Saturday, June 23, 2007
Shutting Down Operations
I'm sure you've already noticed I haven't posted in a long while, but in case anyone still checks back for updates (yeah right), I decided to make it official and announce that I will shutting down Simon's Mind for at least 6 months to focus on my career. If you see me back before then, it likely means I failed and have been relegated back to slightly lesser cooler and successful status, but in the meantime, take care of yourselves -- and each other. BYE!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
"I Love This Game!"
Sorry for the lack of updates, I was once again captivated by the NBA Playoffs, but now that they’re over, as far as I’m concerned, I am back. But speaking of the playoffs, how do the potentially best playoffs ever after round 1, suddenly become must not see TV after round 2? Seriously, what the heck just happened? The Baby Bulls had finally grown up, the Suns looked poised to win it all, the Mavs got roundhoused, and the Warriors were the greatest playoff story ever. It was freakin’ awesome.
Then over past 2 weeks, it was like someone changed the channel from Seinfeld to The New Adventures of Old Christine as Phoenix got a wicked knee to their package, the Bulls looked like bull deng, and Golden State looked like a bad intramural squad. (Note to the Warriors: you are allowed to shoot inside the 3-point line.) How do you dominate a 67 win team in Dallas only you get obliterated by the Jazz? The Utah freakin’ Jazz??
These guys were ready to enter a depression clinic after their first 2 games with the Rockets. You would think Carlos Boozer was 9 feet tall given the fact he alone grabbed twice as many rebounds as your entire team in the series. I guess it didn’t help that your true fans were substituted with bandwagoners and wealthy socialites disintegrating your home court advantage.
I loved the fact that a bunch of rich people in the Bay Area, like everyone else in the country, saw how amazing the atmosphere was at Oracle Arena during the 1st round series against the Mavericks, and were like I’m so going to be a part of that next round. And then next round came and all these duffers weeded out all the people that made the Oracle rock in the first place.
Nice job, guys. Next time just learn to enjoy the games from the comfort of your own home or local alcohole, I mean just because I’m absolutely enthralled by The Hills doesn’t mean I’m going to go and try to hit on LC and punch that one guy in the face to become a part of the experience.
You knew after the Warriors gave away Game 1 and 2 in Utah, the series was over. These were games they would have won last series, but thanks in part to that series where they just started throwing crazy haymakers as soon as the bell rang, they drained themselves so much physically, mentally, and emotionally they didn’t have the fortitude to sustain a 12-round fight. And how is anyone going to be able to essentially win 6 out 7 games? Golden State, however, can take solace in the fact they weren’t even supposed to be there in the first place and everyone knew they weren’t going to win it all anyway, so at least they were able to accomplish something special in the process.
Phoenix, however, was supposed to be there and thanks to the Mavericks’ early exclusion, were the frontrunners to take home the championship. That was until the Spurs reminded everyone that they own the Suns like a used athletic supporter. Not that their ownage is legitimate, thanks to them having the black Pigpen in Bruce Bowen, they proved it’s sometimes better to be bad than good. Unfortunately their badness doesn't end there as they also have Manu Ginobli who falls down when breathed on, a tear jerked TIMMAEEEEEEE! (seriously, everyone time a foul is called on him his eyes explode out of his head and arms go flailing like he was just accused of rape, clearly he has never committed a foul in his life, it’s impossible. Man, remember when Tim Duncan used to actually be respected for his class and skill?), and of course grandpa Horry who now takes his game winning shots on other players instead of the basket.
Yeah, it’s been filleted to death, but the fact remains David Stern isn’t fit to be running a Dairy Queen. You’ve got people getting feloniously battered on the court intentionally with no consequence, yet suspensions are handed out for walking a few feet away from the bench. I realize that’s “the rule” so you can’t make exceptions for star players, but the fact is once its proven how moronic a rule is, it should ripped out of the book and incinerated that instant.
You want to prevent bench-clearing brawls, suspend players who leave the bench and join the fray during a fight, simple as that. Why suspend someone for simply leaving the vicinity of the bench, that's pointless. But let's not forget this is the NBA, where David Stern is more worried about instituting a mandatory dress code than rules prohibiting players from intentionally trying to injure other players.
Despite being handcuffed for Game 5, the Suns still played well enough and should've, could've, would've won, if they hadn't let all their hard work fizzle away in the final moments. So in the end they have to ultimately blame themselves for losing the series. And Game 6 was just a joke, way to get some redemption, Phoenix. Besides Steve Nash, did anyone on the court even care? And for being one of the most nonchalant and positive guys in the league, as the series went on you could tell all the BS was even getting to him. By Game 6, the blood vessels in his head looked like they were about to erupt after every call and non-call (justifiably so though, he was getting molested out there). On the pissed off scale he was at 8.3, and at 8.6 he would have fired a bullet pass at Pigpen's dome.
I also bet Steve appreciated that he was just embedded in a war of a series only to look across the country and see Cleveland get a free pass into Conference Championship. A Gilbert Arenas-less Wizards team that stumbled into the playoffs by default and a .500 Nets team, are you kidding me? I like Lebron as much as the next guy and I want to see him flourish as a player, but these series shouldn't even have been series and he should have been torching these teams for 45-15-15 every night.
Let's be honest in a best of 17 series vs. the Suns, the Cavs wouldn't win a game. Can we like cancel the Eastern Conference or something and just compose the playoffs of the best 15 teams from the West and the Pistons? If I have to sit through one more 6 or 8 point quarter, I think I might start watching hockey.
It doesn't help when you're forced to sit through these exhibitions of ineptitude in order get to the real games, which subsequently don't start till 9:30 and 10:30 at night, which is simply torturous for people on the East Coast not on welfare. I get that Western Conference teams are in a different time zone, but we're already penalized by the caliber of basketball played in this region, why add insult to injury and prohibit us from being able to watch the games that don't suck?
I tried to do the responsible thing at first and just not watch the late games altogether, but as the series wore on and each game within got more critical, I justified my stupidity by saying if I see a great game and my squad wins, it will be worth. But when what actually transpired transpires, and the freakin' game doesn't get over till 1:30 and I have to get up at 5:30, my whole day at work is spent saying The NBA, it's FANNNNNNNNtastic!!
Then over past 2 weeks, it was like someone changed the channel from Seinfeld to The New Adventures of Old Christine as Phoenix got a wicked knee to their package, the Bulls looked like bull deng, and Golden State looked like a bad intramural squad. (Note to the Warriors: you are allowed to shoot inside the 3-point line.) How do you dominate a 67 win team in Dallas only you get obliterated by the Jazz? The Utah freakin’ Jazz??
These guys were ready to enter a depression clinic after their first 2 games with the Rockets. You would think Carlos Boozer was 9 feet tall given the fact he alone grabbed twice as many rebounds as your entire team in the series. I guess it didn’t help that your true fans were substituted with bandwagoners and wealthy socialites disintegrating your home court advantage.
I loved the fact that a bunch of rich people in the Bay Area, like everyone else in the country, saw how amazing the atmosphere was at Oracle Arena during the 1st round series against the Mavericks, and were like I’m so going to be a part of that next round. And then next round came and all these duffers weeded out all the people that made the Oracle rock in the first place.
Nice job, guys. Next time just learn to enjoy the games from the comfort of your own home or local alcohole, I mean just because I’m absolutely enthralled by The Hills doesn’t mean I’m going to go and try to hit on LC and punch that one guy in the face to become a part of the experience.
You knew after the Warriors gave away Game 1 and 2 in Utah, the series was over. These were games they would have won last series, but thanks in part to that series where they just started throwing crazy haymakers as soon as the bell rang, they drained themselves so much physically, mentally, and emotionally they didn’t have the fortitude to sustain a 12-round fight. And how is anyone going to be able to essentially win 6 out 7 games? Golden State, however, can take solace in the fact they weren’t even supposed to be there in the first place and everyone knew they weren’t going to win it all anyway, so at least they were able to accomplish something special in the process.
Phoenix, however, was supposed to be there and thanks to the Mavericks’ early exclusion, were the frontrunners to take home the championship. That was until the Spurs reminded everyone that they own the Suns like a used athletic supporter. Not that their ownage is legitimate, thanks to them having the black Pigpen in Bruce Bowen, they proved it’s sometimes better to be bad than good. Unfortunately their badness doesn't end there as they also have Manu Ginobli who falls down when breathed on, a tear jerked TIMMAEEEEEEE! (seriously, everyone time a foul is called on him his eyes explode out of his head and arms go flailing like he was just accused of rape, clearly he has never committed a foul in his life, it’s impossible. Man, remember when Tim Duncan used to actually be respected for his class and skill?), and of course grandpa Horry who now takes his game winning shots on other players instead of the basket.
Yeah, it’s been filleted to death, but the fact remains David Stern isn’t fit to be running a Dairy Queen. You’ve got people getting feloniously battered on the court intentionally with no consequence, yet suspensions are handed out for walking a few feet away from the bench. I realize that’s “the rule” so you can’t make exceptions for star players, but the fact is once its proven how moronic a rule is, it should ripped out of the book and incinerated that instant.
You want to prevent bench-clearing brawls, suspend players who leave the bench and join the fray during a fight, simple as that. Why suspend someone for simply leaving the vicinity of the bench, that's pointless. But let's not forget this is the NBA, where David Stern is more worried about instituting a mandatory dress code than rules prohibiting players from intentionally trying to injure other players.
Despite being handcuffed for Game 5, the Suns still played well enough and should've, could've, would've won, if they hadn't let all their hard work fizzle away in the final moments. So in the end they have to ultimately blame themselves for losing the series. And Game 6 was just a joke, way to get some redemption, Phoenix. Besides Steve Nash, did anyone on the court even care? And for being one of the most nonchalant and positive guys in the league, as the series went on you could tell all the BS was even getting to him. By Game 6, the blood vessels in his head looked like they were about to erupt after every call and non-call (justifiably so though, he was getting molested out there). On the pissed off scale he was at 8.3, and at 8.6 he would have fired a bullet pass at Pigpen's dome.
I also bet Steve appreciated that he was just embedded in a war of a series only to look across the country and see Cleveland get a free pass into Conference Championship. A Gilbert Arenas-less Wizards team that stumbled into the playoffs by default and a .500 Nets team, are you kidding me? I like Lebron as much as the next guy and I want to see him flourish as a player, but these series shouldn't even have been series and he should have been torching these teams for 45-15-15 every night.
Let's be honest in a best of 17 series vs. the Suns, the Cavs wouldn't win a game. Can we like cancel the Eastern Conference or something and just compose the playoffs of the best 15 teams from the West and the Pistons? If I have to sit through one more 6 or 8 point quarter, I think I might start watching hockey.
It doesn't help when you're forced to sit through these exhibitions of ineptitude in order get to the real games, which subsequently don't start till 9:30 and 10:30 at night, which is simply torturous for people on the East Coast not on welfare. I get that Western Conference teams are in a different time zone, but we're already penalized by the caliber of basketball played in this region, why add insult to injury and prohibit us from being able to watch the games that don't suck?
I tried to do the responsible thing at first and just not watch the late games altogether, but as the series wore on and each game within got more critical, I justified my stupidity by saying if I see a great game and my squad wins, it will be worth. But when what actually transpired transpires, and the freakin' game doesn't get over till 1:30 and I have to get up at 5:30, my whole day at work is spent saying The NBA, it's FANNNNNNNNtastic!!
Monday, April 30, 2007
My Favorite Guys
(This article is part 1 of 2)
If you’re like me, you didn’t watch the NFL Draft, if you’re like one of my favorite guys, you went to the NFL Draft. Really, does it get any more hardcore than that? I love the NFL, and more specifically the Bengals, but these guys put my level of fandom to shame. That doesn’t mean I find it admirable, quite the contrary actually, to me hardcore football fans are some of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever seen in my life, yet I still love them, on a twisted, mocking level.
If you’ve never seen the draft, it takes place in New York every year, so it’s understandable that a few Jets' and Giants' fans may check it out if they have nothing better to do. Well not only do Jets' fans not have anything better to do, they’ve declared this day a gang green national holiday. These guys epitomize hardcore, not only by the fact they flock the draft venue in droves, but also because they are some of the most obnoxious and belligerent fans period.
The greatest thing ESPN has ever done is put together a montage of Jets’ fans reaction to their team’s 1st round picks through the years of 1980, ’81, ’83, ’87, ’89, ’90 ’92, and ’95. These were all years that Jets’ fans were less than pleased with their team's pick, so as soon as the commissioner read the Jets’ selection, the room exploded into shock, boos, and shear disgust. This was mixed with shots of other teams’ fans actually pointing and laughing at the Jets’ fans. It’s awesome. But one needs to actually witness each of these years to fully appreciate the moment.
Like in ’83 when the Jets needed a QB and opted for Ken O’Brien instead of Dan Marino. I love the eternally optimistic fan ESPN interviewed after selection, he’s like, “Maybe the Jets know something we don’t.” Yeah they know how to screw themselves. Or in ’95 before Paul Tagliabue read the selection, Jets fans are chanting “We want Sapp (Warren Sapp)”, and then you hear, “the Jets select Tight End, Penn State, Kyle Brady.” Before he could even finish his sentence you heard a collective moan of horror as the camera zooms in on a Jets’ fan whose head collapses into his hands before he likely sobbed uncontrollably.
But forget the Jets' fans for a minute, the one I really felt bad for was Kyle Brady, he’s on the stage with a look on his face like what the **** did I do to deserve this? That alone is enough to doom someone's career before it starts.
Could there be a worse venue to hold the draft, though? Year after year it takes place in a metropolitan area represented by a team that routinely makes some of the worst conceivable picks. Face it, due to their team’s draft selections, Jets’ fans are justified in their repugnance. It likely made them that way, or at least contributed to it. That’s why it’s so amusing now to seem them cheer for basically everything their team does.
It’s like they’ve decided after years of sucking, if they pretend to act excited, it may make things work out somehow. Like this year the Jets traded with the Panthers for the 14th pick and Jets' fans ignited like they won the Super Bowl. J-E-T-S, JETS!! JETS!! JETS!!! And at that point they had no idea who their team was even going to draft at 14 and what they gave up for it.
Jets’ fans have become the show, and the only reason to watch 12 hours of hearing people’s names being read. But the reality is Jets' fans aren't unique. You could move the draft to any other professional football city in the country, and the result would be the same: loud people whose only hobbies are football and alcohol. Can you even imagine what would happen if a draft took place in Oakland? The spotlight just happens to be cast on Jets' fans due to circumstance. So sorry Jet fan who attends the draft, while you're pretty hardcore, you're not the hardcorest. That distinction goes to those select few who actually make a trip to New York solely for the purpose of attending the draft. These my friends are the Real Men of Genius.
Everyone has seen them, the one Dolphins' fan wearing teal amidst a sea of green sticking out like a white person at a Roots concert. It's bad enough that someone would go the draft while living in New York, but it's unfathomable that someone would make a special trip across country to attend. It's even worse when the guy's team makes their picks and he's doing the Yung Joc rev your motorbike dance move while everyone else in the auditorium is just looking at him with blank stares.
I remember listening to a sports talk radio show a few years back when a caller was complaining about how much of a horrible experience it was when he and his family attended the Draft and how he actually feared for his family’s safety. Wow, really? You mean you didn’t have a blast with your wife and kids being around a bunch of inebriated, unemployed, middle-aged men wearing face paint and ridiculous headgear? Who in their right mind plans a vacation around attending a name-reading session at the end of April? That’s worse than sleeping in a tent in your backyard. Next year can we can attend a lecture on how they make cheese, dad?
Honestly, what were you expecting buddy? Party favors and the limbo? It’s the freakin’ draft, the only thing worse than watching it, is attending it, and the only thing worse than attending it or watching it, is living and dying by the results. For as much grief as fans perceive their teams subject them to, no one really knows how successful a player will be, so there’s no point of investing anything more than mild interest in your team’s selections 6 months before the season starts.
Could Ryan Leaf have won an MVP and Peyton Manning been a bust? It’s possible. There’s no such thing as a “sure thing”, and no one would draft players that didn’t believe had the potential to be productive. Yes, the draft can make or break your team for years to come, but there’s no way to tell now, so stop investing so much into such a pointless endeavor.
I realize there can only be one team that wins the Super Bowl each year, but I hope we as fans haven't reached a point where are we are so desperate to cheer for something, we cheer for literally anything? This is when know you have a problem and need to find a new hobby, or a life. It's like the gambler who refuses to admit his vice until he wakes up one day and realizes he just bet $8,000 on the coin toss before a football game. Get help my friend, get help. But in the meantime, feel free to keep making everyone else laugh.
If you’re like me, you didn’t watch the NFL Draft, if you’re like one of my favorite guys, you went to the NFL Draft. Really, does it get any more hardcore than that? I love the NFL, and more specifically the Bengals, but these guys put my level of fandom to shame. That doesn’t mean I find it admirable, quite the contrary actually, to me hardcore football fans are some of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever seen in my life, yet I still love them, on a twisted, mocking level.
If you’ve never seen the draft, it takes place in New York every year, so it’s understandable that a few Jets' and Giants' fans may check it out if they have nothing better to do. Well not only do Jets' fans not have anything better to do, they’ve declared this day a gang green national holiday. These guys epitomize hardcore, not only by the fact they flock the draft venue in droves, but also because they are some of the most obnoxious and belligerent fans period.
The greatest thing ESPN has ever done is put together a montage of Jets’ fans reaction to their team’s 1st round picks through the years of 1980, ’81, ’83, ’87, ’89, ’90 ’92, and ’95. These were all years that Jets’ fans were less than pleased with their team's pick, so as soon as the commissioner read the Jets’ selection, the room exploded into shock, boos, and shear disgust. This was mixed with shots of other teams’ fans actually pointing and laughing at the Jets’ fans. It’s awesome. But one needs to actually witness each of these years to fully appreciate the moment.
Like in ’83 when the Jets needed a QB and opted for Ken O’Brien instead of Dan Marino. I love the eternally optimistic fan ESPN interviewed after selection, he’s like, “Maybe the Jets know something we don’t.” Yeah they know how to screw themselves. Or in ’95 before Paul Tagliabue read the selection, Jets fans are chanting “We want Sapp (Warren Sapp)”, and then you hear, “the Jets select Tight End, Penn State, Kyle Brady.” Before he could even finish his sentence you heard a collective moan of horror as the camera zooms in on a Jets’ fan whose head collapses into his hands before he likely sobbed uncontrollably.
But forget the Jets' fans for a minute, the one I really felt bad for was Kyle Brady, he’s on the stage with a look on his face like what the **** did I do to deserve this? That alone is enough to doom someone's career before it starts.
Could there be a worse venue to hold the draft, though? Year after year it takes place in a metropolitan area represented by a team that routinely makes some of the worst conceivable picks. Face it, due to their team’s draft selections, Jets’ fans are justified in their repugnance. It likely made them that way, or at least contributed to it. That’s why it’s so amusing now to seem them cheer for basically everything their team does.
It’s like they’ve decided after years of sucking, if they pretend to act excited, it may make things work out somehow. Like this year the Jets traded with the Panthers for the 14th pick and Jets' fans ignited like they won the Super Bowl. J-E-T-S, JETS!! JETS!! JETS!!! And at that point they had no idea who their team was even going to draft at 14 and what they gave up for it.
Jets’ fans have become the show, and the only reason to watch 12 hours of hearing people’s names being read. But the reality is Jets' fans aren't unique. You could move the draft to any other professional football city in the country, and the result would be the same: loud people whose only hobbies are football and alcohol. Can you even imagine what would happen if a draft took place in Oakland? The spotlight just happens to be cast on Jets' fans due to circumstance. So sorry Jet fan who attends the draft, while you're pretty hardcore, you're not the hardcorest. That distinction goes to those select few who actually make a trip to New York solely for the purpose of attending the draft. These my friends are the Real Men of Genius.
Everyone has seen them, the one Dolphins' fan wearing teal amidst a sea of green sticking out like a white person at a Roots concert. It's bad enough that someone would go the draft while living in New York, but it's unfathomable that someone would make a special trip across country to attend. It's even worse when the guy's team makes their picks and he's doing the Yung Joc rev your motorbike dance move while everyone else in the auditorium is just looking at him with blank stares.
I remember listening to a sports talk radio show a few years back when a caller was complaining about how much of a horrible experience it was when he and his family attended the Draft and how he actually feared for his family’s safety. Wow, really? You mean you didn’t have a blast with your wife and kids being around a bunch of inebriated, unemployed, middle-aged men wearing face paint and ridiculous headgear? Who in their right mind plans a vacation around attending a name-reading session at the end of April? That’s worse than sleeping in a tent in your backyard. Next year can we can attend a lecture on how they make cheese, dad?
Honestly, what were you expecting buddy? Party favors and the limbo? It’s the freakin’ draft, the only thing worse than watching it, is attending it, and the only thing worse than attending it or watching it, is living and dying by the results. For as much grief as fans perceive their teams subject them to, no one really knows how successful a player will be, so there’s no point of investing anything more than mild interest in your team’s selections 6 months before the season starts.
Could Ryan Leaf have won an MVP and Peyton Manning been a bust? It’s possible. There’s no such thing as a “sure thing”, and no one would draft players that didn’t believe had the potential to be productive. Yes, the draft can make or break your team for years to come, but there’s no way to tell now, so stop investing so much into such a pointless endeavor.
I realize there can only be one team that wins the Super Bowl each year, but I hope we as fans haven't reached a point where are we are so desperate to cheer for something, we cheer for literally anything? This is when know you have a problem and need to find a new hobby, or a life. It's like the gambler who refuses to admit his vice until he wakes up one day and realizes he just bet $8,000 on the coin toss before a football game. Get help my friend, get help. But in the meantime, feel free to keep making everyone else laugh.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The worst thing I have ever seen
It all started earlier this week when I just happened to be watching The Search for the Funniest Mom in America 3 on Nickelodeon (yeah, I do realize it’s MTV for pre-teens). And by “just happened to be watching”, I mean I have absolutely no good reason for why I was watching it and have felt guilty ever since. But despite the fact this show SUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS, I didn’t turn it off, does that make me a bad person? And given the numeral "3" in the title, I'd imagine it's safe to assume there have been 2 previous installments to this humorless charade.
Why? How? Who is watching this? Aren't there enough glorified, talent(less) shows already been televised; now we're even making them specific to certain demographics? I'm just waiting for Dancing with Blind Senior Citizens with Arthritis. But this is all beside the point, as this isn’t about that dumb show Search For..., it’s about a promo I saw during a commercial break during that dumb show.
It was announcing the arrival of America’s Funniest Home Videos to the 'Loden, and while I can’t say if was for a new series or reruns, it didn’t matter, what did matter is that what I saw had me mortified.
We all know watching someone get hit in the package is the quintessential “funny home video”, heck, the whole genre was established solely on the strength of it, so it goes without saying that the classic "kid swings a wiffleball bat at his dad’s crouch" and "kid punches dad in package" would make their way into the ad. But this particular commercial featured the cream of the crop, the haut monde, the freakin’ crème de la crème.
Picture this: guy is peacefully asleep on his couch, while his daughters are standing on the couch. Sounds harmless enough, but I’m not talking about standing next to him or on the armrest; I’m talking on top of the backrest. Yeah, high up. And these little girls couldn’t have been more than 5 years old, combined, but I could see it in their eyes, their pupils burned with the hellish flames of mischief. And I don’t know if one of them egged on the other or promised to let her play with her Tickle Me Elmo, but a moment later one of the girls took the plunge, like she was jumping from atop the Grand Canyon into the Rio Grande.
I don't know if the father screamed, there was no way I could have heard it over my shriek of horror, but like a heat-seeking missile, the little girl slammed feet-first into her father’s package. Instantly, his torso and legs sprung together like a vice grip; I had no idea flexibility like that was even humanly possible.
Unfortunately, I haven’t the slightest to what transpired after that. Whether the girl literally went through her father and the couch, or if the other little monster still perched atop sofa decided to finish her father’s vasectomy operation because my head refused to do anything but jeer away in horror. Even replaying the events in my mind now leaves me breathlessly cringing. And by the time my eyes returned to the television, they were showing this precious clip of a darling baby with food all over its mouth. It was cute. But back to the original topic, that was the worst thing conceivable thing a person, more specifically a man, could experience short of a sledgehammer to the same region.
What made it worse for this poor guy was that it happened when he was out cold. Here he is taking a pleasant stroll through dreamland before he's woken up to a shock of excruciating plain. If that were me, I would have thought I died in my sleep and woke up in hell. You can't breathe, you're seeing red, and there are two little demons prancing around you with delight, all they need is little pitchforks. Even if you were able to brace yourself, the pain would be unbearable, and here's this guy, totally relaxed, unaware, and unprotected, with his stuff just there.
If the government is looking for new ways to extract confessions from terrorists, all they need to do is tie them down and have a kid repeatedly jump on their junk from four feet in the air. I would spill my guts as soon as I see a rugrat thrust his arms back and bend his knees on the springboard. Now you maybe thinking "why not just have an adult jump on their junk, that would hurt so much more," but an adult's feet are too big. Tiny extremities are a necessity for pinpoint accuracy and absolute misery.
But then you might say, "why even have someone jump on it then, why not just smash it with a blunt object?" Fine, you got me, jeez, you've already made me think about this too much as it is. Let's talk about something else, like I dunno, HOW THIS ALL JUST HAPPENED TO BE CAUGHT ON TAPE IN THE FIRST PLACE!
It had to be by chance, right? I mean who doesn't tape themselves while they sleep on a couch? There's no way someone would script something as sinister as this for the chance to win a couple thousand dollars. Humans are waaaaay above that. Okay, actually that had to be exactly what happened, that or he cheated on his wife. Either way, it was soo not worth it.
Why? How? Who is watching this? Aren't there enough glorified, talent(less) shows already been televised; now we're even making them specific to certain demographics? I'm just waiting for Dancing with Blind Senior Citizens with Arthritis. But this is all beside the point, as this isn’t about that dumb show Search For..., it’s about a promo I saw during a commercial break during that dumb show.
It was announcing the arrival of America’s Funniest Home Videos to the 'Loden, and while I can’t say if was for a new series or reruns, it didn’t matter, what did matter is that what I saw had me mortified.
We all know watching someone get hit in the package is the quintessential “funny home video”, heck, the whole genre was established solely on the strength of it, so it goes without saying that the classic "kid swings a wiffleball bat at his dad’s crouch" and "kid punches dad in package" would make their way into the ad. But this particular commercial featured the cream of the crop, the haut monde, the freakin’ crème de la crème.
Picture this: guy is peacefully asleep on his couch, while his daughters are standing on the couch. Sounds harmless enough, but I’m not talking about standing next to him or on the armrest; I’m talking on top of the backrest. Yeah, high up. And these little girls couldn’t have been more than 5 years old, combined, but I could see it in their eyes, their pupils burned with the hellish flames of mischief. And I don’t know if one of them egged on the other or promised to let her play with her Tickle Me Elmo, but a moment later one of the girls took the plunge, like she was jumping from atop the Grand Canyon into the Rio Grande.
I don't know if the father screamed, there was no way I could have heard it over my shriek of horror, but like a heat-seeking missile, the little girl slammed feet-first into her father’s package. Instantly, his torso and legs sprung together like a vice grip; I had no idea flexibility like that was even humanly possible.
Unfortunately, I haven’t the slightest to what transpired after that. Whether the girl literally went through her father and the couch, or if the other little monster still perched atop sofa decided to finish her father’s vasectomy operation because my head refused to do anything but jeer away in horror. Even replaying the events in my mind now leaves me breathlessly cringing. And by the time my eyes returned to the television, they were showing this precious clip of a darling baby with food all over its mouth. It was cute. But back to the original topic, that was the worst thing conceivable thing a person, more specifically a man, could experience short of a sledgehammer to the same region.
What made it worse for this poor guy was that it happened when he was out cold. Here he is taking a pleasant stroll through dreamland before he's woken up to a shock of excruciating plain. If that were me, I would have thought I died in my sleep and woke up in hell. You can't breathe, you're seeing red, and there are two little demons prancing around you with delight, all they need is little pitchforks. Even if you were able to brace yourself, the pain would be unbearable, and here's this guy, totally relaxed, unaware, and unprotected, with his stuff just there.
If the government is looking for new ways to extract confessions from terrorists, all they need to do is tie them down and have a kid repeatedly jump on their junk from four feet in the air. I would spill my guts as soon as I see a rugrat thrust his arms back and bend his knees on the springboard. Now you maybe thinking "why not just have an adult jump on their junk, that would hurt so much more," but an adult's feet are too big. Tiny extremities are a necessity for pinpoint accuracy and absolute misery.
But then you might say, "why even have someone jump on it then, why not just smash it with a blunt object?" Fine, you got me, jeez, you've already made me think about this too much as it is. Let's talk about something else, like I dunno, HOW THIS ALL JUST HAPPENED TO BE CAUGHT ON TAPE IN THE FIRST PLACE!
It had to be by chance, right? I mean who doesn't tape themselves while they sleep on a couch? There's no way someone would script something as sinister as this for the chance to win a couple thousand dollars. Humans are waaaaay above that. Okay, actually that had to be exactly what happened, that or he cheated on his wife. Either way, it was soo not worth it.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
A rose by any other name....
If there wasn’t enough reason already to believe everyone but me, my mom, and that guy who plays the saxophone for change on the bridge has lost their minds, recently a couple, Michael and Karolina Tomaro, in Sweden tried to name their child "Metallica", yeah, in honor of that Metallica, being as that it's their favorite band of all-time (or at least right now). And if that wasn’t bad enough, it was a girl that they wanted to name this. Actually, I guess metallica is technically the effeminate equivalent of metallic, but oh yeah, that’s right, it’s still not a real freakin’ name for a human being. Heck, if you named your dog this you should be smacked.
I'd like to know how this can even come up anyway. Okay honey, we've narrowed it down to three names: Kim, Amy, and Metallica, which do you like best? Wow, I mean wow, what a hard decision. Let's just go with Metallica, they kick all kinds of ass and it's such a pretty name.
I'm a heavy metal guy myself, but I’m not going to start naming my offspring after my favorite bands. How would that reflect on me if I named my son "As I Lay Dying", or my daughter "Norma Jean" -- okay, bad example, but you get the idea. What did your infant do to you to make you want to punish them for the rest of their lives? If you really want to show appreciation to your favorite group, isn't there some fan club you could join or something?
Where did this whole naming kids after things you like start anyway? It's ridiculous and pointless. Like the person/thing you're trying to honor even knows or gives a crap you named your child after them. And what are you hoping to accomplish by it, like if you name your daughter "Betty White", she's going to grow up and transform into Betty White. We all wish, but it's not happening.
Remember those weirdos that named their kid "ESPN" after the sports channel? Did they think the actual ESPN was going to come out and do a story about them? Come on. Oh wait, that's exactly what happened, but ESPN is a self-consumed, publicity whore, and that doesn't change the fact that Child Protective Services should have taken ESPN away from the parents, the kid and network.
But I can't decide what's worse, being named after something relevant, or something that people know of but no longer care about. Like in little Metallica's case, already the band Metallica is basically garbage, but by the time Metallica is in elementary school the band will probably be freakin' horrible and she'll have to walk around hearing:
10-year old jerk: Hey Metallica!
Metallica: What?
10-year old jerk who has a point: You suck!
And if the teasing wasn't bad enough, can you even imagine this poor girl trying to get a job? Who in their right mind is going to hire someone named Metallica, an employer will take one look at her resume and play wastebasket ball with it because he thinks it's joke. And who the heck would marry the chic? Steve and Metallica Jones? Dude, all I can say is she had better be really freakin' hot. Nice going Tomaro's, you have all but assured your daughter will be a future, lonely employee of the waste company.
I guess if they actually gave her a decent middle name she could go by that and be able to somewhat hide the fact her parents hate her. That's unless Mike and Karol decide to get really unique and choose "Rocks" as her middle name, in which case, should we schedule the therapy sessions now?
There is one upside to this story, however, if you noticed in the first sentence I mentioned they tried to name their baby this, that's because the Swedish National Tax Board is refusing to allow them to use this name. Thank you Sweden, the last thing we need is for this to be deemed acceptable and have other people follow in their crooked footsteps. It's too bad US officials don't have a similar viewpoint, maybe there wouldn't be so many strippers named after feminized sports cars. Some people may scoff at the importance of a name, but it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, what else can someone named "Porscha" do besides dance on a pole, work for Porsche?
Unfortunately, it seems that the Tomaros want to persist on the name. Come on guys, the Swede officials are doing you a favor and are trying to do what's in your best interest, and more importantly, what's in the best interest of your daughter. I know it will be hard to find something else to name her given that there's only tens of thousands of other genuine names to choose from, but in the long run it will be worth it when your daughter doesn't try to kill herself, or you.
I'd like to know how this can even come up anyway. Okay honey, we've narrowed it down to three names: Kim, Amy, and Metallica, which do you like best? Wow, I mean wow, what a hard decision. Let's just go with Metallica, they kick all kinds of ass and it's such a pretty name.
I'm a heavy metal guy myself, but I’m not going to start naming my offspring after my favorite bands. How would that reflect on me if I named my son "As I Lay Dying", or my daughter "Norma Jean" -- okay, bad example, but you get the idea. What did your infant do to you to make you want to punish them for the rest of their lives? If you really want to show appreciation to your favorite group, isn't there some fan club you could join or something?
Where did this whole naming kids after things you like start anyway? It's ridiculous and pointless. Like the person/thing you're trying to honor even knows or gives a crap you named your child after them. And what are you hoping to accomplish by it, like if you name your daughter "Betty White", she's going to grow up and transform into Betty White. We all wish, but it's not happening.
Remember those weirdos that named their kid "ESPN" after the sports channel? Did they think the actual ESPN was going to come out and do a story about them? Come on. Oh wait, that's exactly what happened, but ESPN is a self-consumed, publicity whore, and that doesn't change the fact that Child Protective Services should have taken ESPN away from the parents, the kid and network.
But I can't decide what's worse, being named after something relevant, or something that people know of but no longer care about. Like in little Metallica's case, already the band Metallica is basically garbage, but by the time Metallica is in elementary school the band will probably be freakin' horrible and she'll have to walk around hearing:
10-year old jerk: Hey Metallica!
Metallica: What?
10-year old jerk who has a point: You suck!
And if the teasing wasn't bad enough, can you even imagine this poor girl trying to get a job? Who in their right mind is going to hire someone named Metallica, an employer will take one look at her resume and play wastebasket ball with it because he thinks it's joke. And who the heck would marry the chic? Steve and Metallica Jones? Dude, all I can say is she had better be really freakin' hot. Nice going Tomaro's, you have all but assured your daughter will be a future, lonely employee of the waste company.
I guess if they actually gave her a decent middle name she could go by that and be able to somewhat hide the fact her parents hate her. That's unless Mike and Karol decide to get really unique and choose "Rocks" as her middle name, in which case, should we schedule the therapy sessions now?
There is one upside to this story, however, if you noticed in the first sentence I mentioned they tried to name their baby this, that's because the Swedish National Tax Board is refusing to allow them to use this name. Thank you Sweden, the last thing we need is for this to be deemed acceptable and have other people follow in their crooked footsteps. It's too bad US officials don't have a similar viewpoint, maybe there wouldn't be so many strippers named after feminized sports cars. Some people may scoff at the importance of a name, but it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, what else can someone named "Porscha" do besides dance on a pole, work for Porsche?
Unfortunately, it seems that the Tomaros want to persist on the name. Come on guys, the Swede officials are doing you a favor and are trying to do what's in your best interest, and more importantly, what's in the best interest of your daughter. I know it will be hard to find something else to name her given that there's only tens of thousands of other genuine names to choose from, but in the long run it will be worth it when your daughter doesn't try to kill herself, or you.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Where are they now?
Every once in a while I like to do a little research and discover what my favorite actors as a child have been up to since I last saw them. And since I’m pretty much out of touch with pop culture, I usually have absolutely no clue what I will find.
Jeremy Miller – Jeremy is most well-known for his forgettable role as the youngest Seaver boy, Ben, in the forgettable series Growing Pains; he seemed poised for greatness. But when the series was unfortunately cancelled in ’92, I, along with the rest of the world, wondered what would become of such a promising young star.
It turns out since Growing Pains, growing up has been a pain (ba-dap-psssh!) as Jer and I have had the exact same number of professional acting roles, zero. I mean what the heck, I do more acting at my crappy job on a daily basis than this guy has done in the past 15 years; someone give this man a job. Am I the only one that remembers that phenomenal scene in that one episode of Growing Pains where he did some emotional acting well? I’m sure there was one…………..apparently McDonald’s took notice, because I think I literally just saw him in a Dollar Menuaire’s commercial. A little bit older, a little bit harrier, a lot a bit heavier, but that is definitely him. Wow, that commercial is horrible, I hate McDonald’s.
Jodie Sweetin – Jodie played Stephanie, the cute-as-a-button little girl who always got overshadowed by that adorable little angel Michelle (I wonder whatever happened to the actress that played her?), in the seminal series Full House. I always felt we had this special connection being that she's only a month older than me and we both like to do jazz dance (what?). But it seemed as she went, the show went, so it came as no surprise when she hit puberty and made the show awkward for everyone involved, it got cancelled. I cried.
Since the show, it turns out Jod separated from acting in pursuit of a normal life. She went to college, joined a sorority, formed a crystal meth addiction, got married...wait.....formed a crystal meth addiction?!……..HOLY CRAP!! This is exactly why I love to find out what my favorite actors of yesteryear have been up to after all this time. This was the same girl that wouldn’t take a hit of a cigarette in the girl’s bathroom, how does she end up getting addicted to crank? And here I thought Uncle Jesse fell onto hard times when he started appearing in 10-10-987 commercials.
Thankfully Jod is now clean and sober and appears to have gotten her life together. But in another shocking revelation, Jodie recently announced that she was adopted. Well duh, I think everyone already knew Bob Saget wasn’t your real father, I mean the dude IS Bob Saget after all, that would just be creepy. What’s next, are you going to drop another bomb and tell us that the role of Michelle in Full House was actually played by a set of twins?
Christine Lakin – Christine played Al in the awful series Step by Step. The only reason I cared about this show was because Christine was freakin’ HOTT (yeah, two “t’s” for emphasis). Which proved how stupid this show was because she was cast as some tomboyish chic, when she should have been portraying my girlfriend -- wait, what?? Besides Christine, the only thing I remember about this show was it had the dude from Dallas, the chic from Three’s Company, and no plot. Making it fit perfectly into TGIF’s line-up and giving me an excuse to never stay home on Fridays, which ultimately led to me becoming an alcoholic. Thanks ABC! (note: I am kidding about being alcoholic, grandma, you don't have to hold a surprise intervention for me.)
A few years after Step by Step was canned, Chris apparently found her way into the movie Reefer Madness. I'm kicking myself right now for missing a film as critically acclaimed as this one. Oww. More recently she has been appearing in Nick Cannon’s Wild ‘N Out (yeah, that Nick Cannon), a bootleg version of Whose Line Is it, Anyway?, which is a bootleg version of something that’s supposed to be funny, but isn’t.
So yeah, she’s essentially been out of work, and it saddens me to find out she’s not nearly as hot as she used to be. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, because personality is much more important to me anyway, but she is on Wild N’ Out, so, so much for that. Final analysis, she tried to bring sexy back, but only got store credit.
Jeremy Miller – Jeremy is most well-known for his forgettable role as the youngest Seaver boy, Ben, in the forgettable series Growing Pains; he seemed poised for greatness. But when the series was unfortunately cancelled in ’92, I, along with the rest of the world, wondered what would become of such a promising young star.
It turns out since Growing Pains, growing up has been a pain (ba-dap-psssh!) as Jer and I have had the exact same number of professional acting roles, zero. I mean what the heck, I do more acting at my crappy job on a daily basis than this guy has done in the past 15 years; someone give this man a job. Am I the only one that remembers that phenomenal scene in that one episode of Growing Pains where he did some emotional acting well? I’m sure there was one…………..apparently McDonald’s took notice, because I think I literally just saw him in a Dollar Menuaire’s commercial. A little bit older, a little bit harrier, a lot a bit heavier, but that is definitely him. Wow, that commercial is horrible, I hate McDonald’s.
Jodie Sweetin – Jodie played Stephanie, the cute-as-a-button little girl who always got overshadowed by that adorable little angel Michelle (I wonder whatever happened to the actress that played her?), in the seminal series Full House. I always felt we had this special connection being that she's only a month older than me and we both like to do jazz dance (what?). But it seemed as she went, the show went, so it came as no surprise when she hit puberty and made the show awkward for everyone involved, it got cancelled. I cried.
Since the show, it turns out Jod separated from acting in pursuit of a normal life. She went to college, joined a sorority, formed a crystal meth addiction, got married...wait.....formed a crystal meth addiction?!……..HOLY CRAP!! This is exactly why I love to find out what my favorite actors of yesteryear have been up to after all this time. This was the same girl that wouldn’t take a hit of a cigarette in the girl’s bathroom, how does she end up getting addicted to crank? And here I thought Uncle Jesse fell onto hard times when he started appearing in 10-10-987 commercials.
Thankfully Jod is now clean and sober and appears to have gotten her life together. But in another shocking revelation, Jodie recently announced that she was adopted. Well duh, I think everyone already knew Bob Saget wasn’t your real father, I mean the dude IS Bob Saget after all, that would just be creepy. What’s next, are you going to drop another bomb and tell us that the role of Michelle in Full House was actually played by a set of twins?
Christine Lakin – Christine played Al in the awful series Step by Step. The only reason I cared about this show was because Christine was freakin’ HOTT (yeah, two “t’s” for emphasis). Which proved how stupid this show was because she was cast as some tomboyish chic, when she should have been portraying my girlfriend -- wait, what?? Besides Christine, the only thing I remember about this show was it had the dude from Dallas, the chic from Three’s Company, and no plot. Making it fit perfectly into TGIF’s line-up and giving me an excuse to never stay home on Fridays, which ultimately led to me becoming an alcoholic. Thanks ABC! (note: I am kidding about being alcoholic, grandma, you don't have to hold a surprise intervention for me.)
A few years after Step by Step was canned, Chris apparently found her way into the movie Reefer Madness. I'm kicking myself right now for missing a film as critically acclaimed as this one. Oww. More recently she has been appearing in Nick Cannon’s Wild ‘N Out (yeah, that Nick Cannon), a bootleg version of Whose Line Is it, Anyway?, which is a bootleg version of something that’s supposed to be funny, but isn’t.
So yeah, she’s essentially been out of work, and it saddens me to find out she’s not nearly as hot as she used to be. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, because personality is much more important to me anyway, but she is on Wild N’ Out, so, so much for that. Final analysis, she tried to bring sexy back, but only got store credit.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
K-State stop crying
Memo to everyone in Manhattan, Kansas: Get over it. I realize you lost your basketball coach, Bob Huggins, to West Virginia after only one season, but what were you expecting? You hired a mercenary. You knew about his questionable character and his past, but you didn't care, you wanted to make your basketball team relevant and win games. You used him and he used you, and in the end you made out pretty freakin' good.
I have some insight into this whole scenario being from Cincinnati, the place where Huggins used to coach before he aligned with Kansas State. Huggins is dry, sequestered, and talks like a cyborg, but overall he's a decent human being. And despite the fact he coached at my school's archrival, I regretted that he was fired. Though I was one of the few people in a 50-mile radius that supported the University of Cincinnati's President, Nancy Zimpher, in her decision to get rid of him after he was arrested for a DUI.
It was refreshing to see an action contrary to the philosophy of winning trumps all else. And there's no doubt about it, Bob Huggins wins games, so for most people that have a vested interest in the program, or any team for that matter, they could careless about graduation rates, DUIs, or anything else, the guy could be on heroin and wife-beater, but as long as he gets "W's", he's all good.
It's the hypocrisy of sports, fans of every other team like to point a condemning finger at a high-profile player or coach who has done something wrong, but would embrace the person in an instant if they were to join their organization and produce more victories. Did anyone care when Jamal Strong was suspended by MLB for testing positive for steroids? Exactly, who?? Yet, Barry Bonds is one of the most hated men alive, outside of San Fransisco, because he was suspected of using steroids. Despite this animosity, there are 29 other teams that would love to have him, well, the old, juiced Bonds at least.
What's even more hypocritical is the fact that K-State supporters feel like they took a chance on Huggy Bear and he stabbed them in the back? Really? What sort of risk or consequence was there to hiring him, I don't even recall there being any kind of backlash for hiring someone with Bobby's baggage. It was all reward, and in the event things somehow went awry or he didn't win enough games, he would have been dropped faster than The Nine. So much for loyalty, huh?
Face it, the guy did more for your program in one year than others have done in a decade, he had the #1 recruiting class on-tap for next year, and suddenly you had a sip of what it would be like to not suck and you're pissed that you're losing it. I would be upset too, but not at Huggins.
Trust me, I can relate, after Thad Matta took Xavier to the Elite 8, he jetted for Ohio State, that little school that just happened to play in the NCAA championship game this year, and I was furious. But I wasn't mad that Thad left, I was pissed about how he left. He told us he had absolutely no interest in the job, wasn't even considered for it, and loved it at X; the next day he was holding a press conference in Columbus.
That's a stab in the back, front, and face; what Huggins did wasn't. Huggs was honest the whole time; K-State just wasn't honest with themselves. If you really believed that Huggins would stay in Manhattan for any substantial length of time, you deserved to lose him.
You were the rebound chic. He got dumped by an attractive girl for being a drunk and ended up dating you. But you had to have known he would have never gone out with you if it wasn't for the fact that none of the other popular girls wanted anything to do with him due to the negative perception he created. He lowered his standards because he had to. But after his year-long relationship with you, he proved to other girls that despite the fact he's a drunk, he still brings home the moolah. And that's really what matters, right? So another chic, that's on his level, comes along and courts him, and you're left crying in your Häagen-Dazs.
Cheer up and just be thankful you got a chance to date a stud. He already gave you Bill Walker and if any of the recruits from his highly touted incoming class end up playing for you (the University should be ashamed if they force them to stay and don't give them the option), you owe the man a great deal of gratitude, not disdain.
I have some insight into this whole scenario being from Cincinnati, the place where Huggins used to coach before he aligned with Kansas State. Huggins is dry, sequestered, and talks like a cyborg, but overall he's a decent human being. And despite the fact he coached at my school's archrival, I regretted that he was fired. Though I was one of the few people in a 50-mile radius that supported the University of Cincinnati's President, Nancy Zimpher, in her decision to get rid of him after he was arrested for a DUI.
It was refreshing to see an action contrary to the philosophy of winning trumps all else. And there's no doubt about it, Bob Huggins wins games, so for most people that have a vested interest in the program, or any team for that matter, they could careless about graduation rates, DUIs, or anything else, the guy could be on heroin and wife-beater, but as long as he gets "W's", he's all good.
It's the hypocrisy of sports, fans of every other team like to point a condemning finger at a high-profile player or coach who has done something wrong, but would embrace the person in an instant if they were to join their organization and produce more victories. Did anyone care when Jamal Strong was suspended by MLB for testing positive for steroids? Exactly, who?? Yet, Barry Bonds is one of the most hated men alive, outside of San Fransisco, because he was suspected of using steroids. Despite this animosity, there are 29 other teams that would love to have him, well, the old, juiced Bonds at least.
What's even more hypocritical is the fact that K-State supporters feel like they took a chance on Huggy Bear and he stabbed them in the back? Really? What sort of risk or consequence was there to hiring him, I don't even recall there being any kind of backlash for hiring someone with Bobby's baggage. It was all reward, and in the event things somehow went awry or he didn't win enough games, he would have been dropped faster than The Nine. So much for loyalty, huh?
Face it, the guy did more for your program in one year than others have done in a decade, he had the #1 recruiting class on-tap for next year, and suddenly you had a sip of what it would be like to not suck and you're pissed that you're losing it. I would be upset too, but not at Huggins.
Trust me, I can relate, after Thad Matta took Xavier to the Elite 8, he jetted for Ohio State, that little school that just happened to play in the NCAA championship game this year, and I was furious. But I wasn't mad that Thad left, I was pissed about how he left. He told us he had absolutely no interest in the job, wasn't even considered for it, and loved it at X; the next day he was holding a press conference in Columbus.
That's a stab in the back, front, and face; what Huggins did wasn't. Huggs was honest the whole time; K-State just wasn't honest with themselves. If you really believed that Huggins would stay in Manhattan for any substantial length of time, you deserved to lose him.
You were the rebound chic. He got dumped by an attractive girl for being a drunk and ended up dating you. But you had to have known he would have never gone out with you if it wasn't for the fact that none of the other popular girls wanted anything to do with him due to the negative perception he created. He lowered his standards because he had to. But after his year-long relationship with you, he proved to other girls that despite the fact he's a drunk, he still brings home the moolah. And that's really what matters, right? So another chic, that's on his level, comes along and courts him, and you're left crying in your Häagen-Dazs.
Cheer up and just be thankful you got a chance to date a stud. He already gave you Bill Walker and if any of the recruits from his highly touted incoming class end up playing for you (the University should be ashamed if they force them to stay and don't give them the option), you owe the man a great deal of gratitude, not disdain.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Don't bother calling me
So the other day I decided it was time to upgrade my cell phone. The one I had pissed me off because the receiver volume on it was horrible and unless you were standing in an empty elevator, in the middle of the night, you couldn’t barely make out anything the person on the other line was saying. On top of that, it just wasn’t sexy enough for me. Being Simon Drasle, I need a cell phone that is as sexy as I am.
The first problem I encountered, however, was that the selection phones I could actually choose from was going to be limited. I could buy a phone from the company I already have service with, but they only allow you to get a discounted price once a year, and it hadn’t been a year since I bought my last phone.
Like they’re my parents trying to control my phone buying habits. Who gives a crap how long it has been, just give me the freakin’ sale price now, you’re trying to sell phones, right? There’s no way I’m paying full retail price when I already have service with you, forget that. So my only other option was to buy an unlocked phone, which is pretty much none of the cool phones.
Sure, I could always drop the reliable service with the local company I have now since there is no contract and get sucked into a 2-year contract with some provider that drops every other call just for a salacious phone that makes me make me feel like I’m important. But at this point in my life, I just don’t feel I’m ready to take that step since the only person that calls me is my Grandma, on Thursdays, when she hasn’t had a chance to read my blog.
I already knew what I wanted to get anyway. The cinder block-style phone that Zack Morris used to rock; it was just a matter of finding it. 7 hours of meticulous searching later, I was convinced that they only sell it in Canada or something. So now I was definitely disheartened, I mean had no idea where to go from there and I knew nothing about cell phones, besides the one I had sucked and the one I wanted was only available in exotic countries.
Then I recalled seeing Bob Saget with some kind of phone called BlackBerry. Well hey, Bob is a big baller, and I’d like to be a big baller, so it was settled. Then I remembered that whenever Sags used the phone it looked like he was talking into a TI-87. Then I went and found out the freakin’ things cost like $500!
Who in the heck is going to pay $500 for an accounting machine that makes phone calls? I’d be forced to invest in a man purse just to carry the thing around with me in public. It’s counterproductive. The +1 to my cool rating for owning something so high-tech would be negated by the -2 for walking around with an effeminate carry-all and a portable fax machine.
BlackBerry was completely out of the question. But even though I had absolutely no idea what phone I was going to get, I did know I was purchasing a Bluetooth headset with it because I saw a guy at the mall with one once, and they are awesome. Then I remembered that when the guy started talking, I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me, or someone on the phone.
It turned out, he was talking on the phone, but by the time I realized it, I had already awkwardly acknowledged his presence. Which forced him to complete the awkward exchange with an equally awkward acknowledgement. So he knew that I thought that he thought that I thought he was talking to me. And I felt like he owed me an apology for thinking that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought -- basically I wanted to punch him in the face at this point.
“Guy with Bluetooth in public” has officially replaced “Guy pretending like he is talking on his cell phone in public” as the unofficial mascot for Enzyte. Even if Bluetooth’s weren’t the most obnoxious inventions ever invented and a surging cause of black eyes, I don’t understand the necessity of saving yourself the strain of holding a 2-ounce piece of plastic to your ear through the duration of a 3-minute conversation. Whatever, I still needed a new phone. So I decided I should be smart, actually do some research, and choose a phone based solely on appearance.
I ended up getting the vowel-challenged SLVR. I could have cared less about the mp3 player capabilities and video camera, I just wanted a small, inoffensive phone. Yeah, well it turns out the SLVR’s audibility is actually frickin’ worse than the Nokia 6102 I already have. Seriously, why is it that the more crap they throw onto a phone, the worse it works as an actual phone?
It’s amazing, you’d think that would be the first priority, but apparently there must be some sect of people more worried about playing their favorite Ashlee Simpson songs with their phone than communicating with other people. So how come my mp3 player can’t make clear phone calls? The phone obviously went back, but I’m still here without a phone that doesn’t suck. To be continued??
The first problem I encountered, however, was that the selection phones I could actually choose from was going to be limited. I could buy a phone from the company I already have service with, but they only allow you to get a discounted price once a year, and it hadn’t been a year since I bought my last phone.
Like they’re my parents trying to control my phone buying habits. Who gives a crap how long it has been, just give me the freakin’ sale price now, you’re trying to sell phones, right? There’s no way I’m paying full retail price when I already have service with you, forget that. So my only other option was to buy an unlocked phone, which is pretty much none of the cool phones.
Sure, I could always drop the reliable service with the local company I have now since there is no contract and get sucked into a 2-year contract with some provider that drops every other call just for a salacious phone that makes me make me feel like I’m important. But at this point in my life, I just don’t feel I’m ready to take that step since the only person that calls me is my Grandma, on Thursdays, when she hasn’t had a chance to read my blog.
I already knew what I wanted to get anyway. The cinder block-style phone that Zack Morris used to rock; it was just a matter of finding it. 7 hours of meticulous searching later, I was convinced that they only sell it in Canada or something. So now I was definitely disheartened, I mean had no idea where to go from there and I knew nothing about cell phones, besides the one I had sucked and the one I wanted was only available in exotic countries.
Then I recalled seeing Bob Saget with some kind of phone called BlackBerry. Well hey, Bob is a big baller, and I’d like to be a big baller, so it was settled. Then I remembered that whenever Sags used the phone it looked like he was talking into a TI-87. Then I went and found out the freakin’ things cost like $500!
Who in the heck is going to pay $500 for an accounting machine that makes phone calls? I’d be forced to invest in a man purse just to carry the thing around with me in public. It’s counterproductive. The +1 to my cool rating for owning something so high-tech would be negated by the -2 for walking around with an effeminate carry-all and a portable fax machine.
BlackBerry was completely out of the question. But even though I had absolutely no idea what phone I was going to get, I did know I was purchasing a Bluetooth headset with it because I saw a guy at the mall with one once, and they are awesome. Then I remembered that when the guy started talking, I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me, or someone on the phone.
It turned out, he was talking on the phone, but by the time I realized it, I had already awkwardly acknowledged his presence. Which forced him to complete the awkward exchange with an equally awkward acknowledgement. So he knew that I thought that he thought that I thought he was talking to me. And I felt like he owed me an apology for thinking that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought -- basically I wanted to punch him in the face at this point.
“Guy with Bluetooth in public” has officially replaced “Guy pretending like he is talking on his cell phone in public” as the unofficial mascot for Enzyte. Even if Bluetooth’s weren’t the most obnoxious inventions ever invented and a surging cause of black eyes, I don’t understand the necessity of saving yourself the strain of holding a 2-ounce piece of plastic to your ear through the duration of a 3-minute conversation. Whatever, I still needed a new phone. So I decided I should be smart, actually do some research, and choose a phone based solely on appearance.
I ended up getting the vowel-challenged SLVR. I could have cared less about the mp3 player capabilities and video camera, I just wanted a small, inoffensive phone. Yeah, well it turns out the SLVR’s audibility is actually frickin’ worse than the Nokia 6102 I already have. Seriously, why is it that the more crap they throw onto a phone, the worse it works as an actual phone?
It’s amazing, you’d think that would be the first priority, but apparently there must be some sect of people more worried about playing their favorite Ashlee Simpson songs with their phone than communicating with other people. So how come my mp3 player can’t make clear phone calls? The phone obviously went back, but I’m still here without a phone that doesn’t suck. To be continued??
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The end of an epoch
It’s with great regret and sadness that I must announce that Simon’s Mind will be shutting down all operations, permanently, and this will be my final column. I would like to say that I had a good run, but unfortunately I didn’t, and that’s the sole reason for the cessation. Outside of the fact that my ratings were lower than an episode of The Hills, no one seemed to be able to understand or appreciate what Simon’s Mind was all about. Why are you so bitter? Who is Simon Drasle? I thought your name is John. Why do you write about sports so much? Why do you say “guy” and “dude” so much? And so forth and so on.
I spent countless hours pouring my heart and soul into trying to create a monumentally mediocre blog that 38-39 yr. old males, who like heavy metal, sports, and knitting could enjoy. But alas, the messages of acerbity, pointlessness, nonsense, and self-inflating rhetoric seemed to have fallen on blind eyes and the recoil has left me exhausted.
On top of this, I just lost my job as a nurse, rendering me unable to afford the monthly bandwidth bill. So even if I wanted to keep this blog up and running; nope. I am, however, not opposed to handouts and charity, so feel free to paypal me as much money as you can spare, monthly. Seriously, I just lost my freakin’ job, now’s not the time be a stingy troglodyte. But to the apathetic groans of all of my 1.5 loyal readers (I only consider myself a .5 of a fan due to the conflict of interest), thanks and goodbye…………
I spent countless hours pouring my heart and soul into trying to create a monumentally mediocre blog that 38-39 yr. old males, who like heavy metal, sports, and knitting could enjoy. But alas, the messages of acerbity, pointlessness, nonsense, and self-inflating rhetoric seemed to have fallen on blind eyes and the recoil has left me exhausted.
On top of this, I just lost my job as a nurse, rendering me unable to afford the monthly bandwidth bill. So even if I wanted to keep this blog up and running; nope. I am, however, not opposed to handouts and charity, so feel free to paypal me as much money as you can spare, monthly. Seriously, I just lost my freakin’ job, now’s not the time be a stingy troglodyte. But to the apathetic groans of all of my 1.5 loyal readers (I only consider myself a .5 of a fan due to the conflict of interest), thanks and goodbye…………
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
"Hey man, where are all da chics?!"
Why is it that commercials have progressively gotten worse? I took an advertising class in college, therefore making me an expert, so I know it’s really not that hard to create an effective ad. Yet every time I turn on the television, I’m accosted by some of the most intellectually insulting drivel I’ve ever witnessed. Half the spots are full of irrelevant nonsense, and the other half are bursting with sex innuendos, or less subtly, half-nekked chics.
Take for instance the new K-Swiss commercial with Anna Kournikova in it. It starts out with a guy listening to a message from Anna on his answering machine warning him not to be late for her tennis match. Uh oh, I guess he forgot, because the next thing you know guy is jumping out of his office window to the ground, 5 stories below. Of course he lands safely thanks to his K-Swiss kicks. Rawk! The commercial continues from there with the guy leaping and climbing all over the city, Spiderman-style, till he arrives at Anna’s match just in time for her to look over and see him acting like he’s been there the whole time. Brilliant!
Seeing as that creating a commercial this idiotic on so many levels required sheer genius, like how you actually have to be really intelligent to get every answer wrong on a test. First of all, does Anna Kournikova even play tennis anymore? Exactly, and when she did, she wasn’t even any good. Now if Anna left me a voicemail, telling me anything, I would be extremely excited too, but if you were really in a hurry, I think driving is going to be a lot more efficient than hopping around the city like some frog on whatever swelled Barry Bonds’ dome. At least it wasn’t one of those inane commercials that doesn’t even showcase the product they’re trying to sell, as in the course of the guy’s expedition we get to see random freeze frames of his shoes.
On second thought, this was a very bad idea, because the shoes are freakin’ butt ugly. It’s like some red, white, and blue reject from Tommy Hilfiger. They’re horrible. Why does K-Swiss even still make shoes? I’m sorry, but when I think of sneakers, or shoes in general, K-Swiss doesn’t even register in my cranium. I’ll say this, if there was some bizarre circumstance where I just had to have a pair of gym shoes and the only store that was open only had K-Swiss in stock, I would buy Timberlands.
While that commercial was some of the worst garbage I’ve seen in a long while, it’s actually topped by a spot advertising P. Diddy’s new body spray. Hopefully you’re already cracking up, but if you haven’t seen it, it shows three “dudes” on a beach getting ready to Jet Ski. But before they do, one dude says he needs to do something first, at which point he whips out his Diddy Funk (or whatever it's called) body freshener and proceeds to douse himself with it. Not 2 seconds later, some chic levitates out of the water and approaches him with an aroused Hi. She then gets on back of the Jet Ski of the dude dripping with Diddy Funk to the dismay of the other 2 dudes. Let’s Roll!
Sorry, I’m not going to be able to finish this column, I’m suddenly compelled to go buy a case of Diddy Funk……
Or not. Wait, I’ve seen this commercial before, it was for AXE body spray, and it wasn’t appealing then. I mean wow, has there ever been a more blatant rip-off of another ad? And why copy something so deplorable? If anyone actually bought (buys) AXE anything because of their ridiculous ads showing chics flocking to goofuses who use it, then you should be banned from having money. I especially love the Diddy commercial because the guy puts it on before he’s going to Jet Ski, IN THE OCEAN. Anything you put on is going to be washed off almost instantly; the only thing you’re going to smell like is salt water.
But hey, he already has the chic, right? But he needed Puffy's secret aphrodisiac to get her, so once it washes off she will regain her senses and run away in horror. Okay, maybe I’m overanalyzing the whole thing, but that just shows how stupid it is. Think about it, if you can’t get chics, do you really think applying deodorant is going to somehow reverse that? If that really was your only problem, may I alternatively suggest the recent invention “the shower”. The same guys buying this stuff are the same guys who try to administer beer goggles to chics to increase their odds of getting them. Pathetic.
What’s even more amazing is that before I even finished writing this, YET another horrible body spray commercial has penetrated the television flaunting it's ability to allure females. What the heck is going on, are body sprays like the new substitute to sports cars for poor people? Hey, we realize not everyone can afford a new Benz, but being that you're finacially-challenged, you're probably also gullible, and certainly just as horny as every other guy, so buy this already!
This time the offender is Right Guard, and the ad is composed of some maladroit chic instructing me to purchase their aerosol crap so I can step up my game. Fine, maybe I could benefit from stepping my game up, but it’s certainly not going to be by using your lame product. Do companies really think the public is dumb enough to believe that the key to attracting women is smelling good, everyone already knows that it’s money. Just kidding (kind of).
Take for instance the new K-Swiss commercial with Anna Kournikova in it. It starts out with a guy listening to a message from Anna on his answering machine warning him not to be late for her tennis match. Uh oh, I guess he forgot, because the next thing you know guy is jumping out of his office window to the ground, 5 stories below. Of course he lands safely thanks to his K-Swiss kicks. Rawk! The commercial continues from there with the guy leaping and climbing all over the city, Spiderman-style, till he arrives at Anna’s match just in time for her to look over and see him acting like he’s been there the whole time. Brilliant!
Seeing as that creating a commercial this idiotic on so many levels required sheer genius, like how you actually have to be really intelligent to get every answer wrong on a test. First of all, does Anna Kournikova even play tennis anymore? Exactly, and when she did, she wasn’t even any good. Now if Anna left me a voicemail, telling me anything, I would be extremely excited too, but if you were really in a hurry, I think driving is going to be a lot more efficient than hopping around the city like some frog on whatever swelled Barry Bonds’ dome. At least it wasn’t one of those inane commercials that doesn’t even showcase the product they’re trying to sell, as in the course of the guy’s expedition we get to see random freeze frames of his shoes.
On second thought, this was a very bad idea, because the shoes are freakin’ butt ugly. It’s like some red, white, and blue reject from Tommy Hilfiger. They’re horrible. Why does K-Swiss even still make shoes? I’m sorry, but when I think of sneakers, or shoes in general, K-Swiss doesn’t even register in my cranium. I’ll say this, if there was some bizarre circumstance where I just had to have a pair of gym shoes and the only store that was open only had K-Swiss in stock, I would buy Timberlands.
While that commercial was some of the worst garbage I’ve seen in a long while, it’s actually topped by a spot advertising P. Diddy’s new body spray. Hopefully you’re already cracking up, but if you haven’t seen it, it shows three “dudes” on a beach getting ready to Jet Ski. But before they do, one dude says he needs to do something first, at which point he whips out his Diddy Funk (or whatever it's called) body freshener and proceeds to douse himself with it. Not 2 seconds later, some chic levitates out of the water and approaches him with an aroused Hi. She then gets on back of the Jet Ski of the dude dripping with Diddy Funk to the dismay of the other 2 dudes. Let’s Roll!
Sorry, I’m not going to be able to finish this column, I’m suddenly compelled to go buy a case of Diddy Funk……
Or not. Wait, I’ve seen this commercial before, it was for AXE body spray, and it wasn’t appealing then. I mean wow, has there ever been a more blatant rip-off of another ad? And why copy something so deplorable? If anyone actually bought (buys) AXE anything because of their ridiculous ads showing chics flocking to goofuses who use it, then you should be banned from having money. I especially love the Diddy commercial because the guy puts it on before he’s going to Jet Ski, IN THE OCEAN. Anything you put on is going to be washed off almost instantly; the only thing you’re going to smell like is salt water.
But hey, he already has the chic, right? But he needed Puffy's secret aphrodisiac to get her, so once it washes off she will regain her senses and run away in horror. Okay, maybe I’m overanalyzing the whole thing, but that just shows how stupid it is. Think about it, if you can’t get chics, do you really think applying deodorant is going to somehow reverse that? If that really was your only problem, may I alternatively suggest the recent invention “the shower”. The same guys buying this stuff are the same guys who try to administer beer goggles to chics to increase their odds of getting them. Pathetic.
What’s even more amazing is that before I even finished writing this, YET another horrible body spray commercial has penetrated the television flaunting it's ability to allure females. What the heck is going on, are body sprays like the new substitute to sports cars for poor people? Hey, we realize not everyone can afford a new Benz, but being that you're finacially-challenged, you're probably also gullible, and certainly just as horny as every other guy, so buy this already!
This time the offender is Right Guard, and the ad is composed of some maladroit chic instructing me to purchase their aerosol crap so I can step up my game. Fine, maybe I could benefit from stepping my game up, but it’s certainly not going to be by using your lame product. Do companies really think the public is dumb enough to believe that the key to attracting women is smelling good, everyone already knows that it’s money. Just kidding (kind of).
Sunday, March 25, 2007
It's Sunday, and I'm not laughing
When waking up at 5:30 A.M. in a zombie-like stupor, there’s nothing like cracking open a fresh newspaper. I just love reading about how much more messed up the world is since yesterday, how everyone in it is insane, oh, and the new reports revealing that everything I’m doing is detrimental to my health. It's the highlight of my day. But one of the few condolences to this depressing regimen is reading the funnies. Especially the ones in the Sunday paper, because, well, they’re in color, AND longer. The only problem is they’re no longer funny.
Take for instance, Marmaduke (the one about the goofy, slobbering dog), this comic strip has been around longer than Larry King, and it’s absolutely horrible. Like the one in today’s paper, it starts with some taxi driver asking Marmaduke to drive his cab for him, and his only motivation is that no one will know, and Marma happily obliges. Okay stop. Let me get this straight, random guy asks random dog to drive his taxi for him, for absolutely no reason. WHAT?!
So already I’m aggravated, but I feel like if I've wasted 4 seconds reading the first block, I might as well read the other 3. So I continue and learn that Duke picks up a passenger and tries to drive him to his destination, almost causing 20 casualties in the process. Because oh yeah, Marmaduke is a freakin’ dog, and they can’t drive cars. Thankfully Duke is pulled over by a cop, who takes one look at our loveable pooch and says, “I need a vacation.” And then……that’s all, that was the end of comic strip. No, I’m not kidding, that really was the whole thing, and it REALLY was that unfunny. Not even for a moment did my mind consider a snicker. Is there anyone that actually finds this comic funny, I truly want to know, as I now feel compelled to understand how it has lasted this long. And who writes this stuff? Oh, it says Brad Anderson; well I’m not a fan, Brad.
Adding insult to injury is the Doggone Funny blurb that encompasses the final square of the strip. It’s where fans get to share narratives about their own dogs. The one from today was about some lady whose dog, Jax, steals her blanket, till Jax gets too hot, then he puts it back on her and gets an ice cube from the freezer to cool down. Fine, I’ll give you slightly cute if it's not completely bogus, but that is not doggone funny. No way. I get that that some people really love their dogs, I’m a dog lover myself, okay dog liker, so why is it that this entire scenario that Brad Anderson is presenting so unamusing to me? Are my standards that high, or are other people's just that low?
As bad as Marmaduke is, however, it actually gets worse. Doonesburry, anyone? Blah….blah….terrorists….blah….blah….war in Iraq…blah….blah…Bush is stupid….blah….blah…
That’s the gist of today’s Dooney. Believe me, I’m not what you would call a “Bush guy”, it’s just that we’re already inundated with this crud from every media pore there is, why does it have to infiltrate something as naively wholesome as the funnies? Last I checked there was already a place for political comics, it’s called the Editorial Page. While I write this I can even hear the unimpressed, collective sigh of extreme, left wing, pseudo intellectuals as they finishing read this comic. Yeah, it’s lame. Heck, even Opus features a platypus.
I realize I’m a cynically jaded, 25 yr. old man, but I still do like to laugh, at things that are funny. Thus is why these comics and I don't get along. I was the guy that threw a party when my local paper finally cancelled Mary Worth (I have never in my life met anyone who understood the point of Mary Worth), but it’s like there are absolutely no worthwhile comic strips even being made anymore to replace the horrible ones that should already be gone. Back in 4th grade I made a comic strip about farm animals wrestling. I haven’t the slightest recollection of the plot, but it was recognized for creative excellence by the principal (I don’t know why either), and I can safely say it annihilates every For Better or For Worse and Blondie ever created.
So what am I left with: Dilbert, actually funny; The Dinnette Set, clever and amusing, everything else, embarrassing. I give up, at this point I’d rather just read about why breathing is slowly killing me.
Take for instance, Marmaduke (the one about the goofy, slobbering dog), this comic strip has been around longer than Larry King, and it’s absolutely horrible. Like the one in today’s paper, it starts with some taxi driver asking Marmaduke to drive his cab for him, and his only motivation is that no one will know, and Marma happily obliges. Okay stop. Let me get this straight, random guy asks random dog to drive his taxi for him, for absolutely no reason. WHAT?!
So already I’m aggravated, but I feel like if I've wasted 4 seconds reading the first block, I might as well read the other 3. So I continue and learn that Duke picks up a passenger and tries to drive him to his destination, almost causing 20 casualties in the process. Because oh yeah, Marmaduke is a freakin’ dog, and they can’t drive cars. Thankfully Duke is pulled over by a cop, who takes one look at our loveable pooch and says, “I need a vacation.” And then……that’s all, that was the end of comic strip. No, I’m not kidding, that really was the whole thing, and it REALLY was that unfunny. Not even for a moment did my mind consider a snicker. Is there anyone that actually finds this comic funny, I truly want to know, as I now feel compelled to understand how it has lasted this long. And who writes this stuff? Oh, it says Brad Anderson; well I’m not a fan, Brad.
Adding insult to injury is the Doggone Funny blurb that encompasses the final square of the strip. It’s where fans get to share narratives about their own dogs. The one from today was about some lady whose dog, Jax, steals her blanket, till Jax gets too hot, then he puts it back on her and gets an ice cube from the freezer to cool down. Fine, I’ll give you slightly cute if it's not completely bogus, but that is not doggone funny. No way. I get that that some people really love their dogs, I’m a dog lover myself, okay dog liker, so why is it that this entire scenario that Brad Anderson is presenting so unamusing to me? Are my standards that high, or are other people's just that low?
As bad as Marmaduke is, however, it actually gets worse. Doonesburry, anyone? Blah….blah….terrorists….blah….blah….war in Iraq…blah….blah…Bush is stupid….blah….blah…
That’s the gist of today’s Dooney. Believe me, I’m not what you would call a “Bush guy”, it’s just that we’re already inundated with this crud from every media pore there is, why does it have to infiltrate something as naively wholesome as the funnies? Last I checked there was already a place for political comics, it’s called the Editorial Page. While I write this I can even hear the unimpressed, collective sigh of extreme, left wing, pseudo intellectuals as they finishing read this comic. Yeah, it’s lame. Heck, even Opus features a platypus.
I realize I’m a cynically jaded, 25 yr. old man, but I still do like to laugh, at things that are funny. Thus is why these comics and I don't get along. I was the guy that threw a party when my local paper finally cancelled Mary Worth (I have never in my life met anyone who understood the point of Mary Worth), but it’s like there are absolutely no worthwhile comic strips even being made anymore to replace the horrible ones that should already be gone. Back in 4th grade I made a comic strip about farm animals wrestling. I haven’t the slightest recollection of the plot, but it was recognized for creative excellence by the principal (I don’t know why either), and I can safely say it annihilates every For Better or For Worse and Blondie ever created.
So what am I left with: Dilbert, actually funny; The Dinnette Set, clever and amusing, everything else, embarrassing. I give up, at this point I’d rather just read about why breathing is slowly killing me.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Stock Market of Life
March 21st Edition
Up:
Gus Johnson (CBS Sports Announcer): Gus is awesome. I’m amazed he doesn’t get allocated to all the premier sporting events that CBS broadcasts. I can’t tell if dude is just an insane showman or just really loves sports, but I’m convinced he could make anything exciting. I seriously could watch women’s cricket if he was calling the match. The thing about Gus is you don’t appreciate him till he’s not there. The first couple times I witnessed him do NFL and NC2A games, he was barely distinguishable from other random announcer guys, I mean I’m usually more focused on the actual game to care what the broadcasters are saying. In some instances, I’m even appreciative for the mute button.
But once you experience a couple games with Gus, his presence is undeniable, and after you get over the initial puzzlement of how someone can be so freakin’ excitable over literally everything, his energy is simply infectious. It could be like 6 to 2 in a basketball game, someone will execute a nice tip dunk, and Gus will go off harder than most announcers that just witnessed a game-winning buzzer beater. Guy is sick, I love him.
Scott Sloan (Host of AM Radio Show): Being the man that brought us the March Madmen Tournament and WNIT (Women’s National Insanity Tournament), which pits infamous wackos against each other in a fictional event to decide who is the biggest lunatic of the past year, you know he has to be on the up. His show generated the epiphany that the supply of stupid in society is endless, and I’ve now realized I can’t stop hearing about it.
Skip Bayless (Sports Columnist): The Cobra, I love this guy. If there’s a more passionate and hated sportswriter out there, please tell me. Personally I don’t get the hate, while you might not agree with the guy, you have to respect him for being one of the few journalists with the testicular fortitude to articulate an unpopular opinion. Plus, he always brings the knowledge to actually back it up; you have to love how he gets after it.
Down:
My Job: Some IT guy decided it was necessary to regulate internet access to Code Orange. That basically means everyone is banned from everything but stamps.com. Not only do I have to work during a majority of March Madness, but now I can’t even watch the games on the computer at work because it refuses to download anything. Trust me, it’s not even about lost productivity, because the alternative is thrusting my head against a wall, repeatedly. I can understand banning offensive sites, I’m all for that and that’s how it’s always been, but why suddenly ban every site I actually go to. Uh oh, that CD store and auction site you frequent is the equivalent of p0rn, BLOCK’D.
Greg Anthony (ex-NBAer and ESPN Personality) - I already had a strong notion Greg was one of those guys who just likes to hear himself talk and needs to feel like he’s right all the time. It was confirmed by his recent opinion in which he claimed Greg Oden of Ohio State didn’t intentionally foul Xavier’s Justin Cage when Oden bull-rushed and slammed Cage to the floor at the end of the Xavier-Ohio State basketball game last weekend. I didn’t even care that this was his opinion, but his credibility as a journalist was nullified when he called them X-avier (it’s pronounced “Zavier”).
Seriously, this might have been understandable 20 years ago when the school was predominantly unknown outside of the region, though it still wouldn’t have made it okay for a ”professional”, but if you don’t know how to pronounce this school by now, you shouldn’t be getting paid to spew uneducated opinions on national television. Someone saying “X-avier”, and not talking about some bald guy in a floating wheelchair that chills with mutants, is putting out a disclaimer that “you should ignore everything I’m about to say”.
The Hills (TV Show?): I finally get it, THIS is why the rest of the world hates us. Worst. Show. Ever.
Joey Porter (Miami Dolphin, ex-Steeler): Being as this is the same guy that got shot outside a bar (in the buttocks of all places) and had some Pit Bulls that got loose and killed a horse, why am I not surprised that he just got charged with misdemeanor battery on the Bengals’ Levi Jones in a Vegas casino. I get the whole Bengals-Steelers rivalry, but you’re a frickin’ Dolphin now, you’re irrelevant. My guy Levi is a monster though, and I love how a witness said Jones picked-up and tossed Porter 10 feet. Keep in mind Joe weighs 250 pounds. And it took Joe, along with 6 of his knuckleheaded boys, to actually take down Levi so Joey could hit him and snatch his jewelry. Note to Joe, bro, you’re a clown and your indecipherable, dolphin-pitched, war cries should do well in the Miami locker room.
Up:
Gus Johnson (CBS Sports Announcer): Gus is awesome. I’m amazed he doesn’t get allocated to all the premier sporting events that CBS broadcasts. I can’t tell if dude is just an insane showman or just really loves sports, but I’m convinced he could make anything exciting. I seriously could watch women’s cricket if he was calling the match. The thing about Gus is you don’t appreciate him till he’s not there. The first couple times I witnessed him do NFL and NC2A games, he was barely distinguishable from other random announcer guys, I mean I’m usually more focused on the actual game to care what the broadcasters are saying. In some instances, I’m even appreciative for the mute button.
But once you experience a couple games with Gus, his presence is undeniable, and after you get over the initial puzzlement of how someone can be so freakin’ excitable over literally everything, his energy is simply infectious. It could be like 6 to 2 in a basketball game, someone will execute a nice tip dunk, and Gus will go off harder than most announcers that just witnessed a game-winning buzzer beater. Guy is sick, I love him.
Scott Sloan (Host of AM Radio Show): Being the man that brought us the March Madmen Tournament and WNIT (Women’s National Insanity Tournament), which pits infamous wackos against each other in a fictional event to decide who is the biggest lunatic of the past year, you know he has to be on the up. His show generated the epiphany that the supply of stupid in society is endless, and I’ve now realized I can’t stop hearing about it.
Skip Bayless (Sports Columnist): The Cobra, I love this guy. If there’s a more passionate and hated sportswriter out there, please tell me. Personally I don’t get the hate, while you might not agree with the guy, you have to respect him for being one of the few journalists with the testicular fortitude to articulate an unpopular opinion. Plus, he always brings the knowledge to actually back it up; you have to love how he gets after it.
Down:
My Job: Some IT guy decided it was necessary to regulate internet access to Code Orange. That basically means everyone is banned from everything but stamps.com. Not only do I have to work during a majority of March Madness, but now I can’t even watch the games on the computer at work because it refuses to download anything. Trust me, it’s not even about lost productivity, because the alternative is thrusting my head against a wall, repeatedly. I can understand banning offensive sites, I’m all for that and that’s how it’s always been, but why suddenly ban every site I actually go to. Uh oh, that CD store and auction site you frequent is the equivalent of p0rn, BLOCK’D.
Greg Anthony (ex-NBAer and ESPN Personality) - I already had a strong notion Greg was one of those guys who just likes to hear himself talk and needs to feel like he’s right all the time. It was confirmed by his recent opinion in which he claimed Greg Oden of Ohio State didn’t intentionally foul Xavier’s Justin Cage when Oden bull-rushed and slammed Cage to the floor at the end of the Xavier-Ohio State basketball game last weekend. I didn’t even care that this was his opinion, but his credibility as a journalist was nullified when he called them X-avier (it’s pronounced “Zavier”).
Seriously, this might have been understandable 20 years ago when the school was predominantly unknown outside of the region, though it still wouldn’t have made it okay for a ”professional”, but if you don’t know how to pronounce this school by now, you shouldn’t be getting paid to spew uneducated opinions on national television. Someone saying “X-avier”, and not talking about some bald guy in a floating wheelchair that chills with mutants, is putting out a disclaimer that “you should ignore everything I’m about to say”.
The Hills (TV Show?): I finally get it, THIS is why the rest of the world hates us. Worst. Show. Ever.
Joey Porter (Miami Dolphin, ex-Steeler): Being as this is the same guy that got shot outside a bar (in the buttocks of all places) and had some Pit Bulls that got loose and killed a horse, why am I not surprised that he just got charged with misdemeanor battery on the Bengals’ Levi Jones in a Vegas casino. I get the whole Bengals-Steelers rivalry, but you’re a frickin’ Dolphin now, you’re irrelevant. My guy Levi is a monster though, and I love how a witness said Jones picked-up and tossed Porter 10 feet. Keep in mind Joe weighs 250 pounds. And it took Joe, along with 6 of his knuckleheaded boys, to actually take down Levi so Joey could hit him and snatch his jewelry. Note to Joe, bro, you’re a clown and your indecipherable, dolphin-pitched, war cries should do well in the Miami locker room.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Blue and White Tears
More than 24 hours have passed, yet I still can’t breathe. I feel as if someone administered a wicked knee to my package. Believe me, this hurt, as back in 5th grade my “friend” Jean Claude Van Dammed my junk for hiding his gym shorts. Yeah, I haven’t forgot about that, Dan. Ironically enough, old Danny seems to once again have played a role in my inability to normally inhale and exhale. Reason being, he’s a Buckeye, as in Ohio State, as in the team that just ripped away my, and Muskie Nation’s, joyous elation of proceeding to the Sweet 16 like Chris Hansen greeting a pedophile.
I’m not even going to talk about the questionable calls or the mediocre offensive effort, when it seemingly mattered most, Xavier rose beyond the occasion and played with the hearts of giants. Win or lose, no one would have mistook them for the better team, but on this particular day they were better.
What they lacked in talent, they more than made up for with resolve, drive, and passion. These immeasurable traits aren’t exclusive to the Davids of college basketball, but are ignited by the Goliaths’ arrogance. Whether it was personal because of who State’s coach is, or personal pride, the X-men had the game with 9 seconds left despite having no business even being in the game.
But that’s why games last 40 minutes and not 39 minutes and 51 seconds. So there was Senior Justin Cage at the free-throw line with 9 ticks to go, after having a career game. His first attempt was money and put X up by 3. His second rimmed out and the rebound was snatched by State’s Ivan Harris. The door had been left open just a crack, and that’s all a thief needs.
Harris outlets to Conley Jr., Conley Jr. passes to Ron Lewis, and with 25 feet and no conscious separating him from the basket, Lewis arches the rock toward the rim, with the decisive power that would separately devastate and ignite the two sides of the battlefield. One shot, like the bullet in Aaron Burr’s gun, whether it hit its destination would be the difference between life and death. Salvation or damnation, decided by a youth of a nation (we are, we are). Time had no choice but to stand still as that hopeful sphere of despair soared toward its target, until…….
BOOM! went the dynamite. The game was tied, but it might as well have been a 4-pointer. X’s hearts were crossed and spirits broken. The promised sudden death would be executed. The bullet pierced their abdomen; there was no way Alexander Hamilton could survive. The extra 5 minutes were nothing more than a victory lap for State. The battle was over, along with the collective hopes of Xavier fans, the season, and careers. But in this moment, I was proud, proud of my alma mater, to be a Musketeer, and of the valiant effort of these warriors. Long live the Republic, for which it stands.
I’m not even going to talk about the questionable calls or the mediocre offensive effort, when it seemingly mattered most, Xavier rose beyond the occasion and played with the hearts of giants. Win or lose, no one would have mistook them for the better team, but on this particular day they were better.
What they lacked in talent, they more than made up for with resolve, drive, and passion. These immeasurable traits aren’t exclusive to the Davids of college basketball, but are ignited by the Goliaths’ arrogance. Whether it was personal because of who State’s coach is, or personal pride, the X-men had the game with 9 seconds left despite having no business even being in the game.
But that’s why games last 40 minutes and not 39 minutes and 51 seconds. So there was Senior Justin Cage at the free-throw line with 9 ticks to go, after having a career game. His first attempt was money and put X up by 3. His second rimmed out and the rebound was snatched by State’s Ivan Harris. The door had been left open just a crack, and that’s all a thief needs.
Harris outlets to Conley Jr., Conley Jr. passes to Ron Lewis, and with 25 feet and no conscious separating him from the basket, Lewis arches the rock toward the rim, with the decisive power that would separately devastate and ignite the two sides of the battlefield. One shot, like the bullet in Aaron Burr’s gun, whether it hit its destination would be the difference between life and death. Salvation or damnation, decided by a youth of a nation (we are, we are). Time had no choice but to stand still as that hopeful sphere of despair soared toward its target, until…….
BOOM! went the dynamite. The game was tied, but it might as well have been a 4-pointer. X’s hearts were crossed and spirits broken. The promised sudden death would be executed. The bullet pierced their abdomen; there was no way Alexander Hamilton could survive. The extra 5 minutes were nothing more than a victory lap for State. The battle was over, along with the collective hopes of Xavier fans, the season, and careers. But in this moment, I was proud, proud of my alma mater, to be a Musketeer, and of the valiant effort of these warriors. Long live the Republic, for which it stands.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Simon waxes nostalgic about the NCAA Tournament
Let me start off by saying I love my father, I just don’t like watching Selection Sunday with him. Reason being, he likes sports, he just doesn’t follow them very closely. So every year at this time I had to deal with the same thing as we waited to see if our squad, Xavier, would make it into the NCAA Tournament if they didn’t win their conference tournament. It was especially excruciating once it came down to the last region and Xavier still hadn’t been announced. “What? Why is Belmont in there?” “They won their conference tournament, dad.” "Huh, how is Jackson State in there and not Xavier, we are way better than them.” “They won their conference tournament, dad.” And so forth and so on for the length of the show.
It’s not that he didn’t understand how the whole thing worked, despite the fact that it took about 4 years before he finally accepted that the best 64 teams (no there aren’t 65 teams, that’s a play-in game) don’t make the tournament. Trying to explain there are only 34 at-large bids, but some teams that would get at-large bids also won their conference tournaments, was like trying to teach someone French, when you don’t speak it yourself. Basically it all boiled down to his refusal to accept that if you win your conference tournament, you’re automatically in despite your record.
He has some rant that it’s all about money (about 95% of his rants encompass this), fine, let’s just get rid of the NCAA tournament then too and give the National Championship to Ohio State since they are currently #1. It’s been a few years since we actually watched the Selection Show together, but when I talk to him about the tournament now, it’s like he expects me to have the entire thing memorized. “Who does George Washington play? Where? When?” “Geez pop (okay, I don’t think I ever actually called my dad “pop”), like I friggin’ remember.”
I also love how people who know absolutely nothing about basketball always destroy me in tournament pools. This year I’m expecting good things because despite all the parity, I filled my bracket out in 6 minutes. I’ll put it out there now: G-town, Memphis, Florida and UCLA in the Final Four with the Gators beating the Hoyas for the championship. Of course in 3 weeks, when none of these teams make it to Atlanta and Memphis loses to Nevada in the 2nd round and UCLA to Weber St. in the 1st , I’ll look an idiot.
Believe it or not, one year I actually finished 2nd, but I was in one of those “winner takes al…..errr…..make up the rules as we go” pools, so I didn’t win jack. Save your sympathy because I learned a valuable lesson, why swim in someone else’s pool when you can create your own. Which I always try to do now, so I can be fair, to myself, and make up the rules as I go. Look at that, I finished 3rd, did I happen to mention that 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place are all awarded the same prize money?
Let’s face it though, no one actually loves the tournament because it’s a great opportunity to make some easy cash. If you actually win, it’s not because you’re smarter than everyone else, it’s probably because you’re dumber. Illogic is the only logic and unpredictability is the beauty of the beast, but no one minds because it creates the most exciting event in sports. So despite the fact that the best team seldom wins the thing, the little guy actually gets the rare opportunity to shine.
Like back in ‘04 when my Musketeers were on the brink on the Final Four. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even have them beating Louisville in the first round in my bracket (so much for loyalty, huh?), but before I knew it, they had jacked-up Mississippi St., who had pummeled us earlier in the year, to advance to the Sweet 16. This all occured after Xavier had no business even being in the tournament since they underachieved most of the season. Yet, they put together some ridiculous run to win the A-10 tournament, absolutely crushing St. Joe’s, the #1 team in the country at the time, in the process.
So there they were in the Elite 8, facing a Texas team many people thought could win it all. There was no way they would beat them, right? Of course they did, and found themselves in a dogfight with Duke for the right to advance to the Final Four. It took the powers of referee Blue Devil bias and Dukie Vitale, but they were eventually edged out by 3 points. I hate people that blame the refs for their team losing, but there were some horrible calls in that game. Alas, I’m not going to cry over a bull's crap, despite the loss they completed one of the most improbable runs in NCAA history and advanced further than any other Xavier team prior.
After that remarkable season, our coach skipped town for greener pastures and just happens to coach a little school called Ohio State. If you haven’t heard, they’re currently the #1 team in the country. Not that it will matter after they lose in the 2nd round to, yeah you guessed it, Xavier! As Dukie V would say, the Big Dance is awesome, baby!
It’s not that he didn’t understand how the whole thing worked, despite the fact that it took about 4 years before he finally accepted that the best 64 teams (no there aren’t 65 teams, that’s a play-in game) don’t make the tournament. Trying to explain there are only 34 at-large bids, but some teams that would get at-large bids also won their conference tournaments, was like trying to teach someone French, when you don’t speak it yourself. Basically it all boiled down to his refusal to accept that if you win your conference tournament, you’re automatically in despite your record.
He has some rant that it’s all about money (about 95% of his rants encompass this), fine, let’s just get rid of the NCAA tournament then too and give the National Championship to Ohio State since they are currently #1. It’s been a few years since we actually watched the Selection Show together, but when I talk to him about the tournament now, it’s like he expects me to have the entire thing memorized. “Who does George Washington play? Where? When?” “Geez pop (okay, I don’t think I ever actually called my dad “pop”), like I friggin’ remember.”
I also love how people who know absolutely nothing about basketball always destroy me in tournament pools. This year I’m expecting good things because despite all the parity, I filled my bracket out in 6 minutes. I’ll put it out there now: G-town, Memphis, Florida and UCLA in the Final Four with the Gators beating the Hoyas for the championship. Of course in 3 weeks, when none of these teams make it to Atlanta and Memphis loses to Nevada in the 2nd round and UCLA to Weber St. in the 1st , I’ll look an idiot.
Believe it or not, one year I actually finished 2nd, but I was in one of those “winner takes al…..errr…..make up the rules as we go” pools, so I didn’t win jack. Save your sympathy because I learned a valuable lesson, why swim in someone else’s pool when you can create your own. Which I always try to do now, so I can be fair, to myself, and make up the rules as I go. Look at that, I finished 3rd, did I happen to mention that 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place are all awarded the same prize money?
Let’s face it though, no one actually loves the tournament because it’s a great opportunity to make some easy cash. If you actually win, it’s not because you’re smarter than everyone else, it’s probably because you’re dumber. Illogic is the only logic and unpredictability is the beauty of the beast, but no one minds because it creates the most exciting event in sports. So despite the fact that the best team seldom wins the thing, the little guy actually gets the rare opportunity to shine.
Like back in ‘04 when my Musketeers were on the brink on the Final Four. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even have them beating Louisville in the first round in my bracket (so much for loyalty, huh?), but before I knew it, they had jacked-up Mississippi St., who had pummeled us earlier in the year, to advance to the Sweet 16. This all occured after Xavier had no business even being in the tournament since they underachieved most of the season. Yet, they put together some ridiculous run to win the A-10 tournament, absolutely crushing St. Joe’s, the #1 team in the country at the time, in the process.
So there they were in the Elite 8, facing a Texas team many people thought could win it all. There was no way they would beat them, right? Of course they did, and found themselves in a dogfight with Duke for the right to advance to the Final Four. It took the powers of referee Blue Devil bias and Dukie Vitale, but they were eventually edged out by 3 points. I hate people that blame the refs for their team losing, but there were some horrible calls in that game. Alas, I’m not going to cry over a bull's crap, despite the loss they completed one of the most improbable runs in NCAA history and advanced further than any other Xavier team prior.
After that remarkable season, our coach skipped town for greener pastures and just happens to coach a little school called Ohio State. If you haven’t heard, they’re currently the #1 team in the country. Not that it will matter after they lose in the 2nd round to, yeah you guessed it, Xavier! As Dukie V would say, the Big Dance is awesome, baby!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Big Egos and Fros
It’s about that time when I open the mailbag and see what my adoring fans have to say:
Gomber836 asks:
"Is this garbage supposed to be funny?"
Does it look like it’s supposed to be funny?
Another loyal reader, Kate, wrote:
"You seem totally awesome and talented, I love your blog. I demand to know more about you."
This was followed by a link to her website, which ended up being some softcore porn thing.
Nice try Kate, but I hate porn and it’s definitely not the way to this man’s heart. I appreciate your sincere comments though.
Wow, I’m exhausted, that’s all for this week.
If you’d like to be featured in a future mailbag, simply send your comments and questions to dr_nemonic@hotmail.com
Since this mailbag was horrible, as a bonus:
My Random Observation of the Week:
This past Friday it was extremely nice outside so everyone was out and about. As I was driving through my neighborhood in my car I saw what looked like a heavyset, middle-aged woman coming down the street on a skateboard. I obviously instantly thought to myself, "that is awesome!" As I drove closer to the individual, I realized it was just a kid with a really big fro. While this clearly disappointed me, I found the inspiration for what needs to be a new catchphrase whenever something doesn’t live up to expectations: Oh, it’s just a kid with a really big fro.
The one problem I see in this catching on is the lack of situations where it would make sense outside of actually seeing a kid with a really big fro. But hey, people are bright enough that I know they can work this into their everyday life. So the next time I’m in the grocery store browsing the bananas, I look forward to someone telling me to steer clear of the Plantains because they’re just like kids with really big fros. Wait, huh??
Gomber836 asks:
"Is this garbage supposed to be funny?"
Does it look like it’s supposed to be funny?
Another loyal reader, Kate, wrote:
"You seem totally awesome and talented, I love your blog. I demand to know more about you."
This was followed by a link to her website, which ended up being some softcore porn thing.
Nice try Kate, but I hate porn and it’s definitely not the way to this man’s heart. I appreciate your sincere comments though.
Wow, I’m exhausted, that’s all for this week.
If you’d like to be featured in a future mailbag, simply send your comments and questions to dr_nemonic@hotmail.com
Since this mailbag was horrible, as a bonus:
My Random Observation of the Week:
This past Friday it was extremely nice outside so everyone was out and about. As I was driving through my neighborhood in my car I saw what looked like a heavyset, middle-aged woman coming down the street on a skateboard. I obviously instantly thought to myself, "that is awesome!" As I drove closer to the individual, I realized it was just a kid with a really big fro. While this clearly disappointed me, I found the inspiration for what needs to be a new catchphrase whenever something doesn’t live up to expectations: Oh, it’s just a kid with a really big fro.
The one problem I see in this catching on is the lack of situations where it would make sense outside of actually seeing a kid with a really big fro. But hey, people are bright enough that I know they can work this into their everyday life. So the next time I’m in the grocery store browsing the bananas, I look forward to someone telling me to steer clear of the Plantains because they’re just like kids with really big fros. Wait, huh??
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Lost With U
I was recently perusing a music video channel, which will remain nameless to protect my credibility, when I came into contact with two videos that had me mortified. My apologies to Rob in advance. The first was “Girlfriend” by Hillary Duff. Yet, it wasn’t Hillary Duff, rather it was someone who liked like Hillary Duff, or at least was trying to look like Hillary Duff. Who the heck is that?? Avril Lavigne?!
Wait, I thought she was all “sk8ter bOi, let’s skate together later, bOi”? Now she’s trying to douse herself with makeup, do weird things with her hair, and be my girlfriend? What happened to hating pop music divas and being an anti-establishment, pseudo renegade? Oh, this must be her maturing as an artis…..errr……selling-out. Yet, how can someone who had no credibility to begin with, sell-out? That’s like a homeless person filing for bankruptcy.
Don’t get me wrong, I liked Avril just as much as every other non-skating, straight male over 14, who doesn’t like chics who take fake dumps on camping equipment in a mall store, but at what point does someone have enough respect for themselves that they refuse to be used as a record label’s tool. I grew to accept that she wanted to be a diet punk rocker, okay fine, I’m going to ignore you, but I won’t hate you. But don’t pull a 180, get in my face and dance (at least try to dance) around and act like nothing has changed and you’re that same little girl who wrote songs about turning away Fred Durst when he tried to bang you.
Do you know how many little girls looked up to you and emulated you? I’m sure there were some, and now, now look what you’ve become. Next you’ll be making songs with Pharell, Wind It Up! Is there no constant but change anymore?
I was so emotional distraught after this ordeal, my only solace was to recall the good ole days. Days with wholesome television, like oh say, Growing Pains. “Man, I wonder what Alan Thicke is up to these days,” I thought to myself. Trust me, this happens a lot in the course of my everyday life.
Then it happened, like the ultimate blast of irony, Alan Thicke was on the TV, and he wasn’t trying to force me to come to Tahiti Village and give me free tickets to a hot show on the Strip. Better yet, he was in a music video, singing, like a pre-pubescent Justin Timberlake. Oh. Boy.
Okay, I get it now, that’s his son, Robin. I think. But why is Robin older than his dad? And why is he trying to croon annoying songs to hot chics and act like he’s all sexy? Wait, that’s his wife in the video?! Uh, did someone slip some LSD in my Cheerios? The whole thing was making me really uncomfortable because the fact remained, dude looked like ALAN THICKE! Does Maggie know about this, and shouldn’t you be taking care of your family? I don’t want to see Carol on another E! True Hollywood Story.
Believe me, I like Alan Thicke, as a father figure, not a pop star. Perhaps it’s something about having a Mr. Magoo-esque face with a non-committal box cut, but the guy shouldn’t be making R&B music, much less Adult Contemporary. It’s just a dangerous predicament that has the potential of causing instantaneous anarchy. Like Kobe Bryant rapping or something. Needless to say, I’ve now given up on music, videos, television, and any combination of the three. Excuse me while I to proceed to my bomb shelter.
Wait, I thought she was all “sk8ter bOi, let’s skate together later, bOi”? Now she’s trying to douse herself with makeup, do weird things with her hair, and be my girlfriend? What happened to hating pop music divas and being an anti-establishment, pseudo renegade? Oh, this must be her maturing as an artis…..errr……selling-out. Yet, how can someone who had no credibility to begin with, sell-out? That’s like a homeless person filing for bankruptcy.
Don’t get me wrong, I liked Avril just as much as every other non-skating, straight male over 14, who doesn’t like chics who take fake dumps on camping equipment in a mall store, but at what point does someone have enough respect for themselves that they refuse to be used as a record label’s tool. I grew to accept that she wanted to be a diet punk rocker, okay fine, I’m going to ignore you, but I won’t hate you. But don’t pull a 180, get in my face and dance (at least try to dance) around and act like nothing has changed and you’re that same little girl who wrote songs about turning away Fred Durst when he tried to bang you.
Do you know how many little girls looked up to you and emulated you? I’m sure there were some, and now, now look what you’ve become. Next you’ll be making songs with Pharell, Wind It Up! Is there no constant but change anymore?
I was so emotional distraught after this ordeal, my only solace was to recall the good ole days. Days with wholesome television, like oh say, Growing Pains. “Man, I wonder what Alan Thicke is up to these days,” I thought to myself. Trust me, this happens a lot in the course of my everyday life.
Then it happened, like the ultimate blast of irony, Alan Thicke was on the TV, and he wasn’t trying to force me to come to Tahiti Village and give me free tickets to a hot show on the Strip. Better yet, he was in a music video, singing, like a pre-pubescent Justin Timberlake. Oh. Boy.
Okay, I get it now, that’s his son, Robin. I think. But why is Robin older than his dad? And why is he trying to croon annoying songs to hot chics and act like he’s all sexy? Wait, that’s his wife in the video?! Uh, did someone slip some LSD in my Cheerios? The whole thing was making me really uncomfortable because the fact remained, dude looked like ALAN THICKE! Does Maggie know about this, and shouldn’t you be taking care of your family? I don’t want to see Carol on another E! True Hollywood Story.
Believe me, I like Alan Thicke, as a father figure, not a pop star. Perhaps it’s something about having a Mr. Magoo-esque face with a non-committal box cut, but the guy shouldn’t be making R&B music, much less Adult Contemporary. It’s just a dangerous predicament that has the potential of causing instantaneous anarchy. Like Kobe Bryant rapping or something. Needless to say, I’ve now given up on music, videos, television, and any combination of the three. Excuse me while I to proceed to my bomb shelter.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
I don't work here
I hate shopping. As any straight guy should. But outside of the normal annoyances of the act, I have to deal with borderline harassment. I don’t know if it’s something about me, or just something about a nicely dressed, well-groomed person being in a store, but for some reason people constantly assume I work at the stores I’m shopping in. It doesn’t even matter what the store is, but the most common denominator is definitely clothing stores.
If it happened once or twice, I could chalk it up to chance, but we’re talking about a lot. And it’s not like I’m even doing anything to trigger this phenomenon. Maybe if I was in the store folding clothes or standing by the counter, that would make sense, but I’m just there minding my own business.
Sure, it may not seem like a big deal, but how would you like someone saying to you, "Hey bud, can I get a dressing room?" "Sure bud, just wait here while I punch the clerk in the face and steal her key." Of course I just tell them I don’t work here, but it’s now an awkward situation for both of us because we feel like idiots. Well, the person does at least.
It’s even worse when someone tries to hold an entire conversation with you about the store’s products. What are you supposed to say? If you go along with the conservation and keep answering their questions, likely incorrectly, who knows how long you’re going to be stuck talking to this person. But if you just blow the person off right away and tell them that you don’t know and you don’t work here, you’re going to look like a prick. It’s a lose-lose situation.
Maybe I need start hanging out at lingerie stores. That way when my assistance is requested, it’s for things like giving my expert opinion on how a customer looks in her skimpies. Fine, I’m a bastard, but there should be some benefit to this superpower. Superman, Spiderman, and the goofus who people mistake for a retail bumpkin. At least I didn’t get screwed over or anything.
The more I think about it, the more I realize the whole thing is kind of insulting to me. I mean do I look I have to work in retail? I actually have a job that pays a lot more than $6 an hour, thanks though. While you’re at it, why don’t you just assume I’m one of those guys that scrape up roadkill off the street. Geez.
The ironic thing is, back in the day when I actually did work in retail, at a health/sports nutrition store, people would walk in the store I was employed at and ask me if I worked there on more than one occasion. And this would happen when I was the only person in store besides them. Of course I would be like, "Uhh, no." And then run behind the counter, open the register, grab some cash, and jet out of the store. Actually I would say, "Why yes I do ma’am, how may I be of assistance to you!" "Oh, you would like one of those kits to help you beat a drug test, fine choice!"
You gotta love druggies. Or not. Especially the paranoid ones that want to whisper the whole time you are talking to them about these drug kits when you’re the only ones in the store. The feds aren’t going to hear you, I’m not wired, it’s going to be alright. If you’re so worried about it, how about not doing drugs in the first place? It’s not like I want to be here helping you commit something illegal and unethical anyways.
But back to the original point, if you see me in a store, I don’t work there. Aight? Unless of course I hit rock bottom and actually did, in which case, mah bad.
If it happened once or twice, I could chalk it up to chance, but we’re talking about a lot. And it’s not like I’m even doing anything to trigger this phenomenon. Maybe if I was in the store folding clothes or standing by the counter, that would make sense, but I’m just there minding my own business.
Sure, it may not seem like a big deal, but how would you like someone saying to you, "Hey bud, can I get a dressing room?" "Sure bud, just wait here while I punch the clerk in the face and steal her key." Of course I just tell them I don’t work here, but it’s now an awkward situation for both of us because we feel like idiots. Well, the person does at least.
It’s even worse when someone tries to hold an entire conversation with you about the store’s products. What are you supposed to say? If you go along with the conservation and keep answering their questions, likely incorrectly, who knows how long you’re going to be stuck talking to this person. But if you just blow the person off right away and tell them that you don’t know and you don’t work here, you’re going to look like a prick. It’s a lose-lose situation.
Maybe I need start hanging out at lingerie stores. That way when my assistance is requested, it’s for things like giving my expert opinion on how a customer looks in her skimpies. Fine, I’m a bastard, but there should be some benefit to this superpower. Superman, Spiderman, and the goofus who people mistake for a retail bumpkin. At least I didn’t get screwed over or anything.
The more I think about it, the more I realize the whole thing is kind of insulting to me. I mean do I look I have to work in retail? I actually have a job that pays a lot more than $6 an hour, thanks though. While you’re at it, why don’t you just assume I’m one of those guys that scrape up roadkill off the street. Geez.
The ironic thing is, back in the day when I actually did work in retail, at a health/sports nutrition store, people would walk in the store I was employed at and ask me if I worked there on more than one occasion. And this would happen when I was the only person in store besides them. Of course I would be like, "Uhh, no." And then run behind the counter, open the register, grab some cash, and jet out of the store. Actually I would say, "Why yes I do ma’am, how may I be of assistance to you!" "Oh, you would like one of those kits to help you beat a drug test, fine choice!"
You gotta love druggies. Or not. Especially the paranoid ones that want to whisper the whole time you are talking to them about these drug kits when you’re the only ones in the store. The feds aren’t going to hear you, I’m not wired, it’s going to be alright. If you’re so worried about it, how about not doing drugs in the first place? It’s not like I want to be here helping you commit something illegal and unethical anyways.
But back to the original point, if you see me in a store, I don’t work there. Aight? Unless of course I hit rock bottom and actually did, in which case, mah bad.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
"So long ole friend"
I don’t know if you heard, but last week the University of Illinois retired their mascot in an emotionally charged ceremony. Yup, after 80 years Chief Illiniwek rode off into that wild frontier know as a storage closet, and senior citizens to little children were literally crying over it. Did anyone happen to mention to them that it’s only a costume and the guy who was wearing it wasn’t being shot in the parking lot. I didn’t cry as hard as these people were when my dog died.
I could maybe get an adult being upset if they had been a diehard fan of said team for decades and are now losing this piece of their tradition, but what does a little kid have to be upset about? It’s going to be okay sweetie, a blue blob will replace him next week and he will love you just the same. Plus, he’s furry!
Way back when I was in high school, I was the mascot for our football team, for one game. And well, I sucked. Hey, you try dealing with kids either wanting to constantly hug you or hit you in the junk. So I know being a mascot isn’t easy, but I’d imagine being a Native American is even harder. I’m as sick as anyone of all the political correctness that has saturated our country, but there comes a point when respecting other people is actually important.
Honestly, I can’t understand how anyone can be in favor of keeping such a mascot. Yet, there are people who do, even going as far as to say mascots such as this show honor and respect to Native Americans. Really? Then how come you never see Native American groups coming out and praising their existence yet you see plenty protesting them?
Thing is, I’ve never been a Native American, but I am a self-righteous white person, so I know how we think. And who are we to say what an act of reverence is for some other race and culture? I mean we only stole their land, slaughtered their people, and forced them into reservations after all. But hey, “our bad, we really love you guys, oh, and stay in your damn reservations please.” Really though, how could a Native American find a white person dressing up like them and dancing around a football field offensive?
Seeing as that the problem still exists, however, this must be a complicated debate. On one hand you have the fact that it’s disrespectful to the people it’s representing, especially considering their history. Then on the other, there’s the belief that the offensive mascot should be retained for sentimental value since it was created in era when slavery still existed in this country. Wow, that really is quite the conundrum.
Am I the only one amazed it has gone on this long and still continues? Take the Cleveland Indians for instance. I’m pretty sure anyone over the age of 7 knows that Native Americans didn’t actually come from India, making that term for them obsolete and moronic. Not only that, but that actual mascot is a red-faced, cheesy-smiling goofball called Chief Wahoo. So much for that whole veneration thing. Imagine if there was the University of Wisconsin Crackers or the Washington Rednecks? I get the inclination those wouldn’t hold up too long.
It’s not like noise hasn’t been made, that’s why high schools and a number of colleges have reformed their usage of Native American caricatures, but due to the limited representation and influence of Native Americans in society, none of these mascots on a professional level have been eradicated. The bottom line is that power and money trump all else, and there’s no significant Native American civil rights activists to garner the necessary protests and boycotts. So I guess being politically incorrect and insensitive is okay as long as you do to people who aren’t important or political.
I could maybe get an adult being upset if they had been a diehard fan of said team for decades and are now losing this piece of their tradition, but what does a little kid have to be upset about? It’s going to be okay sweetie, a blue blob will replace him next week and he will love you just the same. Plus, he’s furry!
Way back when I was in high school, I was the mascot for our football team, for one game. And well, I sucked. Hey, you try dealing with kids either wanting to constantly hug you or hit you in the junk. So I know being a mascot isn’t easy, but I’d imagine being a Native American is even harder. I’m as sick as anyone of all the political correctness that has saturated our country, but there comes a point when respecting other people is actually important.
Honestly, I can’t understand how anyone can be in favor of keeping such a mascot. Yet, there are people who do, even going as far as to say mascots such as this show honor and respect to Native Americans. Really? Then how come you never see Native American groups coming out and praising their existence yet you see plenty protesting them?
Thing is, I’ve never been a Native American, but I am a self-righteous white person, so I know how we think. And who are we to say what an act of reverence is for some other race and culture? I mean we only stole their land, slaughtered their people, and forced them into reservations after all. But hey, “our bad, we really love you guys, oh, and stay in your damn reservations please.” Really though, how could a Native American find a white person dressing up like them and dancing around a football field offensive?
Seeing as that the problem still exists, however, this must be a complicated debate. On one hand you have the fact that it’s disrespectful to the people it’s representing, especially considering their history. Then on the other, there’s the belief that the offensive mascot should be retained for sentimental value since it was created in era when slavery still existed in this country. Wow, that really is quite the conundrum.
Am I the only one amazed it has gone on this long and still continues? Take the Cleveland Indians for instance. I’m pretty sure anyone over the age of 7 knows that Native Americans didn’t actually come from India, making that term for them obsolete and moronic. Not only that, but that actual mascot is a red-faced, cheesy-smiling goofball called Chief Wahoo. So much for that whole veneration thing. Imagine if there was the University of Wisconsin Crackers or the Washington Rednecks? I get the inclination those wouldn’t hold up too long.
It’s not like noise hasn’t been made, that’s why high schools and a number of colleges have reformed their usage of Native American caricatures, but due to the limited representation and influence of Native Americans in society, none of these mascots on a professional level have been eradicated. The bottom line is that power and money trump all else, and there’s no significant Native American civil rights activists to garner the necessary protests and boycotts. So I guess being politically incorrect and insensitive is okay as long as you do to people who aren’t important or political.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Quart-life Crisis
Today I’m 25. Save the “Happy Birthdays!”, there’s nothing happy about it. Thing is, I just realized I’m a loser. Sure, you could point to the fact that I’m sexy, intelligent, ripped, and have one of top 1,000 blogs, in the state of Ohio at least, and say I have a lot going for me. The only problem is I’m not going anywhere. I’m stuck in a dead-end job, I’m single, and I haven’t accomplished anything or contributed to the betterment of society. And it doesn’t help when I currently have about as much ambition as an 87 yr. old man has sex drive. I mean what have I been doing for the last 25 years? Apparently not anything worthwhile.
The worst thing is when you can’t even remember certain years of your life, and I’ve never been on drugs or alcohol. Like I barely remember anything from year 23. It’s understandable since everyday was basically the same as the last that year, pointless. Though I’ll concede there was one highlight, it was the year I graduated from college. Of course that turned out really well, here I am now working a crappy job with no future.
If I could only go back to year 18, the year I graduated from high school. A wide-eyed kid with the world at his fingertips and big aspirations of doing something important and making the world a better place. Unfortunately, I had no clue what that actually meant, so I went off to college like a good lad hoping I would find the answer. I put my time in, made good grades, and left with the world at my fingertips and big aspirations of doing something important and making the world a better place.
Man, what the #@^&! Who am I kidding though, I would have done the same thing again. It’s just that life would be so much better, if it was so much better. If things could ever make sense. I suppose life is what you make it though. Or maybe not.
I mean look at Britney Spears. She had world recognition, every straight male over 13 in love with her, and more paper than Mead. Yet, she ended up marrying an albino rat, popped out some kids, got divorced and now she’s breaking out of rehab, getting tatted up, and shaving her head. Thug life or quart-life crisis? At least when famous people breakdown, everyone gets to see them look really freakin’ crazy. Would anyone care if I got caught not wearing drawers in public? Man, it’s so lonely being me.
If it can happen to Britney though, well, is anyone immune? So maybe this is just something everyone goes through around this age and I’m just overreacting. Who knows? What I do know is that today is the day I take the initiative and work towards building a better tomorrow for everyone. Actually, I’m going to start tomorrow because I’m dead tired after having to work 12 hours today, did I happen to mention it’s my FRICKIN’ birthday.
The worst thing is when you can’t even remember certain years of your life, and I’ve never been on drugs or alcohol. Like I barely remember anything from year 23. It’s understandable since everyday was basically the same as the last that year, pointless. Though I’ll concede there was one highlight, it was the year I graduated from college. Of course that turned out really well, here I am now working a crappy job with no future.
If I could only go back to year 18, the year I graduated from high school. A wide-eyed kid with the world at his fingertips and big aspirations of doing something important and making the world a better place. Unfortunately, I had no clue what that actually meant, so I went off to college like a good lad hoping I would find the answer. I put my time in, made good grades, and left with the world at my fingertips and big aspirations of doing something important and making the world a better place.
Man, what the #@^&! Who am I kidding though, I would have done the same thing again. It’s just that life would be so much better, if it was so much better. If things could ever make sense. I suppose life is what you make it though. Or maybe not.
I mean look at Britney Spears. She had world recognition, every straight male over 13 in love with her, and more paper than Mead. Yet, she ended up marrying an albino rat, popped out some kids, got divorced and now she’s breaking out of rehab, getting tatted up, and shaving her head. Thug life or quart-life crisis? At least when famous people breakdown, everyone gets to see them look really freakin’ crazy. Would anyone care if I got caught not wearing drawers in public? Man, it’s so lonely being me.
If it can happen to Britney though, well, is anyone immune? So maybe this is just something everyone goes through around this age and I’m just overreacting. Who knows? What I do know is that today is the day I take the initiative and work towards building a better tomorrow for everyone. Actually, I’m going to start tomorrow because I’m dead tired after having to work 12 hours today, did I happen to mention it’s my FRICKIN’ birthday.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
The Law of Averages
You ever notice how everything you loved as a kid pisses you off when you become an adult? Sugar, Halloween, MTV, other people’s kids, the list goes on and on, but nothing makes such a monumental swing as snow. As a kid this is what I wished for 365 days a year, it was soft, white, and awesome. Its presence brought the possibility of a day off of school and the guarantee of fun. So what in the heck happened? Truth be told, I would still go sledding and heave snowballs at my friends’ domes if I had the time, so snow in of itself is still pretty sweet, it’s just all the other garbage that comes with it.
In order to understand my strife, you first have to understand my city. Around here it doesn’t snow a whole lot, but enough, so the potential is always there. And when it does snow, it’s like the sky has fallen, twice. For every inch we get you have to multiply that by 10 to calculate the actual effect it has on people. Just the forecast of snow saturates television and radio airwaves like horns signaling impending death. White death. Sure, I’d rather people be prepared then act like it’s the middle of summer, but can we not exhibit some common sense and reasonable judgment?
Case and point, people can’t drive. People here can’t drive in the rain, heck, most people everywhere can’t drive when it’s 80 and the sun is shining, so when a snowflake falls, you better believe it’s every man for himself on the roadways. Personally, I drive slower than I usually do, as anyone should. The keyword, however, is slower, not slow as molasses being sucked through a straw by your grandma in a sub-zero temperature. You want to be safe, so do I, but that doesn’t mean you have to drive 5 mph whenever you approach a 10 degree incline. I would like to get to work before the end of my shift so there was some purpose to me driving all the way there. Perhaps next time I should just walk, seriously, next time I’m really going to have to consider walking as I might save a few minutes. Come on people, at least give me 15 miles per.
I’ll give snow tortoises some credit though, they aren’t as bad as the “super badass in the SUV” who thinks snow and ice are just discoloration to the pavement, or better yet the “super badass in the Ford Taurus” who thinks this. Do these people drive faster when the weather gets worse to prove a point? I don’t want to see bad things happen to anyone regardless of how ignorant they are, but when you drive like Danica Patrick with diarrhea you’re provoking the weather to kick your ass. You might be saying, “Haha, eat my black ice, sucka!”, but what you’re really saying is, “I’ll see you in 5 minutes when my car is flipped and the paramedics are using the Jaws of Life to rip me out.” Is it too much to ask for some happy median between being a sissy and psychotic?
What makes the whole driving predicament even worse is the fact that you can’t avoid it. There’s no snow days in the real world, and trying to tackle this pseudo albatross day in and day out reminds you of how much a piece of dung your car is. I guess mine tried to handle one too many snow bumps as my transmission started sounding like Anne Kirkbride having an asthma attack. Every year in the winter it’s something with my car. I deserve it though. I used to get so mad when it snowed and they didn’t call off school, that I hoped “they’s” cars would veer off the road and get stuck in a ditch. Maybe then they would have seen these weren’t suitable conditions for kids to be enriching their minds. Hey, these bastards made me go to school more than the required 180 days a year in case there were snow days, and they never let us out early if we didn’t use all these days.
Anyways, the problem with my car was magnified by the fact that it happened on the same day I worked 12 hours, before having to come back again the next day to work 12 more. And in-between I got to shovel 4 inches of snow from my driveway as a fantastic bonus. Remember when you got paid to do that? Now you have to do it for free after working all day when all you want to do is enjoy luxuries like eating and sleeping. I thought I was such an entrepreneur when I used to make a killing doing a couple driveways a day, now I’m going to end up just paying all that money to some neighborhood punk, with inflation. Yeah, screw you, snow. (Note: I just realized this rant might have actually been entertaining had it been about the goofy, Canadian, reggae artist.)
In order to understand my strife, you first have to understand my city. Around here it doesn’t snow a whole lot, but enough, so the potential is always there. And when it does snow, it’s like the sky has fallen, twice. For every inch we get you have to multiply that by 10 to calculate the actual effect it has on people. Just the forecast of snow saturates television and radio airwaves like horns signaling impending death. White death. Sure, I’d rather people be prepared then act like it’s the middle of summer, but can we not exhibit some common sense and reasonable judgment?
Case and point, people can’t drive. People here can’t drive in the rain, heck, most people everywhere can’t drive when it’s 80 and the sun is shining, so when a snowflake falls, you better believe it’s every man for himself on the roadways. Personally, I drive slower than I usually do, as anyone should. The keyword, however, is slower, not slow as molasses being sucked through a straw by your grandma in a sub-zero temperature. You want to be safe, so do I, but that doesn’t mean you have to drive 5 mph whenever you approach a 10 degree incline. I would like to get to work before the end of my shift so there was some purpose to me driving all the way there. Perhaps next time I should just walk, seriously, next time I’m really going to have to consider walking as I might save a few minutes. Come on people, at least give me 15 miles per.
I’ll give snow tortoises some credit though, they aren’t as bad as the “super badass in the SUV” who thinks snow and ice are just discoloration to the pavement, or better yet the “super badass in the Ford Taurus” who thinks this. Do these people drive faster when the weather gets worse to prove a point? I don’t want to see bad things happen to anyone regardless of how ignorant they are, but when you drive like Danica Patrick with diarrhea you’re provoking the weather to kick your ass. You might be saying, “Haha, eat my black ice, sucka!”, but what you’re really saying is, “I’ll see you in 5 minutes when my car is flipped and the paramedics are using the Jaws of Life to rip me out.” Is it too much to ask for some happy median between being a sissy and psychotic?
What makes the whole driving predicament even worse is the fact that you can’t avoid it. There’s no snow days in the real world, and trying to tackle this pseudo albatross day in and day out reminds you of how much a piece of dung your car is. I guess mine tried to handle one too many snow bumps as my transmission started sounding like Anne Kirkbride having an asthma attack. Every year in the winter it’s something with my car. I deserve it though. I used to get so mad when it snowed and they didn’t call off school, that I hoped “they’s” cars would veer off the road and get stuck in a ditch. Maybe then they would have seen these weren’t suitable conditions for kids to be enriching their minds. Hey, these bastards made me go to school more than the required 180 days a year in case there were snow days, and they never let us out early if we didn’t use all these days.
Anyways, the problem with my car was magnified by the fact that it happened on the same day I worked 12 hours, before having to come back again the next day to work 12 more. And in-between I got to shovel 4 inches of snow from my driveway as a fantastic bonus. Remember when you got paid to do that? Now you have to do it for free after working all day when all you want to do is enjoy luxuries like eating and sleeping. I thought I was such an entrepreneur when I used to make a killing doing a couple driveways a day, now I’m going to end up just paying all that money to some neighborhood punk, with inflation. Yeah, screw you, snow. (Note: I just realized this rant might have actually been entertaining had it been about the goofy, Canadian, reggae artist.)
Friday, February 16, 2007
"Get on the ground, pervert!"
People are screwed up. Not that this wasn't already common knowledge, but after watching Dateline's "To Catch a Predator" series, I'm now positive people are really, really ****ed up. The series takes an in-depth look at the work of Perverted Justice, an organization that sets-up sting operations to catch pedophiles. The gist is that the group goes into online chatrooms posing as underage youths and waits for degenerates to try to court and solicit them. The final step is making plans for the pedophile to come and meet their new friend in person. Once they arrive, that is when the hilarity ensues.
I say hilarity only because I never ceased to be amazed by how pathetic people can truly be and there's something amusing about watching a miscreant go from absolute elation to sheer horror in mere moments. Like someone grabbing an old lady's person and as soon as the thief turns around to run, getting a sledgehammer slammed into their package. I don't even want to imagine what is going through one of these guys' (it's almost always grimy, middle-aged men predictably enough) minds when they are driving to meet the 13 yr. old kid they have been talking to. Unfortunately, it's hard not to when the police find things like condoms and "sexual enhancers" on these derelicts. Of course once caught, they almost always claim they wouldn’t have had the nerve to actually do anything. Really? Then how come you had the nerve to drive all the way over to some strange house, and are now standing in it while being broadcast on national television, scumbag?
And nothing beats the moment these guys get caught. It's such a brilliant set-up. A kid actor meets the freak at the door and leads them into the house, at which point Dateline's host, Chris Hansen, pops out and basically says, "Gotcha you sick bastard!". It's amazing, the whole sting takes place at one house and hour after hour, these degenerates keep showing up and getting caught. If not completely freaked out already and jetting for the door upon seeing Hansen, he tries to ask the perpetrator questions to better understand their mentalities. "So, yeah, what in the flying **** is wrong with you?"
You have to admire the naivety of the guys who go through the whole spiel of admitting what they did was absolutely despicable to Hansen, and then offer their thanks for helping them realize the error of their ways before saying they will never do this again. Basically thinking this is just some Dateline investigation, but as soon as they leave the house...BAM...the police are using their faces as a garden tool. Of course once they are in custody, they act like they have no idea what is going on and why they were arrested. Then out come the records of every chatroom conversation they had with the "kid". Being grilled by cops and having them read the stuff I wrote back to me would have me so sick and embarrassed I would blown my brains out right then and there. Fortunately, I will never face this predicament because I'm not a flaming sack of feces. One guy actually said he was joking when he typed the things he did and he always makes jokes like that. Wow guy, you're a pedophile and an idiot.
That wasn't even the best excuse one of these lowlifes gave. This is no joke, one guy actually tried to claim he wasn't going to do anything with the girl and was waiting for her mom to come home so he could warn her about people like him. Except according to him, he was one of the good guys, and it's a good thing to, because who knows what could have potentially happened to the little girl. And I guess it's also a good thing the police found that lubricant in your pocket you sick son of a *****.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, can top the guy who got arrested with Dateline's cameras rolling. Twice. In one freaking week. The guy got busted, posted bail, and then goes and does the exact same thing AGAIN. How much of a mental midget do you have to be for that to happen? Is there anyone in their right mind that can now tell me that anyone who is convicted of being a pedophile shouldn’t receive the death penalty? Evidence has proven time and time again that is no rehabbing these sadists and the recidivism rate is astronomical. They need to be lined up and shot one by one executioner style. An inhumane punishment, sure, but we're talking about inhumane monsters. Is there any sector of society more vile than pedophiles? The most depressing thing is that a lot of the time these guys have a wife and kids.
I have no idea what creates a pedophile, but I sure as heck know their disease is only furthered by the ills of internet. How easy it is to obtain child porn smut and find chats to try and lure innocent little kids into their worlds of perversion. Suddenly I’m all for just demolishing this whole internet thing, thanks a lot Al Gore. Besides my blog, what good is really coming of it? The only positive of this situation is that there are people are doing something about it, and programs like “To Catch a Predator” help educate parents. But you have to wonder for every sleazeball that is caught, how many out there are getting away with it?
I say hilarity only because I never ceased to be amazed by how pathetic people can truly be and there's something amusing about watching a miscreant go from absolute elation to sheer horror in mere moments. Like someone grabbing an old lady's person and as soon as the thief turns around to run, getting a sledgehammer slammed into their package. I don't even want to imagine what is going through one of these guys' (it's almost always grimy, middle-aged men predictably enough) minds when they are driving to meet the 13 yr. old kid they have been talking to. Unfortunately, it's hard not to when the police find things like condoms and "sexual enhancers" on these derelicts. Of course once caught, they almost always claim they wouldn’t have had the nerve to actually do anything. Really? Then how come you had the nerve to drive all the way over to some strange house, and are now standing in it while being broadcast on national television, scumbag?
And nothing beats the moment these guys get caught. It's such a brilliant set-up. A kid actor meets the freak at the door and leads them into the house, at which point Dateline's host, Chris Hansen, pops out and basically says, "Gotcha you sick bastard!". It's amazing, the whole sting takes place at one house and hour after hour, these degenerates keep showing up and getting caught. If not completely freaked out already and jetting for the door upon seeing Hansen, he tries to ask the perpetrator questions to better understand their mentalities. "So, yeah, what in the flying **** is wrong with you?"
You have to admire the naivety of the guys who go through the whole spiel of admitting what they did was absolutely despicable to Hansen, and then offer their thanks for helping them realize the error of their ways before saying they will never do this again. Basically thinking this is just some Dateline investigation, but as soon as they leave the house...BAM...the police are using their faces as a garden tool. Of course once they are in custody, they act like they have no idea what is going on and why they were arrested. Then out come the records of every chatroom conversation they had with the "kid". Being grilled by cops and having them read the stuff I wrote back to me would have me so sick and embarrassed I would blown my brains out right then and there. Fortunately, I will never face this predicament because I'm not a flaming sack of feces. One guy actually said he was joking when he typed the things he did and he always makes jokes like that. Wow guy, you're a pedophile and an idiot.
That wasn't even the best excuse one of these lowlifes gave. This is no joke, one guy actually tried to claim he wasn't going to do anything with the girl and was waiting for her mom to come home so he could warn her about people like him. Except according to him, he was one of the good guys, and it's a good thing to, because who knows what could have potentially happened to the little girl. And I guess it's also a good thing the police found that lubricant in your pocket you sick son of a *****.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, can top the guy who got arrested with Dateline's cameras rolling. Twice. In one freaking week. The guy got busted, posted bail, and then goes and does the exact same thing AGAIN. How much of a mental midget do you have to be for that to happen? Is there anyone in their right mind that can now tell me that anyone who is convicted of being a pedophile shouldn’t receive the death penalty? Evidence has proven time and time again that is no rehabbing these sadists and the recidivism rate is astronomical. They need to be lined up and shot one by one executioner style. An inhumane punishment, sure, but we're talking about inhumane monsters. Is there any sector of society more vile than pedophiles? The most depressing thing is that a lot of the time these guys have a wife and kids.
I have no idea what creates a pedophile, but I sure as heck know their disease is only furthered by the ills of internet. How easy it is to obtain child porn smut and find chats to try and lure innocent little kids into their worlds of perversion. Suddenly I’m all for just demolishing this whole internet thing, thanks a lot Al Gore. Besides my blog, what good is really coming of it? The only positive of this situation is that there are people are doing something about it, and programs like “To Catch a Predator” help educate parents. But you have to wonder for every sleazeball that is caught, how many out there are getting away with it?
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Valentine's Day
Dear Tiffani,
This February 14th could, would be mine?
Would thou do thee honor of being thy Valentine?
Now I know it may be awkward since you already have a spouse
But we're all mature adults so I'm sure we can work it out
Like I don’t even mind if he stays outside in the guesthouse
Because to me it just seems like we got this special thing
Like I dream and while you’re oblivious to everything
I guess it all started back when I was twelve
I got hip to a shizzow called Saved by the Bizell
Then like an angel from Heaven I saw this chic name Kel
And I thought, “Golly gee, that girl sure is swell”
But then I realized she’s the most popular chic at Bayside
I mean what could I offer her that chic way too fly
And even if I tried, I know Jesse would be a hater
Telling her I’m some chauvinistic pig like that dude called Slater
Not even that goofus Screech would have had my back
Instead of supporting me he would’ve had helped that punk ass Zack
So it was all so hopeless and it all seemed
Like after you two got married that was the end of my dream
But when I woke up you had moved to Beverly Hills with Ian Ziering
But now I was kind of scared of you because you were kind of being mean
So I then accepted that I would never get you to have dinner at my place
But that all changed when I saw you on myspace
So I sent you a message and it felt really great
That was until I realized the page was made by some gay guy named Raik
I was so mad the whole thing was fake
I could have popped and locked on that dude like a broken gate
Even now I still refuse to believe we will always be apart
So please be my Valentine and that would be a start
If you at least consider it, that would be really cool
because I’m tired of telling my people you're my girlfriend and looking like an asshole
This February 14th could, would be mine?
Would thou do thee honor of being thy Valentine?
Now I know it may be awkward since you already have a spouse
But we're all mature adults so I'm sure we can work it out
Like I don’t even mind if he stays outside in the guesthouse
Because to me it just seems like we got this special thing
Like I dream and while you’re oblivious to everything
I guess it all started back when I was twelve
I got hip to a shizzow called Saved by the Bizell
Then like an angel from Heaven I saw this chic name Kel
And I thought, “Golly gee, that girl sure is swell”
But then I realized she’s the most popular chic at Bayside
I mean what could I offer her that chic way too fly
And even if I tried, I know Jesse would be a hater
Telling her I’m some chauvinistic pig like that dude called Slater
Not even that goofus Screech would have had my back
Instead of supporting me he would’ve had helped that punk ass Zack
So it was all so hopeless and it all seemed
Like after you two got married that was the end of my dream
But when I woke up you had moved to Beverly Hills with Ian Ziering
But now I was kind of scared of you because you were kind of being mean
So I then accepted that I would never get you to have dinner at my place
But that all changed when I saw you on myspace
So I sent you a message and it felt really great
That was until I realized the page was made by some gay guy named Raik
I was so mad the whole thing was fake
I could have popped and locked on that dude like a broken gate
Even now I still refuse to believe we will always be apart
So please be my Valentine and that would be a start
If you at least consider it, that would be really cool
because I’m tired of telling my people you're my girlfriend and looking like an asshole
Sunday, February 11, 2007
And you said the Pro Bowl was stupid
Admit it, you didn’t watch the Pro Bowl. Not that I blame you, I mean why would you? It’s by far the worst “all-star” game there is, heck it’s even a weaker exhibition than a pre-season game. At least those 2nd and 3rd stringers are busting their asses for a job, the only incentive there is for a Pro Bowler is an extra $20,000; they make that in 4 minutes during the season. To say they put forth 25% effort would be generous, yet I can’t fault them, why get hurt over a game this meaningless? Instead of continuing with this mockery, they should just eliminate the whole game and have those voted as all-stars play each other in Madden or something. Yet somehow, for some reason, everything changed Saturday. Suddenly the Pro Bowl didn’t suck, at least not as much as it usually does.
It all started when Bills' Punter Brian Moorman got hit by a semi-truck. It happened during the 3rd quarter when poor Brian was instructed by AFC coach Bill Belichick to run for it on 4th down instead of doing what he was voted there to do, punt. He ran alright, right into Redskins' safety Sean Taylor’s flying forearm. While it seemed like everyone else on the field was jogging, because it was the Pro Bowl after all, Taylor literally came out of nowhere running at 154 mph. I don’t know if he thought it was LaVar Arrington carrying the rock (LaVar hit him with a shaving cream pie to the grill in ’04 which caused Sean to cry and seek medical attention for his eyes, you can check it out on youtube), but before anyone could blink, Taylor ignited Moorman’s entire body 8 feet in the air, suspending it completely horizontal. Remember now, Moorman is a punter, he has the body frame of a high school freshmen, Taylor is a 230 pound beast. It was the equivalent of one of those crash test dummy commercials where the car runs into a brick wall, and the dummy goes flying through the windshield.
After the football was ejected out of bounds, Moorman’s body came crashing back down to earth as he stayed there on one knee for a number of seconds, motionless. Honestly, I didn’t know if he was dead. Even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have got up, at least not until the police showed up and I made sure to get his insurance information. Yet, moments later, Moorman sprang up and acted like nothing had happened. On top of that, he actually went out on the field to give his regards to Taylor for the hit. “Thanks dude, for knocking the living $#!^ out of me!”
Seriously, you have to love sports though, if this were anywhere else, U.S.A, this guy would be suing Taylor and wanting him imprisoned for battery. But on the football field, in an attempt to not fulfill the inescapable role of a wimpy kicker, Moorman has the inexplicable fortitude to congratulate someone for forcing him to cash-in some of his frequent flyer miles. I guess he was just glad Taylor didn’t try to spit on him. If they can make intentional grounding legal in this game, then they sure as heck better institute a rule in every Pro Bowl from here on out making it mandatory that there’s at least one play where a kicker runs a fake. I will clear my schedule the day of the Pro Bowl every year to ensure I can watch it if they do this.
Unfortunately for a while, it seemed as if that lone, solitary play would be the only excitement in another otherwise pointless excursion between representatives of the AFC and NFC. Yet, in an unfathomable plot twist, after scoring a touchdown in the final 3 minutes, the NFC recovered an onside kick. Suddenly, after trailing by 14 points in the 4th quarter with everyone ready to actually enjoy Hawaii, the NFC decided to make the game interesting. A minute later, Cowboys' quarterbackTony Romo had tied up the game with a 47-yard bomb to Cardinal receiver Anquan Boldin. What in the world was going on? To the dismay of everyone involved in the game and the delight of those who wasted 3 hours of their life watching it, it looked as if the Pro Bowl would go to overtime. For a player, that is the equivalent of you going to work and doing the job of one of your subordinates for free.
Being the gallant stallion that he is, however, Bengals' quarterback Carson Palmer galloped onto the field with a minute and half left and drove the AFCers into NFC territory. Then, with his sights focused on pay dirt, he heaved the ball towards the end zone as Bengals wideout Chad Johnson awaited its arrival before being flanked by Cardinal Safety Adrian Wilson. Despite the fact that the interference call prevented a touchdown and eventual conclusion to the game, it all but still ensured the AFC would win if they could execute a chip shot of a field goal. Chargers' kicker Nate Keading did just that and the AFC had won! Or better yet, everyone had won as the game wasn’t as much of a joke it usually is. Maybe next year you’ll think twice before watching Cheaters instead of the Pro Bowl.
It all started when Bills' Punter Brian Moorman got hit by a semi-truck. It happened during the 3rd quarter when poor Brian was instructed by AFC coach Bill Belichick to run for it on 4th down instead of doing what he was voted there to do, punt. He ran alright, right into Redskins' safety Sean Taylor’s flying forearm. While it seemed like everyone else on the field was jogging, because it was the Pro Bowl after all, Taylor literally came out of nowhere running at 154 mph. I don’t know if he thought it was LaVar Arrington carrying the rock (LaVar hit him with a shaving cream pie to the grill in ’04 which caused Sean to cry and seek medical attention for his eyes, you can check it out on youtube), but before anyone could blink, Taylor ignited Moorman’s entire body 8 feet in the air, suspending it completely horizontal. Remember now, Moorman is a punter, he has the body frame of a high school freshmen, Taylor is a 230 pound beast. It was the equivalent of one of those crash test dummy commercials where the car runs into a brick wall, and the dummy goes flying through the windshield.
After the football was ejected out of bounds, Moorman’s body came crashing back down to earth as he stayed there on one knee for a number of seconds, motionless. Honestly, I didn’t know if he was dead. Even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have got up, at least not until the police showed up and I made sure to get his insurance information. Yet, moments later, Moorman sprang up and acted like nothing had happened. On top of that, he actually went out on the field to give his regards to Taylor for the hit. “Thanks dude, for knocking the living $#!^ out of me!”
Seriously, you have to love sports though, if this were anywhere else, U.S.A, this guy would be suing Taylor and wanting him imprisoned for battery. But on the football field, in an attempt to not fulfill the inescapable role of a wimpy kicker, Moorman has the inexplicable fortitude to congratulate someone for forcing him to cash-in some of his frequent flyer miles. I guess he was just glad Taylor didn’t try to spit on him. If they can make intentional grounding legal in this game, then they sure as heck better institute a rule in every Pro Bowl from here on out making it mandatory that there’s at least one play where a kicker runs a fake. I will clear my schedule the day of the Pro Bowl every year to ensure I can watch it if they do this.
Unfortunately for a while, it seemed as if that lone, solitary play would be the only excitement in another otherwise pointless excursion between representatives of the AFC and NFC. Yet, in an unfathomable plot twist, after scoring a touchdown in the final 3 minutes, the NFC recovered an onside kick. Suddenly, after trailing by 14 points in the 4th quarter with everyone ready to actually enjoy Hawaii, the NFC decided to make the game interesting. A minute later, Cowboys' quarterbackTony Romo had tied up the game with a 47-yard bomb to Cardinal receiver Anquan Boldin. What in the world was going on? To the dismay of everyone involved in the game and the delight of those who wasted 3 hours of their life watching it, it looked as if the Pro Bowl would go to overtime. For a player, that is the equivalent of you going to work and doing the job of one of your subordinates for free.
Being the gallant stallion that he is, however, Bengals' quarterback Carson Palmer galloped onto the field with a minute and half left and drove the AFCers into NFC territory. Then, with his sights focused on pay dirt, he heaved the ball towards the end zone as Bengals wideout Chad Johnson awaited its arrival before being flanked by Cardinal Safety Adrian Wilson. Despite the fact that the interference call prevented a touchdown and eventual conclusion to the game, it all but still ensured the AFC would win if they could execute a chip shot of a field goal. Chargers' kicker Nate Keading did just that and the AFC had won! Or better yet, everyone had won as the game wasn’t as much of a joke it usually is. Maybe next year you’ll think twice before watching Cheaters instead of the Pro Bowl.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Super Bowl Aftermath
Now that another Super Bowl has come and gone, so come the complaints about everything from the play on the field to the commercials. Almost every year it's the same thing, once everyone sobers up they are griping and complaining, or just flat-out bummed, because the event didn't live up to expectations. But that is the first problem of the whole scenario, the event is too hyped up to begin with. No single sporting event in the U.S. receives the exposure that the Super Bowl does, primarily because it’s the most popular sport in America, but also because it’s the only major professional sport in which a single game, rather than a series, determines a champion. But that is where the accommodations should end. There’s no reason to try and cater to non-football fans and make the Super Bowl out to be the must-see event of the year like it’s the season finale of “24”. If you didn’t care about football before this game, why would you care now?
As for actual football fans, you need to smarter about getting sucked into the hype and succumbing to the talking heads. It doesn’t help when you’re force-fed this trash from ever sports outlet for two straight weeks, which is why they need to eradicate the 2-week hiatus between the Conference Championship games and the Super Bowl. I get that the players involved want to take care of all the logistics surrounding the Super Bowl, which can be distracting if they only had one week, but let the organization worry about that stuff as more focus is lost with the 2-week layoff and the media gauntlet players go through as a result of it. That’s why 75% of the time the final scores are lopsided and one of the teams undoubtedly makes you wonder how they got there in the first place. Unfortunately as it stands now, this system is in place, so you only have yourself to blame if you get so intoxicated from “pre-game preparation” that you’re passed out by the opening kickoff.
I for one wasn’t letdown by the actual game, you know why? Because I paid no credence to it till it actually started. Admittedly, I had no vested interest in either team, or any team in the playoffs this year for that matter (yes, I’m bitter the Bengals underachieved), but there is nothing to talk about for 336 hours, so why listen? Go find something productive to do, you always see these NFLers requesting your assistance from United Way, so help your guys out or something. Then when the game is on, watch it, and if it happens to be disappointing, oh well, you only wasted 3 and half hours. Trust me, the less important you make something out to be, the less upset you will be when it falters. It’s not like any fan didn’t know what to expect anyway. Rex Grossman is garbage and Peyton Manning isn’t. Peyton wasn’t lights out, but he didn’t need to be, as long as he and the offense didn’t have a complete meltdown, you knew there was no way the Bears would be able to score enough points to win the game. So were the Colts a lock? Of course not, but when there’s too much evidence refuting the defiance of conventional wisdom, stop thinking so much.
Another thing that aggravated me was all the complaints about the weather, I mean this is still football, right? Last I checked throughout the regular season and the playoffs the elements play a factor in games played in non-domed stadiums, so why come the most important game of the season should we suddenly fix it so that the game is played in the perfect environment? It’s bad enough the game always gets shifted to a warm weather setting, but now there’s an outcry for it to always be played in a dome. The game should be cycled amongst all the cities that have a team, and if it happens a Super Bowl is played in a blizzard, so be it, the unpredictability of nature is part of the essence of the game. The real reason behind any of this isn’t the actual play on the field, both teams are dealt the same circumstance so one team isn’t getting an advantage, but rather the fact the media and the people who can actually afford tickets (i.e. soft, rich people) want to be comfortable. Ironically, this furthers the argument for why the game should be cycled throughout the league, as anything that deters non-football fans from attending and media orgies is a positive thing.
Of course if shellacking the game and the weather wasn’t enough, people were equally critical of the commercials. Do I feel they were anything to rave about? No, but do you remember the ones from last year, or the year before that? If you don’t, go check a commercial archive, they sucked! Like always the beer commercials provided at least a chuckle, but this year there were actually a few memorable standouts like the ones from Sierra Mist, the beard comb-over was classic (mainly because I can see 40-something, self-conscious men really doing this), and Snickers’ “Lady and the Tramp” spoof. Yeah, gay jokes are old, but when in doubt go with bread and butter, it certainly works better than Emerald Nuts’ nonsensical Robert Goulet ad. If this is somehow funny, maybe I’m not old enough to care why. I get that he is an old crooner, but what does that have to do with him being some office scourge? If this was meant to be funny for the sake of randomness or something, then well, that’s just not funny. So yeah, it seemed like most companies tried too hard, but it says something about the absurdity of the game when the commercials surrounding it have become an event in of themselves.
The only thing it seemed people weren’t completely dissatisfied with was the halftime show. Of course I can’t comment because I didn’t watch it, I never do. I never understood why even it had to become some extra incentive to watch the game. That is, incentive for people who don’t even like football to watch for the promise they’ll at least walk away with some entertainment value. Too bad football is boring, huh? If it wasn’t bad enough that these people are distracting to those who want to actually watch the game at Super Bowl parties, which begs the question of what’s the point of attending a Super Bowl party unless forced by a significant other (in which I may suggest growing a pair), but why does everything in and surrounding the game have to be about everything but the actual game?
I don’t want to see a dog running around catching Frisbees just as much as the next guy, but how come it seems the only alternative is to have some lame song and dance act self-promote themselves, as if there wasn’t enough of that already imbedded into the Super Bowl. Which brings me back to the ads for a moment; I can’t remember which one it was (goes to show how effective it was), but one them had like seven different brands being advertised in one 30-second spot. I thought my head would explode from the over saturation of subliminal secretions, I guess they at least got their moneys worth though.
But back to halftime, I don’t understand why more people don’t use this opportunity wisely. It’s the perfect time to get some grub, use the bathroom, do whatever you need to do that you couldn’t while sitting in front of the tube. Sure, you could do this stuff during the commercial breaks, but then there’s a chance you could miss something mildly amusing, when was the last time a halftime shown was even remotely amusing? Yeah, I missed Justin cop a feel on Janet, I got over it after 6 seconds, and since that time things have only gotten worse. In an attempt to be conservative, organizers seem to try to dig up any fossil they can and put them on stage, but I don’t think they even know what demographic they are trying to draw anymore. It’s embarrassing. You might as well just run commercials the entire hour, or however long it is now. Seriously, the whole thing is about money anyway.
One final note about the actual game, I found it interesting that the past two Super Bowl champions’ titles came the year after they were the favorite to win it all heading into the playoffs. Given this trend, it would seem like the odds-on favorite to win it next year would be the Chargers. The one difference, however, is that in the previous two years, the #1 seed was upset by the team that would go onto to win the Super Bowl. The Steelers lost to the Patriots in ’05 and the Colts lost to the Steelers in ’06, and obviously the Chargers lost to the Patriots this year. So basically what this all proves is that the Bengals will win the Super Bowl in ‘08. Okay, maybe not.
As for actual football fans, you need to smarter about getting sucked into the hype and succumbing to the talking heads. It doesn’t help when you’re force-fed this trash from ever sports outlet for two straight weeks, which is why they need to eradicate the 2-week hiatus between the Conference Championship games and the Super Bowl. I get that the players involved want to take care of all the logistics surrounding the Super Bowl, which can be distracting if they only had one week, but let the organization worry about that stuff as more focus is lost with the 2-week layoff and the media gauntlet players go through as a result of it. That’s why 75% of the time the final scores are lopsided and one of the teams undoubtedly makes you wonder how they got there in the first place. Unfortunately as it stands now, this system is in place, so you only have yourself to blame if you get so intoxicated from “pre-game preparation” that you’re passed out by the opening kickoff.
I for one wasn’t letdown by the actual game, you know why? Because I paid no credence to it till it actually started. Admittedly, I had no vested interest in either team, or any team in the playoffs this year for that matter (yes, I’m bitter the Bengals underachieved), but there is nothing to talk about for 336 hours, so why listen? Go find something productive to do, you always see these NFLers requesting your assistance from United Way, so help your guys out or something. Then when the game is on, watch it, and if it happens to be disappointing, oh well, you only wasted 3 and half hours. Trust me, the less important you make something out to be, the less upset you will be when it falters. It’s not like any fan didn’t know what to expect anyway. Rex Grossman is garbage and Peyton Manning isn’t. Peyton wasn’t lights out, but he didn’t need to be, as long as he and the offense didn’t have a complete meltdown, you knew there was no way the Bears would be able to score enough points to win the game. So were the Colts a lock? Of course not, but when there’s too much evidence refuting the defiance of conventional wisdom, stop thinking so much.
Another thing that aggravated me was all the complaints about the weather, I mean this is still football, right? Last I checked throughout the regular season and the playoffs the elements play a factor in games played in non-domed stadiums, so why come the most important game of the season should we suddenly fix it so that the game is played in the perfect environment? It’s bad enough the game always gets shifted to a warm weather setting, but now there’s an outcry for it to always be played in a dome. The game should be cycled amongst all the cities that have a team, and if it happens a Super Bowl is played in a blizzard, so be it, the unpredictability of nature is part of the essence of the game. The real reason behind any of this isn’t the actual play on the field, both teams are dealt the same circumstance so one team isn’t getting an advantage, but rather the fact the media and the people who can actually afford tickets (i.e. soft, rich people) want to be comfortable. Ironically, this furthers the argument for why the game should be cycled throughout the league, as anything that deters non-football fans from attending and media orgies is a positive thing.
Of course if shellacking the game and the weather wasn’t enough, people were equally critical of the commercials. Do I feel they were anything to rave about? No, but do you remember the ones from last year, or the year before that? If you don’t, go check a commercial archive, they sucked! Like always the beer commercials provided at least a chuckle, but this year there were actually a few memorable standouts like the ones from Sierra Mist, the beard comb-over was classic (mainly because I can see 40-something, self-conscious men really doing this), and Snickers’ “Lady and the Tramp” spoof. Yeah, gay jokes are old, but when in doubt go with bread and butter, it certainly works better than Emerald Nuts’ nonsensical Robert Goulet ad. If this is somehow funny, maybe I’m not old enough to care why. I get that he is an old crooner, but what does that have to do with him being some office scourge? If this was meant to be funny for the sake of randomness or something, then well, that’s just not funny. So yeah, it seemed like most companies tried too hard, but it says something about the absurdity of the game when the commercials surrounding it have become an event in of themselves.
The only thing it seemed people weren’t completely dissatisfied with was the halftime show. Of course I can’t comment because I didn’t watch it, I never do. I never understood why even it had to become some extra incentive to watch the game. That is, incentive for people who don’t even like football to watch for the promise they’ll at least walk away with some entertainment value. Too bad football is boring, huh? If it wasn’t bad enough that these people are distracting to those who want to actually watch the game at Super Bowl parties, which begs the question of what’s the point of attending a Super Bowl party unless forced by a significant other (in which I may suggest growing a pair), but why does everything in and surrounding the game have to be about everything but the actual game?
I don’t want to see a dog running around catching Frisbees just as much as the next guy, but how come it seems the only alternative is to have some lame song and dance act self-promote themselves, as if there wasn’t enough of that already imbedded into the Super Bowl. Which brings me back to the ads for a moment; I can’t remember which one it was (goes to show how effective it was), but one them had like seven different brands being advertised in one 30-second spot. I thought my head would explode from the over saturation of subliminal secretions, I guess they at least got their moneys worth though.
But back to halftime, I don’t understand why more people don’t use this opportunity wisely. It’s the perfect time to get some grub, use the bathroom, do whatever you need to do that you couldn’t while sitting in front of the tube. Sure, you could do this stuff during the commercial breaks, but then there’s a chance you could miss something mildly amusing, when was the last time a halftime shown was even remotely amusing? Yeah, I missed Justin cop a feel on Janet, I got over it after 6 seconds, and since that time things have only gotten worse. In an attempt to be conservative, organizers seem to try to dig up any fossil they can and put them on stage, but I don’t think they even know what demographic they are trying to draw anymore. It’s embarrassing. You might as well just run commercials the entire hour, or however long it is now. Seriously, the whole thing is about money anyway.
One final note about the actual game, I found it interesting that the past two Super Bowl champions’ titles came the year after they were the favorite to win it all heading into the playoffs. Given this trend, it would seem like the odds-on favorite to win it next year would be the Chargers. The one difference, however, is that in the previous two years, the #1 seed was upset by the team that would go onto to win the Super Bowl. The Steelers lost to the Patriots in ’05 and the Colts lost to the Steelers in ’06, and obviously the Chargers lost to the Patriots this year. So basically what this all proves is that the Bengals will win the Super Bowl in ‘08. Okay, maybe not.
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