Things are Good, Part II

1) When young Muslim dudes are told about the 72 virgins in paradise that are waiting for them after they’ve committed suicide, doesn't it occur to them to wonder why EVERY guy hasn't done it? I would think I'd immediately ask the guy that told me about the wondrous heaven that awaits me "Well, why don't you do it, then?" "Nah", he probably says "You go on, get to heaven where there's 72 virgins and no line at the Shoney's buffet waiting for you...I'm cool here in the scorching desert, drinking my own urine waiting for US soldiers to come torture me."

2) Where'd they get the number 72 from? Does anyone know this? And really, is there anything worse than 72 VIRGINS??!? Oh, goody. 72 chicks to not want you to see them naked, to not talk dirty, and will bleed all over your silk Star Wars bedsheets. Great.

3) After you've done each of them once, they're no longer virgins - then what happens? Is that all you get? Therein, when you're deciding whether or not to be a suicide bomber, wouldn't it be a game of calculating whether or not you'd have sex 72 times in your life or not? Or do they become 72 "girlfriends"? I'd break them into little teams, have them do events to entertain me. "Heather? Yeah, she's on the Bears...volleyball champs, and they give great head..."

4) I've noticed that when you go to bars carrying a 15-lb country ham, all of a sudden girls walk right up and talk to you. Interesting.

5) A moment of silence for Jon Spencer, Leo McGarry from The West Wing. I only remember him in one other role, some ref in Forget Paris, but I have no problems imagining that Leo was the role of his lifetime. If he had shown up on CNN as the real Chief of Staff I wouldn't have batted an eye. Leo, we will miss you.

6) My friend and I are compiling a list of hot celebrities that have not slept with him. So far we have Alicia Silverstone, Denise Rich and Heather Thomas. Will keep you posted.

7) Where did the myth about sexy, slutty flight attendants begin? The stereotype is of gorgeous horny babes banging dudes at every layover. I don't fly a lot, but every time I do the attendant is usually, if not a flaming dude, some spinster who weighs in at 400lbs. She's out of breath while showing us what to do in case we crash, and constantly scraping my shoulder with her fat ass every time she squeezes by. What the fuck.

8) If Gina Gershon and Angelina Jolie wanted to get into a fight over who gets to make me a pitcher of iced tea, I probably would not stop them.

9) Because my hands would be wrapped around my penis, flailing away.

10) And by "Gina Gershon and Angelina Jolie", I mean "any women on earth"

11) Ladies: after you've received your change from the cashier, step aside and let the next person do his transaction. Don't stand there in front of the line carefully placing your fucking change in your purse and closing it all up nicely and neatly and then putting on your fucking gloves and scarf while we all stand there staring at you, including the cashier, you stupid fuck. Get your change, step aside to do your fucking banking, bitch!

12) In high school, I used to dream of standing at one end of the hallway between classes, and then barreling through everyone bowling-ball style.

13) Why does Coca-Cola spend $1 billion a year on advertising? Who on the planet is not aware of Coke? Take the one billion and do something useful. I'm stepping over homeless people with AIDS everyday, but at least I can't swing my dick around without hitting a Coke ad. Christ.

14) I have 11 days to learn the robot to fulfill my 2005 New Years Resolution. I might be in trouble.

I'm Really a Greyhound Man...

I'm not a good flyer. I'm one of those people that just, for whatever reason, thinks it's not natural for humans to fly. When I'm on a plane, I see myself as a fish behind the wheel of a car: "I shouldn't be doing this, I shouldn't be doing this..." Several things happen to my personality when I fly, though. Number 1, I turn into the nicest, most polite person in the world. I'm terrified that if I don't open doors for ladies and do the ol' "Yes sir/no sir" routine, then the fates will send me hurtling into a mountain. "whoa whoa whoa...the Xmastime kid isn't being polite? Well, how bout I end his and 200 other people lives right now?" Also, as soon as the plane starts moving, I become REALLY religious. I went to church every Sunday for 18 years, I was a Super-Catholic back in the day. Nowadays, I don't believe in religion, I'm barely trying to believe in God, but you better believe the second that plane starts lurching forward I turn into the choir director from a black church in Alabama.. "Oh, Lord Jesus Jesus save us..." I jump into a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers; I'm praying that the fact that I actually remember the words to these things shocks God (whom I only believe in on a plane, of course) into sparing my life. I also show up at the airport like 3 hours early, as if I'll be rewarded for my promptness. I always assume everyone that's there flies constantly, that if I don't pay EXTREME close attention, I'm gonna miss my flight because I'm an outsider and don’t speak the language.

One thing that kills me (whoops, bad choice of words there...I'm actually writing this so that in case the plane crashes, this will be the most ironic blog posting of all time) is whenever there is a plane crash, and the news people will lament that there are "only" 15 or so survivors. I'm like..."only"????!?!? wtf. How do people survive plane crashes? I'm in a tin box 6 miles in the air that plummets to the earth at an unspeakable speed, and I survive it? How the fuck does that happen? That, to me, is in my "Top 3 Least Preferable Deaths." You have a couple of minutes to sit there and think "great...I'm gonna die...not only are they gonna find my mangled body covered in my own shit, but I should've thrown out my porn before I left for the airport..." And I got news for you: my plane's going down, I'm finding the hottest broad on the flight and feeling her up. Sorry, I know it's wrong, but that's the way it is. Maybe if I got your D-cups in my mitts, it'll ease the pain of my internal organs being strewn all over someone's cornfield.

Ironically, I spent a few years in the Air Force. I remember flying little planes all round and not even noticing. I remember hanging from helicopters during training drills to recover "dead" bodies. Didn't bother me at the time. But put me on a commercial plane, and I'm a nervous wreck. And they LOVE to tell you how low the odds of crashing are: "You have a better chance of being beaten in 3-card Monty by a French Yeti in a pantsuit than you do of crashing in a plane!" oh, fuck you. Anyway, my flight leaves in 7 hours, so I gotta get to the airport. Our father, who art in heaven...

The Kool-Aid Kid

Oh, man. Came across this picture a minute ago and can’t stop laughing. Christ, until I was 12 I’m pretty sure I drank Kool-Aid every single day, all day. As proof I had a permanent Kool-Aid stain above my upper lip. The mix of cherry/grape/orange is an interesting color, and does not help you out as much with the ladies as one might think. Of course, at that age I guess I wasn’t thinking of girls, but of…well, Kool-Aid. The spots above and below my lips were an exciting place to be in the early 80’s: not only was the upper spot the home of my Kool-Aid tattoo, but the spot below my bottom lip was permanently gnashed in with my teeth marks. Whenever my brother would anger me (which is constantly when you’re that close in age and pretty much spend every waking moment together), I’d instinctively clamp down on that spot and dig in with my overbite as I charged him. I’d be WHITE HOT with fury as my little-man fists would start wailing; I’d actually sometimes get the better of these fights because my brother would be laughing so hard at how ridiculous I looked, with my teeth clamped down almost on my chin and eyes raging with utter anger. After a few minutes of laughing he’d take care of business, but boy. I must’ve been a sight. I believe I inherited this anger-clampdown method from my mother. Many was the time I’d hafta get an ass-whuppin - I was one of those kids that simply could not go to bed unless I had gotten a spanking that day; as I’m bent over awaiting the sting of leather against my (then) bony ass, I’d make the mistake of looking back at my mother, and SHE’D have that tooth clampdown going on and, like my brother with me, I’d start laughing. Which, of course, would INFURIATE my mother – the one thing in the world you can do to piss of someone giving you an ass-whooping is to start laughing. So instead of getting the ol’ “you fucked up, I gotta spank you, lets get this over with etc” whooping, I’d get the “Is this fucking kid LAUGHING at me while I beat his ass?! Oh, laugh at THIS, motherfucker!!!!” whooping. I never learned – don’t fucking look back! It will only make you laugh! Ah well. Memories.

Kids Today.

Dig this.

A boy whose parents are accused of making their special-needs adopted children sleep in cages testified Thursday that the couple forced him to live in the bathroom as punishment for bed wetting.

Kid. Stop crying. At least the one room they let you stay in was the BATHROOM!!...which is lucky, seeing as you seem to have a problem pissing yourself. Maybe if you got caught beating off you woulda gotten stuffed in Mom's lingerie drawer. Which, of course, you would've immediately filled with piss.

"I couldn't come out of my room until I wrote the whole book of Deuteronomy," he said. "I was up there for like a month."

Are you fucking retarded? Sneak out, hit the local Kinkos. Camon. Take an hour to copy it, spend the next few weeks learning how to fart in a mason jar. Do kids even have brains these days?

The Gravelles are trying to regain custody of the 11 children, ages 1 to 15, who have problems such as fetal alcohol syndrome, HIV and a disorder in which children eat dirt. One girl's head was shoved in a toilet by a parent because she was drinking water out of it

Sounds like someone is crying out for some attention from a gentleman.... (applying Canoe cologne). This girl would be a cheap date. Doesn't mind drinking outta the bowl, is okay eating dirt. Wouldn't be in a rush to get home to her abusive parents, so would be receptive to staying over. Give her a mild deformity, like puppy foot, so that she is thrilled that a male is even paying attention to her, and I do believe I've found Mrs. Xmastime.

He described various punishments for wetting the bed. "We'd have to go upstairs and scrub it. The younger ones would get spanked. We would have to go pull a bucket of weeds," he said.

Boy that is tough. I remember when I was a kid and wet my bed, my parents would have a big parade for me, then take me to Mickey D's and let me fill up on anything I wanted, all while telling me how much they loved me as a few hookers they bought blew me. Hmm. I remember weeding, too. It's called The "I don’t own this house, my father does, so when he says 'I just fed you, you're wearing clothes I bought under my roof, get your fat ass outside and weed'" Law. go figure.

Fucking kids. Shut the fuck up, get in your cage, and stop pissing/drinking outta the bowl!

2:33pm...

...while you're playing hardball and waiting to contact me mon cherie, I've noticed that both Nicole Richie and Jessica Simpson are SINGLE. So unless you not only wanna lose me AGAIN and see my mug on every magazine you walk by for the next year, I'd take those little mitts of yours and pick up the phone and start dialing 1-800-IMS-ORRY. Bonus points if you're drunk dialing from a Hooters in my neighborhood. And have a credit card. Baby - let's DO this!!!!

11:46am...

...seriously. It's been a few days now; she hasn't called me or written. I'm thinKing I need to set a timeline to "pull out the troops." I'm gonna give her til 5pm today to contact me. Otherwise, baby have a good life! Good luck with future projects!!!!!! 5PM MEANS 5PM!! Not 5:01 or 5:02. 5:00!!!!!!!!


ps - do you still have my letter jacket? can't seem to find it.

Suicide Etiquette for Fellas

What is it with dudes who commit suicide killing their girlfriends first? How many times do we read about this happening. Can't you be a gentleman about the whole thing, and just kill yourself? I suppose the thinking is "This way we'll be together in heaven." Hmm. If you do meet up in heaven, do you really think this girl is gonna wanna be with you after you've pumped her full of lead? "Oh HELL no..." Plus, let's face it, you're in heaven now, doesn't that mean now you're competing with every dude who has ever died? Now you're up against some of the all-time greats - instead of competing against the fucking fry cooks at TGIFridays, you've got Sam Cooke sending over bottles of wine while the smooth sounds of "You Send Me" glide out of Heaven's stereo. Camon. And don't think you're gonna do well with the beautiful ladies of the past; now you're just the asshole dude who shot his young girlfriend 8 times. Princess Di might not be interested in you after hearing this. That might be the all-time bad dating story: you've killed yourself and your girlfriend so you can be together in the afterlife, but when you get there you get the "I wanna see other people..." speech. Ouch! So think it through next time, fellas. If you think you can compete against Valentino, Chamberlain, Presley et al, go ahead and kill her too. Otherwise, do the right thing and leave her alone before you blow your own brains out.

Ugh

Ridiculously hung over today, got toothpicks keeping my eyelids open. I'll go back to being "funny" tomorrow ;)

John Lennon 10/9/40 - 12/8/80

I reckon like everyone else I'm sitting round listening to Beatles songs today, in particular John Lennon who was, as you know unless you live in a cave, or Kansas, shot to death 25 years ago today. Surprisingly (to myself, anyways) I don't remember the day he was shot. I remember Elvis dying, I remember many things before December 1980, but I don't remember this day. Probably because my parents weren't into the Beatles, they were a little after their time. It wasn't like when Elvis kicked, and my dad told my brother and I to "be nice to your mother today." I guess every other day my brother and I were mean to her. Hmm. Mostly, I've always been pissed at how because he got shot, he became a martyr, while Paul became the "pussy Beatle", a "lightweight fop." In a lot of people's eyes. John IS the Beatles, which is totally ridiculous. Paul could have a tendency to get a bit mawkish at times (one song about your sheepdog is one too many, Paul), but he also CRANKED plenty - witness his bone-shivering cover of "Long Tall Sally", or his heavy metal "Helter Skelter." On the very same day he recorded "Yesterday", Paul also ran through his Little Richardesque number "I'm Down", so don't tell me he's a pussy (and he ALSO recorded "I've Just Seen a Face" - quite a fucking day. jesus.) John and Paul were both great because of each other. Yes, John probably helped Paul steer from his sentimental show tune side sometimes, but Paul also kept John from completely going off the deep end too eary with his "artsy primal scream feeling songs" - or, as I call them, "crap." So everyone, drop the Lennon is the Jesus Beatle and Paul sucked nonsense. Open your ears, listen to the albums and love them both. As for memories of 12/8/80, like I said I don't have any. But I've always thought how he affected the lives of people was summed up perfectly by Bruce Springsteen in Philadelphia the night after the shooting.

The next day Miami Steve called the tour manager to see if the second night was supposed to be postponed. The answer was no. Steve was so upset he went to Springsteen shortly before the show saying that, "I felt really weird about going onstage, that I couldn't put it together. And he really just reminded of why we do what we do, and how important it was to go out that night in particular. I wish I could remember exactly what he said, like 'This is what John Lennon inspired us to do and now it's our job to do the same thing for these other people, that today it was Lennon and tomorrow it might be me, and if it is . . .' That's how he does his show, like it was his last. He lives every minute like it was his last. That's the way to live. It's really lucky to be close to him at moments like that." The band took the stage, most of them wearing black. Springsteen went to the mike. "If it wasn't for John Lennon," he said, "a lot of us would be in some place much different tonight. It's a hard world that makes you live with a lot of things that are unlivable. And it's hard to come out here and play tonight, but there's nothing else to do." I've seen people digging firebreaks to save their homes, and I've seen some desperate fist fights, and God knows, I've seen hundreds of rock & roll shows, but I have never seen a human being exert himself the way Springsteen did that night in Philly.

Moving people when you're alive is hard enough; moving them people after you die, that transcends even death, and that's why we're all taking a moment to think about John Lennon today and what he means to all of us.

Here Come the Waterworks

As I do every year, I stumbled into the middle of Jimmy Valvano's 1993 Arthur Ashe Courage Award Address last night. First of all, those who know me know I'm a sucker for anything that smells of ACC hoops, in particular the 80's - a decade of ball that seemed to last forever (lined up perfectly with my own age, 8 to 18, which does seem to last forever to everyone, no?), as amazing player after amazing player stayed for 4 years on an at-least semi-regular basis, and even the coaches seemed to have been there forever. I couldn't imagine a league without Smith/Holland/Dreisell/Ellis/Krzyzewski/Cremins and, of course Valvano. These coaches and players were part of a warm friendship with myself, and nothing was better than a huge February game with a foot of snow outside, or desperately trying to get home early from school to watch the tournament. So as you can see, any remembrance of things past re: that era usually gets my waterworks at least greased up a little. But back to Valvano's speech. We all know some of the great quotes, and we knew as he was speaking that he didn't have long to live, that cancer had pretty much overtaken him. Every year I try to test myself to see if I can watch w/o getting a lil choked up, but by the end when they have to pretty much carry him off the stage, I'm at total surrender. But last night got me to thinking about how it's okay for dudes to be emotional when it comes to sports, but anything else, nyet. I'm that way. You could tell me that my family was eaten by wolfpups, you could tell me that all the puppies in the world had committed suicide, etc etc. More than likely I'd give you a blank "oh man" but stay stone-faced, prolly even turn on Mr. Funny perhaps. But certain sports moments, I got no problems welling up, even after seeing them year after year. I do believe that sports is one of the true, spontaneous emotional outlets we have - joy, anguish, ecstasy, agony etc. Movies? Camon. Who actually cries at movies? You know exactly what's gonna happen, you should be offended by the Hollywood suits that are writing such tearjerker crap and making you pay $10 a pop for it. But a kid who hits a buzzer beater and leaps into the arms of a coach? Or a man not used to speaking trying to articulate how much a certain game or players means to him? Unbelievable. From the heart. True human emotion we can actually relate to. Plus, another reason we give ourselves a pass and allow some emotion is that in the end, MOST of these moments don't really matter to us personally. Therefore, they're not so real to us as to be as either sad or happy as they would be in "real life." I get emotional thinking about Jimmy V's speech, but I didn't actually know him, he wasn't a friend of mine. So I can allow some waterworks to flow without having to worry about the floodgates crashing open and my life being turned upside down. Anyways, I do have a few moments throughout the years that ALWAYS get to me, so here's a short list. I'm sure I'm forgetting some, so feel free to send in your own. I'm not listing them in any real order. - Jimmy V's speech: amazing quotes, you're watching knowing he's dying, has to get carried off. You can hear him speaking faster and faster as the speech goes on, like he's trying to outrun his fate. AND, in true Jimmy V fashion, is funny throughout. One of the funniest characters in the history of coaching. Except, ironically, for his cameo on "The Cosby Show." - John Cappelletti's Heisman Speech: good lord. You wanna see a room of grizzled football coaches bawling (Joe Pa, I'm looking at you), this is your moment, when he dedicates his trophy to his little brother who is dying of leukemia. Jesus. So tough to watch they only bring this out every coupla years or so. - Terry Bradshaw's HOF Speech: always loved this one, where he starts hurriedly going thru about how all he wants is 2 minutes left to play, just give him 2 more minutes to play, and he excitedly takes us through what he'd do. Still funny, imitating Stallworth's (apparently) high-pitched squeak of a voice. In an emotional, funny moment opens up both the camaraderie that comes from playing with people you love for a long time, and the fact that there's probably not an athlete out there who wouldn't shave years off their lives for just 2 more minutes on the field. - George Brett's HOF Speech: fairly unremarkable until the end, when he talks to his older brother Ken, who had also played in the majors. If you can watch while he fights through to tell his brother "all I ever wanted was to be as good as you", then you're not human. - 1980 US Hockey Team: the Babe Ruth of all "Chokes Xmastime Up Moments." If that damn HBO doc was on a loop, I would never leave my house. By the time I've worked myself up about the enormous political innuendo, and the fact that they really were a bunch of kids playing the greatest team ever assembled, I'm at fever pitch when Mike Eruzione talks about Coach Brooks telling them before they skated out to play the Russians "You were born to play hockey. You belong here." At this age, I can barely get through another viewing of the medal ceremony when he calls all his teammates to jump up on the podium with him. Man. Can't imagine this one being topped, with all the periphery stuff going on. So there you have it. Xmastime's a crybaby! 

4:15pm...

...(calling all the hospitals in her area - something must be awfully wrong; or worse, she has no cell service)*




* this is a lie - I have no idea where she lives. this is not going as well as I had hoped. At all.

3:05pm...

...and still haven't gotten a hold of my high school girlfriend. This is getting weird. As if she hasn't been waiting for this moment...or doesn't know I exist. Ha! IF YOU ARE PLAYING HARDBALL, DARLING - YOU WILL LOSE!! BADLY!!

please call me.

Mix Tapes

Tell you what i would like to see: a website devoted to chicks listing the mix tapes dudes have given them throughout the years. There's the "I fell in love to this one" batch to the "This is when I figured out he was gay" batch to the "I dont have the dude anymore, but I still got a copy of 'Radio Free Europe', so we're even" batch. I was complete loser with mine, too; I'd always make little notes with each song

"I Need Your Love" The Ramones - You know, cause I need your love so much baby, I just love you...can I tell the guys we did it now? No? Please?

AND I'd even list the album and the year the album came out. No girl I ever gave a mix tape to even pretended to care about records, but I guess after one of my tapes I expected them to look up CREEM and ROLLING STONE on the microfiche every waking hour, researching the albums I had told her about. Christ. I know a lot of music geeks - no girl I've ever mix-taped (I just made up a verb!!!) was ever a music geek. I'm expecting her to figure out who engineered different band's albums, meanwhile she's smiling at me, trying to see out how long she has to have that gleeful look painted on her face before she can place it in the Vault: the bottom of her pocketbook, where it would never be seen again. Oh, until the next time I was in her car. We'd get in, I'd be like hey, lets put in the tape I gave you! Totally not reading the look of "oh god no, cant you tell I hate you and your stupid cuts?" on her face, I'd happily dig around for it until I've got my head stuck underneath the spare tire compartment , shouting "here it is!!"

Sigh.

...

....just occured to me...you think she took all the mix tapes I gave her and had them burned onto cds? mp3s? iTunes? hmm.

Little Progress So Far

Hmm. Just realized the last phone number I have for her is from 1990. PREEEETTY sure she ain't still living with her folks, but what the heck. Gave it a whirl. Her father answered. I finally hung up after 5 minutes of "Who? what? You're who? Who are you? what the -." You'd think my stalking skills would be more refined; but I guess I did kinda cash my chips in during the early 90s when Caller ID came around. Maybe I'll try the ol' "ask mutual friends" route...but after I broke her heart, do I really think this girl's friends are gonna wanna help me get back with her? Hmm. I'm thinking, in a word, "no." Reckon I can't casually lay waste to a girl's feelings like I did and expect things to be easy when I decide I'm done tomcatting around, and ready to have something real with her. Surely she's heard of the numbers I've put up through the years with the ladies (DEFINITLY why my back is fucked up!) all while she, bless her heart, probably sat by the phone. Probably has a sweater that's a mile long by now for me, knitting by the phone for me to finish sowing my oats and let her love me again. Aight, I'll try some other tricks up my sleeve. Stay tuned.

Great News!!!!!!!

I've decided that after 15 years, I'm ready to call my high school girlfriend and let her know hey - break's over, I'm ready to really commit now. Last decade & a half I guess we've "seen other people" while on a break from each other, but that's all done with and I'm ready to start our lives together. I'm a little nervous calling her, but when I think about how absolutely THRILLED she's gonna be, man...makes it alll worthwhile. I'll keep you posted on what she says, what our plans are, etc. Can't wait!! Wish me luck!!! I'm back, baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Things Are Good, Part I

A few things I'm thinking of right now (all at once):

1) If priests aren't supposed to have sex with anyone, how do we know which ones are homosexuals? And if they get "busted" for having sex, isn't THAT the crime - is it better to get busted for breaking your vow of celibacy with a woman? Shouldn't the Church have a policy of ignorance when it comes to homosexuality? "Our dudes aren't supposed to be having sex with ANYONE; so if they do, the person they have sex with is nebulous", no? ie - That they're having sex goes against their vow of celibacy, not WHOM THEY'RE HAVNG SEX WITH.

2) I'm 50% certain I used to word "nebulous" correctly - that's one for public schools!

3) The only way to cook bacon perfectly is stick it in the oven and leave it. Skillet-fried, 1/2 of it burns, 1/2 of it sticks to the pan, 1/2 of it don't cook, you get the idea. Stick it on a wire rack w/foil underneath, leave it for 20 minutes

4) The BCS, while getting lucky this year, is an abomination. And I think Texas beats USC 72-69. Yes, I mean in football.

5) I have 26 days to fulfill my New Year's Resolutions of a) finding my wife b) learning the robot. Hmm.

6) Why do people buy multiple lottery tickets? Don't the laws of such complete randomness tell us that you have the exact chance of winning with 1 ticket as 100? If your odds of winning are 1 in a billion or whatever, you're better off buying one ticket, and using the other $99 on booze to soften the blow. "11 18 23 36 38 43...great. I'm still poor" (glug glug glug)

7) I just read that coffee can help cure liver cancer. Doesn't that just mean I'll be awake more, worrying about it? Thanks, Pablo.

8) I've completely lost track of what the fuck is going on on The West Wing. Thanks for moving it to Sundays, NBC. Now it can fritter away in absolute obscurity. Like "Frasier", or "my sex life."

Thanks Theodore!

Many thanks to Theodore for holding down the fort here on Friday. Though there were several complaints about Theodore's um, shall we say "off color" comments, let's face it - his hands are actually stuffing with fur, and he's a red-state stuffed animal living in the bluest of blue states. He has no money, no woman, no real reason to get out of bed in the morning...oh, wait thats me! HIYOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Only kidding. Thanks again Theodore; I'm sure we haven't heard the last of our favorite conservative, bordering on the dangerously right-wing stuffed bear.

Tappahannock, Center of the Universe

Apparently Tappahannock, VA is the center of the music universe. As well as being the hometown of Chris Brown, who last week had the #1 pop single in all the land, and indie-rock semi0living legend Will Croxton it's also the home of "The Barber Bluesman of the Rappahannock", Mr. Bill Moore. Coupla years ago my buddy Ryan stumbled into hearing about him and learned that Bill Moore had recorded around the time of the legendary Robert Johnson, laying down 16 sides for Paramount Records in 1928. Check out his story and listen to some of the songs here. Also there's a nice article about the town giving him a roadside landmark in the Richmond Times-Dispatch. Back in 2002 me and Ryan went looking for Moore's grave in Warrenton, VA (reminiscient of our search for Robert Johnson's grave(s) in 1999). We

found it!

Album of the Year

My good friends Marah just got some free publicity from Stephen King himself, listing their new record as the best album of the year. And that's not even counting their Christmas album! Go here and buy both albums, they're great. Also, Shooter Jennings "4th of July" shoulda been #1 single, Steve-O. But hey.

Theodore's New Hero

Tell you what I've just discovered. Usually, the only tv I watch is Fox News and, of course, whatever channel Tucker's on. But the other day the tv got left on another channel and I was, having no fingers to change the channel, forced to watch a show called "All in the Family", and I gotta say....

MY KINDA GUY!!!!

Archie Bunker, who is this guy? And why the hell isn't HE the voice of America? A regular joe, a simple, pragmatic man who knows his own, and others' place. LOVES his country and God! Everything this guy said sounded like absoulte wisdom to me; how in HELL had I never heard of him before? A few favorites:

Archie: I ain't gonna eat this food with these Chink pick-up sticks.
Mike Stivic: How can you say that, Arch? With one word you attack an entire race of people and not just the Chinese, the Laotians, the Cambodians, the Vietnamese.
Archie: Wait a minute, Meathead, I never call them countries Chinks.
Edith: He calls them Gooks.
Archie: I'm saying they're all a yellow race. They ain't exactly Chinks, but they are definitely offshoots of your Chinks, they're what you call Chinkish.

Archie Bunker: Well if all blood's the same, let me ask you this: how come they ain't got no Swedes in the mafia?
Mike Stivic: What does that got to do with anything?
Archie Bunker: Because your Italians got a lock on it. That's why. It's in their blood. Same way it's in your blacks' blood to do the 'scooby-dooby-doo'.

Mike Stivic: You got a hang-up about sex.
Archie: I ain't got a hang-up about... That.
Mike Stivic: See, you can't even say it.
Archie: I don't use four letter words in front of women, ya dope.
Gloria: Daddy, you shouldn't be afraid of sex.
Archie: Listen, little girl, if I was a afraid of it, you wouldn't be here. Right, Edith?

This guy is pure genius. I'm kicking off the Carlson/Bunker in '08 campaign right now. Im only pissed that it took me this long to finally meet my mentor. Y0u can find more great quotes here.

THEODORE

Theodore + Ann. Sigh.

Man. This internet thing is a blast Was, uhm, "massaging myself" over at Ann Coulter's website while ordering from Fresh Direct. I love this country!

Speaking of AC - Ann, if you're reading this, please call me. I've left you 165 messages in the last week; I'm really starting to worry that something happened. I don't wanna spend my weekend calling hospitals to make sure your freakishly thin, long legged, bordering-on-the-insane right wing FINE self is alive and well.

Hey chinks, this one's for you: when you deliver my sweet n sour chicken, don't spend 10 minutes rifling thru your wad of cash, looking surprised that someone might actually want change. I gave you a $20; no, that doesn't mean you get to keep the $14 change, gookface. And hey, you're IN AMERICA LEARN TO SPEAK THE FUCKING LANGUAGE!!!!!!! I speak better than you, and I'm a stuffed animal whose "mouth" is sewn shut for chrissakes. Get it together. Fwy wice, indeed.

Ann!! Call me! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!

THEODORE

GUEST HOST

NAME: Theodore ("If you call me 'Theo' I will do some dancing on your face")
OCCUPATION: Ultra-conservative right-wing stuffed bear
LIKES: Tucker Carlson, George W. Bush, tax cuts, explaining to left-wing faggot dimwits why gays shouldn't marry
DISLIKES: left-wing faggot dimwits, taxes, Al Franken, basketball
QUOTE: "For the last time - I'm not racist. I'm just pro-white, goddammit."

First of all, thanks to Xmastime for letting me guest-host today. I'm not an idiot; I know how rare an opportunity it is for a stuffed bear to actually get to do something like express himself to other people, and, well, type on a computer. It's a relief to get outta the house, my roommate Kirk "The Barber" Henderson is back after his "band" toured Europe. Now he's gonna be lolling around with the other guys playing that loud, screechy crap they call music. "Rock and roll." Seriously, when did people stop listening to real music? I got my headphones on embracing Mozarts smooth crescension of a movement from a sonata, and BLAM! here comes a jet plane landing in my ears to the tune of whatever new crap they just came up with. I actually like the Barber. Mostly cause we're the same height heyoooooooooooooooooo!! Anyways, I'll be here all day, check in to see my posts and feel free to ask any ????s in the comments section.

THEODORE

Wilbon, Juan & Steve

Amazing, touching article today by Michael Wilbon re: Juan Dixon & Steve Blake and what they mean to folks round the DC/MD area. I ain't a Twerps fan, but you don't have to be to know how much these guys mean to those fans. Christ, just seeing Wilbon rattle off names like Sampson/King/Bias etc got the waterworks turned on here. Check it out, then join me & Op in our WILBON IN '08 presidential campaign. And yes, I was surprised to hear Steve Blake is in the NBA too.

Greatness Called, and Got Disconnected

Each of us has MAYBE one chance at greatness in our lives. Robin Lovitt had a chance of becoming a milestone, a Trivial Pursuit Genus 6 edition answer, a footnote in history - until Governor Warner granted him clemency, thereby preventing him from becoming the 1,000th person in the United States to be executed since the death penalty was brought back (like "The Family Guy"!!) in 1976. How sad. Now instead of having his name roll off the lips of Alec Trebek, Robin goes back to a life of weightlifting, trading cartons of smokes, anal rape and, worse, finding God. Poor bastard. A dubious distinction, yes, but how the hell else could the dude have made a name for himself? And, as I'm thinking about it, I'm not sure I wanna be in the Big House with a name like "Robin." "Hey Fang and Throatslash, this is Robin..." yeesh. Holy Prison Bukkake, Batman. Got a feeling I know who does the salad-tossing in that relationship. I'm sure there's a box of letters from Robin to Gov Warner: "Please!! Kill me!! Please!!!" I'm hereby dedicating this short list of "I'D LIKE TO BE THE 1,000 PERSON TO..." to my man, Robin:


I'D LIKE TO BE THE 1,000TH PERSON TO....

1) ...hold Tara Reid's hair back while she blows chunks at Hogs n Heifers
2) ...find a $evered finger in my food at a re$taurant KA-CHING!!!
3) ...have a laugh with Bin Laden while replaying the footage of Bush's "He can run, but he cannot hide!" nonsense
4) ...be an astronaut, floating into the heavens, seemingly touching the face of God, and pointing to Earth - "Look! I can see Kirstie Alley!"
5) ...help somebody move, and when I hand them a box marked "FRAGILE", pretend-read it as "FRA-GEE-LEE" and honestly think that I'm the first fucking retard that came up with that
6) ...hold Lindsay Lohan's hair back while she blows chunks at Hogs n Heifers...well, after eating a meal and jamming a finger down her throat, I mean
7) ...take the SATs and all of a sudden jump up and run to the proctor screaming "Largesse is to humility as my fist is to your face, bitch!!" and knock the shit out of him/her. I don't know what number we're up to on this one, might be a while.