The Barrister


jesus titty fucking christ I hate a lot of shit.

Sometime earlier this week, I was in some sort of stupid daze where I was happy about things. It must have been Easter and Jesus rising and the wonderment of reincarnation magic smiling upon my heart. 

Fuck Easter, by the way.

It's Wednesday now, so this is the shit you get. An ornery dude in his early 30s blogging on a pretty shitty website since everyone stopped writing on it, complaining about a bunch of shit that you, at best, have a cursory interest in because sports.

Let's get on with it.

I fucking hate Major League Baseball.

Actually, that's not fair. I like the sport. I enjoy watching with friends. I fucking hate that baseball has an interminably long season that people weirdly care about during the first few weeks - enough to rag on a guy for HANGING OUT WITH HIS BABY AND WIFE WHO JUST BIRTHED HIM/HER/IT - and then they tell you it's because they like summer and being outside and drinking and all, but then they watch at a bar and make you turn off playoff hockey and that sort of defeats their argument about the joy of summer. Have a fucking barbecue. The MLB season's length is arguably one of the stupidest things in sports, right next to our weird treatment of athletes who used performance enhancing drugs in an era when everyone used them, thereby giving them essentially no competitive advantage. No big surprise that Bud Selig and his Merry Band of Miscreants manage to get so much wrong. 

Listen ...  OF COURSE I'd like baseball more if I followed a team that was good, but the Mets are not so let's move past that. In the midst of my hate for the team I love, it becomes abundantly clear that the league could cut 50 games off the schedule and still end up with basically the same product except without TV and ad revenue and I suppose that those things are what it's all about. Still defending it?

I'm going to a baseball game this Friday and it's so bad that I am compelled to go to a two hour open bar before the game so I can be sure to (a) not remember a fucking thing about the endless nine innings I observe and/or (2) get kicked out for calling a security guard a fat taint and/or (iii.) take a nap sometime between the fourth and seventh innings. Baseball is fun because of getting drunk, being an asshole with your friends, and naps. That's what we're working with here. 

Go Mets.


I fucking hate the NHL.

This is another sport I love that is ruined by the corporate fuckup of league decisions and the absolute assbags who work there. You know, in hindsight it should have been a warning sign that Pat Lafontaine worked for the NHL since it is pretty apparent that the league is routinely run in a way that can at best be described as "lacking clearly defined standards which tend to alter the competitive and fairness aspects of the sport" and can at worst be described as "OH DEAR LORD YOU DICKS ARE AWFUL IDIOTS AND RUIN EVERYTHING FUCK OFF AND DIE".

It's the playoffs now. And while NHL HQ's marketing blitz likes to tell us that things get all awesome and shit "Because it's the Cup" and "History will be made," it's becoming crystal clear that the real theme of the playoffs has become "Hey you! Yeah you! Feel free to be as violent as you want! We'll probably let it slide if you're important to your team!!" Shit, we don't even really get fights in the playoffs, but that hasn't stopped players from committing those acts that pose markedly high risks of harm, and it certainly hasn't stopped the NHL from allowing many of those acts to go unpunished, particularly when those committing the acts are stars, or a member of the Boston Bruins... those assholes get away with all sorts of shit always. This is all justified under the umbrella of "not wanting to stifle the natural competition of the tournament" or some such nonsense. Because, of course, risking injures that might injure a player or ruin his ability to use his brain is nothing in comparison to losing the assailant to a suspension for any drastic period of time. 

The NHL sucks at understanding the simple concepts of justice in it's system of player discipline. The people employed by the league are seemingly more likely to make a decision regarding player discipline based on gut instinct rather than based on a logical assessment of conduct and the assessment of a penalty that serves as an effective deterrent. Worst of all, making the situation endlessly confusing for fans and players alike, the NHL truly lacks any sense of applying even-handed player discipline as it leaves some egregious acts unpunished and others receiving unquestioned bans. Player reputations play too strong a role in the determination of punishments for truly egregious acts, leaving Zdeno Chara unscathed for ball tapping an opponent and Brent Seabrook's suspension lasting only three games, while the bad guys of the league - the guys who are barely missed by their teams or its fans - are treated as "examples." It's no fucking wonder that Blues fans make light of Backes' injury when the NHL can't be bothered to find a suspension that meaningfully punished Seabrook for causing Backes' brain to get violently thrown about in his skull.  Besides, I'm sure Seabrook will really learn his lesson when Matt Cooke is suspended for the rest of the playoffs.

Fuck the NHL and it's enormous clown shoes.

I fucking hate Donald Trump. 

FUCK. I really don't know what got over me earlier this week when I had a momentary lapse into "you know what? Trump might not be that bad! At least he would keep the Bills in Buffalo!" Fuck me, and fuck Trump. 

Yes, his politics are abhorrent to me, but more to the point the way he goes about his politics are the most truly fucking bothersome thing about this man. He doesn't just hate President Obama - he bandies about that hatred as a badge of honor and makes a concerted effort to find the most absurd criticisms upon which to latch. President Obama isn't American and his Presidency is unconstitutional? Check. President Obama walks in an un-Presidential manner? Check. This asshole picks on everybody, all the while courting our fan base - fans based out of the City of Good fucking Neighbors - in his looming bid to purchase our football team. Just the other day, he called Arianna Huffington ugly - really, guy, you are fucking hideous - and then retweeted the comment from a fan about her not having a green card. 

GOOD ONE, SIR. YOU REALLY SHOWED HER.

This is the dude trying to buy our football team. Our "I don't care who he is and whether he's a good guy as long as the Bills stay and win a Super Bowl" refrain is all well and good. I, too, do not really care so long as both of those hypothetical, really impossible to comprehend things happen. But for fuck's sake, is this the guy who is likely to get us there? Does the universe truly reward us in such a roundabout way, still leaving a terrible taste in our mouth and, actually pining for the days of Ralph "Odious Taint" Wilson? This - a purchase by Donald Trump, the lovable douchebag who has invaded our social consciousness with a stunning brand of buffoonery masked as corporate acumen - is what we've been dreaming for. 

Fuck that. We should be able to do better, and if not, let's at least not pretend to be happy about it.


I fucking hate Jose Mourinho. 

I don't really have anything more to add except that he can blow me. Fuck that guy.

And in closing...

I fucking hate fat people who fail to realize their girth and mistake a small subway seat between two people for a square footage of area that can fit their fat ass, the comfort and personal space of their fellow riders be damned all to fucking hell (and yes, that includes me which is why I fucking stand most commutes like a gentlemen). I fucking hate the assholes who ride the commuter trains back into New Jersey with luggage and/or stroller and/or kids of any age while the rest of us are just trying to go about our normal lives. I fucking hate all the tourists that jam up my subway station between 5pm and 7pm every evening, christ the metrocard swiper is not that fucking complicated fuck. I fucking hate Fred Wilpon and Robert Kraft and Nancy Grace and Piers Morgan and Ann Coulter and creationists and birthers and the failure of law enforcement to properly investigate Jameis Winston allegedly raping someone and Episcopalians who left after Gene Robinson was elected and everything on the WB and that FiOS can't fucking fix by HD NBC Sports so I have to watch standard definition like a chump and that David Moyes was sacked and Vincent Tan and Jerry Jones and Rex Ryan and that Michael Vick lives while those dogs remain dead and every fan at MetLife Stadium and my bitch tits and that Nassau Coliseum will no longer be a place upon which I can urinate and that my teams are shit except for Liverpool they're fucking boss and Yankee fans. 

Christ almighty I hate Yankee fans.

The Barrister

FOR. FUCK'S. SAKE.

I don't subscribe to the Sabres email list - this email was sent to people who do, and the homie @Mechaphil tweeted it and has told me that he believes this is the first instance of any such emails while he's been signed up on this list for the last 6 or 7 years - but if I did, I would expect some degree of care and respect and, I don't know, not this fucking garbage. This email is (a) not hockey-related, (b) not Sabres-related, and (c) bullshit. 

Hockey Heaven this is not, assholes. 

This is a fundamentally asinine and abusive use of fan interest to increase revenue by a team that deserves far less fan interest than it currently gets. This is the Third Jersey of emails. This is the Big John shirsey of emails.  This is the Terry Pegula of emails.  

Monty Python would write sketches about stupid shit like this and we'd all laugh and it would be grand but instead THIS REALLY HAPPENED AND CHRIST YOU ARE AN AWFUL FRANCHISE.

When people ask me why DGWU Sports has basically become a soccer-and-soon-baseball website, at least until the Bills get going again, this is now going to the top of the list. This is inexplicable. 

You're now worse than the Bills, in almost every way. Congratulations. You did it.

Mr. Pegula, you've purchased a local hockey team that ought to be held in public trust, with community ideals held as sacred, and fan faith and love and interest cherished above all else.  Instead, not only do you not win, and not only do you show scarce signs that you have any fucking clue how to win, and not only do you miss the mark with team marketing more often than you hit it, but now this. It's so fucking easy to not be the corporate behemoth that treats its fan base as money trees to be slaughtered and left to waste, but I guess it's also equally easy to do exactly that.

We shouldn't be surprised. You've made your billions by raping the environment, and now decide to dig wells into your fan base, rip cracks into the foundation of a city's love for its team, and take whatever you can straight to the bank.  We don't even really know how inept the organization is, but we see signs enough to make us fear the worst. We ignore those signs out of little else than fear that these past 10 years might actually be the glory years when we're looking at the first pick in the 2035 NHL Draft, the Presidents Trophy and Divisional banners looking just as lonely as they do now.

I fucking love the Buffalo Sabres. But, as surely as I do, I hate the people insistent on ruining it. 

Fan goodwill is forfeit, you money-grubbing pieces of shit. If you wanted my attention, you've gotten it. Hell, maybe this will be a Sabres site again. I guess I was probably waiting for something like this.... maybe now I'll come here much more often to talk about how much I loathe you vile sacks of excrement parading as Buffalo's next generation of revitalization heroes.

Fuck you.

The Barrister


What a crazy week. /understatement 

Even putting aside the up and down big ticket decisions out of United States Supreme Court this week, and even putting aside that crazy filibuster down in Texas that had us all riveted in a way politics rarely does unless it involves dick pics and/or unruly ejaculate, and even putting aside a bereft Paula Deen trying to rehabilitate her image by lying and crying on The Today Show, it was a crazy week. Even just looking at what's happened in sports, and even just Boston sports, and even just Boston sports that are professional American football.

This is the story of the sports world this week. I don't care that the Hawks just won another title or that the Heat won another, too, or that Wimbledon has been nutty, or that the Washington Redskins continue to hold onto their logo and name in a way that is nothing short of astonishing. Oh, and I didn't follow the NBA Draft but I hear there was a lot going on and that someone ate some Mike and Ikes.

An NFL player - and a pretty high profile one at that - killed a man. And may have killed others. I know there haven't been any convictions yet, but I'm not willing to dwell on suspicions of innocence when the facts give me none.

Every reporter who covers football should care about this. Every fan of pro football should care about this. If you're talking about the story, there is plenty to delve into: explaining the potential motives, sorting through Hernandez's past, speaking with family and friends, digging for information about that 2012 drive-by. All of this comes with the caveat that "Hernandez as villain" is the story. Hernandez as apart from the rest of us - the people who haven't taken it upon themselves to take the life of another. 

Sorting through it all is an exercise in trying to find an explanation for some terrible fucking things that have happened, and to adequately frame Hernandez as man and as killer. 

This is how we get right. We can do it callously or patiently or quietly or any way we really want. We must respect the victim(s), surely, and hold them up in any way we can. But we owe nothing to the man and killer. He owes us - the society with which he had and broke a sacred social contract - everything.

An eventual conviction and sentence will return Hernandez, in a legal sense, to an equilibrium with society. In a social sense, though, our collective "working through it" is how we get that equilibrium to be real.

The accuracy of this exercise is important, too. It's important to ensure, as we sort through the facts and form opinions about the man and killer, that we don't get bogged down with items far on the periphery. That, in reaching our solution, we don't fall into the trap of bringing other issues into our criticism; other issues that are simply too dissimilar to merit comparison with Hernandez's act on equal terms. Indeed, making anything else the story now, and using the Hernandez case as a springboard, is beyond asinine. It is intellectually reckless.

So when Mario Williams instagrammed a "Grand Theft New England" picture with Hernandez's head photo-shopped on, there is a necessity that those who might comment on it do so in a way that respects the only acceptable frame: Hernandez killed a guy and the rest is just noise in comparison.

What we got, though, was an object lesson in how "journalists" get so wrapped up in finding and creating a story that the words they write are nothing more than alphabetic vomit.

The Barrister


Oh, spring. The time of year when I have already given up on baseball except on the days when my team's improbable Cy Young candidate is pitching; when the Sabres have, not so improbably, retired for the off-season; when sports are a simple backdrop to thoughts of day drinking in the sun and cutting out of work as often as possible.

For the next three months or so, soccer will really be the only sport I care about, and that's just fine with me. While the Buffalo Bills tempt us into a familiar land of hopes and dreams, I'll be in the corner enjoying a sport that hasn't yet beaten me into submission with annual kicks to the nuts. 

/looks at prior Liverpool season results

/kicks self in aforementioned nuts as penance for blatant lie

Of course, paying any attention to this sport flies in the face of certain opinions set forth by certain creepy sports journalists in Tuffalo, but I think it goes without saying that Mike Harrington is simply out of his element when he tries to talk about anything that doesn't fall within the following categories:

• the availability of Terry Pegula for sarcastic, caustic interviews;
• the quickest way to climb a tree outside an unsuspecting woman's window;
• tying knots;
• the best proportion of Miracle Whip and Fritos to put on a bologna sandwich;
• the fragrance of a minor league baseball locker room;
• buying bulk candy;
• Jerry Sullivan's jock; and 
• LOL ROFL Doh! Thanx

So, when it comes to soccer, don't worry about this knuckledragger's opinion. When he hears "The Beautiful Game," his mind instantly shifts to family reunion Twister. He's gross.

On to the #Hot #Sports #Takes!!!

The Barrister

It sure has been a while since I dusted off my gloves and took the media to task for its latest absurdity in the sports world. Sometimes, these venomous hit jobs are directed at The Network - an easy enough target, what with the willingness to sit on apparent evidence of child molestation at Syracuse, only to run the story without even giving the authorities the opportunity to vet that evidence and find that, in sum, it was demonstrably false. And sometimes, these hit jobs are directed at Buffalo sports media - also an easy target, what with the spelling errors, the apparent desire to merely yuk it up with a failing, entrenched hockey coach and the pathetic derision of a blogger community which has arguably provided better and more insightful sports analysis over the past couple years. (Not here at the Deeg, of course. We are more than happy to be the slime scraped out of the bottom of the barrel, presented as food for your more carnal cravings. It's what we do.)

One of the things I've noticed about Buffalo sports fans is that they can tend to believe that their town is getting jobbed at every opportunity. It's certainly no surprise, given the history, but it can leave people with a lingering sense that, in essence, whatever we get in Buffalo is a class below what everyone else gets in other cities. Sports teams? Inferior from top to bottom. Local theater and music? Undeveloped and of poor quality. Government? Corrupt and ineffective in a way unseen throughout America. Schools? Underfunded and forgotten. Cheerleaders? Sixes instead of tens. (This one may be right). 

Some of this is true. In many ways, other cities do have it better. In a lot of ways, though, Buffalo has the exact same problems as other cities, but has convinced itself that the grass is greener in New York City, in Boston, in D.C., in Philly. I've found this to be especially true when it comes to how we digest our local sports media in Western New York. There always seems to be a lingering sense that Bucky and Harrington and Hamilton and Sully are on a lower tier than the guys who cover sports in the big markets. With the internet, though, we can verify that this is simply not true, and never was this more apparent to me than during the post-game presser following last Friday's Rangers-Devils Game 6. 

Dear God, it was brutal. 

So, in keeping with the overlap between "media hit piece" and "mailing it in," here is the transcript of the questions asked to Rangers coach John Tortorella following Game 6. My thoughts are in italics.

I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS POST. IT IS ALCOHOL FUELED, KINDLED BY FIRES OF HOMETOWN SENTIMENT AND LOVE FOR EVERYTHING THAT IS BUFFALO SPORT.

The Yachtsman (beware, hammered)

The first time I heard that word odious, my mother used it in reference to me having a particularly nasty spoiled upper middle class white kid episode somewhere around the 6th grade. Basically, I was given everything I ever wanted in life, and was never left hungry and/or cold. Somehow I still found a way to bitch about something I didn't get-probably an outlandishly expensive toy that only a little spoiled bag of cocks like me would make a scene about. I thrashed and thrashed and thrashed, probably stamped my feet, and said odious nasty little things only a shitty mouthed 6th grader  with no concept of consequences or morality could say (thank crap my parents sent me to State School for college, otherwise I probably would have been an odious little shit for the rest of my days). I don't remember the outcome, but hopefully my father gave me a fresh one across the back of the head to straighten me out. I took one thing from that episode:

DON'T BE A SNIVELING SPOILED BAG OF COCKS.

Ralph Wilson has been throwing a 6th grade fit since the 70s. It started with his demands to build the new Stadium in Orchard Park (WITH TOTAL FUCKING DISREGARD FOR THE NAME ON THE G-D JERSEY...BUFFALO), and year after year his highness feels the need to repeat to Bills fans that his gift to us is keeping the team in Buffalo. REALLY RALPH!?!? THAT'S YOUR GIFT?!?! YOU BOUGHT A SHITTY AFL TEAM FOR $50,000 IN 1960, TRIED TO MOVE IT TO MIAMI, AND LED US TO 50+ YEARS OF MEDIOCRITY BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO CHEAP TO MOVE THE SQUAD TO SOUTH BEACH!?!?! REALLY?!?!!?

No seriously, all that shit happened. Ask Joe Pinzone.

Of course, right now you're asking yourself why all the vitriol towards Ralph, Yachter? I'll tell you why: he's fucking us. The hockey hayride is over. Ted Black and the Pegulamaniacs are all hunkered down at Sabres HQ planning their next move. The Bandits season is over....now a (unfortunately) football town turns its collective head towards St. John Fisher College and the developments within. This is where Shitstain Wilson comes through in the clutch, every time. Ego influenced Front Office Decisions, shitty Head Coaching choices, and awful draft picks. Welcome to being a Bills fan since forever! It's all Ralph's Fault! (unqualified and unsubstantiated, but I really could care less it's 3 AM and I've had a few chardonnays).

Seriously though all this vitriol comes from today's events of which I'm sure you're aware if you are a Bflo Blog Reader. Some rich dude in Midtown Manhattan (raised in Buffalo) wants to buy the Bills and we are all happy. Ralph's doucheocracy at One Bills Drive then releases a statement (which they had to, I know) saying the Bills aren't for sale whilst pee catheter is still alive. Everyone returns to sadness. (DESCRIPTIONS! MY FORTE!)

THIS IS A THING THAT MAKES ME PISSED OFF.

Seriously Ralph, you bought the team for $50,000....sucked off the county TIT for almost a half century, and now, when it's time to sell the team or keep it for your probably ugly offspring...you're not gonna budge. We all know what this is, you dementia'ed assed old creep-o: this is you taking a shot at "pipsqueak" Roger Goodell and the current NFL Big Market reality. WELL GUESS WHAT, RALPH CORNELIUS (NOT TRUE) WILSON: NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON IN BUFFALO CARES ABOUT YOUR PETTY RICH PEOPLE PROBLEMS. EFF YOURSELF, SELL THE TEAM, AND MOVE BACK TO DETROIT WHERE YOU CAN LIVE OUT YOUR DAYS WATCHING MATTHEW STAFFORD GETTING SACKED ON SUNDAYS.

Which brings me back to my original, rambling, outlandish point: Ralph Wilson is an Odious Taint. I'm sick and tired of hearing how shitty a market our area is. The least you can do for an area that has CRAFTED ITS FUCKING IDENTITY around your little country club project is to turn around and open up ownership negotiations. The City of Buffalo made you fucking Rich Ralph. It's time you turned the hell around and gave something back.


I fell asleep twice during the creation of this post and I am clearly still a bit sauced. This was stream of consciousness whining. I'm not even going to review content. I beg you to rip me to shreds in the comments section. This was irresponsible of me, but I fucking hate Ralph right now. He is a fucking douche.

This post was brought to you by the song "Whiplash" by Metallica

Due to an even amount of popular/un-popular demand, DGWU is proud to bring to you, Episode 2 of post-game reflections with the Yachtsman.  This one isn't exactly NSFW, but I still wouldn't blast it in your office/school/massage-parlor. Keep in mind folks, in all likely hood the Yachtsman is intoxicated in these rants.  It's what he does: gets drunk and yells. Pretty much how we became friends.

We'd also like to thank Megan and Mondee again for getting these MP3's up and rolling so fast.  Jesus, if only Yachtsman could churn out blog-posts like that. ZING!  Enjoy the show errrrbody, I know we did.

Isn't he a lovable douche-bag?  Check back on the site later for Scizz's post-game wrap-up and some exciting news about the next CrapTastiCast.  Until then, I really don't give an expletive what you do.

As mentioned in an earlier post, we here at DGWU have something special for the readers today.  If you thought YOU were upset last night after the loss, just take a listen to the Yachtsman's EPIC meltdown.  This little Gem was recorded last night on the Streets of Manhattan by producer-extraordinaire, Megan Robertson, who with our new friend and production guru Mondee Torres, put this fantastic feature together for your listening pleasure.

I need remind everyone that this chunk of brilliance is NSFW, and if you thought the lower half of HSBC Arena was just fine last night, then I would probably not listen to it at all.  Here is hoping this becomes a regular feature.  With your support we can make it happen people!!!!

The Scizz

Do you hear that Buffalo fans?  No?  That's because the Buffalo blogosphere is absolutely silent this morning (Aps post notwithstanding). I assume by the time this post goes up, many other blogs and websites will have chimed in with their opinions and breakdowns of game three, but as of late morning, I saw almost nothing.  Last night was a heartbreaker and this whole series has taken a lot out of all of us.  I know personally, I didn't have have it in me to write about my post-game thoughts.  So I figured, what the hell?  Let's have some fun on DGWU today.  That means I will NOT being talking about how Chris Butler has made me look like an idiot the past two games.  I will NOT being talking about how Ryan Miller needs to be incredible tomorrow night.  And I will definitely NOT being talking about the crowd noise, or lack-there-of in HSBC arena last night. (OK, maybe one thing.  If you are a defender of the crowd last night, fine, but I don't think anyone with an inkling of intelligence believes that the dead-crowd cost them the game.  That would be ignorant.  It's just frustrating for fans who do not not have access, nor never will have access to seats like those in the lower sections, to have to watch those people sit on their hands during crunch time last night.  I wanted to stab them with their own silver spoon. Yes, I am bitter I could never afford those seats.)

Nothing but fun and games from the Scizz this afternoon.  I have collected several videos/links/pictures/comments for your viewing and listening pleasure to help get you through the day.  Consider me your personal Jester today.  Enjoy!

Remember my post last week about how important Buffalo and WNY are to us?  Below is some evidence I wanted to include in that piece that I never had a chance to.  McFadden's in NYC after a Bills win.  These types of videos always put a smile on my face and make me proud to be from WNY.

I am going to stop beating you over the head with our podcast.  If you haven't listened yet, please do, you can find it on this site.  However, what I am going to do is promote another podcast.  Specifically, Sklarbro Country over at earwolf.com (for free).  This is the sports/comedy podcast that inspired to me to get the band back together and record our own. I highly recommend either Patton Oswalt episode.

From wnymedia.net: "As the Sabres-Flyers NHL Playoff series shifts to Buffalo for games three and four, today Mayor Byron Brown declared the lobby of City Hall a “No Orange (Flyers) Zone”. To emphasize the point, the Mayor has hung a banner with those words in the lobby of City Hall."

Below is the picture Mayor Brown took to promote his "zone".  Brilliant.

Before I present the next vid, here is an actual text from the Yachtsman this morning after discussing how awful today was starting off: "I just wanna stay home and 'amuse myself' to Charmed re-runs".  You can follow him on twitter @Y_vo, folks.

This next video is a little longer and older, but holy jeebus it is hilarious.  My girlfriend has actually brought up the idea that DGWU should do a drunken Buffalo sports history.  Thoughts?  Volunteers? Apologist, I'm thinking your roommate.

I normally like to keep politics off of this site, but you have to check this out.  Weiner was discussed last night amongst the DGWU crew.  Politics aside, he is friggin' histarical AND an avid hockey fan.  He referenced Pesach and Jonathan Quick in the same tweet last night....that is all-star status.

Another suggestion to get you through the day/evening is enjoy some other sad and disappointing sports franchises.  I for one am attending the Mets game tonight, but also the Knicks will probably get blown out in Game two in Boston (and yes, we are all Knicks fans here at DGWU).

Finally, is anyone else as excited as I am about watching the full video for "Fight For Your Right-Revisited" when it drops on May 3rd.  I have seen this trailer about 72 times now and I keep noticing more celebrities upon every viewing.  I was just told that is Buscemi at 0:14.  Hope all of this crap helped! STAY POSITIVE!!!