Happy New Year!

"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man." -Benjamin Franklin

Be afraid... BE VERY AFRAID!!!

My Houston Cougars win the Armed Forces Bowl, beating Air Force 34-28... it is the Cougars' first bowl win since 1980.

Our crosstown rivals, the Rice Owls, DESTROY Western Michigan in the Texas Bowl, 38-14 (and it wasn't nearly that close)... Rice's first postseason win since the infamous 1954 Cotton Bowl... Nineteen Fifty Freaking Four!!!

I now fear that the end may, in fact, be near... I'm starting to put some stock in this whole 12/21/2112 thing! :-(

Brown paper packages tied up with strings...

In my days on this world, I've found that I've been blessed with a natural aptitude for a great many things... and beyond this, I've found that if I work at an endeavor, I can, more often than not, pick things up rather well... I'm a pretty quick study. However, neither of these apply when it comes to my gift-wrapping efforts. My parcels usually end up looking like they were prepared by a Parkinson's patient during a magnitude six earthquake. Gift bags and tissue paper are a wonderful crutch upon which I lean heavily, because I don't think it's an overstatement to say that my gift-wrapping makes the baby Jesus cry.

And speaking of our Lord and Savior... HAVE A BLESSED AND MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYBODY!!! :-)

"And behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful." -John Bunyan

After a five-year hiatus, this week my family (thanks entirely to me) revived a longstanding holiday tradition and took in Houston Ballet's annual production of "The Nutcracker"... and it was wonderful. Behold, the lovely view from Founder's Box 3...



Sorry it's nothing but a curtain shot... they're understandably touchy about people recording images (moving or otherwise) of the actual performance... you know, copyrights and all.

From "The Blues Song"

A blues man needs a nickname
And everybody calls me Two Shoes
Cause I always wear two shoes
I know it's not much of a nickname
But by the time I got around to getting my nickname
All the good ones were taken
Take for example Blind Lemon Lipschitz
Blind Lemon Lipschitz gouged out his own eyes with his thumbnails
So he could be called blind lemon
It's true, don't laugh

Bail THIS out, buddy!!!

Here's an interesting little morsel of automotive industry information to digest, courtesy of Stephen Spruiell of National Review magazine...

"GM employees who don’t opt for a buyout or early-retirement package will qualify for GM’s supplemental unemployment benefits, meaning that GM will make up the difference between their former wages and their state unemployment checks. When the unemployment checks run out, GM will pay these workers 95 percent of their former wages for up to two years, depending on seniority. Workers with at least ten years of seniority are eligible for the Job Opportunity Bank Security program. This is the notorious jobs bank that allows laid-off workers to receive their regular hourly pay while sitting around doing crossword puzzles or reading the paper. If GM offers these employees an opportunity to transfer to another plant, they have the right to turn down a limited number of such offers. And if no offer is made, they can stay in the jobs bank until they retire. GM currently has around 1,400 workers nationwide in the jobs bank."

Um... WOW! So, while Ford says thanks, but no thanks, to the "opportunity" to sell their soul to the federal government, General Motors, not exactly efficiently-run financially based on the above reading, and privately-held Chrysler (owned by an investment firm... NAMED AFTER THE HOUND OF HELL, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!) continue to stand on the corner, cup in hand. If the ten years and 180,000 miles I've gotten out of my Mustang (so far) hadn't already convinced me, the panhandling of GM and Chrysler has cemented it... when it comes time to buy a new car, I'll have a shiny, new Ford in my driveway.

Golden MySpace Classics... Texas' Citadel of Stupidity's Greatest Hits, Vol. 5

Original post date: June 19, 2007 - Tuesday

Hey, stinky... IT FLOATS!

Is it the name of a seafaring vessel? Is it a brand of adult diaper? Hell, it could just be both!

Freedom

Independence

Assurance

Southern Breeze

Crosswinds

The Poopdeck

High Tide

Outback (actually, that would only work in a RV/diaper context... sorry)

Warmer Waters

Drift Away

Breezy Stream

H.M.S. Absorbent

This and That

It'd be a blast to go to the beach,
Though I think I'll head down to the shore.
I should make it out to the mall,
Nah... guess I'll set out for the store.
I've been meaning to tend to my lawn,
But I better go work in the yard.
I fancy myself a poet,
Yet I'm really merely a bard.
This nonsensical spiel should be stopped,
'Cept It'd be for the best if I quit.
Exemplar, these verses of turd...
Yes, there's been enough of this shit.

:-)

Match in the gas tank... BOOM! BOOM!

So...

I sit down to enjoy the morning's third cappuccino because, hey, who doesn't like to start the day with a severe case of the sweat 'n' shakes??? I hear, seemingly much like every other business venture nowadays, that the fine folks at Starbucks, my hosts for this moment, are in a bit of a fiduciary fix. I wonder... how can a company that charges four bucks for three cents worth of coffee be in any sort of monetary mess? I wouldn't think that a couple of six-dollar-an-hour baristas would lead to much in the way of overhead... perhaps having locations on three different corners of a single intersection is over-saturating the market just a wee bit... whatever. Anyway, as I begin to quiver down the robust brew, I suddenly flash back to those ads for some type of international relief fund... "for the cost of a daily cup of coffee, you can change the world," they told us. At the time, I seem to recall this "cost" being somewhere between 35 and 50 cents. Ten, fifteen, twenty bucks a month and I could feed a hungry child who had the misfortune of being born somewhere south of the Sahara. As I pop back into the present, I contemplate what could now be done with cost of a daily cup of coffee... a taxpayer-subsidized, government bailout of Starbucks, of course!

Match in the gas tank... BOOM! BOOM!

They say it's the thought that counts.

I just saw an advertisement for the Texas Lottery, extolling the virtues of lottery tickets as a great Christmas gift. Lottery tickets... lottery tickets for Christmas. Really? Lottery tickets??? Lottery tickets as a Christmas gift (I'm beginning to feel a bit like Allen Iverson). WHAT AN ABSOLUTELY AWFUL THING TO GIVE AS A CHRISTMAS GIFT!!! Come on... I'm quite certain that giving lottery tickets for Christmas makes the baby Jesus cry.

"When beggars die there are no comets seen..."

That from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. If true, it's a bad time to be a panhandler in our nation's fourth largest city.

So, after 12 seasons and four straight WNBA titles, the Houston Comets are no more. I am neither surprised nor heartbroken (though I really hate to see any such venture fail as it usually involves people incurring some degree of financial ruin and a lot of lost jobs). I was present, in a professional capacity, at The Summit (later known as Compaq Center and ultimately home to Joel Osteen's Lakewood Church) on August 30, 1997 when the Comets defeated the New York Liberty 65-51 to claim the WNBA's inaugural championship (as mentioned earlier, they would go on to also win the next three). At that event, I experienced my career's single-most unpleasant encounter with an athlete in an attempted exchange with Sheryl Swoopes (apparently, she was pissed because she didn't play after having come back from missing the entire season due to her pregnancy). Head coach Van Chancellor (member of the Basketball Hall of Fame, by the way) had agreed to be a live guest, in-studio, for the debut of our half hour sports show, Extra Points (still on the air, every Saturday evening, all these years later... hey, we outlived the Comets!). Amongst my assigned duties that day was making sure the coach got to the car the station had hired (hey, we know how to treat our guests!) in time to make it over to the studio for the show. This was an experience made interesting by not only the challenge of pulling the coach away from celebrating his freshly-minted title, but also by the fact that about 23 members of his considerably corpulent family were apparently "coming with". I submit that one cannot have truly lived until they have witnessed a stretch limo become something akin to a clown car. Upon our arrival at the station, an obese army of the sons and daughters of the Mississippi soil emerged, one-by-one, from the now low-riding limo, like so many 25 cent gumballs from the vending machine at the mall. It was a sight to see!

Ah, memories... Rest in peace, sweet Comets.

Harbinger of things to come???

Here are a few of the more interesting anagrams derived from "President Barack Obama":

breadbasket panoramic

backbiter pander samoa

tieback abramson raped

setback arabian romped

brackets beam paranoid

backseat repairman bod

cabinetmaker raps a bod

backdates airborne map

Based on these, I'd say we're doomed!

Happy Birthday!!!

My far-and-away favorite film crush would've been 96 years old today... the great Eleanor Powell!!! Please take the time to watch... and enjoy!

From Lady Be Good


From I Dood It


I'll be getting up at five this morning to watch Rosalie on TCM.

Confluence of Felicity

So...

If one were to gather together a clam, a camper, a lark and a feces-encrusted pig, whom amongst them would actually be the happiest of all?

Noodle that one, kids!

Just because the holidays are upon us...

EMMET OTTER!!!



:-)

And so it goes...

• I'm 35 years old with 20/10 vision... and I've decided I'd like to start wearing glasses with rose-tinted lenses... or yellow, perhaps.
• The Keynesian nightmare continues as the call for economic interventionism grows ever louder. Communism, here we come! And yet, until the next administration takes power, it appears, at least based on today's hearing before the House Financial Services Committee (chaired by everyone's favorite mischievous little imp, Barney Frank), Congress is prepared to punt Detroit's Big 3... instead of agreeing to drop $25B worth of change in the GM / Ford / Chrysler cup, today saw a chamber full of representatives ready to give the auto-execs the bums rush. And when our elected officials learned that each of the CEOs had travelled to the hearings in their corporate jets, the bipartisan grandstanding was delicious! The antics of wacky Dems Gary Ackerman and Brad Sherman were laugh out loud funny. The smarmy, yet stern, reproach of Texas' own Jeb Hensarling was a squirm-in-your-seat delight of a diatribe... "At what point," the congressman queried, "does Starbucks get in line? Who doesn't get in line for the 700 billion dollars?" OY GEVALT!!! God help us... the end is nigh!
• I was recently watching some ABC Family Channel (oddly enough, with my family) and saw a promo for the upcoming airing of some piece of celluloid-based tripe entitled A Carol Christmas, starring (get this!): Tori Spelling, Gary Coleman... and William Shatner! How in the hell does this shit get made?!?!? Now that steaming turd of a film.... THAT makes the baby Jesus cry!
• I'm already on the season's second tin of three-flavor stale popcorn... and I must admit, it's the cute little Santa kittens / puppies and ice skating cartoon penguins that hook me, not the crappy popcorn. DON'T JUDGE... YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN ME!!!

Golden MySpace Classics... Texas' Citadel of Stupidity's Greatest Hits, Vol. 4

Original post date: July 9, 2007 - Monday

People say...

..."Don't pee on my leg and then tell me it's raining!"... but what the hell do people know about anything anyway? I say, "If you've got it, flaunt it!", so I do... flaunt it, that is... because I have it... quite frequently actually. That being said (or, in this case, written... well, typed... rather slowly, to be truthful), I've found that, more often than not, by the time my third hot-buttered bum biscuit is airborne, I'm in solitude city, baby. Eh, f*ck 'em anyway... I'm more than capable of keeping myself entertained.

Could somebody please light a match? Oh, yeah... um... nevermind.

McRib is back... and all is right with the world...

Even before having spent just short of the last two years as a vegetarian, I had always been repulsed by the flagship of McDonald's "only here for a limited time" offerings... without ever having sampled it. The McRib, this consummate abomination against all God's creation, is a heinous concept, obviously born of a sick mind and soul... and quite possibly brought to be in the forge of Lucifer himself. 280 calories (surprisingly few, actually) worth of pork (mostly tails and snouts, if I had to guess), water, salt, dextrose, BHA, BHT, propyl gallate and citric acid, compressed into the form of a small slab of baby back ribs, dressed with pickles, onions and sauce, served up a a McBun. Don't get me wrong... back in my carnivorous days, I was quite the fan of the swine (it was a good thing my Jewish ancestors were assimilated, I suppose)... ham, bacon, sausage... yum! That being said, even from it's initial offering, I found there to be something very unholy about the McRib... I couldn't tell you exactly why I found it to be such an abhorrent entity, but I'm pretty certain it began with the process of taking grade F pig bits and pressing them into a simulated rib rack (I've always taken issue with those that masquerade as something they are not... I find such utter disingenuousness to be the very heights of perniciousness). Well, call me a hypocrite...

I just finished enjoying a product from the fine folks at Gardenburger... a vegan-friendly dish called "BBQ Riblets". It is, as you may have guessed by now, a soy and wheat protein-based substance, formed to resemble miniature slabs of baby back ribs, packaged in sauce. Here is a prepared portion, served with sides of potato salad and black olives...



I gotta tell ya, it was damn tasty, and not just in a "good for a vegetarian fake food product" kind of way... it was just out-and-out yummy!

And just think of all those years I refused to even sample the McRib... oh well, I guess I should learn to be more open minded about things.

Pipes of Gold

The holidays are upon us... well, that's what has been impressed upon me every time I've happened into a purveyor of retail goods since early August. Anyway, in an effort to ease my way into a festive condition, I fired up my DVD copy of Holiday Inn, and shared a good snuggle... with myself, of course. Ah, the experience of hearing Bing Crosby sing... it transcends the mere enjoyment of a memorable tune or the bliss brought on by a glorious voice. It is nothing short of divine oral effulgence, effortless in its utterance... aurally enveloping one in a dulcet warmth that stirs the soul. An auditory experience like no other, I derive physical pleasure, what I might best describe as some sort of hyper-relaxed release, when I hear Mr. Crosby sing.

Too bad the guy was such a douchebag!

So... you think I should get a tea cozy for this thing?

Okay... let's do some math!

What do you get when you add my life-long struggle with allergies / sinus issues with my generally gullible nature and propensity for saying "Hey, isn't that neat!" about the latest health fad du jour??? Well, you get this...



Yes, three days ago, I actually purchased one of these things. It, like most anything else you've never heard of before, is said to have originated in the far east, where it has been practiced for thousands of years. Even if it didn't set my soul at ease or help to balance my two hemispheres (this is actually quite applicable to me as I've become increasingly orb-like in recent years), I thought it might, at least, help me keep some bats out of the caves (that would be boogers). Well, three days into it, I guess it's helping a little. To this point, I've yet to quite master the technique. I'm a little better going into the right nostril and out the left... vice-versa and I end up with most of the runoff down the front of my shirt (I think my mustache carries the stream astray). I also still have a little trouble with he water trying to run down my throat and into my mouth, but we'll keep plugging away, this I promise you all!

What was the point of sharing all this? Oh yeah... I'm about one more similar violation away from having my man card permanently revoked.

"The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind." ~William Blake

As a dyed-in-the-wool member of the political party just soundly defeated, I'd like to express my feelings towards the coming administration and 111th Congress...

I pray that President-elect Obama will prove to be a competent, wise leader and commander-in-chief.

I pray that the Congress, with the Democrats wielding power almost entirely unchecked, will govern well and by the best interests of their constituency, as opposed to pushing through legislation promoting a leftist ideology with designs on social engineering.

I pray that, in the coming years, our country will experience peace, prosperity and freedom unprecedented.

I am completely sincere in my wishes (but I'm not holding my breath).

"There is no more miserable human being than one in whom nothing is habitual but indecision."

That little nugget o' insight from American philosopher William James (godson of Ralph Waldo Emerson, don't ya know).

So, here I sit in front of the computer at my folks' house at 2:03 in the A.M. My sister and brother-in-law's big Halloween gathering is tonight, and, as of yet, I have no costume. Worst case scenario, I can throw on jeans, a sweatshirt, sneakers and a cap and go as the fat drunk in serious need of some major depilatory work... but I'd like to put a little more effort into it. I was thinking I might use the occasion as an excuse to get my hair cut into a mohawk (no early midlife crisis here, gang!), but, alas, the "punk" attire selection at the local Bizarre Bazaar doesn't feature much in the way of plus-sizes. Oh well... here's hoping that sometime in the next 12 hours, the Lord sees fit to bless me with a garment-related epiphany so that I may go out and celebrate the forces of evil in style!

And while we're on the subject of present-day Hall-O-Couture, why are seemingly all women's costumes slutty / sexy this, that or the other??? The sexy cop, the naughty nurse, the whorish harlot, the slutty slut... sheesh! Are we celebrating All Hallows' Eve or attending a Frederick's of Hollywood runway show? I was sharing this particular lament (I'm kind of bad about sharing all my laments... and they are legion. Quite frankly, sometimes I'm surprised that people still allow me to speak to them) with my very lovely friend Alessandra. She, being quite the clever one, is going as a 1920's era "flapper girl". Now Alessandra is an attractive young lady, and I'm quite certain she will be plenty sexy in her guise, but she won't have to dress like a prostitute to achieve said effect.

Maybe I'll grab a white shirt, black slacks... pick up a black vest, toy gun and a six-pack of Stroh's and dress as an "I really let myself go" Han Solo. Eh... HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYBODY!!! :-)

And now your soul is like a whorehouse... so many lovers, but none you can name...

Does anyone else suddenly take pause when, in the midst of mindlessly shucking and consuming the leftover Halloween candy at your parents' house, out of the blue, you contemplate the dozens of grubby little snot-encrusted, booger-picking paws that have thoroughly rummaged through the candy bowl... contaminating the wrapper of every remaining morsel? I do... then I continue unwrapping and cramming fun-size Snickers in my fat pie-hole.

Golden MySpace Classics... Texas' Citadel of Stupidity's Greatest Hits, Vol. 3

I repost this in honor of the Texans' franchise-best third consecutive win yesterday...

Original post date: June 14, 2007 - Thursday

If they mated...

Astros All-Star Lance Berkman...

...and tennis great Pete Sampras...

...and you get new Texans quarterback Matt Schaub!

I have some very sick friends.

This was done by my good friend T.M.O.G., and, quite frankly, I really don't have the words to describe what you're about to see, so just enjoy... YODEL!

Wow!

I CAN'T GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!!!

Actually, in this case, I don't really care to get "it" out of my head... "it" being the infectiously catchy little tune "Good Morning" from the classic film Singin' in the Rain... a song and dance number featuring Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor and Debbie Reynolds. After watching the film with my folks last week, I've been singing bits of it non-stop at work for the better part of two weeks... even a couple of my coworkers have, through me, become afflicted with this condition, frequently joining me in my random, spontaneous crooning (or whistling). Please enjoy this performance for yourself... hopefully soon you too will be consumed with the need to lilt along with us!

Picking the Carcas... Poorly

Having heard the unfortunate news that the Linens and Things chain would be closing all its stores, and thus, being in bankruptcy, all stores would immediately begin liquidating (I've always found that word unpleasant... it reminds me of issues I've had with my tract over the years) their inventory, I rounded up mom and we headed down to the nearest location to, ahem, make the best of a bad thing. The store we went to was still almost fully stocked... and at this stage of the move-it-all-out-the-door process, the "bargains" were rather modest, at least 10% off all items, with savings up to 30%. Well, being full with the savings spirit, I procured a couple of home furnishings I needed that I had specifically come in search of (one panel curtains for my predominantly glass doors)... and several other superfluous items that I very easily and happily could have lived without (cheeseboard / cutter, set of santoku knives, Silpat cooking mat, etc.). I spent a hundred bucks and, after taxes, saved a grand total of less than ten. I think I'll take the "savings" and buy some currently undervalued blue-chip stocks.

"About the only thing that comes to us without effort is old age."

This week, Houston is home to golf's "Champions Tour" event... I believe it is called the Metamucil Houston Colostomy Bag Open, but I might not have that quite right... it's not important. What is important is that I make the assertion that geezer golf may very well be the most painfully boring incarnation of "sport". I'd rather watch minor league curling than these fat and feeble shadows of their former selves hack it for 18 holes, three days in a row... alas, it's my job to do just that. Maybe I'll be unexpectedly treated to some excitement when one of these duffers breaks a hip.

Golden MySpace Classics... Texas' Citadel of Stupidity's Greatest Hits, Vol. 2

Original post date: October 17, 2007 - Wednesday

Yet another celebrity look-alike

The 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso...


and...

Scaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!!!

Tickling the Ivories

If you are an American Express customer and you manage your finances online, you are probably already familiar with this... you sign on to the American Express website and when the home page loads, it plays a piano riff that is only two or three seconds long, but despite it's brevity, I find it to be utterly infectious. It is a fun, bouncy, playful little riff... being the loser with nothing better to do that I am, I sometimes find myself reloading the page an additional time or two so that I may enjoy the musical little nugget of joy again. When you sign off, you get what must be no more than a three note goodbye tune. It's almost makes my crippling debt fun!

And I'll Be Dancing With Myself... Oh... Oh... Oh Oh...

You know what would be cool? If the dancing guy from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (Ben Carr is his name) announced he was doing a solo project, with which he would be touring... and he then went venue to venue, across the country, going on-stage and dancing around to silence for an hour-and-a-half... THAT would be cool!

Golden MySpace Classics... Texas' Citadel of Stupidity's Greatest Hits

I feel the need to post, yet I can't think of a single interesting or entertaining thing to write about (some would argue that this is always the case). So, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to debut something I intend to do on a semi-regular basis (more often than not, in an instance such as tonight, when my mind's creative commode is clogged up)... recycling old posts from the heady days of blogging on my MySpace page. I give you installment numero uno...

Original post date: July 11, 2007 - Wednesday

If I had a band...

these are a few bits of silliness that would garner serious consideration for nomenclature:

-Salamander Phyllis
-Backing Over Brooche
-The Immaculate Filth
-And God Said "FEH!"
-Parting Before Pooping
-Truncated Junk
-Baneful Bounty
-Half-Past Drunk
-Asscasket
-Odoriferous Jim
-Boom Boom Room
-Honkeytown, PA
-The Aegean Stables
-Fette Durchfahrt
-No, Bob! No!

To those of you that wasted precious seconds of your time here on Earth reading this...

"Everybody knows that the burrow owl lives in a hole in the ground... WHY THE HELL DO YOU THINK THEY CALL IT A 'BURROW OWL' ANYWAY?"

So...

What ever became of all the useful information that used to be so easily procured by simply writing to the fine folks at the Federal Consumer Information Center in Pueblo, CO? Did they have to shut down their prodigious pamphlet mill? If so, why? The economy? A decline in the popularity of the pamphlet medium, perhaps? Maybe it got to the point where all their precious wisdom had been revealed, and they simply had no more to give. Did this downturn in the consumer tips literature market have an adverse impact on the economy of Pueblo? These are things I'd really like to know.

Rollcall...

of Houston's dearly departed (at least that's how I feel about it)...

• Rockefeller's
• Emo's / Some Club
• The Fabulous Satellite Lounge
• Mary Jane's
• The Proletariat
• The Engine Room

SUCK!!!

"Politicians are like diapers...

They both need changing regularly and for the same reason."

Ah, I LOVE that quote!

And on that particular topic... why is it that I wince every time a politician uses the phrase "the American people" these days? The citizenry of the country has become a cheap, overused cliche. More and more, I feel less like a constituent a more like a subject.

Sorry, just a quick moment to whine.

Guten tag, bitches!!!

I have returned stateside from my four day whirlwind tour of Deutschland. Frankfurt to Giessen to Munich to Friedberg and back to Frankfurt again. Drinking beer, fighting with my roommate, embracing old friends not seen in years... I lived, I laughed, I loved!

And now, back home to the same old routine... of domestic drinking, fighting and embracing.

Oh, the Reality!!!

I hate most network programming... and I especially abhor so-called "reality television". This genre of "entertainment" is the very embodiment of disgusting. So, of course, I've spent the last several moments contemplating new and exciting concepts for reality TV shows I'd like to see produced... and if you'll indulge an exercise in catharsis, I give you twenty titles that have sprung, just as Athena from Zeus, fully-formed from my mind...

Leper Colony: French Guiana

Dancing with the Disabled

Feces Factor

Battered Women's Shelter: World Series of Poker Wives

Are You Allergic?

Confessions of TV News Interns

Assassination Nation: Sniper School

Tales from the Port Authority

Temptation Island 2: Electric Boogaloo

Evenings with Ernest Borgnine

Living with Syphilis

San Diego Meteorologists

Insipid, Despicable People Eat Bugs and Go Weeks Without Bathing

Who Wants to be a Busboy?

The Transient

Tic-Tac-Ticks (hey, even traditional format game shows are referred to as "reality TV' these days!)

Beating the Addiction: The $5 DVD Bin at Wal-Mart

The Fetid Fishmonger presents "Catch of the Day"

The Loves of Ivan Lendl

America's Funniest Fraternity Hazing Deaths

F*ck you, Hollywood!

Increase Mather stated that...

"Drink is in itself a good creature of God, and to be received with thankfulness, but the abuse of drink is from Satan. The wine is from God, but the Drunkard is from the Devil."

God... I really need a drink, nay, a whole ass-load of drinks!

So, what did you do during Hurricane Ike?

Yeah... I was shooting live shots all night, including a couple during the extended period when the eyewall came through. Not the eye, mind you, the eyewall... the part of the hurricane with the really, really heavy rain and really, really high winds. Note that I am not wearing any rain gear... that never changed during the course of the evening. Come to find out, my favorite Nike sweatshirt weighs about 35 pounds when completely soaked. Of course, I should be honored I was selected for such an important role in our broadcast... this was not, however, because of my superior skills as a photographer, but instead because of the fact that, with my considerable girth, I had what you might call a significantly higher "wind rating" than the rest of our available, qualified employees... an honor, nonetheless!

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

That is what I thought to myself as I planted my fat ass in the theater seat (God bless that seat for being so accommodating of the significant rear-end real estate I bring to the ballgame). Having dropped $9.50 of my hard-earned scratch to take in the latest cinematic addition to the canon of the Star Wars universe, I was actually what you might call anxious (yes, I am a Star Wars dork... I use the term "dork", as opposed to "geek" or "nerd", because I could beat most other people I encounter into a coma. This is not an ability traditionally associated with geeks or nerds). I'd read many of the critics' reviews of The Clone Wars, and they were scathing, to say the least... one review went so far as to call George Lucas "an enemy of fun". And as much as I try to convince myself that I enjoyed them immensely, I cannot deny the fact that, overall, I found the "prequel" films to be quite a disappointment (I did think ROTS [told you I was a dork] was pretty damn good, actually). So, with the most recent films having been a let down, coupled with the pernicious press preceding the release of The Clone Wars, I began to munch my popcorn as the lights dimmed, hoping to be pleased, but prepared to be disillusioned. 98 minutes later, I exited the theater with my faith in the Star Wars franchise restored. The film, a wholly different experience being animated, was a blast! It was, as the cliche goes, action-packed... and it was funny, to boot. I laughed out loud at least a half-dozen times. I found the animation style, much-reviled by the professional cine-castigators, to be rather interesting and quite unique. I felt the fatal flaw of the prequels to be the need to bring the back story of the original trilogy to life, while trying to establish a logical continuity to a tale largely told backwards. The prequels were muddied-up by the minutia brought to bear by tying the trilogies together. The Clone Wars was not burdened by such requisites... it was simply shoot 'em up, frolicking fun. Furthermore, in what must unfortunately be acknowledged as an indictment of the prequel films, the characters of The Clone Wars had just that, character... Anakin Skywalker, in particular... his interplay with the new character of Ahsoka, his Padawan, is playfully engaging. I truly enjoyed the film and eagerly await the debut of the TV series that will continue the Clone Wars storyline.

Thank you, Prometheus!

This blows!

F*@& YOU, IKE!!!

That sucked, and still sucks, major ass! Living without power and water... that gets really old, really quickly. I think I lost 15 pounds last night just from sweating... that's a lot of fun when trying to sleep for the first time in three days. But hey, A/C or not, it was great to be home after 31 straight hours at work. However, it was not great to have to almost immediately turn around and come back to work... but at least I only have to work 12 hours days every day for what's likely to be close to two weeks. I shouldn't complain too much... we have power and A/C at work... and they are feeding us with some measure of regularity. My car now won't start, but hopefully some dry conditions and the passage of time will remedy that. My almost brand new half-gallon of Pecan Pralines 'n Cream Blue Bell is a complete loss, but I still have a roof over my head and family and friends are safe... and for that, I am very thankful.

By the way, if any of you are offered the opportunity to shoot several live shots outside in the teeth of a hurricane eyewall passing through your part of town, I'd advise taking a pass. Trust me.

Yu-uh-ummy... yummy-yum-yum!

Spice muffins with chopped walnuts and shredded baby carrots (some dusted with confectioners sugar, some topped with cream cheese icing and freshly ground nutmeg)!!!

Stuff... and stuff

• I have just recently been introduced to the joy that is Roly Poly (Purveyor of Fine Sandwiches, Soups & Salads... or so I'm told. Thus far, I've only sampled the sandwiches). They do wrap-style sandwiches... and they have an extensive selection of vegetarian options (extensive=8), which means I can actually dine there... always a plus when I'm hungry. After my first visit, I texted my friend (a fellow vegetarian... she was vacationing in Florida, otherwise I would have shared the happy news with her face-to-face) who first informed me of the existence of the establishment and let her know that, having just finished wolfing down a Monster Veggie, I was no longer a Roly Poly virgin. She told me she was happy for me, but that I should've gone with the California Hummer instead... her reasoning being that a hummer is always a good call for "breaking in" a virgin. I like Sherrie!
• The next great spectator sport??? Competitive sentence diagramming
• I'm going to write a novel someday. As of now, I have no ideas for a setting, era... or even a plot. All I have is a name for my protagonist... "Ubiquitous Bill"
• Why are there no "plus size" models for men's underwear?
• As time passes, Beach Boy Brian Wilson reminds me more and more of the "Carl the groundskeeper" character from Caddyshack
• I'd like to see the jheri curl become fashionable again
• PUPPIES!!!

• Heard this one from a cabbie in Belfast... "What is the only difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish wake? One less drunk."
• My dad, whom I love dearly, has developed some interesting fascinations as he has grown older, foremost amongst them... inkpens and flashlights. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that he hoards these items
• I feel that Anson Carter is not given the credit due him as a trailblazer... the first NHL player to sport dreadlocks

There was that law of life, so cruel and so just, that one must grow or else pay more for remaining the same.

Apparently, sweet potatoes really like the cool darkness of the pantry at my folks' place...

Today's Flotsam and Jetsam

Couple o' things that struck me in one way or another today...

As most of you probably aren't aware of, the U.S. Open (it's tennis) is currently being played in the New York City area. I came across a feature article in the New York Post about an amputee working as a ball girl... the headline for this story? Foot Fault? No! Ah, gotta love the Post!

And there's this... I was watching G4 television (formerly Tech TV) earlier today, and I guess I wasn't particularly interested in whatever it was they happened to be discussing, because I found myself actually reading the obnoxious "newscrawl" running at the bottom of the screen... and a lovely little nugget from that infostream jumped out at me... apparently the director of Rush Hour 3 (honestly, I didn't realize a Rush Hour 3 had been made) is very interested in making a film based on the "Guitar Hero" video game. I don't know about you, but that one sounds like an Oscar-winner to me.

It's Alive... IT'S ALIVE!!! (maniacal laughter, lightning and thunder, Marty Feldman, etc., etc.)

Here it is, gang... the first edition of FRIED GUACAMOLE!!!


And believe me... a little goes a looooooong way. I'm still stuffed several hours later.

Enough With the Bread, Already!

Baylee... fit: Baylee... fat:

Methinks my puppy has been allowed to do a bit too much noshing on treats and people food. :-(

Mmmmmm... That's Good Paste!!!

Over the weekend just passed, I had the pleasure of spending some time with a German friend who was in town for a few days. Her last night here, she, my sister, my brother-and-law and I all went out for sushi. I, being a non-seafood eating vegetarian... and a fat ass, consumed one of every meat-free item on the menu. Most interesting amongst said dishes was the plum paste and mint roll. You see "plum" and "mint" and your thoughts naturally turn to things of a sweet nature, but this was definitely savory, with a very unique, yet quite pleasant flavor... and it had an interesting heat to it... not the kind that has you gulping down your green milk tea, but the kind that slowly creeps down the back of your throat and up into your sinuses (and that's before the eye-watering dose of wasabi). All in all, a yummy experience.

I mean, who actually eats at Chili's anyway?

• Some people have $1,000 a day drug habits... thank God, I don't, but I have developed a $100 a month Yankee Candle habit.


• USA women's soccer goalkeeper Hope Solo is a cutie...

• If John McCain were a flavor of Blue Bell ice cream, he would be Pecan Pralines ‘n Cream... Barack Obama would be Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough... my vote is for Pecan Pralines ‘n Cream, but I really wish Mint Chocolate Chip was a candidate.


• The nicer Murano glass accent pieces are pretty damn cool... see for yourself...

• I'm 35 years old... you would think I would have sense enough not to consume so much candy as to cause myself a rather significant tummy-ache... and you would be wrong. Eeeeewwwww, my gut.


• My next great culinary experiment??? Fried guacamole... yes, FRIED GUACAMOLE!!!


• Professional wrestling on the Sci-Fi Channel... I don't get it.


• Man... I really ate too much candy! I think I'm gonna puke.


• I've come up with the name for my fantasy football team this season... "Big, Sweaty, Black Guys".


• Today on the ABC NewsOne feed, there was video of a monkey run amok at Shibuya station in Tokyo... absolute comedy gold!

To repeat what others have said requires education... to challenge it requires brains.

What in the world is being taught in the once-hallowed halls of Subway University these days?!? I've enjoyed dining on their interpretation of the hoagie for many a year. However, I do not frequent Subway with great regularity anymore, perhaps once or twice every couple of months, but every time I do, without fail, I am horrified by an egregious error in the sequence of sandwich assembly. Regardless of employee or location, they always do it the same way, and DAMN IT... IT IS THE WRONG WAY TO MAKE A SANDWICH!!! An explanation...

I walk into a Subway location (hopefully with little or no line), approach the counter, flash a big smile to the kind soul who will be taking my order (and inquire as to the state of their humor up to this point of the day), and then I convey my dining desire... let's say a footlong veggie on wheat... and immediately, it all starts to go wrong... so very, very wrong. The alleged sandwich artist grabs a loaf, grabs a knife, deftly bisects the bread and unfolds it... and it should be sandwich making time. Under acceptable circumstances, this is the point where I inform the sub monkey that I would like a spread of mayonnaise, BUT... the way the operation is run these days, I am asked what items I want on my sandwich before any consideration of condiment choice... BLASPHEMY! I adamantly advise the employee that I want my mayo spread ON THE BREAD, not glopped amongst the ingredients. My request is met not with an acknowledgment of my desires, or words of any kind, but instead a confused, slack-jawed look. I reiterate that I would like the mayo on the bread before the rest of the sandwich is assembled... and with seeming heavy hesitance, my wishes are fulfilled. So, that's the long (or should I say footlong? HAR HAR HAR!) and short of it.

Maybe you don't care for mayo... perhaps ketchup is your cat's meow... or a healthy dose of mustard floats your boat... whatever. When it comes to condiments, YOU APPLY THEM TO THE BREAD. "Why?" you may ask... well, let me tell you. First of all, it moistens the bread in an ever so delightful way... this is integral to achieving sandwich bliss. Secondly, it acts as no less than a binding agent, helping to hold one's portable meal in one piece. There are few greater catastrophes than one-handing a ham and cheese while driving, only to have the sumbitch fall to pieces and get swine slime all over your nice silk vest... talk about a fashion fauxpas! Think about it in these terms... you want a cheeseburger with mayo and shredded lettuce, and you are given a burger patty with a nice melted slice of American, but it is subsequently placed on a dry bottom half of a burger bun... upon this is piled some lovely, crisp bits o' lettuce, which, alas, is then sullied by drizzle of mayonnaise, before this unfit-to-rule burger is crowned with the other half of the depressingly dry bun. A cheeseburger with shredded lettuce and mayo? Certainly not! You have cheeseburger, topped with cole slaw, on a butt-nekked bun, and nobody wants that, now do they?

The fact that Subway now employs such a sandwich-making policy is irrefutable evidence that the ranks of their upper-management have been infiltrated by damn, dirty communists... so, faced with such foes, I am left to plea with the sandwich-crafting proletariat... consider what you have learned. Call these methods into question... weigh what you have been "taught" against what you know! Does it feel right? It can't possibly! Defy authority... buck free of the bourgeoisie!!! Do what you know to be right... and put the spread on the bread.

Move over, Brangelina! (Seriously... GET THE F*@# OUTTA THE WAY!!!)

We are a society seemingly obsessed with celebrity... a country hopelessly hooked on the tripe that is tabloid television. We are addicts... and the pabulum of the paparazzi is our fix. And when we feed at the Hollywood trough, which slop is our favorite??? Why, celebrity couples, of course! Yes, yes... the romantic uniting of two high-profile, impossibly good looking members of American royalty is an absolutely irresistible elixir... and boy, we drink it up! Though the great majority of these couplings prove to be quite fleeting, we still eat up every exciting moment. Dining out, at the premier, cocktails at the club... photographs and video of such happenings give us a brief, but stimulating, glimpse into the exciting lives of these tantalizing twosomes we hold so dear. And a recent revelation in the endeavor of celebrity gawking has greatly enhanced our ability to enjoy the pairing of pretty people... something that might best be called "couples branding". Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez... what an exciting item they are! Hey... Ben, Jennifer... BENNIFER!!! How adorable! Shit, they broke up... but wow, now Ben's dating that chick from Alias, Jennifer Garner. WAIT A MINUTE!!! Bennifer works for them too! Aren't they cute together?!? Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie... what a big-time brace that is! BRANGELINA... oh, so clever... and no sillier a nomenclature than what they call that little Ethiopian kid she adopted. You know, this "couples branding" is kind of fun... no, it's really fun! And, damn it, I think I'm gonna try my hand at it (using completely hypothetical hook-ups, of course)! Here we go...

TV star / professional Latin heartthrob... and the Wall Street wizard... Wilmer Valderrama and Meredith Whitney... WILMEREDITH!

Everybody's favorite Buddhist thespian with a taste for models turned actress... and Oscar-winning model turned actress... Richard Gere and Charlize Theron... RICHARLIZE!

The terminally wacky actor... and the terminally sultry / sexy actress... Jamie Kennedy and Jamie Pressly... um, JAMIE-POO!

The first female speaker of the United States House of Representatives... and Warren Commission detractor... Nancy Pelosi and Cyril Wecht... NANCYRIL!

How about the bawdy brains behind the Broken Lizard boys... and the striking model / actress / singer? Jay Chandrasekhar and Milla Jovovich... JOVOVICHANDRASEKHAR!

I'm gonna go get something to eat... thank you for reading!

Adventures in Doggysitting!

It's the Izzy and Heidi show!

It's amazing!

It's been 15 years, 15 YEARS, since American males of all ages were initially titillated by a trio of Aerosmith music videos featuring the pouty-lipped, potty-mouthed, flaxen-haired harlot embodied so beautifully by young Alicia Silverstone. A Catholic school girl on the lam... navel piercings, stripteases, purse-snatcher beatings, bungee jumping off a freeway overpass... truly, a hot-ass little hellion hunting for trouble! God, it was beautiful! The songs themselves? Eh, they were, at best, below-average to feculent... certainly not amongst the highlights of the Aerosmith catalogue. Hell, I don't think I could tell one from another... they all sounded the same. That being said, in this instance, it wasn't about the music, it was about the muse... and her sultry siren song of sin! You simply couldn't turn away. Please enjoy for yourself...



I will admit, I'm not really all that up on what kind of music the kiddies are bop-bop-bopping along to these days, but I do know this, I haven't seen an actual music video for any song released post-1997... well, I haven't seen a video for a song that isn't about marijuana use, high-end cognac or champagne consumption or a mouth full of gold teeth. Having established this, it is my assertion that Alicia Silverstone is, and will remain, the last great music video vixen. Of course, I shouldn't sell her career short... she starred in Clueless, which was a big hit at the box office. She also did that movie where Benicio del Toro kidnaps her... and, um... hmmmmmmmmm. Did I mention Clueless?

God bless you, Alicia... wherever you are, you crazy, amazing, cryin' cutie! XOXO

Nothing Like a Big Turd in the Punchbowl!!!

So I'm up late last night, watching TV instead of doing anything at all towards the pursuit of some sort of semblance of a meaningful existence (as usual), and I come across the film Philadelphia on the Logo channel, which I believe to be a network that is programmed to appeal to the homosexual community (this concept of "community" based upon race, sexuality, and such is a complete farce, but that's a rant for another day). Anyway, it's a pretty damn good flick... hell, with Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington, you could make a film about lint and it would be terrific... so I park it on Logo and set myself to enjoying the rest of the film. Pretty early on, I find myself annoyed with the frequency of commercial interruption, but hey, I figure gay folks like to shop, so it's totally understandable, but I digress. At this point, it is necessary for me to mention that the film was being shown as part of a countdown called "The Click List"... the top 50 gay-oriented films (I believe Philadelphia was coming in at #41). Anyway... so Logo was periodically running these little animated promos during their programming to promote "The Click List"... you know the kind, you're watching Law and Order and all of a sudden there is a big, flashy graphic in the bottom-right corner of the screen promoting an all-day marathon of The Closer... and a little Kyra Sedgwick is standing on Jerry Orbach's tie, eating a cookie for some reason. Well, the animated promos that Logo was running were something akin to Pong / Breakout... a little blue ball came into being, and then proceeded to float around, bouncing off the borders of the screen, making a "bloop" noise each time, eventually settling into the bottom-right corner off the screen, where it revealed into a little advertisement telling me I could see more about "The Click List" if I logged onto Logo.com. Pretty obnoxious as far as that sort of thing goes, BUT... what made it really terrible was the fact that they chose to run it over the scene in the hospital room, right when Andrew Beckett, his health failing fast, tells his partner Miguel that he is ready to die... "Miguel... I'm ready... BLOOP! BLOOP! BLOOP-BLOOP! BLOOP!" Then... at the conclusion of the film, when they are at the wake, watching old home movies of Andy as a child, here it comes again... BLOOP! BLOOPITY-BLOOP! BLOOP!

Absolutely awful... way to ruin the moments, you silly people!

Hey, ladies... it's "Man's Best Friend"...

A dog is a pet. A dog is not an accessory. A dog is not meant to be carried around like a purse. A dog is not meant to be carried around in a purse. A dog is a living thing, dependent upon you for food, shelter and love. A dog is not something you carry around because it matches your earrings. A dog has the need, just as you do, to relieve itself on occasion during the course of each day. A dog cannot do this when it has been stuffed in your favorite Coach bag. Please, ladies, get over yourselves and let your dog be a dog.

My thanks to the leathery old broad I saw toting her poor Pomeranian into Walgreen's this morning... thank you for prompting me to get my feelings off my chest.

I got plenty of nothin'... and nothin' is plenty for me (or "How Giggles the Orangutan Learned to Love")

Well, screw me!

The day begins... the sweet serenity of slumber suddenly shattered by the shrill chirp of the digital alarm clock... blasphemy mumbled under my breath. GOOD MORNING, WORLD!

What's that thing called??? Ummm... BREAKFAST! THAT'S IT! I wonder... is the twenty minutes of preparation and the fifteen minutes of clean-up for five minutes of actual dining (and a subsequent case of the trots) worth the effort??? Take a leak and back to bed...

I take my leave of sleep's blissful embrace for a second time today... my desire for rest now well-sated, I realize my lips are pursed, forming a smile that says, "At this moment, I don't have a care in the world." STREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH... absolutely orgasmic! 12:47 postmeridian... GOOD AFTERNOON, WORLD!

BREAKFAST! Wait... other than IHOP patrons, who the hell eats eggs in the afternoon? Okay, nuke a couple of veggie burgers, slap on some American and stuff 'em in buns (nice and fluffy buns, with sesame seeds, of course). Let's see... five minutes prep, five minutes clean-up... shit. PIZZA DELIVERY!!!

Hello, tele! Infomercial, infomercial, that infomercial with the two chicks with the huge cans, Law and Order, Law and Order: SVU, CSI: Miami, Law and Order: Criminal Intent, infomercial, CSI, some show with Neil deGrasse Tyson (that guy is pretty smart), that cooking show with the Italian broad with the huge head... and huge cans (that aioli and egg carbonara looks damn good... so do those cans)... PIZZA'S HERE!

Damn, I'm stuffed! I should've gone a little easier on the red pepper flake... I'm gonna pay for that later. Ah, post-meal lethargy gently washes over me like a warm wave... think I'll rest my eyes for a spell. This sofa is quite comfy...

What the... 8:14 postmeridian??? GOOD EVENING, WORLD!

Man, a beer would be really good right about now... I could run down the road to the Lounge for a couple of pops. I think this is one of the nights that MILF-y bartender gal works... she's actually quite the lovely lass. Alas, Mr. Drunk-in-Perpetuity-Guy-that-Always-Calls-Me-Doug will be there, I'm sure... I'll give credit where credit is due... his festering presence at the end of the bar is almost a certainty, and there are precious few of those in my life these days.

Greetings... my name is Ted, not Doug, dude! Looking very sexy tonight... I'm sorry, very sexy tonight, MA'AM (now give her a wink)! Beer, bullshit, darts, more beer... blur.

1:53 ante meridian. Better leave the car here... besides, a sauced saunter home might actually be somewhat pleasant... it is nice out. GOOD NIGHT, WORLD... YOU SORRY SONS-OF-BITCHES!

My bed beckons... soft, warm and safe, but it will have to wait a bit... shit, I should've gone easy on the red pepper flake!

Well, screw me!

These are the times that try men's souls

So it has come to this...

Due to concerns of both a personal and pecuniary pith, I am officially "on the wagon". I, who during the course of my adult life, have been referred to by numerous nomenclature of an intoxicated nature, such as: "Forty Ounce", "Drunky McKeg", "The Abyss", "Alcohol's Event Horizon" and so forth. Now, I embark upon my journey down a long and droughty road... a parched path devoid of my favorite indulgent elixirs, but lined with my myriad former mates-in-drink, whose still jubilant and jocular spirit-fed spirits serve to concurrently mock and tempt my newfound resolve.

Why, you may ask, choose dry? Well, it is simply an election born of necessity. This coming September, late in the month, I, along with family and friends, will embark upon a journey across the big pond to Bavaria's brilliant gem: Munchen, Deutschland. For the second time, I will be frequenting the Theresienwiese to hoist a masskrug or twenty as I celebrate Oktoberfest. Alas, as part of my preparation for this glorious pilgrimage, there are two major endeavors I must undertake: First... save some freaking money. It would probably be good to have some food in my belly with all the helles I'll be inhaling, and food costs Euros, gang (Dear Lord, please let the exchange rate rebound quickly). And second, speaking of my belly, I'm gonna need to drop about forty pounds if I have any prayer of fitting comfortably in an airline seat for the lengthy flight to Europe.

Well, there it is, folks... ten weeks to save a few hundred bucks and drop a few dozen pounds. So I now bid a tearful, yet temporary, adieu to my dear friend alcohol. See you in September, baby!

For the glory of sport and the honor of our teams...

As we find ourselves just over a month away from the lighting of the really big torch that will signify the commencement of the Games of the XXIX Olympiad (being held in scenic Beijing, China, don't ya know?), I've found myself watching more and more Olympic qualifying events. Not because I enjoy this sort of television viewing, mind you, rather it has been nothing short of inescapable for the last fortnight. Particularly prevalent amongst this genre of programming have been broadcasts highlighting the endeavors our country's finest aquatic and track & field athletes. In the course of "enjoying" these events, I've taken notice of something which strikes me as being just a wee bit puzzling... the attire of our aspiring Olympians. To be specific, our swimmers seem to be wearing a whole lot of clothing these days, while our runners apparently find a competitive advantage in partcipating almost in the nude. Please see below, some visual aides... the first featuring the natatorium dwellers; the second, a portrait of the folks that like to run around in circles (well, ovals... or sort-of ovals, I guess)...





Now if that don't just about beat everything you've ever...

Hell, as far as I'm concerned, they should go back to doing it the way the ancient Greeks did it... everybody competes totally nekked!!! That would be especially fun during events such as wrestling, gymnastics and, most of all, fencing!

DEMONIC RAISINS, I REBUKE YOU!!!

Okay, folks... just thought I'd take a moment to list a number of topics that will never be discussed here in my little playpen o' pontification...

--Lindsay Lohan's boobs

--Joba Chamberlain joining the Yankees' starting staff

--The DaVinci Code (book OR film)

--Britney Spears' vagina

--"Dancing with the Stars"... hell, ANY sort of reality television, for that matter

--Kanye West's impact on hip-hop

--The great Hummus vs. Baba Ganoush debate (Hey... you can't go wrong with either one!)

--The New York Times

--People who put themselves, or aspects (physical or spiritual) of their being, up for auction on eBay

--My unhealthy obsession with tapioca pudding

--Gas grills

--Nicole Ritchie's Auschwitz-looking ass

--The films of Will Ferrell or Judd Apatow

--New Hampshire

--The German political party: Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (SPD)

--Hummers (the automobile, I mean. Fellatio is always fair game)

--Mennonites

--David Letterman, post 1995

--Miller beer products

--The Council on Foreign Relations, the Trilateral Commission or the Bilderbergs

--Arena football

--Canadian football

--Australian-rules football

--Brownies with walnuts in them

--Anything about Paris Hilton (other than news of her meeting with an unspeakably horrific demise)

You've been warned... don't try me, you bastards!

TILLY AND THE WALL!!!

This is about the coolest thing I've seen musically in a long time... a long time. Please enjoy Beat Control by Tilly and the Wall...


Beat Control from Team Love on Vimeo.

I will be in attendance when they play Houston on July 18th!

Truly, THAT'S Entertainment!

So...

I go with my good buddy Martin to catch a movie the other night. There wasn't really much showing I hadn't already seen that held any interest for me, so I told him what films I had yet to take in and deferred the selection to him. Martin, a comic book fan dating back to the days of his youth (of course, I guess it would be a bit odd to suddenly become a comic book fan at some random point in one's adulthood), chose The Incredible Hulk as our evening's entertainment. Hey... great, no problem! I have never really been into the Hulk thing over the years, but I certainly have no objection to two hours of mindless fun and some cool special effects. Plus, I must admit, I was a little intrigued to see a film that had previously been made only five years earlier (2003-Universal Pictures' Hulk, starring Eric Bana, directed by Ang Lee)... was another "interpretation" really necessary after only half a decade??? Anyway, I was right about a couple of things... the effects were pretty good... and it was certainly mindless. It wasn't bad, but I won't be renting the DVD when it hits the shelves. It got me to thinking about what exactly constitutes contemporary "entertainment", and it how compares to what delighted movie-going audiences in days past. Take this clip... an impressively precise, yet playful dance number featuring the legendary Fred Astaire and the (very regrettably) seemingly mostly forgotten Eleanor Powell. It is from the film Broadway Melody of 1940. Enjoy!



Absolutely fan-freaking-tastic!!! Quite honestly, that short little clip, all two minutes and change of it, is endlessly more entertaining than the last five theatrical releases I've seen... COMBINED! And Eleanor Powell... what a babe! No CG special effects... no $200 million budget... no crying Liv Tyler... just a couple of extraordinarily talented entertainers, hoofin' it like few have hoofed before... and certainly since. C'mon Hollywood... how about a nice "golden age" revival?

Yet Another Helpin' o' Haiku

My good friend Adam (he's Jewish, by the way... necessary background information) celebrated his 32nd birthday yesterday. I sent out an informal invite for a celebratory gathering last night in honor of the occasion. As a part of said invitation, I composed some birthday inspired Haiku... and now, I share it with you!

There is plenty left,
So have another slice of
Gefilte Fish cake.

Bright, pretty candles!
Friends, gifts, sweets and smiles! Now it's
Spank-O-Rama time!

With age comes wisdom,
Or so it is said. Adam,
The contrarian.

Wisdom Nuggets... NOW MADE WITH WHITE MEAT!!! (and mostly skin-free)

--Failure is not an option. POPPYCOCK, I say! Always, ALWAYS, leave failure as one of your options. It's pretty handy sometimes.

--Why shake when you can hug? Why hug when you can kiss? Why kiss when you can grope?

--Monkeys, flatulence, the Amish, phallic foods... all inherently funny!

--The curveball has a plethora of cool nicknames: the hook, the deuce, the hammer, the bender, the yakker, Uncle Charlie

--If you want to keep a secret, tell only those that you trust unfailingly... then murder them all.

--Sharp, pointy items, such as needles, pencils and Lara Flynn Boyle, should be kept away from the eyes.

--Without trust, love is bound to fail... so be sure to snoop around in your significant other's personal effects... email, call and text logs, pockets of dirty clothes, etc.

--An individual's choice of celibacy is noble... and it's no less noble when it's been chosen for you, damn it!!!

--Chicks dig the long ball! While true for baseball and golf, this doesn't apply so well to tennis.

--Blessed are the meek... Ignorance is bliss... I guess life is grand if you're a stupid pussy!

thirtysomething

Remember the TV show from the late 80's-early 90's? Well, neither do I... I never watched the crap. That's neither here nor there... and frankly, I'm not quite sure why I brought it up to begin with. Anyway...

So, I turned 35 years old yesterday... right smack-dab in the middle of my 30's, in other words, thirtysomething. Oh yeah, that's why I brought it up. Anyway... I worked, just a nondescript day... yet another infinitesimal sample in the discrete-time signal that is my life these days. Afterwards, some of us went out in honor of the occasion (my friend was kind enough to put together an informal little gathering, despite my insistence that I didn't particularly care to do anything). We had some beers, listened to some live music, enjoyed some intelligent discourse on a number of matters, including poop, sex, work and poop... all-in-all, quite a nice time. When the time came for me to call it a night, (in other words, when everyone other than me had left) I ran by the friendly neighborhood Taco Bell late-night drive thru, then back to the house. And now the payoff, the reason I felt compelled to retch up all this background tedium! I awoke this morning, my arm draped above me, with the back of my hand resting on my forehead... and as the fog of a drunken evening's repose began to dissipate, I discovered that in my hand was a half-eaten burrito, now a cold and congealed remnant of my early morning mess. Yes, I had fallen asleep / passed out while in the act of devouring my alcohol-absorbing aliment. Fabulous...

So this is what has become of my life... I'm 35, single, fat... and sleeping with a half-eaten bean burrito on my melon. America... truly, I am living the dream!

Holy Haiku, Batman!!!

Summer... you are here!
Or so it seems, as a child
Would drown in my pits.

From deep, up it wells,
Needing, yearning to burst forth-
Gas... what sweet relief!

Fudge, fudge, fudge, fudge, FUDGE!
Man... OH, MAN... how I love fudge!
My head is on fire.

I was so alone...
Mr. Unpredicatble
Bladder's bound to be.

Beer! Can't stand the sight!
Down the hatch and out of mind...
Another one, please!

Light Spread of Butter on Your Bread

They say that the good die young. Great... but what exactly constitutes "young"? (I keep hearing about 40 being the new 30, or some such bullshit... tell that to my liver) And good? Not to get into a pointless discourse about semantics or anything, but just what the hell counts as "good" these days? For me, "good" is a grilled cheese sandwich... with the bread nice and crusty/toasty (but not burned) and the cheese (American slices, of course) all ooey-gooey! That shit is good, but, as far as I know, a sandwich can't die... it can be eaten, by me, with great, almost frightening voracity (and a nice, cold glass of milk), but it can't die. That being said, I've not run across too many old sandwiches in my time.

Blah, Blah, Blog

So...

I used to blog semi-frequently on MySpace, but I haven't signed on to the site in months... seems like way too much trouble at this point.

I blog for our station's website (I work in the teevee!)... inane crap about sports... stats, steroids and other such shit. Over there, I never really have anything all that entertaining to say... not that I could if I cared to do so.

Now, I have decided to blog here. Wow, I've become quite the little compu-monkey, flinging my cyber-poo into yet another corner of the world wide web.

Hopefully, I'll have something inspired, interesting or just plain insane to say at some point.