Xmastime Restaurant Review

KITCHEN DELIGHT
167 North 8th Street, Brooklyn
ZERO Xmas Trees

New joint that opened up, I was excited there was a place nearby that delivers burgers n fries. Cause, you know....that’s what I really need. So I dial up and order the, and I quote, “Super Delight Burger” with cheese fries.

Awful.

I open up the foil and am at first impressed. Some fancy baguette. Mmm, I think. Must be good. Of course it turns out that all their money went into the fucking bauette, which apparently is french for “overwhelmingly chewy crap-bread that I wouldn’t eat to get Star Jones off my lap.” Picked it up to eat, a pile of lettuce falls out and ta-da!...brown. Oh, goody. Then upon review, I see there’s ketchup. Which I had asked to be removed. But, like every other fucking joint in this country, the “chef” assumes I don’t know what I’m talking about and slaps some on. Fuckwad. And where’s the fucking cheese? I can BARELY detect some, but fucking christ, I’m sick of ordering a cheeseburger, paying 50 EXTRA FUCKING CENTS FOR THE CHEESE, and needing fucking Lee Majors to find the goddam shit. The Gladness Honor Roll would be furious. From now on, no more fucking cheese unless there's so much I know I'd better eat it on the goddam bowl.

And finally, the meat. I am not even exaggerating here when I say it by FAR was the worst I’ve had in memory. First of all, cold. Cold. Modern science has just not cracked the code on keeping food warm for 4 minutes, I guess. Luckily I was distracted from it’s coldness by noting that is was cooked til it had the texture of charcoal and a taste to match. And I don’t think I’m being overly cautious when I say that by making a comparison I owe charcoal an apology. Unreal. Awful, terrible fucking burger.

As for the fries, blech, who gives a shit, I don’t even know why I bother with fries at this stage in my burger career. Is it even possible to get excited about fries anymore? I keep saying I’m gonna take a break from them so that when I go back I’ll appreciate them, but like the same promise I make to stop putting peanut butter on my ass cheeks and call Wally the Wonder Fuck Pig over, I never fucking do it. I would’ve been better off taking the crappy cheese sauce they give you, painting my toe nails with it and then blowing my fucking head off. Fucking hell.

And, of course the price. At $6.75 WITH a soda, I thought it was fairly reasonable. Of course, by the time it got to my door it had mysteriously jumped up $2. Hmm. One dollar of which I ascertained was a “delivery charge.” What the fuck is this? I’m paying you an extra fucking dollar for placing the shit into a paper bag? Wouldn’t the “delivery charge” be the tip I gave the delivery guy? Even though all of a sudden he couldn’t speak English and explain why my meal had increased in price by, oh, 29.6%???

Anyways, place fucking blew chunks, don’t go. Awful. Certainly not a delight, doubtful there's even a kitchen.

More Rudy

More on the absurdity, boorishness and OFFENSIVENESS of Rudy running on 9/11 here.

Does anybody know anybody who knows ANYbody who actually lived in NYC on 9/11 that likes Rudy? Ever notice those most vociferously against him (including, as pointed out earlier, the firefighters) are the people that actually lived in NYC?

Maybe people in Wyoming can stop punching their fists in the air to the tune of "he's America's mayor!" and ask themselves that question.

Girlfriend

George: What? I'm not married. I'm not allowed to go out with somebody else?
Jerry: Depends.
George: Depends on what?
Jerry: On many factors.
George: Like what?
Jerry: Well, how long you've been seeing her. What's your phone call frequency? Are you on a daily?
George: No. Semi-daily. Four or five times a week.
Jerry: What about Saturday nights? Do you have to ask her out, or is a date implied?
George: Implied.
Jerry: She got anything in your medicine cabinet?
George: There might be some moisturizer.
Jerry: Ah hah. Let me ask you this. Is there any tampax in your house?
George: (Pause) Yeah.
Jerry: Well, I'll tell you what you've got here.
George: What?
Jerry: You got yourself a girlfriend.

Whoa, whoa, WHOA!!!!......it’s been one thing for Dubya to spurn the rest of the world while pissing all over the 299,850,000 Americans who aren’t millionaires. We have learned to live with King George not giving a shit about us; our vitriol for him matched only by our complete wonderment re: his absoulute incompetence. But...this? Pissing off his boyfriend in Saudi Arabia? No no no!!!!! Say it ain’t so!!! What can he do to make it up to you??!?!? Where’d Kobe get his “sorry I raped a girl at the hotel, baby” ring??!?!?

I’ve always been shocked nobody to this day has hammered Dubs for letting all those Saudis flying out of the country right after 9/11 even though almost all of the hijackers were ta-da!...Saudis. Now if after his boyfriend has grumbled Bush all of a sudden pulls out of Iraq, I’m calling “girlfriend.”

Past Xmas rant here, see #3

















"I told you already, I'm sorry...you know I love you...you want an egg cream? You like egg creams? Let's get an egg cream..."

Rudy, Rudy, Rudy

For comedy reasons, I hope the Rudy campaign lasts as long as possible, cause he’s a joke. As we see, once again, here. Tho if I put on my navy-blue Republican advisor short pants, I implore him to quit now before it gets out of hand, before something absurd happens. Like, for instance, the very day of heroism that is the single reason he is running is negated by those in the trenches that one would imagine would be running through brick walls for him. But no. Wouldn’t this be like the trees being against Smokey the Bear?







...CAN PREVENT RUDY

Big Bear & Little Bear

I'm not an emotional man. I don't cry at movies. I crack jokes at funerals. But yesterday when my one year-old godson wrapped his little mitt around my finger to walk me over to watch the sea lions, I was almost, ALMOST overcome with human-like emotion. It was all I could do to choke said emotion back down into my gut and, just to prove it, beat him up in front of his mama. But I'll always remember that short walk to the sea lions.

Things Are Good, Vol XXI8TDU*XLD

1) Recently I’ve picked up on this Glenn Beck guy; another right-wing talk show host that just tickles me to death. Unintentionally hysterical. Anyways. Bout 2 weeks ago or so I turn him on, kinda not paying close attention, and after a bit I start to notice what he’s ranting about. He’s imploring for us to understand that money does not bring happiness. PLEADING! He starts going on and on and on that great wealth and fortune brings NO happiness! You do NOT want to find this out the hard way!!! He goes on for like 15 minutes, pleading with us to not shoot for great wealth. He doesn’t offer alternate sources of happiness like family or faith or anything; just whatever you do, don’t try to become rich!!! Kinda weird, I think.

Then last week I see THIS article on cnn.com

What the fuck? Did all the rich people get together and decide to try to keep everyone else from becoming rich? “Don’t let them join our club!!!” Is this their plan, to tell us oh, just how MISERABLE they are!! Being rich ain’t like it used to be, it blows!! Really? When did this happen? Hey, my life sucks now; if I’m gonna be miserable I might as well be on a huge yacht with some titties in my face, no? And are people really gonna start saying “you know what guys, looks like being rich sucks, let’s stay poor.” Are models gonna start doing this? “Oh girls, being thin and beautiful is awful!!!! Do yourself a favor and eat anything that moves til you’re a big fat fuck!!”

I’m calling conspiracy here.

2) I just saw a commercial for Bounty paper towels. A kid comes bounding home from school to his mom in what HAS to be the single biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen. I mean, it’s beyond question these people are LOADED. Kid announces that he needs mom to make 60 cupcakes for school tomorrow. Oh my! She starts cranking out cupcakes, flour’s flying, shit spilling everywhere etc. She’s wiping everything up lickity-split with Bounty paper towels. Yeeeeaay! Then you see that she’s using the SAME paper towel over and over for all spills. Little strange, but okay. Me, I’m a one paper towel per spill kinda guy, but what do I know. Then, ta-da!!...she washes the paper towel in the sink, rinses it out, and keeps fucking using it.....what!!?!?!? We’re inside a kitchen the size of a basketball court, and we’re washing/re-using paper fucking towels? I’m supposed to believe this shit? Has anyone on earth ever rinsed a paper towel out and re-used it? And this is the message we’re giving kids, keep spanking into the same paper towel until it’s one huge ball of crusty boy-jizz under your bed? Thanks mom!

“Junior, we can’t afford to send you to college cause your mother went a bit hog-wild with the paper towels. I’m so sorry. Pass the kobe beef popcorn balls, please.”

3) Just when you thought we couldn’t get any lamer, here’s some evidence.

“Oh don’t worry about actually learning to use your instrument Jimmy, just flail around for 60 seconds and pretend you’re doing something.....like your father.” (hiyoooo?)

Pitiful. What’s next, The Fake Orgasm Championships?* The I’m Holding My Hand Up to My Ear as if It Was a Phone Tournament?

Since 2003, scores of pseudo-rockers have been showing off their talent at "airness" before adoring audiences, including yearly qualifying events in New York, for the chance to be crowned world champ at the annual international air-off in Oulu, Finland.

“Adoring audiences”? Who the fuck are THESE people? How bad are these fucking dorks when this fucking idiot is actually the coolest guy in the room?








Hell, I wanna punch THIS mf for doing this shit:










* I had originally written “Female Fake Orgasm Championships”, then of course it occurred to me that unless you’ve got a bottle of Ivory liquid soap while hittin it from behind, “female” is probably implied.

4) Another commercial I saw a while ago was, I can’t remember the name, but it’s some fancy schmancy remote-controlled glider kinda thing. Oh, the commercial is great; dude in the living room controlling the thing so it darts around lampshades and lands perfectly on a slice of toast. Flies through tree branches, picks up a family of squirrels, yada yada. Of course, anyone who’s ever fallen for anything like this knows that at best the thing immediately rolls off the table the second you push go; at worst, you’re a grown man playing “I’m a Pilot!” like a complete faggot.

But the best part is after wowing you with how great it is, all the things you can do, it says something to the effect of “...and if you don’t feel like really flying the glider, you can sit in the comfort of your den and fly it!”...they give you a fucking video game simulator thing for it!! Going outside, getting some fresh air and trying to fly the thing for real? No thanks! You’ll have to pry this joystick from my cold, dead, Cheetos-dust covered hands!!!! What the fuck. I hope it’s within my lifetime that we invent a machine wherein instead of you picking up a piece of food, bringing it to your mouth, chewing and swallowing, you lie there while the machine rolls up, slices your fucking gut open and dumps in the food for you. “What’s that, pizza? Wow, looks good, drop it in! Did you have a watch when you came in? I'm kidding!” Christ.

5) Know what sucks about cell phones? Remember with old phones, if you got into an argument with someone and didn’t wanna be the one to be the first to call? You wanna call and make up, but you don’t wanna be the one to crack. So if the other person did call, you could answer and act surprised it’s them. “hello?...oh........hi.” The best part is even tho you’re glad they called and you’re gonna make up, you get to act annoyed they did; dammit YOU coulda gone the rest of your life not talking, but since you didn’t know who was calling you answered the phone and dammit, now you’re stuck so fuck it, you’re “annoyed” but you might as well listen and make up. “Begrudgingly.” Remember that? Now, no. It’s all caller id. You can’t answer and then act surprised/caught off guard cause the other person KNOWS his/her name pops up. So by even answering, you lose because you’re acknowledging that you’re willing to break down and talk. And acting “surprised” of course makes you an “idiot.” Sigh. Land lines, right? When can we get back to those? And owning the blacks? Sigh.

6) Can we all finally get together and acknowledge that yes, his songs are genius, but Dylan’s self-penned liner notes on 60's albums are complete loads of shit that no one on this planet has actually read or understood? Can we do this?

7) I can’t possibly be the only person here that thinks that the best gig would be Obama’s veep, am I?

Oh, relax....tis only a joke inspired by Eddie Murphy’s "Delirious"...that I’m sure will be ripped off soon by Carlos Mencia, if my comedian gossip is on target....and when did racism-fueled presidential assassinations become taboo? When did this happen?


8) QUESTIONS I NEED TO STOP HEARING:
“Did you see that?” – fellas, this one’s for you. We’re on the couch watching the game, Lebron dunks from 15 feet out and you immediately turn to me “WOW man, what a play!!! Did you see that??!!” No. No I didn’t. While I appear to be watching the same tv as you, I’m actually focusing my eyes exactly four inches to the right of the set, so I’m sorry but no, I guess I missed it. Gee.

“Yeah? West Virginia?” – this is what people say when I tell them I’m from Virginia. “Yeah? West Virginia?” ummm...did I SAY West Virginia? Hmm. I’m gonna start answering “North Virginia”, or “New Virginia”, or “at some point in the evening, my naked testicles will touch something that belongs to you.” Fucking idiots. Do I ask Kansans if they’re from fucking Arkansas? (cue Godsy here)

“Do I know you from somewhere?” to whit:
1) “obviously not, dipshit”
2) “no no....but you do know me from some other time.” (mind blown)
3) “I’m not sure, but we’re in luck since it’s my job to keep an index of everyone you’ve ever met since you’re much too important to remember yourself, you fucking douchebag.”

“This one’s my cell/work/etc phone.” – when people are giving out their info, or business card. “Okay, this one’s my cell, this is my office...” hey guess what jackoff I DON’T GIVE A SHIT! Just give me some numbers to fucking punch in. I don’t have a fucking “special cell dial.” I don’t speak in Latin if I know I’m calling an office phone. Fucking christ. Of course if you give me your home phone number I will track down your address and come to your house and organize your daughter’s underwear drawer in order of what I’d like to see her ride a carousel pony in, but I don’t need to hear which one is your fucking cell/office/mobile/fax etc!!!! Shut up!!

“Are you still sitting here?” – woman actually said that to me. Had spoken bout an hour before. Now she comes walking by, looks at me and asks this. “Are you still sitting here?” Well. Let’s see. You see me. You’re talking to me. I haven’t responded with a voice recording stating that I’m sorry, but I am not here. I don’t really know what to say to this one.

Just Another Sunday Night.

So. I’m sure you people could guess by now how this night went. Total, unmitigated drunken disaster. Surprise! Anyways. Throughout the last few years, this same girl (we’ll call her, oh, let’s say “Adele”) has forwarded me emails from an old friend of hers. Dude spent the last 10 years in love with her, big unrequited crush etc. He’d send her these ridiculous weird emails, then when she was slow to respond, she’d get a string of the ol’ “now I’m angry and spurning you!!!” emails, then silence for a month or two, then another round would begin. She’d forward them to me and we’d laugh, cause dude is a bit of a nut job. Dungeons and Dragons playing nut job in fact. And is into something called “Wicca”, which I found out is kinda like witchcraft. Hmm. Hope he don't see this and put a spell on me. Whatever. So we’d laugh at his ridiculous emails. He’s been writing some movie the whole time, and of course he’d usually lead off with a vague “some really BIG names are interested” etc etc. Hey, we’ve all done that to impress the chickadees. So the other night she forwards me this email he sent her:

hey Adele, i am about to start shooting my feature (at last), got a lot of people excited about doin it, and i was explaining to them the concept i have for doing a trilogy--i have the scripts finished for macabre2 and 3 already,---and i realized i never shared with you the origin of the script for macabre3.

a few years ago, think it was 2003, i had finished macabre2 which ends on a cliffhanger. it took me 2 years to write it, and 33 re-writes, but it was finally done (my bro and i were at the time waiting for that producer to find us a studio). i hate cliffhangers so i decided to start work on macabre3 right away, but i found myself unable to do so. i was stuck! writers' block stopped me dead in my tracks!--for months i was unable to write anything, i couldnt even start. no idea i came up with was any good at all. I had all but given up.

then, in september of 2003 i had a dream that i went to see you in NY. the dream was so powerful and so dramatic that it forms the central storyline for macabre3. i never told you about the dream because at the time we weren't friends or something (we were temporarily not speaking lol), and later on it was too embarrassing to bring up. i didnt wanna just say" hey, i know we havent talked in a while, but i had this amazing dream"

ok so here it is: in the dream I went to NY to see you, but New York was in a desert and looked like a vast iron fortress of pure evil. i saw lines of people walking into the city but they all looked like zombies, and i realized i was walking into hell. when i entered the city i pulled a cloak around me so no one noticed i was a regular human, and i spent a long time looking for your apartment, which turned out to be in the underground part of the city.

when i finally found you, your apartment was HUGE, i mean HUGE! it had 2 floors and was filled with artwork, statues and so forth. but you were so pale and seemed tired. in the dream you told me you were happy there, and you were married, but when i found out who you were married to it was terrifying! you were married to a dragon! and there was a tremor, a large growl shook the earth and you looked scared and said "hes coming". so, i took your hand and we ran to a carriage drawn by 6 horses. we rode off toward the tunnel leading to the surface and this giant white dragon chased us, breathing ice instead of fire. we chraged up the tunnel, the horses running faster but the dragons jaws kept closing in. and just before the jaws came down on us, we escaped the tunnel!

--the dream ended. i woke up in a state of excitement! i said "YES! Thats my storyline!" and so i went on to write MACBRE TALES 3-"BLOODLETTING", a three-hour movie script in just 6 weeks and NO re-writes. I did it in one draft, and its the most amazing story i have ever written, and I owe it to my friendship with you.

If I had never met you, had never been friends with you, never had any dreams with you in them, I would never have had that dream that gave me that amazing story. But i hope you can see why I was uncomfortable bringing it up. I didnt want to imply it had any special meaning, you know besides being really dramatic.--but it was an exciting dream, and i know it'll knock people out of their seats when they see it!

so, i wanted to say thank you. maybe sharing the dream is the best way to say that.

hope all is well
:)

Doug (name changed to protect the other 40 year old D&D guys)

So our guy Xmas gets this the other night. Hmm. I think to myself. Maybe it's time I write this guy, tell him to quit writing her etc. Hey, I decide, I'm doing this dude a favor. No, I've never met him in my life, or written to him; as far as I know he doesnt know I exist, but seems like this is a good time to meet. Just a feeling. Oh, and by the way I was on about my 716th beer of the night. So MAYbe I didn't think it through as well as, say, a loaf of bread might have. Yet I craft:

hey doug-

stop writing Adele your plays; she doesn't care. You're a joke to her; so stop writing. Yeah, I used to fuck her...oh, is that too harsh?...yeah well well lotta dudes fucked her, she loved a lotta dudes and they all fucked her, she's not your little play-do. she's a girl right now that is laughing At you, so stop fucking writing. i know you think that all of a sudden she'll wanna fuck you, but guess what? the answer is NO. so please stop writing. is a joke, and as she reads your email she's probably blowing some dude, so grow up, stop writing stupid shit abuot witches, and hey...good luck.

ps - y9ure

Hmm. I'm particularly intrigued by my postscript...knowing me, I surely meant to type "you're welcome." and hey, I wished the dude good luck! camon!! Im a good guy!!!

Oh, and "Doug" was nice enough to reply to me:

hahahaha..dude, you are a big loser if you think I want to be involved with her. shes my friend and that is it. and if she doesnt really care for my writing well, i suppose shes a big coward for not telling me herself and putting you up to do it, and you are an even bigger moron for doing it. so go fuck yourself

Tough guy! I like it!! I do like how he not only responds to me like an idiot, but explains his relationship with Adele. Thats normal.

Ah well. So if my performance from a few weeks ago did not permamntly put this relationship into the dustbin, surely this did. Hey baby, it's been real! It's been fun! But I can't say it's been real fun....except that time we woke up in Oxford...yes, that was piss.

Good Afternoon Evweebodeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

You know, I'm pretty sure that if one of my dead relatives came back and tried to communicate with me through the radio like in that Micahel Keaton flick, I would cut them off to listen to Mike and the Mad Dog.

"Xmas, I'm back, I'm here to give you the secrets of the universe and to- (sskkkhhkhshssshshskkkkk sound of radio dial turning) "nothin can get by em! turn it on and try 'em!!"

They'd hafta come back at 6:30 I guess.

"How bout Xmas' welatives come back, talk to him thru the wadio?"
"Unnnnnnnnnnnnnghhh...I'm gonna say...6.4 New York, 11.2 national."
"4.1, 7.7 Boy oh boy, that's a tewwible wating Mikey, tewwible."
"Hunngh" (eats Mink)

The Children Really ARE the Future

Well. That's that. Sorry Al; guess you can go back to inventing the Easternets now.

Monday: Ms. Shumblus' 4th-graders decide on string theory (and abortion, time permitting.)

PANIC

My eyes slowly peeling open this morning, I looked at my cable box. Holy fucking shit. 12:04. You gotta be kidding me. I rolled my head back on the pillow. I know I tied one on last night, but is this what I've become? One of those people that sleeps til noon every day? Good lord. I should hang myself. Let's be clear: I have no job. No woman. No earthly reason for getting out of bed. Like George when pressed by Kramer if he even had a reason to get out of bed in the morning, I like to read the Daily News. I am the personification of the Army mantra "hurry up and wait." I may have nothing to do or a reason to live, but I'm up dammit. And now I'm one of those pussies that sleep in til noon? Good god.

Redemption.

Turns up our cable is out. It's 7:02. Thank god. So now not only am I up at a reasonable hour like a man, but the week I'm off tv, the cable goes out. One. for. XMASTIME!!!!!!!!!!!!


Weekend marathon country music festival on WKCR. Interrupted of course by Mike and the Mad Dog. Is it possible to be more obsessed with these guys? Doubt it.









"I just ate that hot dog cart."
"WOWWWW!! That's a gweat job, Mikey!! One for the Big Guy!"

Double Standard!!!!

Oh, camon. This county apparently is threatening to take away this kid for being a 245-lb 7 year old. What the fuck - how come anytime someone in one of these backwater towns grows an 80-lb watermelon or pumpkin they win a prize at the county fair and their picture in the paper? You can't let this kid's mom get some fucking glory?!?!? A moment in the sun? Oh nooo, only if he's a gourd! A ball of yarn!! I'm calling "bullshit!" Let him eat!!! Camon, let's see how big he can get. You get one shot in this life, don't take away this fat bastard's!

Hypocrites.

I Am Declaring a Moratorium On...

...improper use of the word "the." It was cool ten years ago when Letterman did it: "Hey kids, do you like the rock 'n roll?" Now, every fucking day. "You like baseball, Doris?" "Ooooooh yeah, I loooove the baseball." fucking hell. All the words in the English language, and we have to go fuck up "the"? Knock it off. I was gonna place a signature Xmastime "ooooh yeah, I looove the breaking a foot off in your ass" line here, but enough already.

No TV Week

12 noon! Halfway through the week! Im shocked!!

Can't say it's been that hard, to be honest. Between the internets, right-wing radio and a new love for nubile Canadian stockboys, the only problem has been the other night when I made a bowl of popcorn. Sat down to eat it and...wtf. You can't eat popcorn w/o watching tv or a movie, can you? Ain't right. Like drinking beer without punching a hole through the wall, taking a dump through said hole, carefully patching and spackling the sheetrock back up perfectly and then waking up the next morning wondrin what the hell that smell is, right? ah well. 84 more hours!! Halfway home!!!!!

The Greatest Mix Tape I Ever Gave a Girl (Nov. 3, 2001)

SIDE 1

Sha La La La Lee - Small Faces
Chains - Soul Asylum
I Wanna Destroy You - Soft Boys
Borstal Breakout - Sham 69
Teenage Kicks - The Undertones
Romeo Had Juliette - Lou Reed
Have I the Right? - The Honeycombs
Crying, Waiting, Hoping - Marshall Crenshaw
Portland - The Replacements
Can't Hardly Wait (Tim version) - The Replacements
Do It Again - The Beach Boys
Queen of Hearts - Dave Edmunds
Cinderella - The Fuzztones
Nowhere to Go - Soul Asylum
Faraway You - Marah
Living on the Edge of the World - Bruce Springsteen

SIDE 2
Formula, Cola, Dollar Draft - Marah
Hayday - The Replacements
River Deep, Mountain High - Ike n Tina Turner
I Need Your Love - The Ramones
Somebody Like Me - The Ramones
It's Too Hard - DT & the Shakes
It's Been Done - DT & the Shakes
It's Only Make Believe - Conway Twitty
New Drink for the Old Drunk - Crooked Fingers
Ft. Worth Blues - Steve Earle
Baby Come Back - The Equals
Days - The Kinks
Better Days - The Kinks
We All Love Peanut Butter - The One Way Streets
Life and How to Live It - REM
Fairytale of New York - The Pogues





















If I still have the tape, which tells you how great it worked out for me. 😜

Right Wing Radio, We Had A Good Run....

I think my fascination with right-wing radio is coming to a close. I mean, the craziness, it’s too much. To be fair, I listened to Air America for about 10 minutes and it’s the same shit. Preaching to the converted, buncha cheerleaders etc. Who are these shows even for? If you listen to one, you’re a right wing freak; if you listen to the other you’re a liberal freak. Nobody calls in to argue, nobody calls in and says “I’m skeptical, convince me”, no one offers an out-call rim job for under $400. No one.

Today’s Hannity highlight: a woman calls in practically in tears because she had to explain to her 7 year-old daughter who was watching Gore’s appearance on tv what a hypocrite and how just plain EVIL Al Gore is for his global warming stuff. First of all...evil? Evil seems strong, no? I mean, you can be skeptical, you can disagree but the guy IS trying to save the planet. He’s not raising money to build an oven to burn puppies, is he? He’s already a very wealthy man. Bringing this stuff this far surely would diminish his presidential hopes as opposed to laying low. So what does he have to gain? Why would he be doing such a thing? How hot do you think such an oven would hafta get, just off the top of your head?

“Gore is using it to change our economic agenda!” my good good good buddy Seansy is screaming. I see. He wants to take our money and use it.....to have our home NOT turn into a ball of fire. What. a. fucking. dick!!!! I guess if you can’t piss all our dough away in a fake war and kill a bunch of people, what’s the use of even having money? Did I just write bumper sticker? And, using pure logic, if Gore is “evil” for trying to save the planet, then wouldn’t “good” theoretically be destroying the planet? Isn’t that logical? Shouldn’t we all be out desperately shooting hairspray into the air all day and firing nuclear missiles at the glaciers? How much in carbon dioxide emissions would be created by burning, say, a Labra-doodle?














"You call that hot? Turn it UP, you fucking pussy!!"




Now that I think of it, what the fuck is this little girl even doing watching the hearings? What kind of fucking life does this kid have? When I was 7, I didn’t even think the terrorists that took our hostages were “evil”; I was too busy busting my ass to get the spot on the floor right in front of Mrs. Iovino so I could look up her dress while she read us “A Wrinkle in Time.” I mean, there’s child abuse, and then there’s sitting your kid in front of fucking C-Span for chrissakes. One of them you come away scarred forever having lost the ability to trust people; the other one is child abuse. Fucking hell.

I really hope MR. Iovino doesn’t know how to use Google.

And hold up...why wasn’t this little bitch at school? Wtf?

I dunno. Another favorite of mine is these guys love to rail against the “mainstream” media that they’re not part of, this “left wing” media that lurks in every home; that completely monopolizes the airwaves 24/7. Hannity and the Gang, they’re the outsiders, desperately trying to get their righteous word out....Really? I dunno, looking at this list, seems like right wing radio is doing pretty fine. Incredible, even. That coupled with Fox News et al makes me laugh at this “underdog” claim, just like Rudy marveling that “a kid from Brooklyn!” could one day run for President. Yeah. What scrappy, scrappy underdogs these guys are. Like George Bush’s amazing, improbable journey to the White House, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of...the White House. Inspiring.

A few minutes ago, just after explaining to us that “homos” are the reason for the extinction of the white race, Michael Savage defiantly invited Gore on his program and laid out the questions he’d ask. I can’t remember them all, but they include:

“Name the planets, in order from the sun” Savage screams that right off the bat, this will show that Gore “has NO idea what he’s talking about!!” I don’t even know what to make of this. I hope he’s not serious about that being his “gotcha!” question. Would be a great strategy in a court of law, wouldn’t it?

“Mr. Doe, you claim that McDonald’s food is high in fat and is contributing to obesity in society, is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Really. Now, Mr. Doe,” smugly snickers as he looks at his assistant who didn’t even bother bringing notes or a briefcase and has his Jet Blue tickets to Aruba in hand, “Mr. Doe, can you name the ingredients in a Big Mac?” folds hands, moonwalks back to table, high-fives assistant. Awaits applause.

“Two all-beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun.”

Shocked. Silence. “Um....ah...ah...that’s all the questions we have, your honor.”

Assistant crumples tickets in hand, beats head on table.

Now, if Gore somehow does get lucky and answers this question that every 7 year-old knows (including our young girl above, who right now is probably watching the NASA Channel and at the age of 5 invented the “Which planet is an asshole? Uranus!!” joke), Savage plans to attack by asking Gore if he can explain how Mars seems to be going under a warming as well, when ta-da! there’s no humans there! No humans to blame, so it’s not OUR fault, so why are you wasting time with this??!!!

And that’s a big problem. Gore has repeatedly said this is not a political problem; it’s a moral one. But the knee-jerk reaction is “dammit, Gore is a Democrat, so I will fight this cause I’m a Republican!” by attacking his claim that we’re the cause. I mean, what would Gore have to come up with to get these people on his side?

“Al Gore is here to spew that global warming crap!?!?!?!!! No, no no!! I will not have it, we will shout him down, we must-

“Actually, he’s got the Kim Kardashian sex tapes”

“Everybody shut up!! Sit down and shut the fuck up!! Reggie, hit the lights!! Mr. Vice President, you've lost some weight!! Speak!!”

I guess their thinking is if we can discredit his claim that we’re part of the problem, we can get back to giving our money to Halliburton. Fact is, the planet is warming at an irreversible speed. If we choose, we can slow it down. I wish Gore would pick up on what I’m saying and say hey you know what? It’s all MY fault. Or hey, the problem is caused by kittens. Or aliens; whatever, just instead of being defensive, can we get to doing what we need to be doing?

But no. Unless God comes down and says “yeah, it’s ya’lls fault”, as long as we can’t prove 1000% that we’ve directly caused it, nothing will happen. And yes, when I imagine God's voice it's the same as Taylor Hicks. Hey, how many "Seoul Patrol!" jokes do you think he gets when he hits a Chinese food joint? Well. Prolly none since Seoul is in Korea ("The Cousin Oliver of the Orient"!!) Anyways. Sometimes I wonder if this is BECAUSE Gore isn’t saying, “this will happen in your lifetime.” There’s a creepy part of the whole Christian side of things, that every “real” Christian honestly believes The Rapture will occur in their lifetime. “Of COURSE the world will end and Jesus will come back while I’m here; why else am I a super-Christian? Why else am I going to church? What’s Neil Diamond doing here?” Like people who run around with “The World is Ending!!” signs and then are disappointed when it doesn’t happen. We can’t fathom that something so huge wasn’t laid out to happen just for us. Ask a Red Sox fan. So the second Gore starts saying that the actual fireball of destruction won’t happen in our lifetime, our minds start wandering back to titties and “Growing Pains.” Or “titties that were on ‘Growing Pains.’” Or “How to Fist Someone in a Wheelchair IV.”

Sorry. Couldn’t resist. You know I gotta go blue every once in a while, I apologize for the crassness. And obviously the answer is to put on the brakes, shove them out of the chair, pull down the elastic waistband pants and start fisting.

Finally, it’ll be a miracle if any of these people on the radio can go 5 minutes without celebrating Bush’s speech yesterday “Wow!! Thank GOD President Bush has FINALLY stood up to the Democrats!!! He’s decided enough is enough, he’s done bending over backwards being nice to these people!!”

Really? Has the Democratic yoke of power the last 6 years been THAT bad? Wow, had no idea. I saw a guy chopping up the Constitution with unbridled fervor and desperately trying to okay torture and booting out attorneys who don’t “Hiel Georgie!” quickly enough; sneering at bi-partisanship like me at someone reaching for one of my curly fries. And pushing us into a war so that he could take his medals home to pin on Daddy’s fridge. I had no idea he was curled up on the floor, crying his eyes out cause the Democrats were bullying him. Plucking him on the back of the head on the school bus? Atomic wedgies in front of Laura? Wow. Had no idea. Way to go, W! Again, the oppressed finally having their moment. You did it.

So my career as a listener of talk radio is over. Mike and the Mad Dog notwithstanding, of course. Wait, wait...Laura Ingraham’s coming on...I’ll stop in a few hours. (goodbye pants)

XMASTIME

Postscript – just heard some talk show cat on WABC, I don’t know which one he is, screaming about abortion. Which is, he says of course, murder. Some guy’s like i dunno, the baby is INSIDE the woman, it’s hers and our guy asks “If it’s okay to kill a baby because it's inside a woman, is it okay to kill a man who’s inside her during sex?” wow.

Today's Super Schlices o' Schlices

Penny & Me - Hanson
Words - Bee Gees
Blue Jean - David Bowie
Halloween - Dream Syndicate
We All Love Peanut Butter - The One-Way Streets

What Do Ya Know

The absurdly rich helping the poor. What a foreign concept.

He said he is renting the homes "because the affluent people can help the least fortunate people."

What book do I keep hearing about that espouses this? Hmm. Well. Finally one person who’s actually doing it.

Now that I'm Hooked on Right-Wing Talk Radio...

...must say. Laura Ingraham gets me as aroused on the radio as she ever did on tv. Driving me nuts! That voice!! Agree with nothing she says, but would marry her tomorrow. Tho I just read she converted to Catholicism. Excuse me? Who converts TO Catholicism? Aren't we all desperately running FROM it? Reckon we all at least slightly despise what we're born into. I guess it's like when you're a kid and your friends say your parents are cool, and you're horrified. What? THEM??!!!! oooooooooookay....

Just Think What He'd Do if JFK was in Office....

One great thing about no tv is I’m learning more about talk radio, which I’ve never really been privy to. Turns out my good good good buddy Sean Hannity has a radio show too! Yeeaaahh! I happened to tune in to his show just as the President was speaking live. I’m listening, kinda shaking my head etc, drifting in and out when I’m like...who’s that other voice? What the...

“It's now my hope that the United States Congress will act appropriately. My administration has made a very reasonable proposal (oh yes, yes it is!). It's not too late for Democrats to drop the partisanship and work together (oooh yeah, yeah great answer, GREAT answer). Democrats now have to choose whether they will waste time and provoke an unnecessary confrontation, (oh yeah, say it again, yeah) or whether they will join us in working to do the people's business. There are too many important issues, from funding our troops (yes! yes!) to comprehensive immigration reform, to balancing the budget, for us to accomplish on behalf of the American people (yes! Oh man, great, yes!!).

All of a sudden it occurs to me...is Sean jacking off to the President speaking on the air? Wtf! I’ve done the deed in some whack places, but wow. Never live on my own radio show to the strains of Dubya. Wow.








"Hey, freedom gets me hard. Sue me!!"

Los Jankees

This is my 10th season as a Yankee fan. I'm not syaing they'll plan anything special for me, but it is what it is. In such a short, spoiled time I have fallen prey to the "World Series title or nothing!!" mentality, brought up by Verducci here. In a nutshell:

But the Yankees continue to set themselves up for joyless seasons and their own definition of failure by thinking they should win the World Series every year. Last season they lost two-thirds of their starting outfield and they still won more games than any team in the league and blew the doors off the rest of their division -- and went home horribly unhappy, ready to fire the manager, run a Hall of Fame pitcher out of town and heap more abuse on an all-time great third baseman. Their fans have zero interest in Division Championship hats.

He's right, we tend to act like complete jackasses. As much as I love my squad, I also have a special place for genuine, rabid Yankee haters. I wish someone would do a documentary on 'em. And Yankee fans can be COMPLETE fucking idiots.













"Yeah yeah, I know...I'm the WORST player ever, I should be traded for a loaf of bread. I hear ya."

Oh, Please

Ummm....Heather Mills, "More guts than Rambo"?!!? Let's see. One of them, while bilking one of the Beatles for moolah, is dancing on tv. The other, and I quote from his Wiki entry, "...steals an M60 machine gun from the National Guardsmen and returns to Hope, where he destroys a gas station, telephone junction boxes, power lines, and a local store." I mean, hot damn!!! a local store even!!

Please. THIS Rambo could whip her ass.

"My Guilty Pleasure"

I hate motherfuckers that claim a certain song or tv show is their "guilty pleasure." "MMM-Bop" comes on the radio and they're dancing to it sheepishly and say "oh man, I hate this music but this song is my one guilty pleasure." Yes. Cause I'm sure normally you're in your room listening to Bach's Das Wohltemperierte Clavier. Fucking christ. And you take a break from your "Masterpiece Theatre" marathons for "Real World/Road Rules Challenge", your "guilty pleasure!" If you like "MMM-Bop" just fucking say so you like the fucking song; the only people that will judge you is some douchebag like TA-DA! you!

These people, I wanna break my foot off in their asses. Would I feel guilty? Sure. And it's my fucking pleasure.

Tough Guys!

Though I did not let myself watch my usual Melrose at 4pm followed by a double shot of BH 90210 today, I did think they deserved a little thought on my part. And all I could think of was how the fuck did shrimpy, hair gel-shorn, $200 t-shirt wearing white pussies like Dylan and Jake become the “tough” guys on their shows? Who casted these cats?

“I’m gonna need a gruff, no-nonsense tough guy who with a glowering look can let the bikers at the bar know to not fuck with him...BINGO!”




"Hi guys!"


“and ooooooooh, we’ll put him on a bike! With a helmet!”



“Vroom vroom!!!”


I mean, if Dylan came up to you all angry looking for a fight, would you even notice him? Camon.







“I’m so tough I punch myself in the head during my Salon 70 photo shoots.”

Same thing with Melrose. The older, even MORE gruff Jake...lookout everyone, he’s a loner!!...even though he shares a swimming pool with 10 other people. I’m sorry, but if I’m about to get into a fight with some dude and I find out he has a swimming pool where he lives, any intimidation that might have been there is gone. Drained, even.

Oh no, here’s our tuff guy waiting to whup your ass.....








....just don’t get no blood on his incredibly pressed, tucked in t-shirt (ooooohh, BLACK tee! Scary!!!) Again. I don’t think I’ve ever lost a fight to a dude with his shirt tucked in. Or with hair like this:








I mean, come on Aaron Spelling. Like your daughter with her “tits” and “acting” at least try to fool us. We deserve that much, no?


















“No. You don’t. And as soon as my Balanchine method step class is over I’m gonna kick. your. ass.”








“Get him, Dylan...and yeah, your hair looks great...WAY great, man.”

Hour 14, No TV

Dipping my toes back into the world of reading with my all-time favorite play, The Star Spangled Girl by Neil Simon. To me, still the gold standard of funny line after funny line in a script. Stumbled upon this in a NS collection when I was in 6th grade; included Barefoot in the Park, Come Blow Your Horn, The Odd Coulple among others. The Star Spangled Girl, always my super-slice. 2 Xmastime pine thumbs up.

1:21PM

1:21pm. Right now I'd be watching "Mike and a Mad Dog." Which is....a radio show. This is how bad I've gotten. I stare at the tv watching radio. Unreal.

Xmastime Warming

Apparently, on Capitol Hill they seem to think they’re all of a sudden gonna bust Al Gore on global warming. Now, a heads-up I would give to these people is hey, guess what......he’s been talking about this for fucking 30 years. He wrote a fucking book called “Earth in the Balance” about, oh, 16 years ago. The slideshow that became the movie “An Inconvenient Truth” is a slideshow presentation he’s given over 1000 times. This is typical, short-sighted fucking hell I’ll say it STUPID rationale we are beginning to see over and over not only in this particular argument, but with our government in particular. Hey, guess what dumbasses? This isn’t some home-made short film about co-ed volleyball at St. Padre Al decided to show up and collect a check on; he’s been working on it since he was at Harvard a million years ago. This isn’t “hey, let’s ask Roy Scheider about sharks dammit!!!” To show you how fucking stupid and short-sighted these people are, I, XMASTIME, who we all know is about as dumb as fucking...well hell, I can’t think of anything, but he’s dumb...if Xmastime can answer these questions, they’re you’re (the questioners) are fucking idiots, I hope you enjoyed the free bagels, now get the fuck out.

INTRO PARAGRAPH
“Temperatures are predicted to reach a high of only 43-degrees on Wednesday in Washington, but look for high-heat to come out of Al Gore's scheduled appearances on The Hill!”

FIRST OF ALL: Along with several articles in the past few weeks, I note the GLEE whenever there’s a meeting on global warning and it gets snowed out. “Oh well” they shrug, laughing, “where’s the global warming now?” Yeah, that’s right jackass, cause Gore is saying the world is going to end....ON TUESDAY!! You’re an idiot. Hey, for the last 2,000 years you’ve been telling me Jesus is coming back...how’s that going, wonderfuck? Gee whiz, I went to church the other day...and there was no second coming!!!! Must mean there’s no God, right? Hmmmm....

“You have said several times that we have 10 years to act to stave off global warming. Was that 10 years from the first time you said that or 10 years from now? We just wanted to get a firm date from you that we can hold you to.”

The serious answer? Hey, if you don’t care enough about your own planet to ask a real question, you should leave the room. The Xmastime answer? Why don’t we assume he means 10 years from right NOW; i.e. maybe instead of thinking “oh well, if only he had caught me last Monday I’d do something about our planet being destroyed!” you can be more like “maybe I shouldn’t be Dick Cheney.” We can’t find Bin Laden, we can’t figure out who killed Kennedy and HELLO, WE HAVE IT ON FILM!!!, we still have NO idea where George W. Bush - you know, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, was for an 18-month period in the 70s, yet unless Gore can nail down this tipping point to the millisecond, well then gee it’s not worth me turning off my puppies and gold-fueled Hummer. Christ. You win, fuckface!

"How can you continue to claim that global warming on Earth is primarily caused by mankind when other planets (Mars, Jupiter and Pluto) with no confirmed life forms and certainly no man-made industrial greenhouse gas emissions also show signs of global warming? Wouldn’t it make more sense that the sun is responsible for warming since it is the common denominator?"

Okay, to use your three examples....number one, Pluto? You wanna base an argument re: “other planets” on Pluto?

“On Aug. 24, 2006, at a meeting of the International Astronomical Union (IAU) in Prague, astronomers voted to downgrade Pluto's status. It is no longer considered to belong in the same category as Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune”

This might be something you wanna be aware of if you’re about to enter an argument about science. You MIGHT wanna know what is a, you know, “planet.” You fucking dumb shit.

Jupiter? Gee Professor, another good one...there’s no carbon dioxide on Jupiter. I figured that out after about 20 seconds on the web; I hope you can come up with another question for Gore that’s better than the above one. Do...do people even say "the web" anymore? Yeesh.

And the best for last? Mars. Okay, now you might think you have a case; what 2 planets are more alike than these two? Surely Mars will prove you point!!!

Well. Let’s see. ...Gore’s movie studied the effects of carbon dioxide over the last 650,000 years on Earth....Yes, you read that right. 650,000 years. Now, after 650,000 years and coming to a point wherein we even ARGUE that global warming is a problem, what’s our carbon dioxide count? How fucked are we?

Earth: 0.04% carbon dioxide
Mars:?

Mars is 95.72% carbon dioxide

So maybe that, once again, is a foolish comparison.

"Joseph Romm, the executive director for the Center for Energy and Climate Solutions, has said we must build 700 large nuclear plants to stave off climate change. Where do you stand on the need for nuclear energy?

Gore: "I’m for it." Dumbass.

Do you think the earth is significantly overpopulated and that is a major contributor to your view of climate change. If yes, what do you think is a sustainable population for the planet?

Both questions were answered extensively in the flick...which you obviously didn't watch dickface.

I love it. These idiots think Gore has just picked up on this to get votes for his maybe Prez campaign? Fucking idiots. My big hope is he sends out one of those kids on "Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?" to roll their eyes while answering these questions, forcing the questioners to annunce to the world, into the camera, "I am not smarter than a fifth grader...and Nathalie Holloway is chained in my pool house."

Ugh. It's Come to This.

I am 643 minutes into my first ever self-imposed exile from television. I've decided to see if I can ONE week without watching tv. Instead of reading, exercising or becoming a better citizen I have spent the better part of the last decade staring open-mouthed at this thing, my brain and body turning to mush. One week. We'll see if I can do it...I have serious doubts. I will get back to being the voracious reader I was many lifetimes ago, and maybe get my old, dusty need-to-be-oiled muscles out of storage.

WHICH LEADS ME TO....

After 10 years of being, for lack of a better word, FAT...wait...husky better?...naw, gotta use "fat"...I have realized you know, enough is enough. I'm not the fat kid, wasn't born fat, was once a proud athlete. Settling into this Jabba the Hut Coat of chicken skin has made me the lonely, unenergetic lump of nothing I've been. Well. At least has been a huge contributor. Yes, I know, I'm still funny. Or, as you really wanna say, "jolly." Fuck yew. This final impetus was a few weeks ago, uncovered some old videotapes of yours truly. Strapping! 180 lbs!!!! An amazing specimen!! Well. Not fat, at least....startling to remember hey, you weren't always like this, dumbass. Quit being a fatass, you've wasted a decade. So I am proclaiming here and now: by the last day of 2007, I will be under 200 lbs or I'm just gonna fucking kill myself by sticking my head in the oven. And just to bring home the humiliation of being defeated by fat of all things, I will do it while baking a fresh batch of cinnamon raisin rolls, right by my head. I will give regular updates on here re: my progress. Will exercise every day and learn to eat like a fucking human. Wish me luck!

right now, I'd normally be watching "Frasier." sigh.

Book Review, Waterworks

First of all, I love the Pistol. Always have, always will. Love any piece of footage I can get my hands on, love his craziness, the solitude, the black/white dynamic, the million hours practicing alone, love the father/son saga i.e. the Faustian bargain the two of them made. Love how worked up my boss in Mississippi would get about seeing him play as a kid. And I've always loved Mark Kriegel. But I can't say I love love love the book like I thought I would. To be fair, one big reason is before I read it, Kriegel went on Mike and the Mad Dog and basically told every story in the book. So as I'm reading, I'm like heard that, heard that, heard that. But the writing is also a bit convoluted; especially in Pete's early years - every few pages you find yourself thinking hold on...what grade are we in? Which school are we at? Jumps back and forth. Plus, there weren't as many great LSU stories as I was hoping for, just generalities. Save of course when he got carried off the court by the fans...AT Georgia. I'll go back and read and reread cause I love the Pistol, but I was a bit disappointed.

So after The Pistol dies I'm at the end, I'm cruising through the stuff about his kids yeah yeah yeah, okay okay, hard following him, here's some touching moments blah blah blah basically just cruising to the end to finish.

I can't remember the last time I had the wind knocked out of me with a book; maybe I gotta go back to "Where the Red Fern Grows." I dunno. End of "Ethan Fromme" I was out of breath, but that was from excitement. I got upset when the kid dies in "The Member of the Wedding", but that was cause the boy on the front cover of my copy looked exactly like my little brother. Nothing like this bit, about Pete's son Jaeson a few years back at a basketball camp helping a little kid. I'm blithely flipping through the pages then all of a sudden open mouthed, catch in the throat gut-punched, choking back tears/eyes watering. I caught myself before I became a mess. Stumbled through the last two pages of the book, went back to it, completely overcome. Embarrassed at myself, but man.

He saw a runty kid with a buzz cut get off the bus crying. The boy was eight years old, and he wanted to go home. The other kids teased him. He couldn't shoot. Then he'd get all nervous, which only made it worse. He'd start throwing up airballs.

So Jaeson took him to the gym every morning at 10:30 when everybody else was at the snack bar. They worked on mechanics and form, and by the end of the week the kid hit three foul shots in a row. He was never going to be a ballplayer. But three in a row was something he'd always remember.

And so would Jaeson.

Without warning, the kid put the ball down and gave him a hug.

It was better than a 40-point game.

Blacks in the Kitchen

One thing I don't get. Whenever you see an old movie or read a story about white folks back in the day - be it days of slavery, or the 100 years after - perhaps they'll have slaves or servants. Now, they treat the black people as beneath themselves - particularly with slaves, who they can treat like animals. (Obviously some are worse than others; we're not talking Calpurnia here.) Even if friendly with the "house negroes", they're seen as obviously inferior and repulsive to the whites.

But they have no problem with the black people cooking their food. If you're repulsed enough by a race to put them beneath yourself, treat them like animals should you wish, never allowing their dark skin to touch your own, why are you okay with them touching your food in the kitchen? Or washing your clothes by hand? Always cracks me up. "Hope you learned something from this whuppin....now make me some crab cakes."







"Oh, I'm good enough to make you flapjacks but can't sit in your precious chair? Fuck yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeww!"

Hot Chicks

I'm always vaguely surprised whenever a really hot girl is genuinely nice. I don't know why, I've had plenty of girl friends that are hot and very nice, but for some reason one of my glitches is that if you're a hot chick, you're probably not very nice. I'm always surprised if they're religious, if they love their family or if they love dogs. Hot girl walking down the street, new hot girl I've met? I assume all they're about is being hot, so they can be mean/selfish etc. And before the emails come no, I'm not angry at them because they don't fawn all over me even tho I'm an overweight loser and masturbate to farm porn all day. I know I'm not the catch of the day right now. So calm down.

Something I need to work on in 2007, I reckon. Don't automatically think because a girl is hot she must be a heartless bitch. Where does that anger even come from? And succinctness. Could work on that. I never seem to use 10 words if 100 will do. Go on and on. And on.

A SIDE NOTE:
I take umbrage whenever I'm strolling RRTHUR JR. around (yes ladies, he's THAT beautiful!) and a woman walks by without oohing and cooing a little bit at him. No smile, no "awwwwwww!"???? What kind of bitch are you? Would I wanna be with such a woman? Hell no. Very suspicious.

By the Way....

seperated at birth?

Idiot Wind

As I just realized I've stolen his decor, I feel I should give Tinsel and Rot a shout out; particularly as his current post points out the most outrageously awful list of all time, the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame's "Definitive" 200 Albums of All Time. Which apparently puts "Blood on the Tracks" somewhere between Vanilla Ice: The Outtakes and Saved by the Bell Does Oklahoma! As my boy Andrew Sullivan would say, the money quote:

But, wait, other albums "more definitive" than "Blood on the Tracks": Kid Rock's "Rebel Without A Cause"; Phil Collins' "No Jacket Required"; Faith Hill's "Breathe"; Linkin Park's "Hybrid Theory"; the "Dirty Dancing" soundtrack; Kenny G's "Breathless"...I'm sorry... I can't do this anymore.

Unreal. And that first paragraph I wrote should be taught in Bad-grammar classes around the country.















"Number WHAT?.....are you...retarded?....oh yeah...The Wallflowers suck."

Guess Which Finger I'm Holding Up, Bill

The last coupla times I've flipped on to catch my future best friend Bill O'Reilly on his show, he's been in the midst of a heavy, serious segment with.....a body language expert. What? That's right. After an interview, this chicks comes in and lets us know what they REALLY meant by their body language. What the fuck...why not a palm reader? Maybe Bill can tell us how to end the war with some tarot cards? Or how about wasting more important time, maybe have some world leaders come on and try to guess how many fingers you're holding up behind your back?

Fucking idiot. The war, the administration, Walter Reed, global warming? nah nah; let's get that body language expert on; see what Koko the Chimp REALLY meant when she was making her Final Four picks!!!! I'm here for the folks!!!! How are we supposed to be white-hot enraged about those Vermont judges letting sex offenders out of jail 30 minutes early if you're not screaming about them, Bill?

Hey jackass, take a look at THIS body language and tell me what's going on. Otherwise, get off the air and give my good good good buddy Sean Hannity an extra hour to explain why freedom in Iraq is more important than my own. Seansy! My guy!

Fucking Finally

All these years and years of having to reluctantly throw out the egg rolls from my Chinese lunch combos. Used to break my heart every time....such a fine deep-fried tube of oily crispiness, wasted because it housed cabbage. Ugh. Then...sweet epiphany! I finally found a role for them in my repast.

Take off one end of the egg roll –as little as possible, so you’re left with more to eat. Now take your fork and gut the egg roll. A real one, not one of the 14 plastic ones they force on you. What’s going on in China; they got a plastic surplus problem? I get a large Wonton soup, I get 6 spoons. How many people do they think I’m splitting the 6 little wontons with? Do you SEE me? (not a squint-eye joke...unless its funny) Get it all, you should be scraping by the end. Now you may either eat it al fresco, or dip it in your egg foo young sauce, or even better stuff it with your pork fried rice. Ta-DA!

Bring the (beep)ing Pain, (no beep)

I flipped over to Chris Rock on “Inside the Actors Studio” a few minutes ago. Who doesn’t love Chris Rock? Well, we all do, even if he hasn’t said or done anything funny in about 10 years. But anyway. Lipton is talking with Rock and it turns out I’ve landed on the show just in time, they’re about to talk about Rock’s famous Bring the Pain stand up special. And they go to the spot we all know, we all love, the thing about the difference between black people and niggers.

Now, again, this is Bravo. Regular cable. So Rock launches into the routine, and guess what word you hear about 15 times in one minute? N---er. N---er  this, N---er that, N---er everything.N---er , on regular cable, thrown about like it's no big deal. Bravo not only has no problem letting the word “N---er” through the censors without a beep; they can not even defend themselves by saying “oh well, this is a young black guy tossing the word around like you or I might say 'fiddlesticks'”: Rock is laying out what the worst of the word is; what makes the word “N---er” what it is. Bravo has no problem with this word. Meanwhile? “Fuck” is beeped.

“N---ers got to get the fuck out!”

Now, which word is nebulous to you? “N---er”, or “fuck”? Exactly. And which word fuels hatred? “N---er”, or “fuck”? Exactly.

Yet “fuck” is what got beeped, repeatedly throughout the act. I don’t understand this. A word that is the Babe Ruth of racial insults, oh that’s okay. But the f-word? Oh my, what if Suzy Creamcheese in Omaha hears that??!?!??!!?!!! Jesus doesn’t like the f-word!!...but I guess he doesn’t care about niggers. Great.

So obviously it's okay for me to traipse around saying "N---er", but not "fuck." Got it!

Same way I’ve always been weirded out with “goddamn” on tv. “God” is a word you can say on tv. “Damn” is a word you can say on tv. But “goddamn”? No. Gets beeped. But what’s funny about this? I would assume that like me, you would think that the word that make's it a curse would be “damn.” But guess what word gets beeped? “God.”

“Who left my (beep)damn skates in the garage?”

The word that is (or at least USED to be) a curse, can stay; but not “God.” Makes no sense to me.

Shake Shack (Shook Up)

Being in the city on Friday, I flirted with the notion of callin up Op and finally hitting the Shake Shack. Didn't. Today was cruising through A Hamburger Today and I noticed that a Shake Shack burger is a mixture of sirloin and brisket. Which startled me - brisket? Doesn't that seem like cheating? Shouldn't it be sirloin and chuck to be "real"? Take some ordinary chuck, THEN try and impress me? I dunno, maybe that's how these great joints are doing it. Seems like it'd be like having 2 girls in a make-out contest, but one of 'em lets you up in them titties, no?



















PS - No, that's not me in the pic. Not into blondes, tho I do love plastic titties.

Yet ANOTHER Reason to Hate Actors

First of all, ain't nobody gives less of a shit about actors than me. You know this. But at least you had the semi-heartwarming stories of youngsters moving out to LA, desperately hustling to make their dream come true and feeling lucky when they'd break in with a commercial. Tis how it used to be done. Of course, all the ones who've already made it become horrified whenever the old clips of them peddling for Burger Chef etc pop up. But it used to be that's how you'd catch a break if you were lucky, and it was understood that that's who commercials would get, struggling unknowns.

Now? Now every fucking commercial, you hear famous, big-time actors. DeNiro? Need to sell cars? Oh, ye$$$$$$. Fuckwads. It's like if NBA players decided heeyyyy, why don't we go down and start playing the high school games too? But oh, every time you see one of these big stars being interviewed, they're waxing poetic, trying to melt our hearts re: their incredible struggle in the beginning, eating pancake batter, hustling. Now they're more than happy to trample over both struggling unknowns and people who have been making a very good living doing commercials. No sense of team spirit, cause if you're sittin on $245M, why not grab another $100k? Which would make absolutely no difference in your life or career, but could absolutely change some kid's life at the bottom. But fuck him, you need more.

And does John Goodman's fat ass really need to be pimping for Dunkin Donuts? Does that really seem safe for anybody?

March Unconquerable Madness

And now the craziness begins ie who got in, who didn't get in, the seeding etc. As I speak Mad Dog's heart is seizing as he peels Mike's oiled hair back, screaming. Every year, I study the brackets like they're the Dead Sea Scrolls; upon completion, EVERY SINGLE TIME I look at my picks and honestly think "...you know what...I don't see a wrong pick here..." and I try to stuff in as many ACC teams into the Final Four as possible. Which, I guess, would be by definition...four. And, of course, by the end of Day 1 my bracket sheet is hurled in the garbage, wrong wrong wrong, and I swear the next year I'm gonna pick by uniforms a la Dwayne picking football teams on their helmets.

What does drive me crazy though...dudes filling out more than one bracket. Gutless. They fill out their "real" one, then fill out another one with their "upsets." Their wacky bracket! So that when a 15 does beat a 2 they can crow abut it, cause it was on one of their 192 bracket sheets they filled out. Fuck that. Me? As 8-Mile once said, you only get one shot (shout out to Medium G.) So here's my one bracket for all to see.

Backhand

A coupla days ago, a friend of mine marveled that I had the most unfounded self-confidence of anyone he had ever seen.

"What does that mean?" I say.

"I mean, I don't know anyone who has as much self-confidence as you. But look at your life, look at you....there's no WAY you should think that highly of yourself, but you do. It's really incredible."

eye-eye-eye. In his defense, he thought he was giving a compliment. Good intentions. But is this the worst thing you can say to someone? "Oh by the way, that self-confidence, that one thin strip of liking yourself that keeps you functional? Yeah, that should go too."

Ah well. Will all change when I publish my "Dogs Sticking their Heads Out of Moving Cars" Calendar and make it big.

Writing for Hannity

So on a day when the FBI is caught abusing the Patriot Act and Gonzalez’ Justice Department is on the run, never mind Scooter Libby and Walter Reed even, what’s my good good good buddy Sean Hannity talking about? He’s giving a veritable “Best of” round up on the teacher sex scandals through the last year. And it’s not “what do we have to fill in the last 3 minutes of air time?” either; we’re only 20 minutes into the show. With more and more shit coming out about his Republican buddies fucking up, I’m worried he’s gonna run out of worthless shit to talk about, and since he’s my good good buddy I thought I’d help him out and suggest some hot topics:

“Buttered Toast: The Devil’s Oven Mitts?”
“Hubba Bubba vs. Bubble Yum: The War You Don't Want Your Children to Sign Up For”
“Was David Silver THE Worst White Hip Hop Artist of All Time?”
“English Muffins: You Call That ‘Fork Split’?”
“The Sweet Potatoes Fad - Anyone Else Not Getting This?"
“The Little Fried Bits That Fall off the Fish at Long John Silvers”
“Hating the Troops: This Generation’s Moon Landing?”
“Is Ben Franklin Still Our Best President?”
“Daylight Savings Time...AGAIN, the Democrats Refuse to Spend”
“We Can Spray Whipped Cream from a Can, But Not Mayonnaise? Are We in Red China?”

This’ll get you started buddy, lemme know if you need more!

Friday Night

I'm flipping around, and I just landed on "G-String Divas" on HBO. And by "I'm flipping around, and I just landed on 'G-String Divas' on HBO" I mean "I've got a new tub of Country Crock, 20 minutes, and a libido that's playing speed-bag with my testes." There's a coupla strippers sittin round after work...camera pans, and there's one of them drinking a glass of milk. I don't know...I don't have a daughter of my own, but I am pretty sure if I did I would not want her to have job where a legitimate question would be "umm...IS that milk?"

Let Me Off at the Next Stop

And now it turns out the FBI abused the power granted to them by the godawful Patriot Act. I mean, jesus christ....with this gang, you barely have time to shake your head about one of their huge fuckups before another one comes tumbling down. It's hardly fun anymore for chrissake, who can keep up?!! I'm scared to hit my fucking refresh button. Law-breaking, hubris-fueled gaffes by these idiots is like a gotdam bus. Missed one? Don't worry, they'll be another one in a few minutes.

And Why the Fuck...

...is the ACC Tournament in Florida?

LISTED!

Sad to Watch

Is John McCain the single most disappointing Senator ever? I mean, can you imagine supporting this guy for years, all the times he seemed to be the only one in the room making any sense at all, and he's turned into such a hoovering douchebag? Oooh, what a "straight-shooting maverick;" you get the feeling this guy would sell Hitler bubblegum cards if it would make him President. And why not? 72 is the new 62! It's a shame, as his Reagan hiding his own Easter eggs line will prolly never be topped.

Early Dark Horse

Saw this guy on "60 Minutes" a while back and then again on Charlie Rose last night, and I like him. Has a creepy thing going on, but he seems to be the only guy with a viable idea to nip our dependance on oil in the bud instead of just shrugging his shoulders and shoving billion dollar bills in Exxon's pockets. Tho I guess that would mean Bush and Saudi Arabia would have to break up, c'est la vie. Also is a self-described populist, fierceful in his demands to help "the little guy." And as a hunter knows how to handle a rifle without looking like an idiot, which of course is so important int his country. Why I don't know; can you ever imagine the sentence "okay okay, everybody calm down...the President is on the way, he's gonna shoot the damn thing."

ALSO Shit-Listed!

Oh, joy! Looks like Will Ferrell is in ANOTHER dumbass movie as a bumbling, simpleton goofball every-man! Hoooray! Let me guess - skates across ice frantically with no sequined shirt on! Wow!

We've been over this, and I'm done being nice/tolerant/high roadly:

If you saw "Kicking & Screaming" you are a FUCKING IDIOT.
If you saw "Talladega Nights" you are a FUCKING IDIOT.
And if you go see "Blades of Glory" you are a FUCKING IDIOT.

This jackass is like Ann Coulter; the only way he's gonna stop this shit is if we stop throwing money at him. For the love of christ.

On My List!!

Why the fuck do regular stations show movies like "Showgirls" and "Striptease"?? what the fuck! Who's the wizard behind this - hey fuckwit, there's only one reason we watch these flicks, and if I can't see no gotdam titties don't fucking bother! Christ. And of course they make it even worse by showing the warning screen before the movie starts: "Contains nudity." Um...no, genius....it DID contain nudity, now it DOESN'T. Thanks for nothing, total fuckwad. I WAS watching your channel, now I'm NOT.

Basketball Week Part II: The Chinn Dome

Our basketball home away from home was my friend Michael’s house, "The Chinn Dome." He had a big outdoor light, so we could play there after dark. I had a spot about 18 feet out that I shot from so much it was called “Xmas’ fucking crater," I wouldn’t be surprised if my footprints were still there. Usually we’d play 2 on 2, I must’ve run the only 2-man zone defense in the history of basketball – “you got the left side, I got the right.” Cause like I said before, I ain’t wasting my breath chasing nobody round playing defense for chrissake. The closest I’ve ever come to crying during a game was one night my brother got pissed at me bout something and vowed to shut me down, and gotdam if I even fucking touched the ball for two hours. I’m running round and round like a smack addict needing some junk, in a panic cause I’m not getting my shots. Motherfucker. It was quite a setup, we’d bust our asses playing, then take a break in the grass, guzzling water from the hose while the smoking hot Dryden girls from next door would slide over to gab/flirt/watch the moon reflect off my sweaty, sinewed heaving 16 year-old chest, perhaps noticing a bead of my gilded sweat as it slowly ran down over one of my pecs, easing down to my chiseled stomach, achingly just barely moving as it made its way past each abdominal until it hit the top of my shorts which are just barely covering my hip bone, part of it getting soaked into the cloth material, but some of it making it past, finding itself working down my inner thigh, losing speed but not want, still on the thigh, still sliding down, still on the thigh, now twisting around my knee and finding the soft, lily-white pillow of flesh directly opposite of my knee cap before picking up speed on the smooth, rock-hard asphalt land that makes up my calf before settling once and for all in my sock, joining the dirt, the dust, the blood and other dude’s tears who had tried to guard me. Sweet girls.

Anyways, it was also the site of one of my most almost-embarrassing moments. In December of 1988 I was in the midst of courting the girl who was to become my first girlfriend, and my desperation and teenage lust had been driven to such ludicrous heights that I had made up my mind that if I was going to win her affection I would have to get her a Christmas present to show my never-ending love and devotion, thereby sending out the signal that I wanted to get up in them lady Umbros. A few days before Christmas we’re getting ready to go to the Chinn Dome, which I saw as the perfect opportunity as she lived about a 5-minute drive from Michaels house. Grab a gift, swing it by her joint after gunning the rock. Giving no thought, of course, to 1) what the hell I would get her 2) how I would wrap it 3) the plight of blacks in the country 4) how I would hide it from the rest of the guys. There were 2 things that would get you razzed: liking a girl, and liking a guy. One meant you would be ribbed by the fellas, the other meant you were probably Tommy Waters. Even at the age of 16 you didn’t want anyone finding out you “liked” a girl, you just didn’t need anything else for the guys to pile on about; the fear of getting caught masturbating or liking books was enough. Particularly if the chances of being rejected were still pretty good. So I make up a reason to pop into the drugstore on the way to the Chinn Dome so I can get a gift. That’s right, the drugstore. The Tiffany’s of Tappahannock. I quickly found the absolute perfect gift: a little piano that opened up and played “Memories.” Ding-ding, ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding ding! I remember it being $14.99. My first ever romantic gift, and I hit a home run!!!

I make it to Mike’s without my brother finding out what I had done, and we start playing. I’m ecstatic; boy I’m thinking, a piano that opens up and plays a song!! You, my man, are a romance GENIUS!! As I’m playing above the rim putting on a skywalking clinic for the fellas, I’m planning my bachelor party: playing ball at the Chinn Dome, some video-game wrestling at Roma’s and then “open bar” at Shoney’s buffet. Simpler times, I reckon. And then my day got even better: during a break, Katie Dryden came over. My exuberance was bubbling over, I knew I had to show somebody the present or I would burst, so I took her to the car and showed her and not only did she agree that I should probably make a living as a shopping consultant for lovelorn dudes, but she volunteered to sneak it over to her house and wrap it for me!! She snuck off with it, I went back to embarrassing the guys with out-of-my-head shooting and no look passes that would make Magic weep. Of course I’m lying about passing. A little while later we’re playing and I see Katie surreptitiously drop off my gift under my jacket on the deck off the porch. Nobody noticed, I was just about home free, except for using the word "surreptitiously."

By now it’s getting time to go, so we’re all sitting on the deck, getting ready to leave, kinda just sitting round bullshitting etc. I’m sittin on the railing, not paying attention to anything in particular, thinking only of mon couer. My legs are dangling aimlessly when I feel my heel bump into something, and then I hear it.

Ding-ding, ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding ding!

And then everyone ELSE hears it.

Ding-ding, ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding ding!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK! Bad enough they’ll know I got a gift, but now they get to HEAR my show tunes? Kill me! I look around and everyone has a confused look, everyone’s looking around and I hear somebody’s voice.

“What the fuck is that noise?”
“aaah...what noise?” I’m so clever.
“Fucking a” someone else says “where’s that noise coming from? What the fuck?”

Before it was ruined by cheap beer and repeated viewings of “Saved by the Bell” and "Saved by The Bell: The College Years" and "Saved by the Bell: The New Class" and “Saved by the Bell” and "Saved by The Bell: The College Years" and "Saved by the Bell: The New Class" my brain was sharp, and I quickly came up with a brilliant plan.

“I think it’s in the woods!”

Which of course was followed by several “yeah, it’s coming from the woods!” and we all spent the next 5 minutes searching in the woods until the fucking song finally wound down.

End of humiliation? of course not. After the 5 minute drive over to her house I start walking up to her door. Slowly realizing of course that I was wearing thin gym shorts that covered my down-theres like the skin on a grape (pre-baggy shorts days, peeps) and a mesh football practice jersey that came down to oh, just below the ribcage; the only thing saving me from looking like I had just rolled out of “Lenny’s Man Fuck-Hut” being the football with the number 82 on the jersey. My only hope was she’d be distracted from the desperate Hail Mary act of my ever getting a gift for her at all by my being caked head to toe with dirt and sweat from gunning the rock for 3 hours. Brilliant. So I knock on the door and of course her mother answers, and she’s dressed to the nines in her Sunday impressing-other-rich folks best. Turns out they’re hosting a party. Greeeeeeaaaaaatt. The door is open, everyone is looking at me like I just cut one, and my girl is finally dragged to the door. I present the gift, I can’t remember how she reacted. I do remember her pulling out the piano and looking at it quizzically. “Oh,” I proudly say as if I had just invented the cool ranch nacho “it opens up and plays a tune!” She opens it up and...nothing. Of course it was still unwound from before. So I take it and start winding it, and voila!! now the fucking thing is covered in dirt. But I’m determined, I got a smile painted on and I’m winding, goddam it I ain’t leaving til she hears it. Finally Ding-ding, ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding ding! I quickly hand it back to her, don’t even try to wipe it clean, give a weak I’m-an-idiot wave to all the adults who had been standing watching speechless, took the loooooong walk back to my brother’s car and rode off. 

Always love the Chinn Dome, though. Ain’t played there in prolly 15 years, maybe we’ll have an Old-Timers Day Soon.