"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).

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.

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.

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.

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!

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??

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.

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.

"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.