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annual Bolerhack Sucks thread

fishonjazz said:
I hate transformers. Love bolers heavenly pipes though.

Sent from my ONEPLUS A6013 using JazzFanz mobile app
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I think all the hate is making me actually love Boler. I simply just didn’t mind him before this thread.
The dude’s been gainfully employed in the world of sports broadcasting for 30+ years, has been employed locally, nationally as an NFL play-by-play guy, as well as nationally in college football for CBS and the SEC. Not to mention his current NBA gig. While I will totally admit that he’s better suited for football, this guy has done it at the highest levels for over 3 decades while somehow being “A Hack”.
But hey, obviously Jazzfanz knows something that has managed to slip past executives affiliated with the NFL, NBA, CBS, and the SEC combined.
 
Jazzman12 said:
I think all the hate is making me actually love Boler. I simply just didn’t mind him before this thread.
The dude’s been gainfully employed in the world of sports broadcasting for 30+ years, has been employed locally, nationally as an NFL play-by-play guy, as well as nationally in college football for CBS and the SEC. Not to mention his current NBA gig. While I will totally admit that he’s better suited for football, this guy has done it at the highest levels for over 3 decades while somehow being “A Hack”.
But hey, obviously Jazzfanz knows something that has managed to slip past executives affiliated with the NFL, NBA, CBS, and the SEC combined.
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I've always said he's a fantastic football commentator, which only aggravates me even more. He should stick to football where his passion lies . But hey, got to pay the bills, amirite?
 
Ostertag>Duncan said:
I've always said he's a fantastic football commentator, which only aggravates me even more. He should stick to football where his passion lies . But hey, got to pay the bills, amirite?
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He has chemistry with Harpring because Harpring used to be a football player. I heard that rumor at Best Buy.
 
NAOS said:
What about his analysis last night where he was talking about “Donovan’s early struggles”? Does he have any clue what’s going on? Harpsack still has to explain the most basic things to him.

Can you all imagine what it would be like if Boler had to watch games from the upper bowl? He’d probably be talking about dwarfs playing netball.
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You know what I think it was NAOSY, Boler was trying to let his teammates get going early on, let KK and Harp get some mics, then in the second quarter he said "I'm gonna take over".
 
Jazz Spazz said:
He has chemistry with Harpring because Harpring used to be a football player. I heard that rumor at Best Buy.
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I love stepping away from JazzFanz for months at a time and upon my return almost immediately see the same ran into the ground jokes being made by the very same ran into the ground jokesters.
 
Hmm... I have never in my life walked into such an in depth analysis of a man's voice before.

I was in the Philippines last year... Lots of stuff was in Tagalog and I couldn't understand most shows etc. Found a jazz game on one of the local channels there... Boler and all. It was like, you know that time when your parents were being all bitchy when you were a kid over you wanting a Pepsi, but then you got that Pepsi... It's like Pepsi probably isn't the best drink, but that one was damn good.
 
NAOS said:
I should have anticipated and made fun of this response.

Btw, Boler is definitely at the back of the pack in terms of knowledge of the game. And that’s what matters most, IMO. You dudes who elevate him because of some other criteria (which he’s actually super average at, or worse, across the board) are pretty lol.

For the record, I’ve listened to more of other broadcasts than I have listened to ours over the past 2 or 3 seasons. Probably a 55-45 split.
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You're so worldly!
 
JimLes said:
When I was 16, I had this job at Burger King so I could pay for prom tickets for my date and me, as well as a few other related expenses. It was the first job I had that lasted more than a week. I worked at BK for like 6 months. They never let me work the cash registers because I didn't suffer fools gladly and tended to tell morons they're morons. Morons don't like that. I couldn't be bothered to remember what goes into which sandwich because who cares and what difference does it makes. I once grabbed the fry basket after lifting it out of the fryer, because I was talking to a colleague about how Karl just dropped 50 on the Sonics in the playoff opener. I made a fish sandwich for someone at closing time from a piece of fish I had fried when I came in for my 6-hour shift. I mean, you order a fish sandwich at BK, you deserved that. They mostly just put me in the back to wash dishes, which I happily did because they allowed me to control the radio which I put on classic rock. I used to steal food at the end of my shift. I would make myself that long chicken sandwich BK had, but I would first dip the patty into gravy. Then I'd top it with bacon and a whopper patty. Then I'd eat it as I walked home at 10PM.

I feel that Boler is about as competent at his job as I was at mine.
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When I was 14 I had a job as a waiter in the restaurant of a retirement home because me and my buddy took my parents car out for a joyride and ended up totaling it. My parents were pretty easy going nice people but big on consequences and taking responsibility, so I had to pay back all their expenses. There were a few tables I remember well. The first was "the Monsignor" who was whatever a Monsignor is in the Catholic church. He was a jackass. He was rude, demanding and sat by himself.

Then there was the guy they told me made a lot of money developing recipes for Campbell's soup. He also sat alone, he was also an *******. So this was a full on restaurant. They had two daily specials and a regular menu with maybe 6 items and then a couple things you could have if you ordered ahead (those were mostly special things you might have if you had family visit, we had special tables for the residents to sit at when they had someone join them). This was a full course meal. They could get the soup of the day, or a salad, then the entre, then a dessert. We had a salad bar, but they didn't have to serve themselves. They'd tell me what they wanted and I'd make their salad for them (PITA). But the soup guy always got soup. With soup we provided two packets of crackers. He NEVER ate his crackers. Never. One day I didn't put crackers on his saucer that his soup cup sat on (we even put doilies on the saucer). He pointed out to me that I forgot the crackers. I was like yeah, sorry. When I was at a table near his he mentioned again that he didn't get the crackers. I was like, oh, well **** I guess he wants crackers so that he can not eat them, I guess I better get them. I had been there several months at this point and had dealt with retired people so I got that he was making a point. But I got busy and forgot. I come out of the out door from the kitchen and he's standing there leaning on his cane and he yells at me that I didn't give him his crackers. I tell him I'm sorry. He yells more aggressively, "Sorry is not going to put food in my stomach!" I got his crackers, he told me they were too late.

There were two other guys. One was a retired blackjack dealer who's hands were cramped up in the position he held the cards in when he dealt blackjack. I don't know what the other guy did, he was a very pale, very slim guy with silver hair. What I can say about him is that if there was beef or chicken, he got the chicken. If there was yellow gravy or brown gravy he got the yellow gravy. If there was chocolate ice cream or vanilla ice cream he got the vanilla. He could have any kind of soda, or coffee, or juice... he drank milk. The blackjack dealer and Mr. White (not his real name) HATED each other. They both attempted to get to their seats first at the beginning of dinner service. Then, if you didn't see who got their first and went to the table of the guy who got there second the other one would throw a ****ing fit. The blackjack guy was nice as hell, unless he had gotten there first and you served Mr.White before him, then he was a jackass. Mr. White was never nice, seemed like a ****ing serial killer who got away with it all the way until retirement. I never got his obsession with lighter colored things, but he never broke character with that ****. He ALWAYS picked the lighter colored option.

Close to Mr. White and Blackjack was a table of two of a really small thin German woman and a bigger German woman. They were generally nice, but would get frustrated when I couldn't understand them. The bigger German woman wanted the ice cream sandwich when it was available, but she didn't call it an ice cream sandwich, she called it "da brick." And she'd say "da brick! da brick! da brick!" while making a rectangle gesture with her hand. She also would order a custom salad and I'd **** it up every time. He table was the closest table to the salad bar of any table in the place, and she'd insist on trying to tell me how to make her salad. She was never happy with the salad I'd give her.

Then there was a table of four women. The nicest women you could ever meet. Smart, nice, fully self aware. One of them asked for something a certain way and I messed it up. When I came back she explained what I had done wrong and she pulled me in and said "I know we all have our idiosyncrasies, and I'm sorry, but this is how I like this." I never forgot it and I never messed it up again. Another one needed me to open her crackers and would complain that they made the package so hard to open and apologize for needing me to open it for her. I was always so happy when I got their section.

There was another guy who sat with another guy, but this guy was the playboy of the retirement home. He was gregarious and he wore colorful silk print shirts and too much cologne. He was just the type that was happy to see you and would laugh and joke and be nice and positive all the time.

Anyway, I was 14. I figured out that miserable assholes just get old and become even more miserable assholes. And that nice people get old and just get sweeter and nicer.
 
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Gameface said:
When I was 14 I had a job as a waiter in the restaurant of a retirement home because me and my buddy took my parents car out for a joyride and ended up totaling it. My parents were pretty easy going nice people but big on consequences and taking responsibility, so I had to pay back all their expenses. There were a few tables I remember well. The first was "the Monsignor" who was whatever a Monsignor is in the Catholic church. He was a jackass. He was rude, demanding and sat by himself.

Then there was the guy they told me made a lot of money developing recipes for Campbell's soup. He also sat alone, he was also an *******. So this was a full on restaurant. They had two daily specials and a regular menu with maybe 6 items and then a couple things you could have if you ordered ahead (those were mostly special things you might have if you had family visit, we had special tables for the residents to sit at when they had someone join them). This was a full course meal. They could get the soup of the day, or a salad, then the entre, then a dessert. We had a salad bar, but they didn't have to serve themselves. They'd tell me what they wanted and I'd make their salad for them (PITA). But the soup guy always got soup. With soup we provided two packets of crackers. He NEVER ate his crackers. Never. One day I didn't put crackers on his saucer that his soup cup sat on (we even put doilies on the saucer). He pointed out to me that I forgot the crackers. I was like yeah, sorry. When I was at a table near his he mentioned again that he didn't get the crackers. I was like, oh, well **** I guess he wants crackers so that he can not eat them, I guess I better get them. I had been there several months at this point and had dealt with retired people so I got that he was making a point. But I got busy and forgot. I come out of the out door from the kitchen and he's standing there leaning on his cane and he yells at me that I didn't give him his crackers. I tell him I'm sorry. He yells more aggressively, "Sorry is not going to put food in my stomach!" I got his crackers, he told me they were too late.

There were two other guys. One was a retired blackjack dealer who's hands were cramped up in the position he held the cards in when he dealt blackjack. I don't know what the other guy did, he was a very pale, very slim guy with silver hair. What I can say about him is that if there was beef or chicken, he got the chicken. If there was yellow gravy or brown gravy he got the yellow gravy. If there was chocolate ice cream or vanilla ice cream he got the vanilla. He could have any kind of soda, or coffee, or juice... he drank milk. The blackjack dealer and Mr. White (not his real name) HATED each other. They both attempted to get to their seats first at the beginning of dinner service. Then, if you didn't see who got their first and went to the table of the guy who got there second the other one would throw a ****ing fit. The blackjack guy was nice as hell, unless he had gotten there first and you served Mr.White before him, then he was a jackass. Mr. White was never nice, seemed like a ****ing serial killer who got away with it all the way until retirement. I never got his obsession with lighter colored things, but he never broke character with that ****. He ALWAYS picked the lighter colored option.

Close to Mr. White and Blackjack was a table of two of a really small thin German woman and a bigger German woman. They were generally nice, but would get frustrated when I couldn't understand them. The bigger German woman wanted the ice cream sandwich when it was available, but she didn't call it an ice cream sandwich, she called it "da brick." And she'd say "da brick! da brick! da brick!" while making a rectangle gesture with her hand. She also would order a custom salad and I'd **** it up every time. He table was the closest table to the salad bar of any table in the place, and she'd insist on trying to tell me how to make her salad. She was never happy with the salad I'd give her.

Then there was a table of four women. The nicest women you could ever meet. Smart, nice, fully self aware. One of them asked for something a certain way and I messed it up. When I came back she explained what I had done wrong and she pulled me in and said "I know we all have our idiosyncrasies, and I'm sorry, but this is how I like this." I never forgot it and I never messed it up again. Another one needed me to open her crackers and would complain that they made the package so hard to open and apologize for needing me to open it for her. I was always so happy when I got their section.

There was another guy who sat with another guy, but this guy was the playboy of the retirement home. He was gregarious and he wore colorful silk print shirts and too much cologne. He was just the type that was happy to see you and would laugh and joke and be nice and positive all the time.

Anyway, I was 14. I figured out that miserable assholes just get old and become even more miserable assholes. And that nice people get old and just get sweeter and nicer.
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Stole your parents car? You turd.
 
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