Jeter 3K, Cont.

As I did with A-Rod HERE, another thing that strikes me is that Jeter drives himself to Yankee Stadium for the games.  What the fuck?

Xmastime Jeter 3000 genius live-blogging HERE.

Jeter 3K

Watching the HBO doc about Derek Jeter's 3,000th hit is jarring because in the almost two decades I've watched him play, I feel like I've never seen him in regular clothes, and not a Yankees uniform.  It's like seeing Charlie Brown without his signature shirt.

Guy Who's Declared Bankruptcy Four Times Worried Economy Won't Go from Bad to Worse Without Him Getting Involved

Something I Just Realized

Two huge American icons, Charles M. Schulz and Tom Landry, died on the same day.  February 12, 2000.

What Newspapers Do You Read?

MTV turns 30 years old Monday, and I'm enjoying bopping over to VH1 Classic every once in a while, as they're showing extended clips from throughout the years.  Obviously they're showing the most memorable moments, but, as someone who never saw MTV until I was in pretend college,  I'm also enjoying the randomly selected things like an episode of Remote Control or whatever that I picture some kid watching on like a Wednesday afternoon.

Meanwhile, I just caught some of the famous Bill Clinton Town Hall meeting wherein the famous "I didn't inhale" quote came from, and I was surprised to see that someone asked him what newspapers he read.  He immediately  accused the lamestream media with the fury of scorched fury of using a "gotcha!" question  answered all the Arkansas papers, the Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, and the Sunday New York Times, among several others.

Hmm.

Me, Moiself and I

Eric Chavez just hit a ball juuuuuust to the right of the right field foul pole that hit some dude in the face.  Dude was just standing there.  I don't think I've ever seen that before.  Thankfully the dude's alright; more importantly, it gives me an opportunity to not only make this incident all about me, but to do so in as lazy a fashion as possible, simply cutting/pasting without an original thought in my little head.  Enjoy!

From THE FACTS OF LIFE:

One time my brother bet me that he could hit me with a rock from all the way across the yard. About 125 feet away. Not only that, he told me, but he could hit me while I was running from one side to the other. HA! I don't recall what we bet for - maybe it's that if he hit me he'd get to go to a great college and become a success, and if I won I'd get to figure out how to get shitfaced on $3.75. Either way, seemed like a sure bet to me as I lined up across the yard in one corner. My brother found the appropriate rock, tossed it up to himself a few times, then looked at me and yelled "go!" I took off running, kinda half-trotting to be honest, prolly chuckling to myself. About a third of the way I looked up, just as he was letting loose. "What a loser" I'm thinking, running slo-mo like in Chariots of Fire. I see the rock coming, I'm thinking "ah there it is, nice try asshole." I can still to this day feel the way my neck was cocked as I was running, watching the rock sailing towards me. "Hmm" I started thinking, "this might actually be close. Ha!" Running, looking, running. "Wow," I'm lightly musing, "this is gonna be REALLY close. Hmm." Running, looking, running "Matter of fact, I might be crazy, but I think-" BAM!!!!!! Not only had this fucker hit me on a full run, he hit me right smack dab on the fucking temple. Miracle he didn't hit my eye. Twas a long walk back across the yard with his smug face waiting for me. Still can't believe it. Fucker.

Reading

There are countless reasons why reading is important, one of which is that it shows us that pretty much any calamity is not unique to ourselves, which is what I thought of when I read this from Bottom of the 33rd: Hope, Redemption, and Baseball's Longest Game:

Is he crazy for still being there? Why is he still here? Part of the answer reaches back into childhood, when he and his father left a game at Fenway with Boston several runs behind, in what seemed like a losing cause. But the Red Sox stormed back and won the game, after which Brex vowed to see future games to the end.

Sigh.  Been there, buddy:

The game having gotten into the last inning, my mother decides it’s time to go home so she can beat the traffic outta the parking lot. To a kid, “traffic” means “nothing.” But the Braves were down by three runs, it was the last inning, I don’t remember us putting up too much of a fight. Our mothers’ cars were parked behind the right field fence, and after we had run ahead and started clowning around waiting for my mother and friend’s mother to get there, my brother found a crack in the fence big enough to look through. “What’s happening?! we asked him – knowing the sounds of baseball as well as we did, we could tell by the crowd in the time we had left our seats and arrived by the car the Braves had done SOMETHING with their bats; although we certainly felt three runs was too great a deficit to make up in only one inning.

“The Braves got the bases loaded,” he announced. We scrambled to the crack, each of us trying to peer through to witness our Braves trying to come back for a win. Even though we were 500 feet away we could see that Brook Jacoby, a veritable Paul Bunyan, was at the plate. In the bottom of the ninth. Down by three. With the bases loaded.

“Boys! Let’s go, get in the caaaaaaaaah,” my mother yelled at us. We screeched and pleaded, explaining to her the situation. This was when I learned that to a mother trying to get her kids in the car to beat traffic to get home, “In the bottom of the ninth. Down by three. With the bases loaded” means “nothing.” Jacoby’s at-bat was being drawn out by foul balls and a pitching change, and we all were finally physically dragged into the cars and were helpless to know the ending, as we started leaving the parking lot. We were almost out on the main street to get on the highway when we all heard the unmistakable sound of about 20,000 people screaming, losing their minds. My brother and I were speechless…had we…there’s no way, there’s no WAY we coulda missed a…no no, certainly we didn’t miss a game-winning home run?!?!?!?! When we started panicking my mother explained that no no, everybody was cheering cause the game was over and they all could then go home. My brother spit out that he thought we had missed a game-winning homer, to which my mother replied “see, aren’t you glad we left early?”

Mothers and baseball. Don’t mix.

The next morning my brother and I rushed to the sports page. Brook Jacoby. Game-winning grand slam. And, just so God would be clear as to how much he hated me, the ball went out over the right field fence…where we had been standing, beside our car.

Sigh. Happy birthday, me. Well, at least I had a bunch of puppies to give away.

Somebody Is Looking a Tad Needy

Head-Scratching.

THIS might be the dumbest fucking list of all time, because it's "The Best Rock Movies of All Time" yet doesn't fucking include A Hard Day's Night. Wtf?

Headlines That Would Be Funny If One Word Was Changed

Mr. Speaker, I Dunno If This'll Cheer You Up at All, But Seriously, That's A Helluva Great Shave.

Or, As I'd Call It, "About Thirty-Five Turds."

via:

The National Post‘s Steve Murray (AKA Chip Zdarsky AKA Todd Diamond) celebrates this extra-large (get it?) accomplishment with “Forty Fords” — an illustrated “look back at everyone’s favourite acting chameleon.”

Happy Xmas

I've read a million times about the Beatles' Christmas records they recorded every year for their fan club members (in my mind they only made them up til like, 1965, but they made one for each Xmas from 1963 to 1969 and, shockingly, up until 1968 were still fun, funny, energetic and warm affairs), but I've never actually seen or heard one, or known anyone who has.  I suppose in the age of the Internet it's a lot easier to find, but I've kind of thought of those records as something like unicorns and leprechauns, ie things that  make me sooooo fucking horny  don't really exist.  Meanwhile, here's a nice little summary of each year's record.  Enjoy!

Thus, for the next seven years (from 1963 to 1969), the boys would record a 7-inch flexi-disc of them singing and talking, which would be mailed directly to their U.S. and U.K. fan club members.

The first few Christmas records were written as scripts, but it’s the boys’ ad-libs that make them so interesting. The records give a glimpse into the boys’ Monty Python-esque humor, a humor which is, at it’s best, hilarious and which was a key ingredient in the band’s incredible success and popularity. A popular British radio show, “The Goon Show,” featuring Peter Sellers, had a definite influence on the Beatles’ Christmas recordings. John Lennon, especially, was a devoted, inveterate fan of the show.

PS - hey, whaddya know.  That dang internet's really something, eh?

Sigh. Fucking Hell.

Nothing’s worse than being on a diet at the office and 1) it’s free ice cream day  2) the girl sitting next to me is ordering dinner for the office tonight: “I want 3 cheese pizzas, one pepperoni pizza, one chicken pizza, 50 buffalo wings, 2 orders of chicken tenders....”

Me: "My saliva is SO tasty!!!!  Yum yum fucking yum!!!!"

Grrrrr. 

Headlines That Would Be Funny If One Word Was Changed

What the Fuck?

Bananas are 175 calories?  What the fuck? For another 75, I might as well get a fucking slice of pizza.  Grrr.  I feel like I've been hoodwinked.  "Fruit: the deceitful food group."

Fuck you, banana!

UPDATE, 8:06PM: Turns out I wildly overestimated the size of my banana (heh heh heh).  Adjusted down to 105.  Shew.

Sorry, bananas!

Questions. I Have Them.

I see Harrison Ford is blessing us by mailing in yet another steaming pile with something called Cowboys & Aliens, thus continuing the  "Watch Han Solo look grouchy for 2 hours!" franchise.  You couldn't pay me to see this piece of shit, and I doubt I'll even watch it when it comes on the idiot box, but I believe I speak for everybody when I ask "how the fuck is Will Smith not in this movie?"

The Manny Tapes

My Manny hormones must be flowing; yesterday I was walking down Berry and some woman was holding what looked to be a six-week old kid, which was how old The Short Bus was when I started watching him.  I looked at the kid and thought "oooooh, I want another one!"   The words were barely outta my my head before I was yelling "goddammit, you never had a FIRST one, dumbass!!"

Sigh.  Me.  I'm really happening, aren't I?

"Hahahahaa!  Hey, I guess we're just lucky you didn't eat him, you fat fuck!"

Krauthammer: Even HE'S Not Really This Stupid, Right? Right?

I read the laughably absurd Krauthammer article this morning on the train, and while Sully has some "greatest hits lies" from it, my own WTF? line was:

Given this reality, trying to force the issue — turn a blocking minority into a governing authority — is not just counter-constitutional in spirit but self-destructive in practice.

I'm Googling to see what are surely many, many instances of Krauthammer saying this exact thing when the Republicans as the minority were endlessly filibustering and demanding each vote needed a super-duper-majority to pass.  (Still looking) (Still looking) (Stiiiiiiiiiill looking...)

Talkin' Porn with Mike from The Mike Show

During all this pretend debt ceiling crisis it's important to keep things in perspective, so sit back and enjoy my chit-chatting with AP Mike from The Best Show about that most holy of subjects: porn.  At least we're sober, unlike the last time.

WARNING: NSFW.  Barely safe for home, actually.

Enjoy!

That Voice

Was the voice of Cleveland from Family Guy based on Derek Jeter's father? Wtf?

We're #1!

John Boehner's bill has been delayed on account of whatthefuckery, but it's interesting that the CBPP has written that the bill could, and I quote, "produce the greatest increase in poverty and hardship produced by any law in modern U.S. history.”

Wow.

That's pretty impressive - THE greatest increase in poverty and hardship in modern history!  On one hand, it's pretty astounding such a thing could even be considered - if any of the "small businesses" the GOP pretends to fetishize came up with an idea that was immediately labeled as being capable of producing the greatest decrease in sales in company history, the idea wouldn't even come close to being considered.  Meanwhile, Boehner's plan is only being held up because of a segment of the House for whom his plan doesn't increase poverty and hardship ENOUGH.

Again - THE greatest increase in poverty and hardship.  In 2011, it's nice to know that for once, unlike with assassinations and racism and serial murders, we're finally back at being THE BEST at something.

In a word, Mr. Boehner? Huzzah.

Club Can't Handle Moi

You people know hardclore clubbin' is my life; in particular, Flo Rida's Club Can't Handle Me is my #1 tow-up from da flow-up let's gettsta partyin' cut:

I'm leaning back listening to my credo below and imagining what I'd normally do doing right now in Manhanny: spinning like a Tazmanian Devil from club to club, leading the league in fist-pumping and droppin' Dom on the floor while pinging off one almost-nekked party girl into another like a horny pinball that don't even bother with h8ers.

The island is sad tonight, my friends. But hang in there, beautiful people - I go back to being The Whirling Dervish of Clubbing at this time, next week. For tonight, please, sit back in your chairs and fist-pump along with me to that magic sound of LIFE.

Apparently, some poofs from Michigan have covered it.  Who are these guys?

The Michigan quintet, known for their fittingly colorful ties and online variety show Tally Hall’s Internet Show (T.H.I.S.), transform this dance hit into a youthful yet equally energetic track. With its five-person falsetto harmonies, drums mixed with electronic beats, and a very amusing added rap verse, Tally Hall’s version captures the party spirit of the song while sticking to the band’s pop rock style. In short, it may not be fit for a club, but it sure is fit for a private bedroom dance party.

Enjoy!

Never Mind

Aberdeen has voted down a motion to name a bridge after native son Kurt Cobain, which is good for them, as they'd look pretty foolish since, as noted in the article, Cobain rarely missed an opportunity to bash his hometown.

This reminds me of reading about when New Jersey lawmakers were about to make Born to Run the state song until someone pointed out that one of the things the characters in the song were running from was, in fact, New Jersey.

Thoughts, Barely, by Xmastime

I think I'd drink more wine, therein making myself classier, if wine glasses weren't so fucking dainty and gay.  Just like whenever I've tried to wear sunglasses, whenever I'm holding a wine glass I think every single person in the world is looking at me and saying "what kind of a fucking asshole do you think you are? what're you, better than me? Christ, you make me fucking sick."

How Big Bear Sees Me

Laid-back and skinny with bright orange hair.  NAILed it!  :)

Chuck E. Cheese du Jour

As a Manny I spent my share of time at  the single scariest place on the face of the Earth  Chuck E. Cheese, so I was curious about this review of their re-vamped pizza.  The reviewer was pleasantly surprised with what he found, although this particular note, in my eyes, is one of the smartest things I've heard in a while:

I noticed how thin the outer crust was almost immediately. The cheese was taller than the crust. Frankly, it looked more like a flatbread pizza than a Papa John's-style thick crust. From a business perspective that makes good sense: kids always hate crust, so why waste dough making it if they only throw it away?

In other Chuck E. Cheese news, apparently he might be in trouble for flipping the bird. Awesome.  I guess Chuck thinks he's still gangbanging.

Ideas. I Have Them.

I have no idea what truffles are; I'm pretty sure I've never been in the same room as one.  But it'd almost be worth opening a restaurant that was based on them just so you could name it Here Comes Truffle!

Self-Awareness

No man who ever played high school football should be able to answer the question "What was the name of Jordan Catalano's band?" correctly.

But Seriously...

...this is one of my Top Fitty of All Time

I Guess Thats Where Im From

Today felt like one of the loneliest days of my life.  I've never felt so disconnected.  I honestly thought everyone just said "fuck him," and left the planet. 

Life Lessons

If I was going to kill myself, I assure you no one would find me in some linen closet or some shit.  If I'm going out, I'm fucking parachuting into the middle of the goddam Super Bowl, setting myself on fire and then blowing my fucking brains out. At least be interesting.  But some small town, finding me in the fields? Oh, hell no.

Some Days

It feels like everybody got together and said "oh, fuck that guy", don't it?

Shits Abouttsta Get for Reals All Up in England

Xmastime buddy MARLEY has been traipsing around England this week, and ran into this asshole today:

True story, gleaned from Hampton Court. Henry VIII's diet was seventy five percent meat.  So is mine.

While there, I was minding my own business, listening to a cranky Henry VIII impersonator dress down a 10 year old boy for not having a sword, when he said, "you need to practice every day so you can grow up to be strong as my yeoman" and then he pointed at me and said "and not puling and bookish, like that man."  What a dick.

In other words, England just fucked up.

Good News!

Matt Yglesias has signed a deal to write a short (15k-20k words) e-book (cut & paste) to make the case that pathological elements of our housing policy that increase the cost of living in desirable neighborhoods of key metropolitan areas are an underrated of America’s economic and social problems.(end cut & paste.)

Now, I have no interest in reading about (cut & paste) pathological elements of our housing policy that increase the cost of living in desirable neighborhoods of key metropolitan areas are an underrated of America’s economic and social problems (end cut & paste), but I for one will be thrilled if this style becomes more of a standard for non-fiction books, which, as I've been bitching about for years, seem to find themselves stuffed with repetitive laundry lists so they can be stretched out to a length that provides enough veritas for the subject.

Oh, For Fuck's Sake

Now see, this shit drives me fucking insane.  Olivia Wilde is generally acknowledged as one of the most beautiful women on the planet, and is a successful actress.. AND she was married for ten years TO A GODDAM PRINCE! But OF COURSE we're supposed to believe that when it comes to dating, oh golly oh gee, she's just "hopeless" at it!!!

Yes, I'm sure whenever she sits down for a date with Johnny Shithead she's a bumbling mess, panicking "gee, will he wanna kiss me later? Does he like me? Does he think I'm pretty enough????????!!!"

For fuck's sake.  (head explodes)

Ah, Babybsitting.

I love it when I have a babysitting gig and before the parents leave they take a moment to run me through what's in the refrigerator, during which I stand there with an earnest look "oh, so that's where ____ is, oh and there's ______," nodding my head, all the while knowing that as soon as I hear the lock turn behind them I'll be head-first in the ice-box, feet dangling out like Winnie the Pooh   ;)

Newest Addition to the List

...of THINGS I SAW AT YOUR HOUSE WHEN I WAS A KID THAT MADE ME THINK YOU WERE RICH: those rabbit ears that came with that big knob for tracking.  Watching it tick down to a more perfect picture, I thought we were landing the moon lander on the roof.

Kicking Myself

I've spent the last two days fuming that in THIS POST I missed the chance to say something like "we're in the middle of this astonishingly heartbreaking scene, and they gotta drop the priest from The Princess Bride in on us? Wtf?"

Grrrrr.  Dropped the fucking ball.  I fucking hate myself.

Wait, What...Where Was This Fucking Minx Back When I Was Learnng to Add & Subtract? I'd Have Gone to MIT*!!

* My, I likes Tittays!

Umm... By Showing Everybody Your Ass?

Didn't we already go over this?

An Open Letter from Xmastime to Subway

Dear Subway:

First of all, I had no idea you sold subs that were smaller than a foot-long.  When did this start?  Good for you guys for finally getting on the healthy train!

But most importantly, dude: it's fucking hard enough to give up my beloved mayonnaise.  So when I say "just a little mustard," I don't mean "keep pouring dumping on the mustard until your arm starts to hurt." Fucking hell.

Regards,
XMASTIME

Something I've Learned Today

I just realized I have an Andrew Johnson $1 coin in my pocket.  Why the fuck is Andrew Johnson on the face of a coin? I'm not a historian, but from what I can tell, Johnson is famous for two things: being the first president they tried to impeach, and giving a rambling speech while completely shitfaced during Lincoln's second inauguration.  Wtf?  Is there a Courtney Love coin too?

Do I Even Hafta Make a "Hey, I Love Going to Bars and Pickin' Up a Lil' Pussy" Joke, Or Can We Just Move On?

via Dependable Renegade

Oh, For Fuck's Sake

I'm loving the massive, endless stream of minute details about the new NFL deal they're giving us, because all I can think of is "who fucking gives a shit?"  I mean, fans just want the fucking games to be played.  Do these fucking people really believe John. Q. Fan gives a shit about how many years a rookie picked after the seventh round can get for his first contract?  Really?  That keeping anyone else up at night? And it's not even like it makes a difference to point out who are the "good guys" or "bad guys", since there's nothing a fan can do about either the players or owners losing or keeping their jobs.  Roger Goodell's comparing their NFL deal to the one Congress is trying to make is cute, but at least we can (theoretically) toss members of Congress out of office if we don't like what they've done.  Meanwhile, Jerry Jones is gonna own the Cowboys no matter how many fans are miffed about the new healthcare plan for retired NFL players.

And ooooh, they're getting us all worked up about the EXPLOSION!! of movement via free agency over the next week!  Wow!  That's a good thing to have us worry about, since you never know when Al Davis is gonna call you up and ask who's the best free safety available!!!!

Fucking hell.  Fucking nonsense. Just shut the fuck up and play already.

Cremation.

I guess they're cremating Amy Winehouse any minute now.  While in theory I agree with cremation, in that it's obscene to have the dead take up so much space, and (presumably, but what the fuck do I know) it's cheaper, but I don't know if I could pull the trigger on it for myself.  I mean, death is final, but then burning the body down to ashes is REALLY final. Unfortunately, I'm one of those hopeful motherfuckers that'll state in my will that before they put me in the ground, they better stick a walkie-talkie in the box.

Sigh. This is What Happens When We Let Blacks On Golf Courses :(

Important Dates in Xmastime History:

 June 10, 1992: hooked up with a lunatic, smoking-hot chick while visiting my brother at college. First but not the last time I uttered the phrase "yeah well, your boyfriend ain't here, now is he?" Next morning she woke up to find I had "misplaced" her clothes so I could see her naked longer. “Where are my clothes?” “Gosh, I dunno” (looking bewildered.) Broads - I should write a manual!!!

Important Dates in Xmastime History:

November 11, 1980: The last time I happened to sit on a toilet without actively thinking "you know, a snake could come slithering up through these pipes and bite my nuts off."

State of Xmastime

For the first time since I can remember, I'm having a strange urge for a female companion.  And not just in the Xmastime Bang-Nuts-On-Her-Face-While-Her-Sister-Films way, but more of a soul mate way.  Am I getting old?  Soft?  Queer?  Wtf?

The Corporate Shitter

Dear Dude at the Urinal:

I'm almost certain there's no need to flush the fucking thing three different times throughout your goddam pissing.  For fuck's sake, man.

Regards,
XMASTIME

I Am Going To Die a Big Fat Fuck

Well. HERE WE GO AGAIN.  For the 7000th and what better be the last fucking time or I'm fucking killing mugs.

Casting. It's Important.

I mentioned the HBO doc There's Something Wrong with Aunt Diane, the woman who drove the wrong way on the Tanonic Parkway and killed eight people, including herself and four little kids, a few weeks ago HERE.  I'm trying to watch it right now, and of course you can't be human without just being torn to pieces about what happened.

But.

I'd suggest that if you're making a documentary about such a heartbreaking, gut-wrenching story, you find a psychiatrist who DOESN'T say his r's like w's, since he sounds ridiculously funny like a cartoon duck, and you find yourself cracking up at the exact wrong time.  I mean, for fuck's sake.

Girls in Cowboy Boots

Have been killing it for me lately.

(NOT killing it: big dudes with tiny dogs.)

Bachmann Migraine Overdrive

I don't really have an opinion one way or the other, but the best note I've seen on the whole "can a President serve while getting migraines?" thing comes from over at Sully's:

Finally, a word about the most famous migraine sufferer in the NBA - Scottie Pippen, of the Jordan-era Chicago Bills and one of the 50 greatest basketball players of all time.  And he took himself out of a game 7 Eastern Conference Final because of a migraine.  (The Bulls lost, by the way.)  Think about that; a superstar professional basketball player can't play a Game 7 in a playoff series due to a migraine.

It Appears...

...that England is preparing itself for my arrival.  Cheers!

HBO Sports

Ross Greenberg, the head of HBO Sports, resigned last week.  Normally, the resignation of some tv exec wouldn't be noticed by anyone outside of "the biz", but Greenberg holds a special place for reigning over HBO Sports during the incredible run of Liev Schrieber-narrated documentaries.

There's not a doc on that list I don't love and urge everyone to watch, although if I had to, I'd put

Magic & Bird: A Courtship of Rivals
Mantle
Do You Believe in Miracles?
Nine Innings from Ground Zero

above the others, if only because I think they deserve the highest compliment possible for such a genre:  you don't have to know or care about the sport or have any pre-hand knowledge of the athletes to be drawn in to each story as if watching a movie with fascinating characters and an incredible story.  If you can watch any of these without being rewarded emotionally, I don't know what to tell you.

Sometimes I Worry...

...that Vicki Lawrence has never gotten her due.  She worked her way on to The Carol Burnett Show at the age of 18, which to me gives her an all-time pass.  Vicki Lawrence deserves all the media hype Betty White is getting nowadays.  Luckily she's still (incredibly) only 62, and hopefully some big wig in Hollywood will "discover" her.

Winehouse

I'm sorry Amy Winehouse is dead, but the fact is, she had the money and the means to prevent her death. People begged her to save herself, but she wouldn't. Millions of dollars were spent on keeping her going, which she (and all of us watching) laughed at.

Meanwhile, there's millions of people desperate for the medical care Amy Winehouse spurned, and even laughed about in her music. I wonder how many of them will die as well.

Eddie

I still find it hard to believe that there's a funnier motherfucker on the planet than Eddie Murphy.   Meanwhile, on one hand, I feel like he's wasted the last twenty years; on the other, I wonder if he already gave us enough?  I mean, I'm not angry at Paul McCartney, why should I be frustrated with Eddie?

It Was the Summer of '96

In the summer of 1996 I was living in Oxford, bored out of my skull, so to entertain myself I worked up a faux dramatic depression about my high school girlfriend, which mostly consisted of drinking gin and making an endless series of mix tapes I never sent.  That doesn't really have to do with anything, except that whenever I think of that summer, the three songs that come to mind are the ones below.  I can't say I remember liking them then or now, maybe they were on an endless loop that summer, but they're the three I think of when I flash to that period.  Oddly, all three have non-standard, talking verses.

XMASTIME TV Review

ROSEANNE'S NUTS

Roseanne's Nuts has been a pleasant surprise for me, for two reasons:

1) Her sitcom is on a golden pedestal for me, so I assumed she could do nothing but let me down.

2) It's the first show I know of that makes liberal use of the "BEEP!"  I don't know why sitcoms haven't done this more - the only one I can think of is the Low-Fat yogurt episode of Seinfeld, and it was hysterical.  I know you're supposed to turn your nose up "if you need to lean on the blue, it's not really funny", but I'm often grated whenever I see completely unrealistic conversations between young dudes without any cursing at all.  I mean, camon.  And if the main gist of the show is Roseanne stomping around being pissed, not having a steady stream of "fucks" and "motherfucker" would be incredibly disingenuous, and the beep is just as funny anyway.  I'm sorry, but sometimes in the right hands, cussing IS funny.

More beep thoughts HERE.

Formality.

Howard Kurtz on Obama maybe finally reaching his breaking point:

On one level, the president can hardly believe he is up against this particular wall. Raising the debt ceiling is usually a “formality,” he said. Reagan did it 18 times. (Of course, Obama neglected to mention that he once voted against the formality during the Bush years.)

You're welcome to jump on Obama voting no that time as him now being a hypocrite, but previous raisings of the debt ceiling being a "formality" have nothing to do with HOW someone voted, but THAT THEY ACTUALLY VOTED, without anyone taking the debt ceiling hostage for political theater and a means to commit national suicide in the name of ideology.  The fact that this "debate" has even existed is embarrassing enough, but I'd expect a little more insight and understanding from someone who gets paid to write this shit for a living.

Police On the Lookout for "Dude Really Who Knows How to Pop a Fucking Collar."

I Control the Universe, Bitches.

Speaking of strange currencies, as with my Mark Twain book in the post below, two days ago I just happened to read that too cool himself on hot days, Babe Ruth would put a piece of cabbage under his cap while playing.  I'd never heard of this before, even while reading tons of baseball shit and watching a zillion Yankees games.  Yesterday I mentioned it to somebody at work, and next thing you know Michael Kay and Paul O'Neill have talked about it incessantly during today's and yesterday's games, to the point such that today O'Neill actually tried it on live tv.

To answer your question, yes, that does mean I runs this shit around here.

Yikes

1) I've become one of those ghoulish people who repeatedly refresh a celeb's Wikipedia page when they're on their deathbed to see how quickly their death date goes up. I'm not a proud man.- XMASTIME

It's still creepy to see someone's date of death on their Wikipedia when it that very day.  Not as trippy as reading A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court on June 22, but creepy nonetheless.

Congratulations, Amy Winehouse

If the cliché of Amy Winehouse's rise as talented genius and fall as self-destructive circus act egged on by our rubbernecking is, Mamalizza reminds me that she had the consideration to kick off at that magical death age for musicians, 27. Well done, Amy, you've made it into The 27 Club.

All of whom I could really give fuck-all about, other than Robert Johnson.

What's the Matter with Wisconsin?

Good lord, who would've ever thought that Wisconsin would come to field the Tea Party Assclown equivalent of the Dream Team, and here's the Top 9 Wisconsinites who are trying to destroy America

A self-made Objectivist who is neither self-made nor very objective. Johnson represents the very worst of what the Tea Party has to offer America: millionaire businessmen who have nothing to lose as politicians because they genuinely don't give a damn and will soon retire back to their suburban manses after mucking up the system and polarizing everyone as much as humanly possible.

The Congressional balance to Sen. Johnson, Paul Ryan is a career politician who runs against being a career politician.

For fuck's sake, having Ryan/Walker/Bachmann/Priebus on the same team is the closest anyone's ever come to the 1927 Yankees Murderer's Row. fucking frightening.

Hmm. Maybe She Should've Gone to Rehab After All.

These Are My People

I remember The Rambler once writing that he’d read the Sunday Times on the train; that way there’s no distractions. I think I might start reading books that way; I’ve read more in the last 4 months than I had in the previous 10 years thanks to logging 3-4 hours on the train each week. Otherwise I get home, pick up a book, and then after about 30 seconds start wondering if I’m missing an important moment of The Real Housewives of Fucking Nonsense, or I start thinking that gee, it’s been 7 minutes since I’ve beaten off, I should prolly “get back to work”, wink wink. Ah well. - XMASTIME

I thought about this yesterday, that a good way to beat the heat would be to grab a book and just ride the train all day.  Turns out the ideas I come up with are also those of homeless drunks:

In Baltimore, Dale Brown, who is homeless, said he was buying a $3.50 day pass to ride the commuter rail system to stay cool — and sober. 

"I'm surprised more homeless people don't do that," he said. "That kills a lot of the day. One more day successful without drinking."

Dagwood Bumstead's Daughter Might Be a Whore

The Comics Examiner thinks this strip indicates that Cookie is letting the boys blast away at her nookie.

Shame she's still not as hot as her mother, who might finally be turning into a skank herself.

Commercials Have Changed Somewhat Since When I Was a Kid

Skittles "Newlyweds" from Cousins on Vimeo.

Theater

Part of the reason it's hard to take any of the dramatics of the debt ceiling negotiations seriously is the fact that you KNOW the zillionaires that Republicans steal your votes to fetishize are whispering in Boehner's ear that he'd petter get the thing raised so they won't stop making record-breaking profits.  And so the combination of a clean raising of the debt ceiling suddenly being hijacked for political theater after having been done a hundred times without anyone in America, including Congress, knowing or caring about it, and Boehner walking out on Obama and deciding to deal with Democratic leadership instead, signals to me that at the last minute a deal will be struck, and Boehner just doesn't want Obama to get credit for it.

Also, Tits That Look Like Boxing Gloves

Paul O'Neill on Seinfeld

Just now during the Yankees broadcast Paul O'Neill mentioned the scene he played on Seinfeld, and that he had a game later that night.  Michael Kay asked who the pitcher was and what he did, and O'Neill said it was Chuck Finley, whom he never hit well.  Looking at the box scores of the games Finley pitched against the Yankees in 1995, the year the episode aired, it turns out that O'Neill not only didn't hit two home runs, but he didn't get a single hit in any game Finley pitched.

Video of scene HERE.  (unembeddable.  Grrrr.)

Finley of course later became famous for getting his ass beat by the hot chick from the Whitesnake video.

As Finley took the mound for an April 2002 game against the Chicago White Sox at then-Comiskey Park II, the stadium's musical director, Joe Stephen, took a subtle dig at Finley's messy divorce, and played "Here I Go Again" by the band Whitesnake, referencing Kitaen's appearance in that band's videos. Stephen was later fired and the White Sox apologized.

Hmm.

The Drudge Report never misses an opportunity to smugly ask "what global warming?" any time it snows, so I wonder why they're not seeing today's record-setting heat and asking "maybe there is global warming?"

Of course, I'm not a genius, so I can't wrap my head around why this could be. I really have no idea. Really.

Are You There, God? It's Me, Dumbass

I was looking at this post about Judy Blume joining Twitter, giving myself a moment to moist myself over the nostalgia of reading her books when I was a kid, when I saw this:

I was, however, slightly disheartened to learn that some of Blume's books were edited for updates - updates of the Times They Are A-Changin' kind. For example, reprints of the books in the "Fudge" series switched up the Christmas gift list of the book's character Peter: the coveted record player is replaced with an MP3 player and so forth. Little Fudge doesn't watch "The Electric Company" and "The Muppet Show" anymore - he watches Nickelodeon.

What?  That might be THE STUPIDEST FUCKING THING I'VE EVER HEARD!!  Some kid doesn't know what a record player is?  Hey, here's an idea - take 4 fucking seconds and look it up!  For fuck's sake, Superfudge isn't even thirty years old!  I'm surprised we haven't updated A Tale of Two Cities so that it's about us and the Taliban, since gee, maybe Skippy doesn't know what London or Paris is, and we don't wanna sprain his fucking brain.  "It was the shizzle of times, it was whack times, dawg..." For fuck's sake.  I already don't like when book covers are changed, and they've been changing the actual text too?  Unreal.  I can't believe an author would even agree to such a thing.

Is the GOP a Cult?

We like to joke about the GOP's small penis issues whenever they hyperventilate over playing macho and launching any missile they can get their grubby mitts on, but I'm starting to wonder if what they really  have is daddy issues, since for some reason they seem desperate to be controlled by somebody else.  Some of them wanna be beholden to The Tea Party, promising not to raise taxes a single penny, no matter the reason, lest they be booted out of Congress.  Others wanna sign a pledge that they be true to Grover Norquist, like a daughter putting on a promise ring to show her father she's remain chaste for him.  And yet another chunk wanna sign a pledge for some guy who runs something called FAMiLY LEADER, promising that they'll govern in accordance with hating gay people.  It's really bizarre, and not that funny anymore...the GOP has turned into that sitcom character who wanders into the charismatic clutches of the leader at a local youth center, and promises to allow the leader to make all of his decisions for him.

Office Vending Machine News

After several weeks in the rotation, I notice nobody's braved the chicken cordon blue sandwich yet.  I'll keep you updated.

Little Vader

The best thing about 2011 is still the Little Darth Vader commercial, and here's an article by his mother about how they've gotten through the eight heart surgeries the poor kid has had to endure.

And someone still needs to explain to me why he and Little Gordon Ramsay haven't been in a commercial together.

My History in Heat

Today was the hottest day since the evening in the summer of 1999 when I was naked on my bed laying ice cubes on my chest. Then the cable went out. Then, looking through my door into the kitchen, all of a sudden the toaster, which wasn't even on, burst into flames. I didn't even get up. "Seems about right," was all I could think. - XMASTIME

People are mourning the end of Borders, including HERE.

I've always been a Barnes & Noble guy.  My first job when I moved to New York was across the street from one, and during the summer of 1999 the air conditioning in my office broke.  My boss thoughtfully said that he'd wait until the fall to fix it since it'd be cheaper; he even seemed to think he was doing me a favor (yes, I'm sure he "passed the savings on to me." Hmm.)  So every day I'd go in at 9am, rip through the day's work in 20 minutes, and then go across the street and read at B&N before checking back in at 5ish.

The crown jewel of B&N is the one above Union Square - four floors, plenty of seats to read for free in, great water fountains, and great bathroom facilities.  You can read any book you wanted, stay hydrated, and enjoy shitting.  It's no Square Books in Oxford - they had cushy easy chairs and unlimited refills of iced tea - but it's pretty fucking great.

Today's "Fuck You, from Xmastime"

Goes to the douchebag who breezed into the cafe showing off his bag of Mickey D's.  Fuck you, asshole.

Diet Hopes, by Xmastime

I'd like to learn how to eat more slowly.  Not as slow as the girl I work with that always has to re-heat her food when she's halfway through, but slower than having to think "wait - did I take the chips out of the bag before I ate them?"

Sigh.  Me.  I'm really happening, aren't I?

Something I'd Like to See:

Michael J. Fox trying to feed a dollar bill into a vending machine.

My Threat to Move to London Just Got a Lot More Serious

My History in Heat

My parents being from Massachusetts meant that I inherited the complete pussy gene when it comes to the heat; even as a young buck I was a pansy about it.  So while logic would dictate that the greatest day in family history from the 80's be the day we added illWill to the lineup, I hafta admit I was just as thrilled the day I came home from school and the central air conditioning had been installed.  May 12, 1987: Never Forget.

Dear Local Fucking News:

We know it's incredibly hot outside.  You don't need to excitedly tell us over and over.  We get it.  As impressive as your in-depth investigation into reading a thermometer is, there's probably other news out there you can tell us about.

Thank you.

Goals. I Have Them.

I'd like to be on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? and see how long I can drag it out without answering a single question.  Between stalling with life-lines and non-stop banter, do I have what it takes to fill up an entire episode?

Life.  It's really happening, isn't it?

Important Announcement

Xmastime left his phone at home, so any mid-day booty calls won't be answered before 7pm.  Thank you.

Signed,
The Staff

BREAKING NEWS: Teenage Girl Not 100% Truthful To Parents, Ending Civilization As We Know It; Father Starts To Wonder If She Really Picked Out the Ties for Her Fathers Day Gifts

The Flip Play

Like many Yankee fans I've long admired the Jeter Flip Play, even more so than Jeter himself:

But if you were standing by the back field at the Yankees complex earlier this morning, you could have seen the Yankees practicing that exact play. Third-base coach Rob Thomson stood on the infield grass and rapped liners into the right-field corner as a line of outfielders took turns digging the ball out and throwing it to the cutoff man while the infielders went to their respective positions … including the shortstop running the Jeter route to the first-base line each time.

Like most folks, I was – and still am – amazed by that play, but the more I watched the drill today the more Jeter’s assertions make sense. “Where else would the shortstop be?” he has always said.

When I first read that, I kinda rolled my eyes and pooh-poohed it, that it was just Jeter being Jeterianly humble/dull/non chest-beating etc, but then I read this about tonight's game in Tampa:

UPDATE, 8:36 p.m.: Sometimes  you give up a triple to a fast guy at the bottom of the order. Walking Johnson was the real problem for Sabathia here in the fifth. I’m sitting next to Sweeny Murti who pointed out that Sam Fuld’s RBI triple went into the right-field corner with a runner at first base. It was basically the same situation as the flip play, and sure enough, it ended with Jeter running across the infield to be in the exact same spot he was in against the A’s.

I'm Guessing Evan Longoria Got Laid After This

And No, It Wasn't Me, But Thank You For So Insultingly Asking

Hello, Sniffy!

One great thing about GETTING A SHOUTOUT ON ANDREW SULLIVAN is that you KNOW Palin has her minions trolling for her name online, so I know she'll see this page, and will become aware of how much I'd like to gain her amorous affections.  As we all know she was a great basketball player in high school, I think my case for her attention in the boudoir will be greatly enhanced by her realizing that I was the hero of the greatest game of all time.

I'm looking forward to that inaugural double-entendre filled email, guv'nah!!

"The guys!"

Thanks For the Advice, Professor Asshole.

We've officially kicked off this summer's season of jerkoffs on the local news warning us that it's so hot we should simply stay inside with our air conditioners cranking.

As I said back when I was a young(er) buck:

3) With warm weather coming up I’m bracing myself for the inevitable advice we’ll get during the first heat wave: “Stay inside with the air conditoning on.” Really? Wow, thanks! Cause I was gonna cover myself in maple syrup, put on my heaviest wool sweater and spin in circles on the baking asphalt for a while. Thanks! Jesus fucking christ. “Stay inside with the ac on.” If I could do that, Professor, then I wouldn’t give 2 shits about the fucking heat, now would I? That’s like if I wanna be a millionaire, “Have a million dollars in the bank!” Thanks, assface.

Migraines.

People are wondering if Michele Bachmann having migraines will hamper her ability to be president.  Without making a "forget that, she'll give everyone ELSE migraines" joke, I'll step in and defend Sniffy Jr. by pointing out that Jed Bartlet had muscular dystrophy, and he ended up being our greatest president ever (he also survived his daughter dating a black guy.)  So refuckinglax already; modern medicine is amazing - Sarah Palin was a governor for a year and a half without a brain in her head, so Bachmann can surely do fine with a coupla bad headaches.

Assholes Comfirmation

One of the scenes from The Social Network I immediately rolled my eyes at was when Larry Summers blew off the Winklevoss twins in his office; I figured that a visitor to the president of Harvard's office would be met with the utmost respct, if only because the president would recognize them as being worthy of being inside his office.  So I dismissed the scene as highly implausible.

Turns out I was, as The Fonz would say, wrr...I was wrr..I'm trying to say, I was wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...:

One of the things you learn as a college president is that if an undergraduate is wearing a tie and jacket on Thursday afternoon at three o'clock, there are two possibilities. One is that they're looking for a job and have an interview; the other is that they are an a**hole. This was the latter case."

Nominate THIS!

Now that Elizabeth Warren has said "fuck it" to waiting for Congressional Republicans to grow up and regain some sense of sanity, Obama has nominated Richard Cordray for the position of "sitting there while Republicans pretend to know who  he is and that they've always been outraged by his work."  Odds of his nomination going through anytime soon are about the same as my  making out with a living, breathing female  having a three-way with Aniston/Jolie, so I stand by Obama at least having some fun with it:

"For the position of Deputy Attorney General, I'd like to nominate Fozzie Bear. He has no career record of working with the law, but I think he's funny as hell, and his 'wocka, wocka, wocka!' bit never fails to kill me." Oooooh, even better - Jesus!!!! How can you NOT win the political game when you can say "I wanted to appoint Jesus ambassador to Syria, but I guess the GOP doesn't like Jesus..."  Hell, even better: Baby Jesus!  Why not God? Who would filibuster God for the job of US Public Printer?

"For the position of Ambassador to Turkey, I'd like to nominate someone who certainly is NOT a turkey, and is, in fact, the COOLEST...Fonzie. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayy!!!!!"

SULLIED!

And yes, it's because I'm better than you.

;)

Space Shuttle RIP

NASA inside peeps reflecting on the space shuttle HERE.

Press conference on NASA TV at noon.

Obviously, to somebody my age, the two biggest events in space shuttle history are the beginning:

I can still remember holding off going outside to wait for the bus (which was probably still about 45 minutes away) as the final countdown for the first one was going on. Then, I think, it stopped with 39 seconds left. Though that might be apocryphal on my part. Then I remember Jane Pauley saying Joe Louis had just died, so I wrote out the barber shop scenes for Coming to America while I waited. I was at the perfect age for that launch, 4th grade, and I wrote a letter to NASA to the captain. Never heard back (won't Facebook him - I am too proud.) Twas the year I wrote to NASA and got back a buncha shit about Mars.

And the Challenger explosion:

Today is the 25th anniversary of the Challenger explosion; I remember very clearly Mr. Smith announcing it to us in World Geography class. Yes, the same Mr. Smith who, while handing me my trophy as the 1986 World Geography Award Winner, took the time to explain to the entire class that I didn't actually deserve it. Grrrr. 

The Heat

These motherfuckers who are patting themselves on the back for smugly saying "well, back during the winter when we were buried under snow, isn't this what you were wishing for?"

Hey, asshole: in a word, no.  There's a difference between "wanting to be able to go about one's day without having to maneuver over snowbanks or having your car buried for weeks" and "heat baking into cement and dirt that can literally kill somebody if they're in it long enough."   There's something in between, Professor Genius, such as when neither outlier days of cold nor hot occur, and the weather plays no particular part in someone's happiness or ability to go on about their day.  Even in the worst of this winter's blizzards, nobody was sitting around saying "gee, if only it were so fucking hot that pets and old people were dropping dead while I was unable to be productive because I'm living in a coal brick pizza oven."

Dream Team

I still ain't heard anything about the HBO doc I've been whining for, but at least a book about the Dream Team will be coming out soon.

There has never been a team that handed out beatings and drew only plaudits. In the Tournament of the Americas pre-Olympic qualifier in Portland, Cuba coach Miguel Calderon Gomez had this to say after a do-the-math 136-57 loss in the Dream Team's opener: "For us it was an elegant game, a historic game. We can take back to Cuba a beautiful photograph of us with them." That sounds like the cruise director making the best of a widespread epidemic of dysentery: Be sure to take with you that beautiful portrait of Captain and Tennille from Karaoke Night!

Expect there to be plenty of Sir Charles:

Following Charles Barkley around Barcelona as he rambled Las Ramblas, "the only street in the world," as Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca wrote, "I wish would never end." Las Ramblas was a 24/7 carnival, a place for the high and mighty and the low and lowdown. And during the 1992 Olympics Sir Charles positively owned it.

Barkley was out and about most nights, collecting crowds of anywhere from 10 to 50, stopping at this bar, this tavern, always chattering, always spreading around mucho dolares and a joyous diplomacy that helped ease the pain of the beatings. Even when Barkley caused them. He famously threw an elbow at a skinny Angolan in the first U.S. game in Barcelona but succeeded mainly in turning Hector Coimbra into the best-known basketball player in the world for a couple of days.

Some Dream Team classics from the Round Mound of Rebound:

On the goal of the '92 Olympic Dream Team when playing Panama in the Tournament of the Americas: "To get the Canal back."

Before the Dream Team's game against Angola in the 1992 Olympics: "All I know about Angola is Angola's in trouble."

For Fuck's Sake Already

Fellow Yankee Fans:

We really need to stop this whole "Jeter Sucks!" meme that we're all adopting to let everybody know that not only do we see beyond irrational Yankee fandom, but we are also experts of who can do what on a baseball field. YES, I realize that each step above the last guy that called in makes us that much more of a baseball expert, but really, you need to shut the fuck up.

Gee, I'm sorry he's lost half a step - is this something you're gonna be bringing up during his Hall of Fame induction?  Gee, I'm guessing not.  I'm "guessing" you're gonna be blathering about when you saw the Flip, the Dive, Mr. November et al; I'm "guessing" you won't be pulling out Excel spreadsheets about his OPS after he hit 35.  You'll cry your eyes out and PRAY for just one more series with Jeter (since, I'm guessing, the present players won't measure up to your Jeterian standard.)
We're fucking lucky to be watching an all-time Yankee great DAY AFTER FUCKING DAY.  We are like the generation of kids that grew up watching Mickey Mantle - we're all gonna tell our kids about something Jeter did, and why he was so great.

Quit trying to act like you understand baseball more than Jeter or Girardi, that your rational insistence on winning means anything, and soak it in.  Otherwise, I don't wanna hear your fucking bawling during his induction.  We're so fucking lucky.

Death of the Album Cover

The album cover is so ubiquitous in our lives that we forget that someone had to invent it; turns out that guy was Alex Steinweiss, and he died on Monday.  More info HERE.

MUKLUKS: Xmastime buddy Drew from New Haven.

I don't wanna sound like Grandpa re: "album covers used to really be art!!!", but I'm really feeling right now that things aren't like they used to be.  And that makes me sad  :(

Heat Wave of Mutilation

You people know I'm a big baby when it comes to the heat, so of course I was shitting myself while reading this:

Much of the United States is trapped under a heat "dome" caused by a huge area of high pressure that's compressing hot, moist air beneath it, leading to miserable temperatures in the mid-90s to low 100s and heat-index levels well above 100 degrees.

Fucking hell.  Brutal.  Meanwhile, we've all passed dudes working out on the street on days like this and felt terrible for them, so I braced myself for a few examples in the article, and got this:

"It's hot no matter what you're doing or where you are," said Tim Prader, a 50-year-old construction worker who was taking a break Tuesday at a job site in St. Louis. Although his huge Caterpillar excavator has air conditioning, he couldn't entirely escape. "When you're done for the day, you're ready to eat, drink and hit the couch."

What?  What the - all the construction workers you could've picked, and you pick the one who spends his days in air conditioning? What the fuck?  We're supposed to feel bad because he might be slightly uncomfortable when he's "hitting the couch"? (where, I'm guessing, he has a/c) Isn't this like writing about the tragedy of small dicks, and your one interview is with John Holmes?

Isn't The Dying Rate 100%? Is This Really News?

TODAY'S XMASTIME QUIZ: Based on Today's Covers, Which NYC Tabloid is Owned By Rupert Murdoch?

(Fuck it, give it a shot - you got a 50/50 chance, right?)

I Have No Idea

What the fuck Comic Con is.

Coolest Thing I've Said Today (So Far - Hell, The Sun's Still Up)

"Rock 'n roll's about two things: fucking, and not fucking."

Hey, You Can't Have "Cantor" Without "Cant"

Turns out Republican squagillionaires are trying to slowly, patiently, presumably with a cool washcloth on his forehead and some soothing music in the background (birds? ocean sounds?), explain to Eric Cantor that they'd rather pay slightly more on their record-breaking profits than have the global economy collapse:

But what I find most interesting about this is the fact that some wealthy donors — Republicans, mind you, not rich liberals — have gone to the trouble of contacting the House Majority Leader to give their blessing to raising their taxes. Cantor is fighting like hell to make sure these folks don’t have to pay an additional dime, but these same wealthy GOP contributors have effectively told the Majority Leader, “Go ahead; we don’t mind paying a little more.”

So, to review, the White House wants the wealthy to pay a little more; most the Senate wants the wealthy to pay a little more; the Gang of Six expects the wealthy to pay a little more; polls show the vast majority of the American public wants the wealthy to pay a little more; economists believe having the wealthy pay a little more won’t hurt the economy; and the wealthy themselves are comfortable with paying a little more.

But Eric Cantor and House Republicans still consider the very idea outrageous.

Yes, paying slightly higher taxes on billions of dollars is still better than not making billons in the first place.  How 'bout that. Hmm.

Say, I wonder who they brought in to explain to Cantor that even 1 is more than 0?  THIS GUY?

Hmm.

Sarah Palin has made a career out of being outraged whenever the evil, lamestream media crosses the line when it comes to basic human dignity and privacy.  She rarely lets a moment go by without lecturing us about integrity when it comes to the field of journalism, which she touts herself as being an authority on since she majored in it in college.

And yet we haven't heard a peep from her now that an entire media empire has been caught with it's hands in the cookie jar.  I wonder why.

Footnotes

I'm often fascinated by uber-footnotes in history; either in pictures. ie who's the woman in the picture they always show kneeling over the body at Kent State? Who are these people? Has anyone ever interviewed them? That should be a whole book, interviews with these footnote people. There's millions of 'em.

Ya'll are obviously big fans of my FOOTNOTES SERIES.  Turns out apparently someone over at Cracked is too. Cough. Just like, of course, THESE DUDES.

I still wonder who Carol Burnett's benefactor was.