclusive interview. “He was all over it, even at six. The drugs, the screwdriver murders, the meatballs in sauce… everything. He wanted a life in the mafia. He craved the violence and the money, but he just couldn’t find a way to New York. That’s where baseball came in. Pitching was his ticket to the big time, and until a couple hours ago, he was living his dream.”

After several seconds of silent contemplation, the elder Burnett added, “Yeah, he’s always been a little fucked up upstairs.”

But now that Burnett has to pack his bags and move to Pittsburgh, it seems that his boyhood aspirations are crumbling around him. According to ThisIsTheSports mafia expert Chris Bacarella, Burnett’s drug-peddling activities are about to see a significant downturn:

“Everyone in (*rolls dollar bill, snorts line of cocaine*) west Pennsylvania’s too (*line*) busy mining – that is what (*line*) they do, right? – to get high (*line line line line*).”

The rest of Bacarella’s analysis will be available when he emerges from his drug-induced coma.


Sigh... every damn time...

As for Burnett’s future, it is likely that his relocation will force an early retirement. Without the drug racket he’s used to, Burnett doesn’t see any reason to continue his baseball career: “I see myself spending a year in Pittsburgh, if that. Besides, you can only eat so many fried mayonnaise balls before your blood solidifies. I can feel the agita already.”

From there, Burnett’s press conference devolved into a round of ceaseless Goodfellas quotations, after which he knocked off two reporters on his way out the door.

U.K. Bars Soccer Fans from Thinking Offensive Thoughts

Premier League chairman Benevolent Older Sibling makes a public plea in support of the legislation

Following closely on the heels of a newly passed Scottish law outlawing “offensive behavior” at soccer matches, the government of the United Kingdom today officially approved legislation making it illegal for fans of the sport (known in the U.K. as “football”) to think bad thoughts about opposing teams or fans.

“We are all concerned about individual privacy rights,” said U.K. Prime Minister David Cameron, “but football-related violence is one of our country’s greatest shames, and violent actions spring from violent thoughts. Therefore, we must combat this issue at its source: Our traitorous, disloyal minds.”

The new law, dubbed the Mental Boorishness Prevention Act, shall be enforced by a new department, the Ministry of Civility, with the use of a sophisticated device known as a cerebrometer. Cerebrometers, which scan brain waves in order to detect sectarianism, hostility or “general aggro-ness,” are to be placed prominently in soccer stadiums, pubs and the homes of particularly troublesome individuals. Any fan whose disposition is determined to be insufficiently positive will be subject to re-education or, in extreme cases, a mysterious rehabilitative procedure known as the Ludovico Technique.

Ludovico Technique patient, during viewing of Green Street Hooligans

Reactions to the legislation were mixed. When asked their opinion on the subject, spectators at the Old Trafford stadium, home of the famed Manchester United club, would only smile nervously and voice their support for their own team, then hurriedly emphasize that that support in no way implied any antipathy towards opposing teams, then run away.

On the other hand, This Is the Sports contributor and U.K. native Archie Walkenshire was strongly critical, saying, “Are you taking the piss out of me? The bloody Lords must be barmy! ‘Tisn’t real football if I can’t fink the other team’s a pile of bloomin’ prats! And tell ’em so to their grotty faces, for ‘at matter, and leave ’em wiv a Chelsea Smile for their trouble! Blimey, somefing must be done!” Walkenshire then donned a Guy Fawkes mask and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

However, the new law does seem to have had a pacifying effect on Manchester fans. After the start of today’s match, the crowd would often break into repetitive chants of “LET’S JUST ALL HAVE FUN,” and by the game’s conclusion, a record low of only seven knife fights had broken out in the stands.


Over the past two weeks, ever since legendary bowling champion Donald Carter succumbed to complications of pneumonia at age 85, expressions of grief have poured forth both from those who knew him and from those who admired his skills from afar. In private, however, Mr. Carter’s corporate sponsors–with whom he signed millions of dollars in endorsement deals over the course of his career–are expressing concern that his death could be harmful to his image and send the wrong message about the products he vouches for.

These worries are shared even by Carter’s closest corporate partner, Ebonite International, the bowling ball manufacturer with which he signed an historic $1,000,000 sponsorship deal in 1964. “Ebonite’s image is built, above all, on durability and dependability,” said an Ebonite marketing director who asked not to be identified. “An Ebonite ball will not give up on you. But Don Carter–he gave up. Not just on achieving victory in the lanes, but on life itself. And we’re not sure that that’s consistent with our brand identity.”

"Take this ad, for example. Sure is creepy now, isn't it?"

An executive at Miller Lite, which has enlisted Carter as a spokesman in prominent commercials, spoke of similar anxiety. “When you see Don in those ads,” said the executive, who also requested anonymity, “you’re supposed to think of sportsmanship, relaxation, kicking back and having a good time with the fellas. Now when I see him all I can think about is that he’s gone forever, and that eventually we’ll all be gone, our lives extinguished and our names forgotten like whispers echoing down an empty hall. Truly we are all no more than dust and ashes, even those of us who have won five of six World Invitational bowling titles.”

When you gaze into Don Carter, Don Carter gazes into you

The executive then abruptly concluded the interview, saying he needed a drink, specifically “a delicious, refreshing Miller Lite, of course! Oh God, what have I become?”

Still, both Ebonite and Miller have yet to make any final decision. Both companies have to consider the possibility that Carter might return as some sort of zombie or revenant, which could play well with their core demographics.

Representatives at Don Carter’s Perfect 300 Pneumonia Tonic Inc. declined to comment.


Known for their ponderous length, cricket matches have been OH DEAR GOD JUST CALL IT A TIE ALREADY.

A cricket match between the Commonwealth of Australia and the Republic of India inaugurated its 300th anniversary today, making it the longest contest in the history of the sport by 34 seconds. The milestone was marked at 9:00 GMT by continuing the silence that has been characteristic of the game since the last surviving player died in 1762.

Deadlocked since that year at 376,897,098,983, 765,865,176,708 to Deadlocked since that year, neither side has expressed desire to concede the match. In fact, when asked whether his team’s odds of winning had dwindled due to the demise of its players, the Mayor of Australia quipped, “You think we’re just going to forfeit because all of our players died a long time ago? Let me tell you something, if these brave Australian cricketers had adopted that kind of give-up attitude at the start, they’d all have died a long time — Oh. I see what you mean.”

Posed the same question, the President of India responded, “We’re confident we’ll come out on top. Indians are known for their strong constitutions, and as soon as this little irrevocable death bug passes, the whole team will be raring to go.”

The cricket pitch, circa 1900.

High-ranking officials aren’t the only ones buzzing about this landmark event; anthropologists are getting in on the fun as well. Several were out on the pitch today, including Carl Sweetney: “Look at how funny they did things back then! They spell ‘Australia’ with YE on the scoreboard. A-U-S-T-R-A-L-Y-E. Australye! Classic!”

Evidently, this tricentennial has reignited Australia and India’s respective interests in cricket, interests the Mayor of Australia does not want to see wane: “Don’t make us go back to rugby. It hurts. It hurts so bad.”

"Please sir, I don't have any more teeth to give!"