Speaking of baseball..........I'm in maybe the gayest softball league of all time. Seriously. After a season of rain outs/etc, our commissioner today released a "here's who's playing whom for the next three weeks" post on the board. Nice n simple, clear cut. But of course one guy has an issue with the schedule, and why?
Because, god forbid, his team has to play at 10. Oh, god. Now, this is also a crybaby who I thought was gonna call the Supreme Court re: playing at 11am. 11am!!!!!!!!!! Now, we all have our issues. I don't like snakes or heights. But for a man of over 30 to stand up and cry that gee whiz, he cant get his ass out of bed and in gear to play a SOFTBALL game before 10am, well, to me, that means you're probably a fucking homo. And no, I don't mean homo as in you like dick. But worse: if I had to pay someone a nickel to beat your ass, I'd prolly save a nickel by just having my sister do it. 38 years old, and you're crying like a freshman about an 8:30 class. Fuck you. You are a fucking pussy. I gotta be honest - I have never been afraid of anyone who was not up before 6am. So before you embarrass yourself some more, remember - you're fucking 38 years old. Quit being a fucking pussy; get your sorry ass out of bed. Period.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
A-Rod
A-Rod has been my favorite Yankee for a while now. I guess the first time I fell in love with him was years ago at Cal Ripken’s last All-Star game, when he insisted on Rip playing short. An emotional moment; I’m a sucker for that shit. Then he came to the Yankees and he just produced. You didn’t hear a peep from him about moving to third out of respect to Jeter, even though the whole world knew he was a better shortstop. MVP in 2005. 10 rbis in one game off Colon. Then came last year – he struggled a little bit, and the world decided to pile on – bleacher bums booing his every move, radio show callers screaming that he was the worst ballplayer ever; I’m pretty sure someone found his image on the grassy knoll with a shotgun. Everyone who had ever played in the big leagues (including Brooks Robinson, who wasn’t a tenth of the hitter A-Rod is) “sitting Alex down”, trying to talk to him. And at no point did he ever lash out and say “fuck you, I am A-Rod, shut the fuck up.” I have never seen a town turn on an athlete so quickly and viciously. Ever. I don’t think people who don’t follow can even understand the vitriol directed towards him....this would be like Liverpool turning on the Beatles. It was unreal. To see him with each game, pressing more and more, desperately trying harder and harder. Mind you – this was the highest paid athlete in the history of team sports, a 2-time MVP, coulda told everyone to go fuck themselves, and he was being accused of trying too hard. While having the huge contract that everyone screamed about, the big rap was he tried too hard. Cadillacing? No. Aloof? Nyet. I remember my first boss, in Mississippi, after listening to me rant and rant about being taken advantage of by a client re: money, after hearing me bitch “godammit, I’m too nice!”, I remember him looking at me and saying “well...there’s worse things to be.” If the worst thing you can say about someone is he’s too nice or trying too hard, well then you’re lucky. A-Rod wasn’t cadillacing, he wasn’t veering off to the dugout during pop-outs...he was trying too hard to desperately please the people that blamed him for being rich and talented. I found myself with each at-bat praying, begging PLEASE don’t hit into a game-ending triple play!! I defended him, pleaded with him every at bat to get a hit......but the...you know what...I didn’t even plead with him to get a hit; I just begged god to NOT give the next days’ radio show callers something to scream about. It was a miserable season, capped by Papa Joe dropping him to 8th in the batting order for the final playoff game.
We all love Torre. But I will never, NEVER forgive him for batting A-Rod 8th in that playoff game. Never. Was a pure humiliation move. Just like as much as I love him, I will never forgive Jeter for leaving A-Rod out to dry so many times last year. Over and over, again and again, all it woulda taken was for Jeter to step in and say something, ANYthing, and it woulda made all the difference. But no. And I think I argued with Op for awhile that Jeter was right to not make a big deal of it, but I was wrong. He shoulda come out and said “we’re lucky to have the best player of our lifetime on our team, shut the fuck up.” But he never did. I started to think that Torre/Jeter and the other “real Yankees” got a laugh out of A-Rod’s misfortune, snickering like the cool kids at the lunch table.
So now A-Rod is having a season for the ages. ALLLLLLLLL of a sudden, he can do no wrong and everyone is popping hammys applauding him. I hope all is right and he’ll re-sign with the Yankees for next year. But there is an even bigger part of me that, after he hits 58 dingers and 160 rbis this year, hopes he tells us to go fuck ourselves and signs with the fucking Royals. Fuck you, have a good time next year cryyyyyyying on the fucking radio about how we let A-Rod get away. The Yankee fans deserve it, the way we treated him last year (and DESPERATELY wanted to get him in trouble this year with strip clubs/blondes bullshit.)
There’s a reason A-Rod is my favorite guy, and it has nothing to do with the homers, the inevitable Gold Glove etc. Over the years as I’ve been watching, I see things. I see that every time a Yankee, no matter whom, hits a home run who is right there to greet him, having some laughs in the dugout? A-Rod. He’s not in the video room obsessing over his swing or talking to Boras, he’s right there. And even more so throughout this year, when in the beginning the Yankees were bringing up a new 22-year old pitcher seemingly every day. Every day these kids (Clippard, DeSalvio etc) would get SHELLED and Torre comes out to get the ball, the last Yankee that would be on the mound giving them a pat on the ass was A-Rod. And to most fans that might not mean shit, but to me, I notice that stuff and it means a lot. To a 22-year old baseball player, A-Rod is a huge deal.
When I was a kid, Darryl Hammond was a GOD to me. A local legend – all state in football and basketball. When I was in 6th grade, it didn’t get any bigger than him...no matter what he did later, when I was 11 or 12 I used to listen to the games on the radio and just dream of being that good; DREAM of even being in his presence. Now, this was in a tiny town – when I look back, I’m pretty sure that if I stuck my head out of my house and shouted his name, he woulda come wandering up. A small-town hero. But two years later I found myself on the basketball court, practicing with the varsity even though I was only in the eighth grade, and in comes Darryl Hammond. We all stopped short; we all tried to act cool. It was Xmas and he was home from the University of Virginia (where he was an all-ACC safety) and he joined right in, scrimmaging with us. I don’t remember how many points I had that day, I don’t remember if we won. But I do remember a fight for the ball, we both went up, and I went down...spilling onto the floor; all prolly 140 pounds of me. I remember shaking the cobwebs off, looking up and...there was Darryl Hammond. Outstretched arm, helping me up. I couldn’t believe it. This was Darryl Hammond; I thought he’d be on the Purple Rain tour and then walking on with the Lakers. Helping me up. I don’t know if I got the board, I don’t know if I was fouled, but I will always remember Darryl helping me up, slapping me on the back and saying “good job, man.”
I remember these things, and I think of Darryl Hammond whenever I see A-Rod slapping another kid on the rear that YOU KNOW is thinking “shit....A-rod just gave me encouragement!!” That shit means a lot. To the fan, the spectator and even to the athlete. A-Rod's definitely more Mickey than Joe D. To me, the greatest compliment of all: a great teammate.
We all love Torre. But I will never, NEVER forgive him for batting A-Rod 8th in that playoff game. Never. Was a pure humiliation move. Just like as much as I love him, I will never forgive Jeter for leaving A-Rod out to dry so many times last year. Over and over, again and again, all it woulda taken was for Jeter to step in and say something, ANYthing, and it woulda made all the difference. But no. And I think I argued with Op for awhile that Jeter was right to not make a big deal of it, but I was wrong. He shoulda come out and said “we’re lucky to have the best player of our lifetime on our team, shut the fuck up.” But he never did. I started to think that Torre/Jeter and the other “real Yankees” got a laugh out of A-Rod’s misfortune, snickering like the cool kids at the lunch table.
So now A-Rod is having a season for the ages. ALLLLLLLLL of a sudden, he can do no wrong and everyone is popping hammys applauding him. I hope all is right and he’ll re-sign with the Yankees for next year. But there is an even bigger part of me that, after he hits 58 dingers and 160 rbis this year, hopes he tells us to go fuck ourselves and signs with the fucking Royals. Fuck you, have a good time next year cryyyyyyying on the fucking radio about how we let A-Rod get away. The Yankee fans deserve it, the way we treated him last year (and DESPERATELY wanted to get him in trouble this year with strip clubs/blondes bullshit.)
There’s a reason A-Rod is my favorite guy, and it has nothing to do with the homers, the inevitable Gold Glove etc. Over the years as I’ve been watching, I see things. I see that every time a Yankee, no matter whom, hits a home run who is right there to greet him, having some laughs in the dugout? A-Rod. He’s not in the video room obsessing over his swing or talking to Boras, he’s right there. And even more so throughout this year, when in the beginning the Yankees were bringing up a new 22-year old pitcher seemingly every day. Every day these kids (Clippard, DeSalvio etc) would get SHELLED and Torre comes out to get the ball, the last Yankee that would be on the mound giving them a pat on the ass was A-Rod. And to most fans that might not mean shit, but to me, I notice that stuff and it means a lot. To a 22-year old baseball player, A-Rod is a huge deal.
When I was a kid, Darryl Hammond was a GOD to me. A local legend – all state in football and basketball. When I was in 6th grade, it didn’t get any bigger than him...no matter what he did later, when I was 11 or 12 I used to listen to the games on the radio and just dream of being that good; DREAM of even being in his presence. Now, this was in a tiny town – when I look back, I’m pretty sure that if I stuck my head out of my house and shouted his name, he woulda come wandering up. A small-town hero. But two years later I found myself on the basketball court, practicing with the varsity even though I was only in the eighth grade, and in comes Darryl Hammond. We all stopped short; we all tried to act cool. It was Xmas and he was home from the University of Virginia (where he was an all-ACC safety) and he joined right in, scrimmaging with us. I don’t remember how many points I had that day, I don’t remember if we won. But I do remember a fight for the ball, we both went up, and I went down...spilling onto the floor; all prolly 140 pounds of me. I remember shaking the cobwebs off, looking up and...there was Darryl Hammond. Outstretched arm, helping me up. I couldn’t believe it. This was Darryl Hammond; I thought he’d be on the Purple Rain tour and then walking on with the Lakers. Helping me up. I don’t know if I got the board, I don’t know if I was fouled, but I will always remember Darryl helping me up, slapping me on the back and saying “good job, man.”
I remember these things, and I think of Darryl Hammond whenever I see A-Rod slapping another kid on the rear that YOU KNOW is thinking “shit....A-rod just gave me encouragement!!” That shit means a lot. To the fan, the spectator and even to the athlete. A-Rod's definitely more Mickey than Joe D. To me, the greatest compliment of all: a great teammate.
And to Be Honest, I Would Vote "no" for McGuire Even w/o the Steroid Stuff
Having grown up when I did, I was looking forward to seeing Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn enshrined into the baseball HOF this weekend. Represented all that baseball stood for, blah blah fucking blah. But I must say, I had a bit of a bad taste in my mouth after the ceremonies for several reasons. First of all, it really seemed like it was Cal’s coronation and Tony was just there to check the coats. It’s not really anyone’s fault – Baltimore is closer to Cooperstown, Cal was more universally popular, etc etc. But I didn’t like the vibe that Tony was a second class citizen there – especially when, let’s be honest, you can MUCH more easily make a case for Cal not belonging there than vice versa. Hopefully I’m the only one who felt this and Tony didn’t. Secondly, enough with the fucking trying to make this induction a “fuck you” to Barry Bonds and those who didn’t “stand for everything that is great about baseball” like Cal and Gwynn. Particularly when speaking of Ripken’s Golden Image, the smugness and condescension with which these fuckers spoke was beyond suffocating. Co-opting this moment as another way to “get Barry!!” is something that I feel everyone, and Ripken in particular, will regret one day. Looking back at his speech with his grandkids, I think Rip will think “you know....I wish the moments of the day hadn’t hijacked the memories of a 21-year career I busted my ass for.” Of course you know how I feel about MLB’s handling of Bonds in general, so you know I can’t say I’m surprised. Fucking douches. On Gwynn and Ripken’s day, they let it become about Bonds. Who I hope was laughing during the whole thing.
Also, enough with the unflattering pictures and jokes about Gwynn’s weight. Fuck you. This dude is the best hitter in half a century and a Hall of Famer. On this day of all days, keep the Jabba the Hut jokes to yourself as you wipe off the Cool Ranch chips from your man titties and bleat about the day in 1979 you went 2 for 3 for your church league. Fucking pathetic. Dude was more of an athlete than you could ever dream of being (I’m sorry – did you get drafted by both MLB and the NBA...on THE SAME DAY???!!?) The fact that I can read an article on a man’s induction into the Hall of Fame and am subjected to your “cracks” about his weight makes me think your mother should’ve kept taking it up the ass instead of letting your father crank one out in her pussy. Douchebag.
Anyways. Two great athletes, pillars of greatness for the ages. And MLB, so desperate to use chagrin to hide it’s own guilt, wanting to politicize the day for it's own gain, casting an unnecessary shadow over the whole thing. Shame.
Also, enough with the unflattering pictures and jokes about Gwynn’s weight. Fuck you. This dude is the best hitter in half a century and a Hall of Famer. On this day of all days, keep the Jabba the Hut jokes to yourself as you wipe off the Cool Ranch chips from your man titties and bleat about the day in 1979 you went 2 for 3 for your church league. Fucking pathetic. Dude was more of an athlete than you could ever dream of being (I’m sorry – did you get drafted by both MLB and the NBA...on THE SAME DAY???!!?) The fact that I can read an article on a man’s induction into the Hall of Fame and am subjected to your “cracks” about his weight makes me think your mother should’ve kept taking it up the ass instead of letting your father crank one out in her pussy. Douchebag.
Anyways. Two great athletes, pillars of greatness for the ages. And MLB, so desperate to use chagrin to hide it’s own guilt, wanting to politicize the day for it's own gain, casting an unnecessary shadow over the whole thing. Shame.
The Manny Tapes
I’ll tell you what’s great about hanging out with new mothers so much...you get to see titties ALL THE TIME. Especially in the summer. I mean it - in a group of kids, at any given moment a mother is bending over to pick up her kid and HIYOOOOOOOO!!! Nice deep look into the Chestinental Divide. And what’s even better is after a certain point, moms don’t care. Once the kid hits about a year, the mother is used to it and doesn’t give a fuck. “Get a good look? Yeah? Well, I shit out another human, so I guess I still win.”
Also another new trick is strollers....got a hot chick with a fat rack strolling a kid towards you, it’s pretty easy to act like your cooing and oohing at the kid, but guess what you’re looking at?
A whole new world, gents!!!
Also another new trick is strollers....got a hot chick with a fat rack strolling a kid towards you, it’s pretty easy to act like your cooing and oohing at the kid, but guess what you’re looking at?
A whole new world, gents!!!
Friday, July 27, 2007
Mr. Essex: You Do Not Rock
Is "Rock On" by David Essex the dumbest song ever? Seriously, we've all heard it a million times; tonite was the first time it came on and I took notice, really listened. Big mistake. After teasing with an opening bass line that somehow makes you think it's the bastard son of "Ball of Confusion" and "Papa Was a Rolling Stone," our guy David basically spends about 3 minutes listing old rock n roll cliches, lines and characters. Wtf? He plods along dropping in one pop culture/rock reference after another; a veritable laundry list of "hey.....who sings real songs, and what do they say? Really? Got it!" Name-dropping, reading out of an old Creem I suppose.
And his big payoff line is the refrain "where do we go from here?"
I dunno David, you pretty much just walked us back a whole generation; maybe for your next album you can list names of dead Civil War soldiers?
And this guy I'm sure has made STUPID money since then, just sits back and waits for those checks to roll in. Unreal. I'm now convinced I can write a song of myself counting from 1 to 10 and sell billions.
Now where's my fucking money.
And his big payoff line is the refrain "where do we go from here?"
I dunno David, you pretty much just walked us back a whole generation; maybe for your next album you can list names of dead Civil War soldiers?
And this guy I'm sure has made STUPID money since then, just sits back and waits for those checks to roll in. Unreal. I'm now convinced I can write a song of myself counting from 1 to 10 and sell billions.
Are you ready...yeah yeah yeah, you ready? Let's go peoples! Alright alright alright now one.......one.....and one, yeah yeah yeah yeah one....one...the number one....oooooh, now baby two....two...twotwotwotwotwotwoTHREE!!!!!....aw, yeah three...three...threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee can we go fo four? Can we do four? FofofofofofofofofofoofofofoffofofoFIVE!!! FafafafafaFIFE! Fie-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-FIFEFIFEFIFEFIFE...six......................................................................................................................................................................................seven! oh, shnap seven! Sevenna-na-na! Sevenna-na-na! Sevenna-na-na! Sevenna-na-na!..and eight....oh yeah let's pray....eight...eightty-tat-tat-tateight....eight....aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyaight.....eiggggggggggghhttttttatatatatatatatat. NINE! NINE!! NINE!!! NINE!!! NINE!!!!!! NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!...............................ten.
Now where's my fucking money.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
The Manny Tales
My charge has officially started crawling. Which is great, cause you can stuff a room full of plush stuffed animals, soft building blocks and satin-covered books and without fail he will worm himself all the way across the room to find the rusty razorblade that's buried underneath a teddy bear, a pile of onesies and a blanket. You turn your head for 3 seconds and somehow there he is. And when they do this they're always staring at you as they raise the forbidden objects sloooooowly to their mouths, as if taunting you. "You're really gonna let me do this? What are you, an asshole?" Never fails. These babies could literally find the rusty, e-bolic needle in the plush cottony haystack. These mfs should work for the FBI; put 'em in a crowded room and they will instantly crawl into the lap of the most wanted of terrorists. "Over here, numbnuts."
"Hahahaha!! You're gonna get fired for this one, fuckface!"
"Hahahaha!! You're gonna get fired for this one, fuckface!"
Someone's Been Reading "The Assault on Reason"!!
some hope after all?
courtesy Mrs. White Chocolate Thunder
courtesy Mrs. White Chocolate Thunder
This Year's Class, for Sure
How ironic is it that in the absolute midst of all of the big three sports going through public relations hell, on Saturday Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn will be inducted into the MLB Hall of Fame? I'll be watching the ceremony Saturday - if only to field the phone calls from a blubbering Op ;)
Monday, July 23, 2007
My Cousin Vinny
Dare I put "My Cousin Vinny" in my all-time top 10? All time performance by Joe Pesci back when being Joe Pesci was funny, plus Fred Munster, plus the Karate Kid, plus the perfect southern lawyer character actor plus a stuttering defense attorney plus an all-time Mrs. Xmastime. Tuff to beat. Hard to think of a funnier movie-long performance than Pesci in this one.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Jesus Fucking Christ
Chris Matthews just showed a clip from June wherein Fred Thompson speaking on terrorism said "...and I always thought it was 'over there'...until 9/11, when Iraq came..."
Excuse me? You know, if this guy is going to run for President cause we might be dumb enuff to vote for someone who kinda looks like one on tv, can someone at least feed him the right lines? Cue card guy fired, I hope.
Excuse me? You know, if this guy is going to run for President cause we might be dumb enuff to vote for someone who kinda looks like one on tv, can someone at least feed him the right lines? Cue card guy fired, I hope.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Rough Sports Week
This has got to be the worst all-round week for sports that I can fathom, much less remember. Baseball has to watch as Barry marches over Aaron's HR record, embarrassed by the fact that the real story is steroids. Football obviously has to deal now with Michael Vick - not to mention that Pacman Jones, who already is suspended for about 17 crimes, caused a bit of a flit the other night when he was turned away trying to enter a club. Desperate for even MORE trouble, I suppose. And now we find out that an NBA ref is being ivestigated about betting on games he was calling. All the above coupled with the fact that college basketball and football aren't the same since all the best players leave early makes me feel sorry for the young bucks coming up today. All they hear about is 'roids, thug life in the NBA and arrest after arrest from the NFL. I know of no youngster who pays attention to college ball; why bother - the good players are gone in a year anyways.
I feel incredibly lucky about the sports era I grew up in. In football, we had Steelers/Cowboys, Cowboys/Skins. We saw Joe Montana, Walter Payton and LT. Basketball we had Celtics/Lakers, Bird/Magic and then MJ. Baseball...well, baseball kinda sucked but at least it wasn't smeared by the spectra of steroids. College football we had Herschel and Barry's Sooners and Joe Pa. The best of course was college basketball - when I was coming up the ACC, already the greatest league ever, was at the door of a decade of unprecedented glory. Ralph/MJ/Worthy/Williams/Laettner, on and on and on; Wednesday night league games in February with half a dozen future NBA all-stars/hall of famers. Hell, even in hockey we got to see Gretzky come up as well as the Miracle on Ice. We saw Cal beat the band, Buckner's gaffe and Laettner's shot.
When I was a young buck we played all three sports. When it was football season we played football, and the same went for basketball and baseball season. It didn't matter how great a player you were in one sport, you played all three. Nowadays we open up the papers and read about kids being recruited for basketball in the 6th grade; LITERALLY choosing their college before they pick their high school and then settling in for going from one AAU Tourney to another for the rest of their youth. Unreal and a bit sad. But hell, at least that's a kid even playing a sport, what with all the distractions for a kid now. Internet, video games, blah blah blah. We didn't have all this other stuff, all we ever heard when we were boys was "go outside!" And let's be honest - there wasn't anything else to do.
All this has gnawed at me for a long time, makes me wonder what kind of sports world my nephew and godsons are gonna grow up in and, judging by this week, it's gonna be pretty awful. Oh there will be great players, great athletes, but it will all be marred by this stuff on the sidelines along with an incredible lack of continuity. There will be a lot of jerseys sold, but will any kid love and try to emulate Jeff Lamp or Larry Bird the way I once did? I don't know. Looks like I'll start buying violins and trumpets instead of baseball gloves and nylon nets.
I feel incredibly lucky about the sports era I grew up in. In football, we had Steelers/Cowboys, Cowboys/Skins. We saw Joe Montana, Walter Payton and LT. Basketball we had Celtics/Lakers, Bird/Magic and then MJ. Baseball...well, baseball kinda sucked but at least it wasn't smeared by the spectra of steroids. College football we had Herschel and Barry's Sooners and Joe Pa. The best of course was college basketball - when I was coming up the ACC, already the greatest league ever, was at the door of a decade of unprecedented glory. Ralph/MJ/Worthy/Williams/Laettner, on and on and on; Wednesday night league games in February with half a dozen future NBA all-stars/hall of famers. Hell, even in hockey we got to see Gretzky come up as well as the Miracle on Ice. We saw Cal beat the band, Buckner's gaffe and Laettner's shot.
When I was a young buck we played all three sports. When it was football season we played football, and the same went for basketball and baseball season. It didn't matter how great a player you were in one sport, you played all three. Nowadays we open up the papers and read about kids being recruited for basketball in the 6th grade; LITERALLY choosing their college before they pick their high school and then settling in for going from one AAU Tourney to another for the rest of their youth. Unreal and a bit sad. But hell, at least that's a kid even playing a sport, what with all the distractions for a kid now. Internet, video games, blah blah blah. We didn't have all this other stuff, all we ever heard when we were boys was "go outside!" And let's be honest - there wasn't anything else to do.
All this has gnawed at me for a long time, makes me wonder what kind of sports world my nephew and godsons are gonna grow up in and, judging by this week, it's gonna be pretty awful. Oh there will be great players, great athletes, but it will all be marred by this stuff on the sidelines along with an incredible lack of continuity. There will be a lot of jerseys sold, but will any kid love and try to emulate Jeff Lamp or Larry Bird the way I once did? I don't know. Looks like I'll start buying violins and trumpets instead of baseball gloves and nylon nets.
Oh, Shit
Skipping the inevitable "I knew he was full of shit" jokes, will be entertaining to watch Dick's cold, dead fingers wrap themselves around our throats, if only for a few hours.
"I SAID....Vick...goes...free!!"
"I SAID....Vick...goes...free!!"
Tom Brokaw...a Liar???!!
I’ve been noticing something recently. All my life, it’s always old people from “The Greatest Generation” that have hectored us young kids, pointing their wrinkled, bony fingers at us about no shortcuts!! Nothing is worth doing without hard work! Slow and steady, don’t cut corners!!
Yet every time I’m at a bodega, there’s 5 of these motherfuckers in line buying 10 lottery tickets each. Wtf?
Yet every time I’m at a bodega, there’s 5 of these motherfuckers in line buying 10 lottery tickets each. Wtf?
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Poverty, Pt. II
It's a bad sign of the times we are in and the hopelessness of the have nots that a minute ago I looked at the entry below on Edwards and realized I was surprised most not by him becoming a multi-millionaire after being born poor, but rather that his family went from being poor to reaching middle class in the first place. Hard to imagine these days.
The Poverty Tour
While the staff here at Xmastime are huge fans of the UG, we respectfully take umbrage at the idea that John Edwards’ campaigning on poverty doesn’t “feel” right. Of course UG isn't the only one who has thrown out this sentiment, but I just read his post and so he'll be getting the horns :). Haven’t we seen enough when dealing solely with feel and perception? Already, Obama apparently is being quietly urged to start showing up with “regular folks” beer and to tone down the professionalism of his speeches. Soon we will be witnessing the mysterious absence of the very intellect and reason that had people interested in Obama in the first place and replaced by “aw shucks!” talks about hating golf and the French. Feel and media perception over brains and ideas.
You can say Edwards is a bit of a huckster, that’s reasonable to think when landing eyes on him, I kinda see him as a bit of a jv Clinton myself (Bill, not Hillary!) but the fact is he DID grow up poor in a mining town and then was raised up to middle class with his father’s rising in the ranks. Yes, he went on to become tremendously rich as a trial lawyer. While it’s quick and easy and fun to portray him as an ambulance chaser, he did actually represent victims of corporate negligence and malpractice: those that couldn’t help themselves. Of course the scale is crazy - $25M here, $15M there but I don’t think John Edwards invented getting paid well for a job well done. I suppose it would’ve been better if he refused the money and lived in a shack in the woods. Yes, he became rich. But to suggest that this means that he somehow cannot relate, cannot be a “man of the people” is to suggest Bruce Springsteen had to stop writing about poor, trodden-upon people the day after he got his first check for Born to Run. Isn’t is up to those who have so much to help those who have nothing; or is it fuck ‘em make those who have nothing fix it themselves?
As for “feeling” or “believing” whether Edwards is really intent on doing something about poverty or not, let’s remember he was the only one to bring up the dreaded “p-word” when no one else would; other candidates would always roll their eyes and wonder why are we even bothering with this issue, move on, these people don’t vote so fuck em. (Again, confusing to me as every candidate in the last decade has talked endlessly about Jesus and faith and the Bible; no one knows less about the Bible than me, but isn't one of it's main tenets to help the poor and needy? Wouldn't running on faith and God mean this issue should've been #1 all along? Is this another book I'm thinking of, am I confused?) Edwards talked about it in and before the 2004 campaign, and in early 2005 he was appointed by the Univ. of Carolina as the director of the Center on Poverty, Work and Opportunity – an agency which worked to move people out of poverty. So it cannot be said that Edwards’ didn’t have the guts to speak up about poverty, make it a major issue and then work on it. If these things mean less to you than how expensive a candidate’s tie or haircut is, then I don’t know what to tell you.
But now that Obama is making a speech about poverty, we are to believe that the issue should somehow naturally be his. That it is his divine right to step up for the poor and get their vote, even if this will be the first time he’s taken a “stand” on the subject. My thought is of course it’s a political move – feeling the final two standing will be he and Hillary, he will co-opt the issue before she does. A wise move. But is that enough? While at this time in history I have no problem with a black person saying fuck you, I'm voting for whomever's black, in my own rationale while voting I wonder if it's okay to assume that since Obama is black he should get my vote on poverty after doing nothing over some rich white guy who has actually tried to do something about it?
The politics of feel and perception can be dangerous; attaching a sort of Baggar Vance quality to Barack Obama in the campaign can be very cool and tempting but in the end, the right thing to do? I don’t think so. If Obama is as great as we all think he is, he should be able to say and do great things, not just lure us into some "vibe" or "feel." Not in these times, not this election.
To be honest, I don’t have incredibly high hopes for Edwards winning the nomination. Ironically, I can’t help but feel that if Edwards does lose, poverty may be better off for it - like Gore, he can say eff Washington and dedicate himself to his real passion. And UNlike Gore, I hope he sticks to his guns during the campaign and hammers away at the issue, even if it means costing him votes cause nobody wants to hear about poor people. But in the meantime let’s not write him off because of how he "looks", "feels" or "seems" just yet.
You can say Edwards is a bit of a huckster, that’s reasonable to think when landing eyes on him, I kinda see him as a bit of a jv Clinton myself (Bill, not Hillary!) but the fact is he DID grow up poor in a mining town and then was raised up to middle class with his father’s rising in the ranks. Yes, he went on to become tremendously rich as a trial lawyer. While it’s quick and easy and fun to portray him as an ambulance chaser, he did actually represent victims of corporate negligence and malpractice: those that couldn’t help themselves. Of course the scale is crazy - $25M here, $15M there but I don’t think John Edwards invented getting paid well for a job well done. I suppose it would’ve been better if he refused the money and lived in a shack in the woods. Yes, he became rich. But to suggest that this means that he somehow cannot relate, cannot be a “man of the people” is to suggest Bruce Springsteen had to stop writing about poor, trodden-upon people the day after he got his first check for Born to Run. Isn’t is up to those who have so much to help those who have nothing; or is it fuck ‘em make those who have nothing fix it themselves?
As for “feeling” or “believing” whether Edwards is really intent on doing something about poverty or not, let’s remember he was the only one to bring up the dreaded “p-word” when no one else would; other candidates would always roll their eyes and wonder why are we even bothering with this issue, move on, these people don’t vote so fuck em. (Again, confusing to me as every candidate in the last decade has talked endlessly about Jesus and faith and the Bible; no one knows less about the Bible than me, but isn't one of it's main tenets to help the poor and needy? Wouldn't running on faith and God mean this issue should've been #1 all along? Is this another book I'm thinking of, am I confused?) Edwards talked about it in and before the 2004 campaign, and in early 2005 he was appointed by the Univ. of Carolina as the director of the Center on Poverty, Work and Opportunity – an agency which worked to move people out of poverty. So it cannot be said that Edwards’ didn’t have the guts to speak up about poverty, make it a major issue and then work on it. If these things mean less to you than how expensive a candidate’s tie or haircut is, then I don’t know what to tell you.
But now that Obama is making a speech about poverty, we are to believe that the issue should somehow naturally be his. That it is his divine right to step up for the poor and get their vote, even if this will be the first time he’s taken a “stand” on the subject. My thought is of course it’s a political move – feeling the final two standing will be he and Hillary, he will co-opt the issue before she does. A wise move. But is that enough? While at this time in history I have no problem with a black person saying fuck you, I'm voting for whomever's black, in my own rationale while voting I wonder if it's okay to assume that since Obama is black he should get my vote on poverty after doing nothing over some rich white guy who has actually tried to do something about it?
The politics of feel and perception can be dangerous; attaching a sort of Baggar Vance quality to Barack Obama in the campaign can be very cool and tempting but in the end, the right thing to do? I don’t think so. If Obama is as great as we all think he is, he should be able to say and do great things, not just lure us into some "vibe" or "feel." Not in these times, not this election.
To be honest, I don’t have incredibly high hopes for Edwards winning the nomination. Ironically, I can’t help but feel that if Edwards does lose, poverty may be better off for it - like Gore, he can say eff Washington and dedicate himself to his real passion. And UNlike Gore, I hope he sticks to his guns during the campaign and hammers away at the issue, even if it means costing him votes cause nobody wants to hear about poor people. But in the meantime let’s not write him off because of how he "looks", "feels" or "seems" just yet.
THINGS ARE GOOD
1) My healthy living routine got blindsided this past weekend by my birthday. That’s okay, it was a special occasion, I’m back on it. One of the things I won’t miss about being fat is that when you are fat, everybody wants to set you up with their fat friend. They think they’re doing you a big favor too; “you know what, I got a friend who’s really big, you two would hit it off!” Oh joy, we can make pork-fat slurpees together! You did it, YOU’RE the king matchmaker!! Maybe we’ll live in a huge tub of Country Crock and will be known as your “big, sweaty couple who can’t sit together on a fucking Greyhound bus!” True love!!! Thanks, we’re so happy!!!! What the fuck...I’m gonna start doing it myself, I’m gonna start saying “you know what, I got a friend who’s a COMPLETE fucking douchebag, you two would hit it off!!”
2) I think one advantage to being gay would be that your boyfriend can settle his own fights at the bars. How many times you been with a girl and she starts popping off at, say, a pack of Hell’s Angels? Now the guys can’t fuck with her so they come over to beat your ass. Thanks, darling; and you wonder why I don’t go outta my way to eat your dick mitten anymore. But if you’re gay and your boyfriend is mouthing off then well, that’s his problem.
3) Why is everybody crying, so concerned about Barry Bonds’ recent hitting slump? Who gives a shit? He’s out there to get those last few homers to pass Aaron, and that’s it. But every day, “what’s wrong with Barry?!??! Omigod, how is he not hitting???!!” The Giants stink, so it’s not like they’re in a pennant race, so who cares. He has all season to do this. Relax. This is like one of those marathons where some porn star is trying to fuck 1000 guys in 5 hours and you’re crying at #997 cause she’s not humping at her best, she’s not jamming her finger up the dudes’ ass anymore. Shut the fuck up and let her get her record! For chrissake she raised you, gave you life - show some respect!!
4) Sometimes I wonder if I use things 100% wrong, the complete opposite of the way every other person does it. What if I stand in the shower wrong? For all I know everyone else stands sideways, or on one foot. Maybe the inventor of the toilet is looking down on me, horrified that I’m somehow not doing it correctly. Although I guess my college girlfriend would’ve told me; god knows she’d follow me in the can every time I had to release a small child. Wanna chat, have a big talk all of a sudden. “For fuck’s sake” I’d yell at her, “get out; I don’t even wanna be here for this!!!” Fucking hell.
5) “I” automatically being capitalized sucks when you wanna capitalize for emphasis and inflection. Did italicizing work?
6) Speaking of work, I just read somewhere that the average amount of semen released upon ejaculation is 0.5ml. So at, let’s figure, twice a day for 23 years that means I’ve shot off over two gallons of jizz. Not bad. Something to think about next time you reach into the fridge for a frosty glass of milk, no? And I don’t count the jizz I’ve lost to fucking; I figure the least I can do is let the women get the credits for those amounts. You’re welcome, ladies.
7) Speaking of used sperm accounts. Can dudes knock off this crap where every time a girl comes on the tv screen and she’s eating an ice cream cone we all hafta roll our eyes “oh MAN, she’s killing me, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me!!” and slap each other five; I guess to celebrate all the blow jobs we’ve been getting. Yes, I know you get so much pussy you can’t look a girl without being reminded of how you are serviced every 3 hours. Good for you. I don’t have a problem seeing a girl eating an ice cream cone, I don’t picture my dick as a creamy, gelatinous thing that melts in your mouth. I guess I’m strange that way. Or a banana, dudes do this one too. Freak out when they see a girl eating a banana. Cause I guess the first thing you’d like a girl to do with your dick is peel off the skin on all four sides before biting into it. Let’s be honest here: the only exciting thing to see a girl start eating are McNuggets cause I know that after one bite she’ll shriek at how disgusting they are and give the rest to me.
8) Watching Ratatouille the other day reminded me of a question I wonder about during the 900 hours a week I’m glued to the Food Network: why do chefs hafta wear those thick, heavy white jackets in the kitchen? It’s 300 degrees in there, fires everywhere. Can’t they wear shorts and t-shirts, stay as cool as possible? "But Xmastime," you say in your Ironhead Heyward (RIP) voice from those soap commercials, “it’s for sanitation purposes obviously, keeps in their sweat/body hair etc!!” But then you see these guys work and all they do all day long is stick their fingers in the food to taste, or double-dip with a spoon to slob on the shit. That doesn’t seem too sanitary. These chef uniforms are like putting a rubber on your foot before fucking Paris Hilton.
9) I love when politicians say that they’re going to go home to “talk to my constituents.” Really? Has anyone ever seen these people just wandering around, getting thoughts from the people that voted them into office? I don’t know anyone who knows anybody that’s been like “...yeah, so at Arby’s our Senator walked in and we had a long talk....” So far it seems that the only people these guys talk to in their home states are their families and hookers. Yet they talk on tv as if they’re going home and literally setting up a box at an intersection and talking to “the folks.” The last politician to ride in a car without a roof and genuinely tried to make eye contact with “the folks” had his brains sprayed all over Jackie Kennedy’s lap, and don’t think for a second I didn’t spend the last ten minutes sitting here trying to think of a joke finishing with “sprayed all over Jackie Kennedy’s lap.”
"We're naked together frollicking in a stream...can you at LEAST straighten out that fucking wrist in front of the other guys? fuuuuuuck!!!"
2) I think one advantage to being gay would be that your boyfriend can settle his own fights at the bars. How many times you been with a girl and she starts popping off at, say, a pack of Hell’s Angels? Now the guys can’t fuck with her so they come over to beat your ass. Thanks, darling; and you wonder why I don’t go outta my way to eat your dick mitten anymore. But if you’re gay and your boyfriend is mouthing off then well, that’s his problem.
3) Why is everybody crying, so concerned about Barry Bonds’ recent hitting slump? Who gives a shit? He’s out there to get those last few homers to pass Aaron, and that’s it. But every day, “what’s wrong with Barry?!??! Omigod, how is he not hitting???!!” The Giants stink, so it’s not like they’re in a pennant race, so who cares. He has all season to do this. Relax. This is like one of those marathons where some porn star is trying to fuck 1000 guys in 5 hours and you’re crying at #997 cause she’s not humping at her best, she’s not jamming her finger up the dudes’ ass anymore. Shut the fuck up and let her get her record! For chrissake she raised you, gave you life - show some respect!!
4) Sometimes I wonder if I use things 100% wrong, the complete opposite of the way every other person does it. What if I stand in the shower wrong? For all I know everyone else stands sideways, or on one foot. Maybe the inventor of the toilet is looking down on me, horrified that I’m somehow not doing it correctly. Although I guess my college girlfriend would’ve told me; god knows she’d follow me in the can every time I had to release a small child. Wanna chat, have a big talk all of a sudden. “For fuck’s sake” I’d yell at her, “get out; I don’t even wanna be here for this!!!” Fucking hell.
5) “I” automatically being capitalized sucks when you wanna capitalize for emphasis and inflection. Did italicizing work?
6) Speaking of work, I just read somewhere that the average amount of semen released upon ejaculation is 0.5ml. So at, let’s figure, twice a day for 23 years that means I’ve shot off over two gallons of jizz. Not bad. Something to think about next time you reach into the fridge for a frosty glass of milk, no? And I don’t count the jizz I’ve lost to fucking; I figure the least I can do is let the women get the credits for those amounts. You’re welcome, ladies.
7) Speaking of used sperm accounts. Can dudes knock off this crap where every time a girl comes on the tv screen and she’s eating an ice cream cone we all hafta roll our eyes “oh MAN, she’s killing me, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me!!” and slap each other five; I guess to celebrate all the blow jobs we’ve been getting. Yes, I know you get so much pussy you can’t look a girl without being reminded of how you are serviced every 3 hours. Good for you. I don’t have a problem seeing a girl eating an ice cream cone, I don’t picture my dick as a creamy, gelatinous thing that melts in your mouth. I guess I’m strange that way. Or a banana, dudes do this one too. Freak out when they see a girl eating a banana. Cause I guess the first thing you’d like a girl to do with your dick is peel off the skin on all four sides before biting into it. Let’s be honest here: the only exciting thing to see a girl start eating are McNuggets cause I know that after one bite she’ll shriek at how disgusting they are and give the rest to me.
8) Watching Ratatouille the other day reminded me of a question I wonder about during the 900 hours a week I’m glued to the Food Network: why do chefs hafta wear those thick, heavy white jackets in the kitchen? It’s 300 degrees in there, fires everywhere. Can’t they wear shorts and t-shirts, stay as cool as possible? "But Xmastime," you say in your Ironhead Heyward (RIP) voice from those soap commercials, “it’s for sanitation purposes obviously, keeps in their sweat/body hair etc!!” But then you see these guys work and all they do all day long is stick their fingers in the food to taste, or double-dip with a spoon to slob on the shit. That doesn’t seem too sanitary. These chef uniforms are like putting a rubber on your foot before fucking Paris Hilton.
9) I love when politicians say that they’re going to go home to “talk to my constituents.” Really? Has anyone ever seen these people just wandering around, getting thoughts from the people that voted them into office? I don’t know anyone who knows anybody that’s been like “...yeah, so at Arby’s our Senator walked in and we had a long talk....” So far it seems that the only people these guys talk to in their home states are their families and hookers. Yet they talk on tv as if they’re going home and literally setting up a box at an intersection and talking to “the folks.” The last politician to ride in a car without a roof and genuinely tried to make eye contact with “the folks” had his brains sprayed all over Jackie Kennedy’s lap, and don’t think for a second I didn’t spend the last ten minutes sitting here trying to think of a joke finishing with “sprayed all over Jackie Kennedy’s lap.”
"We're naked together frollicking in a stream...can you at LEAST straighten out that fucking wrist in front of the other guys? fuuuuuuck!!!"
Sick Day
Home sick today - the first day I've missed since I started babysitting the boy. Which sucks, cause you know that's the day he's gonna do something incredible. "Oh hey Xmas; yeah, yesterday he started walking, just up and walked...over to the stove, made egg foo young. It was unreal. How ya feeling?" Just like in school when you were a kid. Don't miss a day, day after day of the same ol shit and then the one day you miss you find out the next day that REM came to play a surprise show and Kelly and Jessie from "Saved by the Bell" had an assembly to teach everybody about anal bleaching. aaaarrrrggghhh!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Rub a Dub Dub
I've always hated baths because I never felt like I got all the soap off my body. Particularly if there was bubble bath involved, I'd exit the tub with some clinging to me. I'd jump back in to rinse, but it never seemed to come completely off; every time you'd jump in, different suds would cling. Over and over again. Drove me bananas. So when I see a movie where someone gets outta the tub covered in suds and slips on a robe, it drives me crazy. Do people really do this? Do the suds just go away, melt into body, no harm done? Wtf.
Finally.
Rugby v. Football, from a reader over at Andrew Sullivan.
Over the years I've grown tired of rich white dudes in awe of themselves over how tough rugby is, loudly braying at the bar to smitten chicks about how much rougher it is than football. Yes, it is physical and rough but to compare it to football is absurd, for a simple reason: rugby dudes are always up on top of each other, there is no velocity to add to their hitting. It's a contact sport, but mostly close contact. A lot of grabbing and pulling. Football, you have two 260-lb dudes each running a 4.5 40 working up steam for yards on end, colliding violently into each other. Rolling around in your Land's End rugby shirts does not compare to this. I'm not calling rugby players pussies, far from it, but I'm glad to hear someone else say enuff is enuff.
As someone pretty tuff himiself, Vince Lombardi once said: "Football is not a contact sport, it's a collision sport. Dancing is a contact sport."
Over the years I've grown tired of rich white dudes in awe of themselves over how tough rugby is, loudly braying at the bar to smitten chicks about how much rougher it is than football. Yes, it is physical and rough but to compare it to football is absurd, for a simple reason: rugby dudes are always up on top of each other, there is no velocity to add to their hitting. It's a contact sport, but mostly close contact. A lot of grabbing and pulling. Football, you have two 260-lb dudes each running a 4.5 40 working up steam for yards on end, colliding violently into each other. Rolling around in your Land's End rugby shirts does not compare to this. I'm not calling rugby players pussies, far from it, but I'm glad to hear someone else say enuff is enuff.
As someone pretty tuff himiself, Vince Lombardi once said: "Football is not a contact sport, it's a collision sport. Dancing is a contact sport."
Please Shut Up (I'll Get Back to Titties n Toilet Bowls after Noon, I Promise)
John Edwards is my guy, but Elizabeth Edwards needs to shut the fuck up. You are not the candidate, your husband is - your job is to dress nice, smile and be friendly to as many people as possible. I'm sure you're a great person, I respect you, but you can only hurt your husband's chances by opening your mouth. When did this shit begin, where wives of Presidents or candidates have to matter? I guess we can blame Hilalry, who grabbed the reins of HealthCare. Laura soon followed and was pressured to "own an issue", so she chose pretending to give a shit if kids could read. Now Rudy's threatening to put his wife in his fucking Cabinet - her qualifications seeming to be, of course, stomaching Rudy's dick inside her while he whispers CNN transcripts of 9/11 into her ear. Hmm. Seems fair. Once again, this all goes back to we're more concerned with how strong someone's marriage is etc over his vision and competence. I know of several people who could not pull the trigger for Kerry cause his wife kept popping off, and it's tuff to blame them.
I don't feel I'm being a chauvinist here. Tho Hillary's an exception cause her husband was a two-term Prez, any woman in the future who was running I'd say the same about her spouse: dress nice, smile, and shut the fuck up, I'm not voting for your thoughts or vision. Please, Liz - shut up!
I don't feel I'm being a chauvinist here. Tho Hillary's an exception cause her husband was a two-term Prez, any woman in the future who was running I'd say the same about her spouse: dress nice, smile, and shut the fuck up, I'm not voting for your thoughts or vision. Please, Liz - shut up!
I'm Sorry, is there an Election This Week?
"Fear is the most powerful enemy of reason" - Al Gore
Last week I found it mildly amusing in it's absurdness, but now I'm getting riled. Enough with this horseshit; we have a police force, a military, an FBI and CIA and an office of "Homeland Security" - do your fucking jobs. Knock off this public "oh gee, I dunno, I'd get worried now..." bullshit you use to both scare us into believing your nonsense and for your own cover if something should actually happen (which, apparently you would know nothing about since you dumbfucks are just throwing darts.) Let's be honest, so far your track record on getting ANYTHING right so far is the exact same as the odds of my finishing this sentence without saying "fuck": fucking ZERO. This sky is falling shit, this King George reign of fear is not only nonsense, but downright irresponsible.
The fact is Kerry had it right: terrorism should be a mild nuisance for us. Period. I shouldn't hafta hear about it, I shouldn't hafta be checking random vans on the street. It sounds gay cause it's cliched, but yes - if I hafta spend my days checking vans and calling in every non-white person I see from my bedroom as I'm cowering in the closet cause your "terror alert color" is at orange, then yes, the terrorists have indeed "won." The stupid shit you assholes are pumping out to us in the press can only be cracking up Osama et al. If they can keep the "Sopranos" finale completely secret while working on it, can't you keep our national security on the down low? DO YOUR FUCKING JOBS AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.
What happened to "live your lives! shop, spend money!"? Now it's "lay under your covers until Fred Thompson announces and he and running mate Charlie Daniels can go kick some A-rab ASS!!!"
Don't listen to this stupid shit. In the 231 years we've been a country we've lost less than 4000 people to "terrorism." We have over 5 times as many murders in this country every year - where's the panic over this; why isn't the White House screaming at us to be on the lookout for these guys, to be careful!!! be scared!!! Hmm. It's a mystery. Oh, and gee...this is the shit that we hafta hear about instead of the fact that Bush just quietly vetoed a bill that would give 4.1 million CHILDREN health insurance. Yes, I'm sure it got scuttled because the Dems just invented pork and someone in North Dakota would also receive $50,000 for left-handed scissors in schools. Hey, maybe we'll get lucky and the terrorists will wipe out these 4.1 million kids so we don't have to pay their health insurance, fucking crybabies. I'll keep my fingers crossed, you sleep well.
Last week I found it mildly amusing in it's absurdness, but now I'm getting riled. Enough with this horseshit; we have a police force, a military, an FBI and CIA and an office of "Homeland Security" - do your fucking jobs. Knock off this public "oh gee, I dunno, I'd get worried now..." bullshit you use to both scare us into believing your nonsense and for your own cover if something should actually happen (which, apparently you would know nothing about since you dumbfucks are just throwing darts.) Let's be honest, so far your track record on getting ANYTHING right so far is the exact same as the odds of my finishing this sentence without saying "fuck": fucking ZERO. This sky is falling shit, this King George reign of fear is not only nonsense, but downright irresponsible.
The fact is Kerry had it right: terrorism should be a mild nuisance for us. Period. I shouldn't hafta hear about it, I shouldn't hafta be checking random vans on the street. It sounds gay cause it's cliched, but yes - if I hafta spend my days checking vans and calling in every non-white person I see from my bedroom as I'm cowering in the closet cause your "terror alert color" is at orange, then yes, the terrorists have indeed "won." The stupid shit you assholes are pumping out to us in the press can only be cracking up Osama et al. If they can keep the "Sopranos" finale completely secret while working on it, can't you keep our national security on the down low? DO YOUR FUCKING JOBS AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.
What happened to "live your lives! shop, spend money!"? Now it's "lay under your covers until Fred Thompson announces and he and running mate Charlie Daniels can go kick some A-rab ASS!!!"
Don't listen to this stupid shit. In the 231 years we've been a country we've lost less than 4000 people to "terrorism." We have over 5 times as many murders in this country every year - where's the panic over this; why isn't the White House screaming at us to be on the lookout for these guys, to be careful!!! be scared!!! Hmm. It's a mystery. Oh, and gee...this is the shit that we hafta hear about instead of the fact that Bush just quietly vetoed a bill that would give 4.1 million CHILDREN health insurance. Yes, I'm sure it got scuttled because the Dems just invented pork and someone in North Dakota would also receive $50,000 for left-handed scissors in schools. Hey, maybe we'll get lucky and the terrorists will wipe out these 4.1 million kids so we don't have to pay their health insurance, fucking crybabies. I'll keep my fingers crossed, you sleep well.
The Ground is Rumbling!
The big rumor in burger world. Lord - In & Out finally going head to head with the Shake Shack?!?!!? Chamberlain/Russell, Bird/Magic and now this? My big dream has always been to become a billionaire so I can travel around to sample each of the burgers from Hamburger America. Well, or actually be succesful/productive in any way. Cough. Hope this is true.
Irony: just started a "No Meat for One Week" regime at midnight. Weird.
I WILL NOW RANK THE HAMBURGER AMERICA BURGERS IN ORDER OF WHICH I'D LIKE TO TRY THEM:
Solly's Grille (butter burger!! wipe the drippings off my chest with the neighbor's cat)
Dyer's (deep fried!!!!!! sounds like a marriage made in heaven, like Ben Wa and balls...however, I wonder why something like this, a combination of two things uber-American, wouldn't be found all over the place...seems like it would be amazing, but can it be if something so generic is that hard to find? I wonder)
Ted's Meridian (steamed, tons of cheese)
Billy Goats Tavern (newly obsessed with the idea that thinner is better in a burger. oh wait, that's with chicks hiyoooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!)
Meers Store (pick your own cow out back. sounds like every high school party I went to)
Goober Burger (gutsy...will the waitress stick to the roof of my mouth?)
Louis Lunch (dry white toast. thanks, assface)
Bobcat Bite (ugh....a nibble at best)
Irony: just started a "No Meat for One Week" regime at midnight. Weird.
I WILL NOW RANK THE HAMBURGER AMERICA BURGERS IN ORDER OF WHICH I'D LIKE TO TRY THEM:
Solly's Grille (butter burger!! wipe the drippings off my chest with the neighbor's cat)
Dyer's (deep fried!!!!!! sounds like a marriage made in heaven, like Ben Wa and balls...however, I wonder why something like this, a combination of two things uber-American, wouldn't be found all over the place...seems like it would be amazing, but can it be if something so generic is that hard to find? I wonder)
Ted's Meridian (steamed, tons of cheese)
Billy Goats Tavern (newly obsessed with the idea that thinner is better in a burger. oh wait, that's with chicks hiyoooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!)
Meers Store (pick your own cow out back. sounds like every high school party I went to)
Goober Burger (gutsy...will the waitress stick to the roof of my mouth?)
Louis Lunch (dry white toast. thanks, assface)
Bobcat Bite (ugh....a nibble at best)
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Ball: Dropped!
The Catholic Church has been ordered to pay a $660M settlement for abuse cases? Are you kidding me? Am I dreaming, or did these fuckfaces come within $6M of delivering a verdict worth....$666M? I mean, do these people have NO sense of humor???!! Camon!!!!
"Pussies."
"Pussies."
BLUE Movie Review
So yesterday I did it...said fuck it and went to a movie theater to catch a flick. I stood in the train station and scanned the movie section in the paper and decided that based on the time and theater location, the only real choice I had was “Ratatouille.” At first I was slightly embarrassed at the prospect of paying to go see a glorified cartoon made for kids, but then I thought fuck it, it’s better than whatever steaming pile of Owen Wilson/Vince Vaughn/Will Ferrell/Stiller was out there. Plus I was already plenty embarrassed cause I had shit myself, so I had nothing to lose at tht point.
So I get to the theater and of course have to get popcorn. I do not care whatever diet one is on, whatever healthy lifestyle one may choose, it is simply not normal to go to the movies and not get a bag of popcorn the size of your head. It’s like going to the stadium and not getting a hot dog or your grandma’s house without making sure her nipples get hard from looking at your bulge after you’ve gone through her hamper. You just have to get some fucking popcorn, right? But I must say. It’s been a long time since I was at a movie theater; I would’ve guessed that by now they’d let you actually choose which single piece of popcorn you wanted them to soak with the 4 gallons of butter. “Here’s you’re buttered kernel, sir…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand your 5 pounds of salt underneath. Enjoy the movie!” And for $6, you'd think I wouldn't have to cut the dick-hole at the bottom of the bag myself for fuckssake. Any kid over 8 years old can tell sloppy work, friend. My point? Don't sit beside any kid in the theater who was born before 1999.
So of course I’m 30 minutes early, I’m sitting there watching the dumb quizzes et al. Which actress was up for Glenn Close’s role in Fatal Attraction, which film was Pacino’s debut, do you think you would get caught if you pulled it out in the back of the theater and started rubbing one out, and…whoops. Guess that one was my own little “quiz.” So finally the lights go out, here we go I’m thinking BUT NO… now we have to sit through the 5 minutes of snack food parading around on the screen “reminding” us that there are refreshments to be had out at the counter. Hmm. Really? Hey thanks for letting me know, just in case I was, you know, either actually born INSIDE the theater itself and have never been on the outside or the second I was handed a ticket I was blindfolded and moved along right by the concessions with a gun in my back. So really, thanks. There I was sitting in the back watching people walk in and thinking “what the…where the FUCK are these people getting all this popcorn and soda??!??!!”
And then, of course, come the previews. We all know how ridiculous these have become. There are so many before every movie now, these things run so long that after a while you start to forget that there’s actually a movie at the end of it all. It’s like being pregnant so long you forget that you’re actually gonna have a baby, or having sex with a girl and pumping away for so long you forget that in the end you’re going to cum all over her eys so her lids crust shut and you can steal all her shit. On and on and on these things go. But I noticed what the green screens actually say for the first time.
See that? "The following preview has been approved for ALL audiences." Why do they bother saying that? Have you ever seen one that said “This preview has been approved for audiences that are into assplay and teenage pig rape”? Do we hafta see this before every fucking trailor? And it’s not even like “come see this movie next week!” it’s “come see this movie starring Brangelina’s unborn child in 2017!!!”
So finally the previews are over and the movie starts. It is now 3:20, which I guess in Movie-Land means 3:00. Hmm. So I settle in and about 4 minutes in I realize wait…THIS ISN’T EVEN THE FUCKING MOVIE YET!!!! It’s some “short”!!!! To be honest it was kinda funny, but I didn’t fucking pay to see it, certainly not 20 minutes after the movie I did pay to see was SUPPOSED to start. Just like the tap you give a girl's head to let her know you're satisfied with the rim job, these fucking places really have to have someone who shows up in front of the screen with a bullhorn to announce that the actual movie you paid $11 to see is, in fact, beginning.
As for the movie itself, must say…great. Not a good movie, a great one. 2 thumbs up, 4 stars, whatever. Laugh out loud funny, touching at times but not too over the top, and within about 5 minutes you actually find yourself giving two shits about the main character, which is rare these days. Yes, it’s Disney so you know everything will end up okay in the end, but that’s alright. My only complaint is that there were a few too many hectic, panicking rat-almost-getting-run over-by-cars/people/Neil Diamond’s prostate scenes. But that’s the only ding.
Tell you what though…I am creeped out whenever I’m watching anything that’s animated and find myself thinking “man…she’s hot…” Chick in this one, reminded me of Gina Gershon. Well, if she wasn’t, you know, human. Always weirds me out, maybe my generation has Jessica Rabbit to blame for this. Or maybe I could speak to an actual woman more than once every 11 years.
If you must go see a movie, see “Ratatoille”!
SOME POST-FLICK SIDE NOTES
I was walking past some fancy-schmancy joint off Union Square with outdoor seating and I couldn’t help but notice as I walked by that some chick was sitting there eating…spaghetti. Plain, no meat, spaghetti. What? On a hunch I walked up to the window and looked at the menu. $28. For spaghetti. This seem weird to you? I mean, I’ve had some fine spaghetti in my life, but is it what you think of when you’re hitting a $28/plate joint? I’m spending that much, I’m prolly buying something that’s not already stuck all over the inside of my microwave. I don’t go to a double-jointed Mexican she-male hooker to sit there and jerk off to “King of Queens”, do I? Hell no. And by "hell no" of course I mean "not until Leah Remini loses her baby weight."
Also. If you are wearing a skimpy t-shirt that says “Fuck Me I’m a Slut”, I should by rights be able to bend you over the next taxi and fuck the living shit out of you. No jury would convict me – we have an oral t-shirt agreement, plus you’re an idiot. Seriously, these 23 year-old fresh out of private school white girls who parade around with these “I’m a Whore” or “Slut” shirts, enough already. We get it, you’re trying to be ironically bad. For fuck's sake can I ogle your fake tits without having to be pissed off at what your stuppid tee says? I don't thinik we're gonna be done with these things until some 85-lb over-tanned US Weekly addict wears one that says "Chop My Beef Curtains into Pieces and Dip in Tempura, You Fucking N---er." MAYBE then we'll decide enuff's enuff, let's knock off these stupid ironic shirts.
So I get to the theater and of course have to get popcorn. I do not care whatever diet one is on, whatever healthy lifestyle one may choose, it is simply not normal to go to the movies and not get a bag of popcorn the size of your head. It’s like going to the stadium and not getting a hot dog or your grandma’s house without making sure her nipples get hard from looking at your bulge after you’ve gone through her hamper. You just have to get some fucking popcorn, right? But I must say. It’s been a long time since I was at a movie theater; I would’ve guessed that by now they’d let you actually choose which single piece of popcorn you wanted them to soak with the 4 gallons of butter. “Here’s you’re buttered kernel, sir…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand your 5 pounds of salt underneath. Enjoy the movie!” And for $6, you'd think I wouldn't have to cut the dick-hole at the bottom of the bag myself for fuckssake. Any kid over 8 years old can tell sloppy work, friend. My point? Don't sit beside any kid in the theater who was born before 1999.
So of course I’m 30 minutes early, I’m sitting there watching the dumb quizzes et al. Which actress was up for Glenn Close’s role in Fatal Attraction, which film was Pacino’s debut, do you think you would get caught if you pulled it out in the back of the theater and started rubbing one out, and…whoops. Guess that one was my own little “quiz.” So finally the lights go out, here we go I’m thinking BUT NO… now we have to sit through the 5 minutes of snack food parading around on the screen “reminding” us that there are refreshments to be had out at the counter. Hmm. Really? Hey thanks for letting me know, just in case I was, you know, either actually born INSIDE the theater itself and have never been on the outside or the second I was handed a ticket I was blindfolded and moved along right by the concessions with a gun in my back. So really, thanks. There I was sitting in the back watching people walk in and thinking “what the…where the FUCK are these people getting all this popcorn and soda??!??!!”
And then, of course, come the previews. We all know how ridiculous these have become. There are so many before every movie now, these things run so long that after a while you start to forget that there’s actually a movie at the end of it all. It’s like being pregnant so long you forget that you’re actually gonna have a baby, or having sex with a girl and pumping away for so long you forget that in the end you’re going to cum all over her eys so her lids crust shut and you can steal all her shit. On and on and on these things go. But I noticed what the green screens actually say for the first time.
See that? "The following preview has been approved for ALL audiences." Why do they bother saying that? Have you ever seen one that said “This preview has been approved for audiences that are into assplay and teenage pig rape”? Do we hafta see this before every fucking trailor? And it’s not even like “come see this movie next week!” it’s “come see this movie starring Brangelina’s unborn child in 2017!!!”
So finally the previews are over and the movie starts. It is now 3:20, which I guess in Movie-Land means 3:00. Hmm. So I settle in and about 4 minutes in I realize wait…THIS ISN’T EVEN THE FUCKING MOVIE YET!!!! It’s some “short”!!!! To be honest it was kinda funny, but I didn’t fucking pay to see it, certainly not 20 minutes after the movie I did pay to see was SUPPOSED to start. Just like the tap you give a girl's head to let her know you're satisfied with the rim job, these fucking places really have to have someone who shows up in front of the screen with a bullhorn to announce that the actual movie you paid $11 to see is, in fact, beginning.
As for the movie itself, must say…great. Not a good movie, a great one. 2 thumbs up, 4 stars, whatever. Laugh out loud funny, touching at times but not too over the top, and within about 5 minutes you actually find yourself giving two shits about the main character, which is rare these days. Yes, it’s Disney so you know everything will end up okay in the end, but that’s alright. My only complaint is that there were a few too many hectic, panicking rat-almost-getting-run over-by-cars/people/Neil Diamond’s prostate scenes. But that’s the only ding.
Tell you what though…I am creeped out whenever I’m watching anything that’s animated and find myself thinking “man…she’s hot…” Chick in this one, reminded me of Gina Gershon. Well, if she wasn’t, you know, human. Always weirds me out, maybe my generation has Jessica Rabbit to blame for this. Or maybe I could speak to an actual woman more than once every 11 years.
If you must go see a movie, see “Ratatoille”!
SOME POST-FLICK SIDE NOTES
I was walking past some fancy-schmancy joint off Union Square with outdoor seating and I couldn’t help but notice as I walked by that some chick was sitting there eating…spaghetti. Plain, no meat, spaghetti. What? On a hunch I walked up to the window and looked at the menu. $28. For spaghetti. This seem weird to you? I mean, I’ve had some fine spaghetti in my life, but is it what you think of when you’re hitting a $28/plate joint? I’m spending that much, I’m prolly buying something that’s not already stuck all over the inside of my microwave. I don’t go to a double-jointed Mexican she-male hooker to sit there and jerk off to “King of Queens”, do I? Hell no. And by "hell no" of course I mean "not until Leah Remini loses her baby weight."
Also. If you are wearing a skimpy t-shirt that says “Fuck Me I’m a Slut”, I should by rights be able to bend you over the next taxi and fuck the living shit out of you. No jury would convict me – we have an oral t-shirt agreement, plus you’re an idiot. Seriously, these 23 year-old fresh out of private school white girls who parade around with these “I’m a Whore” or “Slut” shirts, enough already. We get it, you’re trying to be ironically bad. For fuck's sake can I ogle your fake tits without having to be pissed off at what your stuppid tee says? I don't thinik we're gonna be done with these things until some 85-lb over-tanned US Weekly addict wears one that says "Chop My Beef Curtains into Pieces and Dip in Tempura, You Fucking N---er." MAYBE then we'll decide enuff's enuff, let's knock off these stupid ironic shirts.
I So Solly
One of my favorite documentary ever is Hamburger America, which pops up from time to time on PBS. I found this video of the butter burger which, I must say, might be the #1 burger on the doc I wanna try. Obviously I would immediately drop dead, but still.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Cinephile
I'm thinking about actually going to a movie on Friday. I have no idea what's playing, but I'm thinking about actually going, buying a ticket, sitting in an ice-cold theater and watching a flick. Which I never do - since I've moved to NYC in 1998, I think the only flicks I've actually gone to see have been
Primary Colors
No Looking Back
Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon
Gangs of New York
Igby Goes Down
The Swimming Pool
Gigli (yes!)
All the Real Girls
The Good Girl
The Anniversary Party
Fahrenheit 9/11
Legally Blond II
Hard Day's Night (Film Forum)
End of the Century
Punch Drunk Love
Hell, that's more than I thought. Prolly forgetting a few. But fuck it, I'm going to a movie theater on Friday.
Primary Colors
No Looking Back
Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon
Gangs of New York
Igby Goes Down
The Swimming Pool
Gigli (yes!)
All the Real Girls
The Good Girl
The Anniversary Party
Fahrenheit 9/11
Legally Blond II
Hard Day's Night (Film Forum)
End of the Century
Punch Drunk Love
Hell, that's more than I thought. Prolly forgetting a few. But fuck it, I'm going to a movie theater on Friday.
You Big Dummy!
Was grouchy this morning...depressed. Lost a big game yesterday, then got shitfaced. Miserable. Dragged my ass to the grocery store, immediately got in lockstep with some grey panther who shuffled at 0 mph and had a fucking cast on her foot. No matter what food I wanted to look at, bam! there she was, hovering in front of it. Driving me fucking bananas. Ready to say fuck it, go home and pout all day. Then someone's cell phone started ringing.
Seriously...is it possible to NOT be cheered up by the theme to "Sanford & Son"? Unreal...those of us in earshot instantly perked up, and for once you didn't want the person to answer their phone, "let it ring!" you silently yell. Best part is, the dude knew it - let it ring as long as possible before answering. I swear, after he had hung up total strangers started going up to him, excited about his ring. And like a seasoned celeb he was not ruffled or surprised, he just nodded his head and agreed with everyone about how great it was as well all paid our respects. A great moment. Cruddy mood, gone!
Seriously...is it possible to NOT be cheered up by the theme to "Sanford & Son"? Unreal...those of us in earshot instantly perked up, and for once you didn't want the person to answer their phone, "let it ring!" you silently yell. Best part is, the dude knew it - let it ring as long as possible before answering. I swear, after he had hung up total strangers started going up to him, excited about his ring. And like a seasoned celeb he was not ruffled or surprised, he just nodded his head and agreed with everyone about how great it was as well all paid our respects. A great moment. Cruddy mood, gone!
Friday, July 13, 2007
Here We Come!
The UG has posted his optimism for his O's for the second half, so I went back to revisit my Yankee prediction for this season. Turns out right now Yanks have to go 67-9 to reach 110 wins. I gotta tell you. I wish I could say "that's absurd!" but...looking at their schedule, and A-Rod being A-Rod...I am officaly re-upping my prediction. 110 wins. Im sorry, right now I just have no problem thinking they'll play .881 ball from here on out. If they lose the next 2 to the D-Rays I'll reconsider, but right now my hands are tied: 110-52.
This is EMBARRASSING!
All these reports of high schoolers not having sex is pissing me off. And teachers, this isn't directed at you; obviously you're doing all you can to get these kids humping something other than each other during Greco-Roman wrestling week in gym cass. But I feel like my generation has let the next one down. Seriously, where are the people my age who are supposed to be lurking in local parking lots, luring these kids to their first keggers to get shitfaced enough to finally have their first fuck? Where are the Bunky Davis'(hometown almost-living legend) of this generation: someone who dedicates his life not to his own career or family but to going to prom every single year from 1976 thru the present, making sure these girls are overwhelmed by his age/liquor/El Camino enough to drop their drawers and gets to fucking - when will we stand up so that Bunky and his brothers-in-isolated, out of earshot farms can finally stand down? We are in arrears with our responsibilities, people. The alarm bell is ringing; now get some fucking everclear in that punch bowl and make sure you get far enuff out in the woods for this to fucking happen. Jesus. As a great man once said, it's called L-E-A-D-E-R-S-H-I-P.
Ef You, 13
Well well well.....here we are again. Usually I lay in bed cowering in fear about Friday the 13th. Do not like it, do not taunt it, do not wish to court any more disaster than usual. Normally if I was typing this I'd be looking over my head for planes to land on top of me. Not today; not the new 2007 Xmastime. I laugh at you, openly taunt you with contempt. I've already worked out, played 3 sets of tennis, drunk a 24oz. french vanilla coffee and started my laundry. So if some fucking superstition thinks it's gonna hit me this year, I say fuck y**^%&%$%^#^#%@$ NGTT%%%%%%%%^%*))))__ IK(%((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Step It Up, Kid
Im coming to the realization that my ploy of using the kid I baby-sit to get women is not working. First of all, if I’m with the kid and I catch a girl’s eye and try to flirt* she quickly assumes I’m the father and therefore some sort of cheating scumbag. Which works if you’re rich or good-looking, but not usually in any other instance. So that’s no good, particularly in this day and age where a lot of married men don’t wear rings anyway. And my go-to move, wandering around letting it be known that I’m struggling to raise this beautiful boy alone since the death of his dear, angelic mother is not only not working, but is getting creepy. So this kid and I better come up with another plan soon, or before we know it he’ll be driving me to his high school parties to meet “women.”
* stand there, mouth agape and hand in pocket playing with my balls
* stand there, mouth agape and hand in pocket playing with my balls
Even MORE Shit You Couldn't Make Up
We pay him a bunch of money to be our expert on homeland security, and Chertoff informs us that he has, get this, a "hunch." Wow. Why don't we save the $$$ we're giving him and pay an ape some bananas to throw her own shit at a map and calender to figure out where and when the next attack will be? I have a "hunch" someone might not know what the fuck he's doing. But then again, I predicted I'd get laid this century, so maybe we're all just guessing. Sigh.
David Vitter: Yet Another Dumbass
Obviously the big problem with Vitter is YET AGAIN it’s some dumbfuck hypocrite who has built a career throwing tantrums re: sanctity of marriage and “family values” et al who gets caught with his hand in the nookie jar. YET AGAIN it’s some fuckwit who was jumping up and down that Clinton cheating on his wife will single-handedly destroy America, the children and apple pie that gee, what do you know, is full of shit. And of course what’s become even more dangerous is these are the people that have spent the last two elections preaching and successfully convincing voters that “family values” and “character” are all that matters when it comes to choosing our leaders, be it at the expense of competence, intelligence and vision.
But the thing is, I don’t and never have believed these people. Any politician that starts Bible-thumping and acting holier than thou, I simply do not believe. Look at W – all this horsehit about what a great husband/family guy he is, what a great “Christian” he is, do you REALLY think that he never cheated on Laura? Even after he was done (at age 40) snorting eight-balls and drowning in Jack, do you honestly think he wasn’t getting all the ass he could? Please. Fuck, Ann Coulter can’t go 120 seconds without reminding us what a Christian she is for fuckssake. These people are simply unbelievable; yet these are the people we’re following off a cliff cause we’ve trapped ourselves into caring only about “family values.”
And now once again, we have some family-values huckster getting busted. But to be honest, that’s not even my favorite part – all my predictable anger re: hypocrisy et al has been written here 1000 times before. My favorite bit is in his written statement:
You see that? He asked for AND RECEIVED forgiveness from God. Hmm. Really? He knows for fact that God forgave him? Can somebody please ask him how? Did God text him? I mean, did he really just say that? How can he say that and nobody asks him how this hapenned? And can I use this in court maybe? “Listen, your honor, I already talked to God and he forgave me for stealing the car, so you might as well let me go.” I guess him saying this horseshit makes it okay. Am I crazy, am I the only person on Earth thinking it's a bit much to believe that "God" reached out and spoke to this dipshit? A bum on the street talking to Jesus is "crazy", but we're alright with Vitter having God on his speed dial. Camon.
But we all sit and watch him “apologize” and “repent”, I’m sure there’s some nice footage of him tearing up while talking about Jesus, and we all nod our heads and forgive a man who has built a career on the very thing for which he is asking (and receiving!) God’s forgiveness. I could give a fuck if someone cheats on his wife, but this politics of REPEATED hypocrisy and forgiveness is getting more and more dangerous to our country. Maybe if we dropped this act of giving a shit how many times someone goes to church every week and worry a little more about little things like healthcare, education and not getting into pretend wars so that 4 people can get rich? I know, I know, I'm going to hell.
But the thing is, I don’t and never have believed these people. Any politician that starts Bible-thumping and acting holier than thou, I simply do not believe. Look at W – all this horsehit about what a great husband/family guy he is, what a great “Christian” he is, do you REALLY think that he never cheated on Laura? Even after he was done (at age 40) snorting eight-balls and drowning in Jack, do you honestly think he wasn’t getting all the ass he could? Please. Fuck, Ann Coulter can’t go 120 seconds without reminding us what a Christian she is for fuckssake. These people are simply unbelievable; yet these are the people we’re following off a cliff cause we’ve trapped ourselves into caring only about “family values.”
And now once again, we have some family-values huckster getting busted. But to be honest, that’s not even my favorite part – all my predictable anger re: hypocrisy et al has been written here 1000 times before. My favorite bit is in his written statement:
This was a very serious sin in my past for which I am, of course, completely responsible. Several years ago, I asked for and received forgiveness from God and my wife in confession and marriage counseling. Out of respect for my family, I will keep my discussion of the matter there - with God and them. But I certainly offer my deep and sincere apologies to all I have disappointed and let down in any way.
You see that? He asked for AND RECEIVED forgiveness from God. Hmm. Really? He knows for fact that God forgave him? Can somebody please ask him how? Did God text him? I mean, did he really just say that? How can he say that and nobody asks him how this hapenned? And can I use this in court maybe? “Listen, your honor, I already talked to God and he forgave me for stealing the car, so you might as well let me go.” I guess him saying this horseshit makes it okay. Am I crazy, am I the only person on Earth thinking it's a bit much to believe that "God" reached out and spoke to this dipshit? A bum on the street talking to Jesus is "crazy", but we're alright with Vitter having God on his speed dial. Camon.
But we all sit and watch him “apologize” and “repent”, I’m sure there’s some nice footage of him tearing up while talking about Jesus, and we all nod our heads and forgive a man who has built a career on the very thing for which he is asking (and receiving!) God’s forgiveness. I could give a fuck if someone cheats on his wife, but this politics of REPEATED hypocrisy and forgiveness is getting more and more dangerous to our country. Maybe if we dropped this act of giving a shit how many times someone goes to church every week and worry a little more about little things like healthcare, education and not getting into pretend wars so that 4 people can get rich? I know, I know, I'm going to hell.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Chicks, Dudes, Moi
Can't stop thinking bout this girl I met last night...smoking hot, vivacious, horse teeth. Then this morning I turn on "ER" and am reminded I have a man-crush on Ewan McGregor. sigh. Life: a conundrum. Wrapped in a riddle. Tucked in Jennifer Tilly's bossoms.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Yahoo! Must Die
I’ve just about had it with fucking Yahoo. I’m sorry, I mean Yahoo! For years now I’ve been doing a slow burn thanks to their fucking mail. Instead of a simple one click, it takes like 50 fucking windows to actually get to your mail. After filling in your name/password for the 90000th time in this life, you go to “My Mail.” After clicking, does it go to my mail? Of course not, now I get to look at another page and then have to click on “Check mail.” Cause I guess when I had clicked “My mail” before, I really wasn’t interested in actually seeing, you know...my mail. So now it’s another page, as if it’s fucking saying “seriously, you sure you wanna check your mail? I dunnooooo.........” For fuck’s sake, after popping in my name/password can I fucking get onto the first of my many, MANY emails that promise me a new mortgage while fucking teenage barn animals who enlarge my dick? Please? All these windows to get to my inbox; 3 fucking superfluous clicks to check my mail. Hell, with only two clicks I can have a Portugese teen show up at my place for a lil “fucky-fucky.” The two clicks being, of course, me un-handcuffing her from the radiator under my bed. Hey, FUCK peninsulas!!
And now I’ve playing online Chess thru Yahoo and it’s the same shit. Click and start playing? Nah. Click “game.” Then “board game.” Then “chess.” Then “play now?” then “click here to continue!” then "boy, don't Asians have tiny dicks!" to “play now!” then it’s another 5 fucking clicks to find a fucking opponent not named shungholovespussy_1988. Fucking maddening.
And now I’ve playing online Chess thru Yahoo and it’s the same shit. Click and start playing? Nah. Click “game.” Then “board game.” Then “chess.” Then “play now?” then “click here to continue!” then "boy, don't Asians have tiny dicks!" to “play now!” then it’s another 5 fucking clicks to find a fucking opponent not named shungholovespussy_1988. Fucking maddening.
A Brother in Arms
I'm trying to get better re: fruits and vegetables, but good lord; did I write this bit here? Almost dead-on for likes and dislikes. Stay strong mon frere!!
Friday, July 06, 2007
Things that if I Saw Them at Your House When I was a Kid, I Would Assume You Were R I C H
Paper Towels. In my house we used the White Trash Secret Weapon: paper napkins. Little, balled up paper of crud. May explain why to this day I don’t like when people play with little wet, dirty pieces of paper (like from straws.) Though it doesn’t explain why my big dream is to have a beautiful women who is slightly crippled, maybe only a puppy foot, fall in love with me and sticking with me even after the corrective surgery cause I stood by her when she was afflicted, loved her for HER and not just for her model’s face, Carmen Elektra rack and extreme sense of permissiveness when it comes to introducing German dead kitten scat porn into the boudoir.
Soft butter. I don’t think I even knew this existed until I got a girlfriend and had dinner at her house. A stick of butter could not enter my house unless it was frozen solid as if hurled from a comet. And good luck actually spreading this shit on a piece of bread; after 3 seconds the bread would be shredded, and 99% of the butter was still piled high on one spot. Great. I remember trying tricks such as putting the butter on top of the toaster while I toasted my bread or shoving it up Raoul the stockboy’s ass from Sunnyside Grocery down the road. Zero luck. Although on a side note I did learn how to milk another man. Thanks, hard butter!
A second tv/vcr/cable. Any combination of these, I assumed your dad owned NASA or something. It was always awkward the first time I was over at a friend’s house and he’d say “let’s go watch tv in my room” and I’d instinctively go to the one in the living room, pick it up and start carrying it to his room. Sweet, awkward youth. And a vcr, forget it. Every other kid I knew had a vcr and cable and his parents had the inevitable stash of porn under their bed. My parents had time for each other and the inevitable sense of right and wrong, love and family. Obviously I’m still pissed at their choices.
A father. I’d get jealous whenever I’d go to some kid’s house and he had a father – the last time I saw my father, he was kicking my pregnant mother on the floor of our kitchen before walking out yelling at us to go fuck ourselves.
I’m kidding! I’m a kidder!...but seriously, is the only thing funnier than domestic abuse infant rape fueled by racism? It’s close, anyways.
More than one bathroom. People wonder why I take so long on the shitter. The fact is, I’m actually shitting about 1% of the time; the rest of the time I’m sitting, relaxing in the peace. Okay, MAYBE jerking off to pictures of Denise Rich. In my house there were 6 of us and one bathroom. And somehow through the laws of genetics my “cycle” was lined up perfectly with my dad’s. I’d hafta shit my brains out and the second my young, rock-hard, tautly sinewed with just a baby’s breath of hair rippling (did I mention young?) buttocks would hit the porcelain BANG BANG BANG!! “how long you gonna be in there??!! Godammit!!!” I learned how to shit a whole Thanksgiving meal in the time it took me to drop my pants. And things got even dicier the summer my grandma lived with us...guess who had the exact same cycle that she had passed onto her son and grandson? . I’d hafta shit my brains out and the second my young, rock-hard, tautly sinewed with just a baby’s breath of hair rippling (did I mention young?) buttocks would hit the porcelain scratch scratch scratch (154 year-old fingernails barely scraping the door) ”hello? is...anyone...in...there...I think I...left my Magnum fuck-rubbers in there....hello?...” AAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! So when I went to your house and there was more than one shitter, I’d be like WOW....if I lived here, I’d be sitting on the pot ALL DAY!
Obviously, it was very hard to impress me as a youth.
Soft butter. I don’t think I even knew this existed until I got a girlfriend and had dinner at her house. A stick of butter could not enter my house unless it was frozen solid as if hurled from a comet. And good luck actually spreading this shit on a piece of bread; after 3 seconds the bread would be shredded, and 99% of the butter was still piled high on one spot. Great. I remember trying tricks such as putting the butter on top of the toaster while I toasted my bread or shoving it up Raoul the stockboy’s ass from Sunnyside Grocery down the road. Zero luck. Although on a side note I did learn how to milk another man. Thanks, hard butter!
A second tv/vcr/cable. Any combination of these, I assumed your dad owned NASA or something. It was always awkward the first time I was over at a friend’s house and he’d say “let’s go watch tv in my room” and I’d instinctively go to the one in the living room, pick it up and start carrying it to his room. Sweet, awkward youth. And a vcr, forget it. Every other kid I knew had a vcr and cable and his parents had the inevitable stash of porn under their bed. My parents had time for each other and the inevitable sense of right and wrong, love and family. Obviously I’m still pissed at their choices.
A father. I’d get jealous whenever I’d go to some kid’s house and he had a father – the last time I saw my father, he was kicking my pregnant mother on the floor of our kitchen before walking out yelling at us to go fuck ourselves.
I’m kidding! I’m a kidder!...but seriously, is the only thing funnier than domestic abuse infant rape fueled by racism? It’s close, anyways.
More than one bathroom. People wonder why I take so long on the shitter. The fact is, I’m actually shitting about 1% of the time; the rest of the time I’m sitting, relaxing in the peace. Okay, MAYBE jerking off to pictures of Denise Rich. In my house there were 6 of us and one bathroom. And somehow through the laws of genetics my “cycle” was lined up perfectly with my dad’s. I’d hafta shit my brains out and the second my young, rock-hard, tautly sinewed with just a baby’s breath of hair rippling (did I mention young?) buttocks would hit the porcelain BANG BANG BANG!! “how long you gonna be in there??!! Godammit!!!” I learned how to shit a whole Thanksgiving meal in the time it took me to drop my pants. And things got even dicier the summer my grandma lived with us...guess who had the exact same cycle that she had passed onto her son and grandson? . I’d hafta shit my brains out and the second my young, rock-hard, tautly sinewed with just a baby’s breath of hair rippling (did I mention young?) buttocks would hit the porcelain scratch scratch scratch (154 year-old fingernails barely scraping the door) ”hello? is...anyone...in...there...I think I...left my Magnum fuck-rubbers in there....hello?...” AAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! So when I went to your house and there was more than one shitter, I’d be like WOW....if I lived here, I’d be sitting on the pot ALL DAY!
Obviously, it was very hard to impress me as a youth.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
I'm Here! I'm Queer!
So this evening I did something I'm pretty sure I've never done before: a dude. I'm kidding - I'm a kidder! No, I went into a health food store and bought...ta da...fruit. Me. I honestly can not remember the last time I bought fruit...who buys fruit? Plus, it was "organic." Which I now realize I don't really have any idea what that means; as far as I can gather it means that once the fruit is born they keep it in a cage so that it can't move around at all, keeping it juicy and tender. But I went for it. Walking around a health food store was dicey too - I kept waiting for the health food police to swarm and escort me out "...ALLLLLright jackass, we can smell the Chicken McNuggets in your pores, we don't want your kind around here..."
"Hahaha!! Remember back when Xmastime used to have these??!"
"Hahaha!! Remember back when Xmastime used to have these??!"
Today's Re-Thoughts
Talking about "The Bronx is Burning" got me thinking, and I've decided that the people from the 1977 blackout could pretty much beat the shit out of us from the 2003 one. I mean, those dudes were looting and raping and burnt down Bushwick while having to worry about the Son of Sam capping them. In 2003 we all got drunk off free beer from the bars ("it'll go bad in the taps; drink! no ice, drink!" and free food from the bodegas ("the food will spoil! eat! eat!") I'm surprised Bloomburg didn't pass out free kittens to all of us for being such great, orderly citizens. What a bunch of pussies. Maybe we are heading back towards a more 1950's NYC. A time, as The Barber once said, "When Whites Ruled Brooklyn."
Also, re: fireworks. They're always so predictable, which leads to the inevitable disappointment - like a movie sequel, or the first time you realize that that wasn't a beer I spilled in the bed while you were sleeping. Wouldn't it be better if all of a sudden one year they shot them off without warning a day early? Let's say it's July 3, you're in your apartment jerking off into the pair of drawers you asked your 11 year-old pen pal to mail you and BOOM!!!!! fireworks!! Now wouldn't that be exciting? Impromptu soiree, everyone's in a great mood. Just saying. Fucking U-S-A, motherfuckers!
Also, re: fireworks. They're always so predictable, which leads to the inevitable disappointment - like a movie sequel, or the first time you realize that that wasn't a beer I spilled in the bed while you were sleeping. Wouldn't it be better if all of a sudden one year they shot them off without warning a day early? Let's say it's July 3, you're in your apartment jerking off into the pair of drawers you asked your 11 year-old pen pal to mail you and BOOM!!!!! fireworks!! Now wouldn't that be exciting? Impromptu soiree, everyone's in a great mood. Just saying. Fucking U-S-A, motherfuckers!
Lessons on Women # 3,199
The weird thing about fireworks is that no matter what, the ending is always disappointing, always weirdly unsatisfying. You turn to your friends and are like “…is that it? You think that was the finale? You think?” and then awkwardly wait around for a few more minutes before yeah, that’s it they’re done. Like when you’re with your girl and she's close to coming, you’re thrilled and then, like a sneeze cut off, not yet. You come babe? No. So you keep pumping, trying, trying. How bout now? No. Pumpity pump pump. Looking for that certain look.
Now?
No.
Close?
Yes.
Now?
No.
How bout now?
No
(from across the room) Now, baby?
No!
(from the can) Almost?
No.
(text the next day) Now?
And so on. Women and firecrackers: loud, handled by assholes and come once a year.
Son of Sam (I am freaking out, people!!)
Coupla month ago while reading "The Bronx is Burning", the relatively small section devoted to the Son Of Sam completely freaked me out. Now in anticipation of the movie coming up on Monday I've been reading the Daily News' trip down memory lane, and I came upon this:
Jesus. Locking all the doors, turning on all the lights!!
The odd part of that investigation involved the two sons of Berkowitz's neighbor, Sam Carr. In calling himself the Son of Sam, Berkowitz would later say he'd heard voices through Carr's dog. But maybe there was more to it.
While most of the New York media dismissed the cult possibility out of hand as the ramblings of a crazy man, the demonic possession angle intrigued me.
The fact of the matter: Both of Sam Carr's sons died in the midst of the Son of Sam spree.
Michael Carr died in a single-car crash on a New York City highway. Far more ominous, John Carr died Feb. 16, 1978, at the Air Force base in Minot, N.D. It appeared to be a suicide, with a shotgun placed vertically from the ground up into his mouth. But conspiracy theorists to this day suggest it was murder.
I traveled to Minot to check it out, where a law enforcement source told me he had evidence that David Berkowitz and John Carr had known each other quite well. Hmmm.
John Carr sometimes used "Wheat" as a middle name. In one of Son of Sam's notes, he offered "a name to help you along — John Wheaties, rapist and suffocator of young girls."
Jesus. Locking all the doors, turning on all the lights!!
"Excessive"
Another thing that gets me re: Scooter Libby is that if 30 months is "excessive" why is the only alternative ZERO months? Can't he still serve, say, half? A month? A day? After all, W never said he shouldn't have been sentecned at all, but that it was simply "excessive." Hmm. Another "mystery."
I'm sure there's some legal mumbo-jumbo as to why not that I am not privy to, but camon.
I'm sure there's some legal mumbo-jumbo as to why not that I am not privy to, but camon.
Top Fitty
A few weeks ago I was asked by godihateyourband to compile my Top 50 songs of all time. They would be then scored along with about 20 other music snobs and a definitive “Best 100 of All Time” list would be posted. While we wait for the final results, thought I’d post my slices of slices now. We were also asked to comment on our top 10. yes, I am a giant ho………mo.
Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan
Like everyone else, I’m sure I took this song for granted for years. But then you get older, and you realize that even though it’s by someone as old as your parents, it’s the best “fuck you” song there is. But the kicker came only about a decade ago, on the Greyhound bus listening on my $14 Port Authority walkman, guaranteed to explode as soon as your “great!” trip was over. I locked in and for the first time I could hear that the song actually speeds up as it rolls on; I’ve still never heard such excitement building in such seasoned musicians as verses and choruses peeled off, you can hear them looking at each other, thrilled to be playing on this. The greatest of all cuts.
River Deep, Mountain High - Ike & Tina Turner
The Wall of Sound meets the single greatest singing performance of all time. Camon.
Can’t Hardly Wait (Tim version) – The Replacements
Rocking, rollicking, heartbreaking, will never understand why they later went with the wimpier version for it’s official release. Supposedly it was cause the song’s about suicide; am I the only one to have since figured out that they pussified the lyrics to stick on a later album which featured a song (“The Ledge”) about…suicide. Christ. And if this had made Tim, there would be no doubts possible about what the single greatest album of all time was.
Born to Run – Bruce Springsteen
whatever dude said about cadillacs and melted down Crystals ’ records, I second. Only thing I can say about this that ain’t been said a hundred times is I’m always flabbergasted no one since has ever tried to replicate that combo of words + Spector. Ah well.
It’s the Same Old Song – The Four Tops
Of course you could pick a million Motown slices, but this has always been my super schliiiice. Can still remember as a young buck, maybe 7ish, going out to play catch with my brother. I had to quickly run back into the house to get something, and as I was reaching for whatever it was this came on and I was stunned. That fat rollicking riff, still got a hold on me. Can remember what I was wearing, my brother was wearing (a dress? Hiyooo!) and where I was (bedroom, in front of window looking out on backyard.) Desert island slice.
I Wanna Hold Your Hand – The Beatles
the single greatest 2 minutes of pure excitement there is. Sound and movement so great it covers up that the words are kinda dumb and repeat three times. Nothing’s better than being at a bar when this comes on, it JUMPS out of the speakers and whether they even know it or not everyone’s dancing in their own way to it as they drink/talk/hit on me.
Do You Remember Rock n Roll Radio? – The Ramones
the greatest band at their best. Another one of those “how was this not the biggest song in the world?” songs. Combines everything great about rock n roll: amazing bass, thrilling horns and words that reflect the past while asking for more from today and tomorrow. Perfection at it’s best.
Anarchy in the UK –Sex Pistols
wore this whole album out like a mf in my ’78 Ford Fiesta back in the day. In the business we call this slice a “slow burn.”
In the Midnight Hour – Wilson Pickett
one of those songs, like Jackie Wilson’s “Higher and Higher”, that I completely forget about but then it comes on the radio and I’m blown away EVERY SINGLE TIME. Dirty, hypnotizing, and should only be heard after midnight in pitch blackness.
You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling – Righteous Brothers
Higher & Higher – Jackie Wilson
Sweet Little Sixteen – Chuck Berry
Sugar Sugar – The Archies
There She Goes My Beautiful World – Nick Cave
Then He Kissed Me – Crystals
Radio Free Europe - REM
Bonzo Goes to Bitburg – The Ramones
Left in the Dark – The Vertebrats
Many Rivers to Cross – Jimmy Cliff
Complete Control – The Clash
Baby Come Back – The Equals
To Love Somebody – Bee Gees
Why Don’t You Love Me – Hank Williams
Little Red Corvette – Prince
Days – The Kinks
Faraway You - Marah
That Girl Belongs to Yesterday – Gene Pitney
Suspicious Minds – Elvis Presley
Love of the Common People – Nicky Thomas
This is England – The Clash
Bring it on Home to Me - Sam Cooke
Fairytale of New York - The Pogues
Roadrunner - The Modern Lovers
Peggy Sue - Buddy Holly
Turn on the News - Husker Du
I’m Walkin - Fats Domino
Sometime to Return - Soul Asylum
Land of Hope and Dreams – Bruce Springsteen
Fortunate Son - Credence Clearwater Revival
Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
Disappeared – Tandy
Don’t Let Me Down – DT and the Shakes
Have I The Right? – The Honeycombs
Always on My Mind – Willie Nelson
Him or Me - Paul Revere and the Raiders
Whole Wide World – Wreckless Eric
Black Velvet Elvis – Carnival Season
Summer Babe - Pavement
Side of the Road - Lucinda Williams
It’s Only Make Believe - Conway Twitty
Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan
Like everyone else, I’m sure I took this song for granted for years. But then you get older, and you realize that even though it’s by someone as old as your parents, it’s the best “fuck you” song there is. But the kicker came only about a decade ago, on the Greyhound bus listening on my $14 Port Authority walkman, guaranteed to explode as soon as your “great!” trip was over. I locked in and for the first time I could hear that the song actually speeds up as it rolls on; I’ve still never heard such excitement building in such seasoned musicians as verses and choruses peeled off, you can hear them looking at each other, thrilled to be playing on this. The greatest of all cuts.
River Deep, Mountain High - Ike & Tina Turner
The Wall of Sound meets the single greatest singing performance of all time. Camon.
Can’t Hardly Wait (Tim version) – The Replacements
Rocking, rollicking, heartbreaking, will never understand why they later went with the wimpier version for it’s official release. Supposedly it was cause the song’s about suicide; am I the only one to have since figured out that they pussified the lyrics to stick on a later album which featured a song (“The Ledge”) about…suicide. Christ. And if this had made Tim, there would be no doubts possible about what the single greatest album of all time was.
Born to Run – Bruce Springsteen
whatever dude said about cadillacs and melted down Crystals ’ records, I second. Only thing I can say about this that ain’t been said a hundred times is I’m always flabbergasted no one since has ever tried to replicate that combo of words + Spector. Ah well.
It’s the Same Old Song – The Four Tops
Of course you could pick a million Motown slices, but this has always been my super schliiiice. Can still remember as a young buck, maybe 7ish, going out to play catch with my brother. I had to quickly run back into the house to get something, and as I was reaching for whatever it was this came on and I was stunned. That fat rollicking riff, still got a hold on me. Can remember what I was wearing, my brother was wearing (a dress? Hiyooo!) and where I was (bedroom, in front of window looking out on backyard.) Desert island slice.
I Wanna Hold Your Hand – The Beatles
the single greatest 2 minutes of pure excitement there is. Sound and movement so great it covers up that the words are kinda dumb and repeat three times. Nothing’s better than being at a bar when this comes on, it JUMPS out of the speakers and whether they even know it or not everyone’s dancing in their own way to it as they drink/talk/hit on me.
Do You Remember Rock n Roll Radio? – The Ramones
the greatest band at their best. Another one of those “how was this not the biggest song in the world?” songs. Combines everything great about rock n roll: amazing bass, thrilling horns and words that reflect the past while asking for more from today and tomorrow. Perfection at it’s best.
Anarchy in the UK –Sex Pistols
wore this whole album out like a mf in my ’78 Ford Fiesta back in the day. In the business we call this slice a “slow burn.”
In the Midnight Hour – Wilson Pickett
one of those songs, like Jackie Wilson’s “Higher and Higher”, that I completely forget about but then it comes on the radio and I’m blown away EVERY SINGLE TIME. Dirty, hypnotizing, and should only be heard after midnight in pitch blackness.
You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling – Righteous Brothers
Higher & Higher – Jackie Wilson
Sweet Little Sixteen – Chuck Berry
Sugar Sugar – The Archies
There She Goes My Beautiful World – Nick Cave
Then He Kissed Me – Crystals
Radio Free Europe - REM
Bonzo Goes to Bitburg – The Ramones
Left in the Dark – The Vertebrats
Many Rivers to Cross – Jimmy Cliff
Complete Control – The Clash
Baby Come Back – The Equals
To Love Somebody – Bee Gees
Why Don’t You Love Me – Hank Williams
Little Red Corvette – Prince
Days – The Kinks
Faraway You - Marah
That Girl Belongs to Yesterday – Gene Pitney
Suspicious Minds – Elvis Presley
Love of the Common People – Nicky Thomas
This is England – The Clash
Bring it on Home to Me - Sam Cooke
Fairytale of New York - The Pogues
Roadrunner - The Modern Lovers
Peggy Sue - Buddy Holly
Turn on the News - Husker Du
I’m Walkin - Fats Domino
Sometime to Return - Soul Asylum
Land of Hope and Dreams – Bruce Springsteen
Fortunate Son - Credence Clearwater Revival
Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
Disappeared – Tandy
Don’t Let Me Down – DT and the Shakes
Have I The Right? – The Honeycombs
Always on My Mind – Willie Nelson
Him or Me - Paul Revere and the Raiders
Whole Wide World – Wreckless Eric
Black Velvet Elvis – Carnival Season
Summer Babe - Pavement
Side of the Road - Lucinda Williams
It’s Only Make Believe - Conway Twitty
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
The King is Dead
One funny thing about the Hot Dog Eating Contest is that, like golf, people generally root for the front-runner. On Sundays you want Tiger to win, and on July 4th you want Kobiyashi to win with like 96 dogs. You never see people rooting for some dude struggling to get down 25, you want freakish greatness. Like rooting for Dolly Parton in a titty contest, or me in a ball-touching while watching Roseanne and dreaming up Hormel and Chef Boyardee Ravioli recipes contest.
My hats off to the announcers who somehow, someway pulled off talking about this event for an hour...I believe the highlight being when one of them said that should Chestnut win he'll go down as a great American Hero like Lincoln, Franklin and.......Taylor Hicks. Can you really compare Lincoln's keeping the Union together while freeing the slaves to Hicks' "Taking it to the Streets"? Time will tell, I reckon.
Do these guys get groupies? I mean, how much of a turn-on can it be when you're known for eating so much dick-shaped food that it's gonna leave you curled up on the bowl for about 8 hours? This isn't catching Jimmy Page walking offstage and blowing him, this is sitting around waiting for a dude to shit his body weight. The euphoria might not last long enough; even I'm not horny over that. Of course I'm lying - I just dipped my cock in corn-dog batter and "rang the Liberty Bell."
But let's be honest: we're all watching more every year because with the freak numbers these dudes are putting up, it's only a matter of time before we see a fatality. I mean camon, you can't shove that many 8-inch slabs of meat in your mouth so quickly and not choke to death eventually. Unless, of course, you're a girl I'm madly in love with and want to let me know you just wanna be "friends" while visiting the 76ers training camp (I hate you fucking bitch!!!!!)
But enough about Kenny Chesney; seriously, when they make a funnier scene than the baseball one in Naked Gun, let me know cause I have yet to see one.
Post-script: about 20 minutes after Kobiyashi lost the contest, Matsui hit one out at the Stadium. Tora! Tora! Tora! indeed.
My hats off to the announcers who somehow, someway pulled off talking about this event for an hour...I believe the highlight being when one of them said that should Chestnut win he'll go down as a great American Hero like Lincoln, Franklin and.......Taylor Hicks. Can you really compare Lincoln's keeping the Union together while freeing the slaves to Hicks' "Taking it to the Streets"? Time will tell, I reckon.
Do these guys get groupies? I mean, how much of a turn-on can it be when you're known for eating so much dick-shaped food that it's gonna leave you curled up on the bowl for about 8 hours? This isn't catching Jimmy Page walking offstage and blowing him, this is sitting around waiting for a dude to shit his body weight. The euphoria might not last long enough; even I'm not horny over that. Of course I'm lying - I just dipped my cock in corn-dog batter and "rang the Liberty Bell."
But let's be honest: we're all watching more every year because with the freak numbers these dudes are putting up, it's only a matter of time before we see a fatality. I mean camon, you can't shove that many 8-inch slabs of meat in your mouth so quickly and not choke to death eventually. Unless, of course, you're a girl I'm madly in love with and want to let me know you just wanna be "friends" while visiting the 76ers training camp (I hate you fucking bitch!!!!!)
But enough about Kenny Chesney; seriously, when they make a funnier scene than the baseball one in Naked Gun, let me know cause I have yet to see one.
Post-script: about 20 minutes after Kobiyashi lost the contest, Matsui hit one out at the Stadium. Tora! Tora! Tora! indeed.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Born on Third Base on the Fourth of July
Like anything else the Prez does these days, it’s hard to even work up the strength to bloviate about his commuting Scooter’s sentence. I mean, did we really not see this coming? Am I supposed to pretend to be surprised that personal, mafia-like loyalty takes precedence over such things as constitutional compliance and national security? Come on. The law simply does not apply to Bush and his friends; this we should be used to by now. If the Democrats in Congress aren’t going to get off their asses and impeach these motherfuckers, there’s no use in pretending the country even cares.
My favorite bit is that he stepped in and said that the sentence was, of course, “excessive.” Which is funny, cause I don’t remember W stepping in to help this guy out. A mystery.
Loyalty over all things. Good ol’ boys looking out for one another, no matter the cost to others. This is, after all, what we asked for in 2004: loyalty over competence. The electorate came from those who voted for Bush out of loyalty (vote him back in cause he’ll take care of me and mine ($$$, that is)) and those in the middle class who were dumb enough to believe that a vote for him would mean that they too could someday BE him. Fools. Anyone who claims to have voted for W in 2004 because of his “strength on the war” et al are, in a word, lying. The American people are stupid, but they can’t be THAT stupid, can they? And now we see yet another feather in their cap of entitlement. Yet another big “fuck you” to the almost 300,000,000 of us who are not in the inner circle. I hope the middle-class dumb fuck in Cedar Rapids who voted for these people is asking himself today “gee…would W step in if I was given a sentence that is “excessive”?...”
And don’t even bother blaming W himself; the sense of entitlement given to him at birth and reinforced by us at the polls is not even his own fault. Do not fool yourself into thinking that if he could run in 2008 he would even lose. Money and entitlement, we have slowly learned, trump all else. Intoxicating to have and, even worse, intoxicating to voters who pull the lever for it again and again. New ideas, true leadership, competence – these things simply do not matter to us. We only care about who has the most money – how else can it be that the last 5000 fucking articles about Obama are nothing but fundraising totals? He’s raised this much, that much, blah blah blah, nothing real. Nothing about the newness and hope he’s supposed to bring. All we wanna hear is who’s raking in the most lettuce. It’s a dangerous place we have put ourselves in, and unless this train gets derailed quickly, be prepared to have thrown away over 200 years of democracy in favor of going complete circle and being ruled by monarchs anointed at birth. This is what we keep asking for, and this is what we will one day get. Unmerited money and entitlement: The American Dream.
My favorite bit is that he stepped in and said that the sentence was, of course, “excessive.” Which is funny, cause I don’t remember W stepping in to help this guy out. A mystery.
Loyalty over all things. Good ol’ boys looking out for one another, no matter the cost to others. This is, after all, what we asked for in 2004: loyalty over competence. The electorate came from those who voted for Bush out of loyalty (vote him back in cause he’ll take care of me and mine ($$$, that is)) and those in the middle class who were dumb enough to believe that a vote for him would mean that they too could someday BE him. Fools. Anyone who claims to have voted for W in 2004 because of his “strength on the war” et al are, in a word, lying. The American people are stupid, but they can’t be THAT stupid, can they? And now we see yet another feather in their cap of entitlement. Yet another big “fuck you” to the almost 300,000,000 of us who are not in the inner circle. I hope the middle-class dumb fuck in Cedar Rapids who voted for these people is asking himself today “gee…would W step in if I was given a sentence that is “excessive”?...”
And don’t even bother blaming W himself; the sense of entitlement given to him at birth and reinforced by us at the polls is not even his own fault. Do not fool yourself into thinking that if he could run in 2008 he would even lose. Money and entitlement, we have slowly learned, trump all else. Intoxicating to have and, even worse, intoxicating to voters who pull the lever for it again and again. New ideas, true leadership, competence – these things simply do not matter to us. We only care about who has the most money – how else can it be that the last 5000 fucking articles about Obama are nothing but fundraising totals? He’s raised this much, that much, blah blah blah, nothing real. Nothing about the newness and hope he’s supposed to bring. All we wanna hear is who’s raking in the most lettuce. It’s a dangerous place we have put ourselves in, and unless this train gets derailed quickly, be prepared to have thrown away over 200 years of democracy in favor of going complete circle and being ruled by monarchs anointed at birth. This is what we keep asking for, and this is what we will one day get. Unmerited money and entitlement: The American Dream.
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