The Time I Made A Teacher Cry

I had this teacher back in 12th Grade that I made cry. I'm not sure what made me think of it recently, but I did. Here's the story -

I wasn't having the best time of it, to say the least, in the winter of 1989. I won't bore anyone with why just now (girl problems, obviously). Anyway, there was a new teacher that year at the old Wellington School. Mrs Robinson - Mary Lynn Robinson to be exact (it's one name I do remember). And no, she didn't look anything like Anne Bancroft - unfortunately. Mrs Robinson was pretty young and had never taught before, at least as far as I knew. She only taught part-time that year. She had Econ the 1st semester and Government the 2nd. I was in both classes. The 1st semester went by okay for her I guess. She wasn't very good, but managed to successfully oversee the class and the business we ran for Junior Achievement (we sold boxer shorts - stupid, just stupid). For the Econ class, I didn't really talk too much and managed to generally mask my general unimpressiveness (not sure that's technically a word...) with Mrs Robinson as a teacher and her terribly mediocre looks (she had straight red hair, varicose veins on her legs, and breeder hips, if that helps anyone). It didn't hurt that I sat next to Amy Teske for that class, and she was never super happy with me when I was an asshole to the teachers. So, in the interest of not irritating the girl I was kind of still dating at this point, I was pretty quiet most of the time. However, Amy and I finally broke it off for good around Thanksgiving and that fact sent me into an even further funk than I was in all fall, when we were just kind of on the outs. So, the 2nd semester rolls around. This is when Mrs Robinson taught Government (and I'm using the word taught very liberally). It was about a month or so into the semester when I made Mrs Robinson cry. As I said, I was in pretty bad shape, had a great interest in making others miserable, and had no respect for this Government teacher. One morning, Mrs Robinson announced a midterm that was coming up, but the details she gave were shady. So, I asked her, "Can you please tell me the exact date of the test and the format you're gonna use?" Instead of answering me clearly, Mrs Robinson went off on some of the topics that she was gonna particularly focus on for the midterm. That's when I said this (this is very close to exactly what I said, at least as close as I can recall 21 years later), "Madam, maybe I wasn't clear a minute ago. So let me ask you these 2 things again in a way you might be able to understand. Let me start with the easy one first, what date is the test?" Well, Mrs. Robinson stood there for about 3 seconds, started to tear up, and then ran out of the room bawling. A few of the kids in the class laughed as that happened. But generally speaking, the losers and freaks in the class, who didn't like me to begin with, were pretty mortified. I could have cared less. Fuck 'em. About 5 minutes went by and the Upper School Principal, Kathy Pinson, comes in and yanks me out of class and we go across the hall to her office. She was pretty nice about the whole thing. I never did get in much trouble for this kind of behavior for some reason. At one point, she did inquire why I was so antagonistic at times. At the time I had no idea why I was like that. I really didn't. I believe her attitude towards me, and most every teacher I ever had was the same, was: boys will be boys - don't rock the boat - blah, blah, blah....I had to apologize to Mrs Robinson, which I did later that day or the next day. And I had to go into Kathy Pinson's office and do some random office work for her that took about 15 minutes. And I never minded hanging out with with Kathy Pinson - because she was hot. Word spread about this whole incident around the school, as you can imagine. And when Amy Teske caught wind of it, even though we'd barely been communicating for over 2 months, she was a little agitated with me. I remember we sat out in one of the hallways on a free period soon after the incident and she gave me a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit to read. I'm embarrassed to admit this, even today, but I was too self-absorbed and narcissistic to get what Amy was driving at by giving me that book (I know, I know, how am I any better today???). She was a very smart girl (very smart {she went to Princeton} and a super overachiever - she had her pilot's license in high school for God's sakes). I still have no idea why she ever got mixed up with me for a year of her life (although I did have a certain charm I guess, I have no idea). The way it ended up with Mrs Robinson was that I didn't say much of anything in the class the rest of the year. And believe me, she held the whole thing against me. I know this because when they gave out the year end awards for the best student in each class, Mrs Robinson gave the Government Award to someone else (some Jewish kid), even though there was no way anyone had a higher average than I did in that stupid class (I used to know a lot about Government and politics. Now? I could give a rat's ass, that damn William Jefferson Blythe ruined everything - but back then, I knew some things, a little bit at least). Mrs Robinson never came back to teach at the old Wellington School after that one year. I would like to take some credit for driving her out of the profession, but, alas, my guess is that Kathy Pinson and whoever else made the faculty decisions didn't want her back - just a hunch. I never ran into Mrs Robinson anywhere around Dublin or wherever she lived with her not so lucky husband. If I had, I did want to say one last thing to her (and maybe, by some miracle, she'll see this), that was: "Let me explain myself to you like you're a 5 year old..."

Someday, I'll have to tell the story of how Kathy Pinson decided to punish me for running Cammie Bouneau's panties up the school flag pole - don't worry, Cammie was a willing participant...Sickos.

Note: The following lyrics are on the album I was listening to pretty constantly at the time mentioned in the story above - TBFH

I've seen you laying pined

I've seen you laying pined

Life is rough, rough

I've seen you laying down

With the loving kind

I know life is hard

Where to turn?

Where to turn?

Keeping Expectations Low

The only bad thing about life is that it never works out the way you want it to. Other than that...

I got an email from an occasional reader of this blog recently, and I'm not gonna divulge specifics of what it said or what I said in reply (that would be super uncool). But the exchange did get me to thinking (which is never good...). Anyway, I was trying (in vain, no doubt) to offer some kind of encouragement in the email I sent back to the occasional reader of this blog. And I'm really bad at that. I'm afraid what I had to say did no good at all. At one point I went into the whole idea of folks trying to accept the idea that there seems to be little point to any of this. But if you accept that premise, then what is the point in caring about anyone or anything? I certainly don't have the answers. It depresses me beyond words though to hear someone who is genuinely bright, intellectually curious, has a sharp sense of humor, likes the right music, and is a real catch for that matter, be so down and lost. I don't even know. I really don't.

If you don't like the song Commercial Reign by Inspiral Carpets, then I can't help you. I don't even know where to start.

I probably shouldn't post any of this mindless, angst riddled, adolescent stupidity. But most days, it's all I got.

It's almost always better not to really get to know someone too well. Because as long as you don't, you can project on them almost anything that you're looking for in a friend, co-worker, significant other, spouse, person to admire, whatever. It's when you get to know somebody better that you're almost always let down. They never live up to whatever traits you've conjured up in your head for them. And it's important to remember that it's not that person's fault that you've built them up in your mind to be something that is impossible to live up to. It's one reason I think it's important to keep all expectations low. For anyone or anything. If you do that, you can't be too disappointed.

It's like the motto of my old prep school: Expect The Best. That's a nice thought - in theory. A much more Hobbesian way of approaching life is: Don't Expect Anything - You Won't Be Let Down.

This is utterly stupid...Sorry.

I'm out - I'll try and lighten up next time...

The Worst Quarterbacks Ever

The Faceshit has struck yet again. I checked the thing over the weekend and had another "friend" request from someone I have no recollection of ever meeting in my life. This has happened before on the Faceshit and I just turn down the request. However this time, in a moment of weakness, I accepted this "friend" request. And I have been searching the recesses of my demented brain to figure out how in the hell I could possibly know this girl. If any readers of this blog know who Danielle Kocinski from DC is, please let me know. I think I must have worked with her somewhere or other at some point. The thing is that this Danielle must know me pretty well, as she started doing these comments on the Faceshit "wall" after the 2 or 3 things I've ever posted on the damn thing. I just checked and I don't have any "friends" in common with this girl. The whole thing is driving me crazy at the moment.

An anonymous commenter left a long note after I ripped into The Tiger recently. And as always, feel free to leave all the comments you want - I'll look at them. And I appreciate the time that this anonymous commenter put into the note. And just in general, I stand by everything I wrote about the whole fake press deal thing that The Tiger held last Friday. However, just let me be super clear on this, I don't think there was any reason for The Tiger to make a public statement at all, to anyone. The only news that golf fans were interested in was when The Tiger was coming back to the tour. And he didn't even have a date to throw out there. The rest of it was silly nonsense. I did not watch the thing, but I did read about it later Friday. And when I did, I discovered the real motivation behind this public "apology." First, The Tiger attacked the press - which is just ridiculous. He hires agents and whatnot to make him an endorsement king and have a very high profile so he can bleed companies dry to be their pitchman. And then he lashes out at the press for being interested in this whole sordid story. Hypocrite. The other reason for this whole "apology" was to get out in front of these nasty rumors about steroid or HGH use. Which is a savvy move. The rest of the thing was pointless. And if you wanna argue that as part of a 12 step program that he had to apologize, no he didn't - not to me or any other observer of professional golf. The Tiger is not a sex addict. He's just a very rich guy trying anything he can to reduce the settlement amount he'll have to pay Jesper Parnevik's nanny. That's it. As far as taking a shot at Ernie Els (as the anonymous commenter did), the guy has won more than 60 times worldwide in his career. His accomplishments are considerable. Lastly on this anonymous comment, the person noted that he/she was a huge fan of #14 growing up - Peter Edward Rose (4256). And I too was a Reds fan back as a kid (my favorite player was the awesome Davey Concepcion). Only I wouldn't compare Rose's situation to The Tiger's (at least not yet, if I'm right in my suspicion of steroids or HGH, then all bets are off...), as The Tiger's issue has nothing to do with the game itself. Rose lied and lied and kept lying all those years because he's not very bright and thought reasonable people might believe him. I didn't believe him for a second (and I was watching the night Rose got 4192 off Eric Show - and got a little teary eyed like all Reds fans). I'm sorry that so many fans of Rose did believe him for so long. I'm sure you felt cheated and betrayed. Maybe it's because I'm super cynical, but I've never been capable of feeling cheated or betrayed by anyone (much less a baseball player with an IQ hovering around 90). I mean the guy sported one of those rat tails in the mid 80's - embarrassing and total white trash. Jeez.

I was reading something about someone named Hugh the other day (probably Hugh Grant or Hugh Rodham). Anyway, whenever I see the name Hugh, my mind immediately goes to one of the worst QB's in the history of the world - Hugh Millen, or as I called him, Hugh Miliation. And that got me to thinking about all my favorite terrible Quarterbacks over the years for each team. Here we go:

Patsies - the above mentioned Hugh Miliation. But you can't leave out Tommy Hodson either. He sucked.

Jets- Dick Todd.

Bills - I've never totally hated any of Buffalo's QB's - even JP Losman, I still think there's hope for him yet in the NFL.

Fish - Ray Lucas.

Steelers - Bubby Brister.

Bengals - Akili Smith. And Dave Klingler.

Browns - Ken Dorsey.

Ravens - Kyle Boller.

Colts - No one too awful, but my man Arthur Schlichter, what a waste.

Titans/Oilers - Oliver Luck.

Jags - no one super sucky yet.

Texans - same as above - I give Dave Carr a pass, he got killed behind that line.

Chiefs - hard to forget Steve Bono. And Brodie Coyle - terrible. This is also the team that let Rich Gannon walk in favor of Elvis Grbac. Ouch!

Mr Ed - no one.

Bolts - Ryan Leaf.

Raiders - Todd Marinovich.

Seahawks - Dan McGwire - awesome mullet too.

Niners - a string of great ones, and there is still hope for Alex Smith.

Cards - believe it or not, for such an historically bad franchise, no one super sucky comes to mind.

Rams - Dieter Brock.

Bears - Peter Tom Willis.

Pack - no one.

Vikes - hard to think of anyone terrible.

Lions - Andre Ware.

City of Tampa - Unbelievably, no one.

Who Dat - Billy Joe Hobert.

Falcons - Mike Vick. He never could throw the ball accurately to save his life.

Panthers - Chris Weinke.

Cowboys - Quincy Carter.

G Men - Dave Brown.

Philly - pretty solid.

Washington - Heath Shuler.

I'm bored of this today...

The Real Story Of What Happened The Night Ross And I Went To KAOS

We finally have an update from the sordid world of that terrible human being, The Tiger. A media event has been scheduled for tomorrow and at this event The Tiger is going to read from a prepared statement. And I gotta say, this whole thing makes The Tiger look worse than ever - something that almost seems impossible. Notice how I didn't say The Tiger was holding a press conference, because he's not. There will be friendly media present at this event, but they will not be able to ask questions. The purpose they'll basically serve is as props to try and give this ridiculous spectacle legitimacy. Any supposed journalist who shows up at this thing and sits there acting as little more than a potted plant should be mocked into oblivion. The lead golf writer from ESPN.com for example is gonna be there. I would urge everyone to get in contact with this guy through ESPN's website (Bob Harig is his name) and express what a shameless disgrace he is for participating (and that goes for any other journalist as well). The fact is that The Tiger reading from a prepared statement for a few minutes is pointless. He could just as easily release the statement through his boys at IMG and let everyone know when he's returning or not returning to competitive golf. There's only one reason The Tiger could have chosen tomorrow to throw this fake press event. And this is where he looks even worse than ever. The Tiger is holding this thing in the middle of the match play championship. And it just so happens that the sponsor of this tournament dropped The Tiger as a spokesman. Talk about sour grapes and petty revenge. What an asshole. This tournament is one of the 12 biggest of the year (after the majors, the playoff events, The Players, The Memorial, and maybe Doral). And for The Tiger to be so transparent in his petty hatred for the sponsor of the event is breathtaking. Maybe The Tiger thinks we're all too stupid to see what he's doing. But not all of us are. And as far as The Tiger ever holding a real press conference or doing an interview where he won't be lobbed softballs - I wouldn't hold my breath. The fact is that I, and I assume most everyone else (even die hard fans of The Tiger), don't need to ever hear him go into details about what happened or how "sorry" he is. It doesn't matter. He doesn't owe anybody anything. Just show up and start playing again. It would be entertaning if such an interview ever happened. Super entertaining. If some real journalist (like Ted Koppel for example) got an hour or two with The Tiger no holds barred, that would be awesome. And make The Tiger look like the stupidest phony alive. But he knows that and his handlers at IMG know that. So, it's not gonna happen. But this whole fake press event thing tomorrow should be mocked endlessly for what it is - a petty revenge minded farce.

As far as the sex rehab that The Tiger was at in Mississippi, did he see David Duchovny there? And if he did, did they trade stories about their favorite episodes of Red Shoe Diaries? Sex Rehab - the whole thing is hilarious. No doubt such places were built as money making scams so disgraced rich guys who whored around on their wives could get a chance to cry "Oh, it's not my fault I can't say no to skanks, I'm an addict." And as a result not get taken to the cleaners in divorce proceedings. Pitiful. As I always say on this blog, if you wanna whore around with skanks your whole life, cool - I'm certainly not one to cast aspersions there. Just don't ever get married if that's what you wanna do. It seems so simple. What is wrong with these guys???

We've also learned recently that The Tiger wasn't a fan of using condoms with his skanks - even the porn star skanks. He supposedly knocked this one porn star skank up twice. Twice!!! The woman goes by the name Joslyn James for some reason. And I guess at some point Jesper Parnevik's nanny has just gotten numb to all these revelations. I can't necessarily blame her for sticking with him so far, but she looks real bad the longer she does - like she has zero self-esteem. She actually looks just as pathetic as Hillary Rodham did back when her husband was sneaking around with butt ugly Batman looking villains in the back of his AstroTurf enhanced El Camino and she stood by her man just like Tammy Wynette, baking cookies (granted the cookies Hillary baked appear to have gone straight to her own enormous ass...).

The PGA Tour is definitely suffering with The Tiger's absence from tournaments. Crowds are way down at the events he normally plays (Torrey Pines and Pebble Beach come to mind). And I can totally understand The Tiger's immense popularity on the golf course. Millions of folks live vicariously through his powerful drives, dead on iron play, and spectacular short game. People love a winner, no doubt about that. It's a shame that the other great players out on tour get no love from casual sports fans. Just last weekend we saw Paul Goydos shoot a 64 at Pebble. And just yesterday, there were a number of compelling matches at the Accenture. But almost nobody cares. Except me, I still watch. Many of those guys are amazing - whether The Tiger is there or not.

I mentioned yesterday that Geilfuss' big 100th post was coming and he did put up part 1 of the thing. And let me say that I liked it immensely. Even though Geilfuss misuses the term memoir in the title (he should have called it an elegy of sorts or even a tribute), it's pretty readable. It's not totally accurate, but I'm hardly one to criticize for taking the occasional poetic license. If you want to read part 1 of Geilfuss' 100th blog post, here you go - http://www.itcouldbekobebryant.blogspot.com/. In the post Geilfuss recounts a story from December 2008 that involves me, Ross, massive amounts of alcohol, a strip joint, and an almost catastrophic ending. The only issue I have with it is that on the night in question, at no point were Ross and I ever in Get Bent Lounge (which is the whole thrust of the post). That and the fact that Geilfuss was still laid up at home following his brain scare (I know, I know, how much of a brain scare could Geilfuss possibly have? It's a fair question.) and nowhere to be seen. I mentioned this particular night in a blog entry back in December 2008 myself. I skirted around some of the more sordid details - for decency's sake. Anyway, in light of the story Geilfuss has spun on his blog (and again, I like the story), I'm gonna go ahead, against my better judgment and recount what really happened. It should be a cautionary tale. The problem with that is that I'm guessing the same thing could happen again tonight if Ross and I were in the right mood. Me, I never learn...

It was a Saturday and there were 2 big championship trivia games that day. Geilfuss mentions that Andy didn't make it out that day. And that things would have been much different if he had. Geilfuss is right on about that. As I recall, Andy was home feeling under the weather. That fact left me and Ross to our own devices for the day. We started at Wreck Room about 3:30. It was lame there, just some pitiful regulars sitting around. We had 2 beers each there. Then we headed out to Ellicott City for a 5 o'clock trivia game. This is the game that we play with Dave and Dick from time to time. I won't bore anyone with the details of the game - except to note I was sitting very close to the guy who plays devil's advocate and studies his notes and that this is the infamous game where the old drunk guy claimed that Einstein was the 1st American to win a Nobel Prize... Needless to say, I was drinking beer fast and so was Ross (I did manage to talk the team into the right answer on that Nobel question at least). We ended up in like 7th place or something. We then drove up to Finksburg for the championship game for Showtime Trivia. Thank God McGrain was there to have Brian delay the start, because we were about 15 minutes late. Now, Dave followed us to this 2nd game. And if you've ever drank with Dave, you know he likes 7 & 7 and Jack & Ginger. This trivia game went all the way to a little after 11 and for the last 45 minutes Ross and I switched from beer to Jack & Ginger. We probably hoisted back 3 apiece there before taking off. As far as the trivia game, we were playing shorthanded (no Andy, no Jeff, no Mary). And by some miracle we were up on the 30 other teams at half (largely because the halftime question involved years Christmas songs were released and I am money on those types of questions). We flamed out and finished out of the money. At this point Ross and I had been drinking quickly for basically for 7 and 1/2 hours (and the last bit we were knocking back those Jacks fast). We were debating where to go on our way back to the town that Elaine Benes is from. This is where not having Andy around really comes into play. Because I decided to go the Ramada on Loch Raven and mock the karaoke singers. Andy would have never allowed this. We would have been safely back at Get Bent Lounge by 11:45. Instead, me and Ross stumble into the Ramada dead drunk and decide to start in with the rock gut Scotch. On our 2nd of these Scotch drinks, a hideous woman approaches me and comes on super strong. It was at this point that we decided we had to get the hell out of there. We finish up the drinks and it's about 12:30. Again, no Andy around - he's home sick. So, what do we decide to do? Go to the lowest of the low class strip joints imaginable - KAOS. If you've never been to KAOS (and it was my first and only time in the joint myself), don't. The dancers there are mostly horrible skanks with scars, stretch marks, and bruises. We sit down at the bar and this is when things start to go bad. Ross decides to get a $100 dollar advance on his credit card. He gets 40 singles and buys more rock gut Scotch and beer with some of the rest of the dough. He was in such bad shape that I held all but about 30 of the singles for the kid (I was worried some unsavory stripper would have robbed him blind). About a 1/2 hour goes by. We get another round of Scotch and beer. Now, at KAOS the girls come around and strip right on the bar. They shimmy around your drinks and thrust their pasty covered nipples toward your head and then put their barely covered by garters and thong, nasty smelling coochies in the general vicinity of your mouth. I was laughing my ass off. But one of these skank strippers caught Ross' eye (remember the kid was ripped, hammered off his ass drunk). So Ross started shoving some of his massive stack of singles into this stripper's garter and thong. This dancer was very appreciative. She stuck around our area of the bar and got every last buck out of Ross she could. I left for a minute to use the men's room. I come back, sit down, order one last beer, and look over to Ross to see how he's faring. Only Ross has his head down. He's passed out. Finished. And as anyone who has ever dealt with Ross in this state can attest, you cannot wake him up. I was in a real pickle. About 10 minutes pass and one of the bouncers comes over and informs me that I have to get Ross out of KAOS. And I knew that. I was screaming at him to please wake up for just 5 minutes so I can get him out of there. He wouldn't budge. So, I talked 2 of the bouncers into dragging Ross out front and waiting until I pull the car around and then hoisting him into the passenger seat. Only it didn't work out that way. By the time I get to the car and drive back over in front of KAOS, I don't see Ross or the bouncers. Turns out they dumped him on the sidewalk behind some cars. So, I find him. But I can't get him up to save my life. Remember I've got the car running and the cops are likely to circle around at any moment and wonder why a car is running unattended with the passenger door wide open in the parking lot of a strip joint at 1:45. Eventually I begged 2 big dudes headed into KAOS to help me and thank God they obliged. They hoisted Ross up and got him to my car. Only I didn't want to stick around there too long under the circumstances. So, instead of having these guys place Ross in the passenger seat, we stuffed him into the back behind the driver's side. And I mean stuffed the kid. He wasn't back on the seat as much as scrunched in between the driver's seat and the back seat. I got in and had to move the driver's seat back in order to drive. And when I did, I heard a noise that had to be Ross' ribs cracking. But at least we got out of there okay. No ass kicking, no cops, and not robbed. I was in a bit of a state, to say the least. I wasn't in too great a shape (although adrenaline had kicked in and I was as sharp as possible under the circumstances) and I didn't know where to go. So, of course I called Andy. I don't remember the exact details of the conversation. But Andy did manage to convince me to simply take Ross back to my apartment and try and get him inside to sleep it off (I never mentioned it was probably 30 degrees out). I get back home, manage to park the car, and check on Ross still passed out and scrunched in behind the driver's seat. I can't get him to move. And even if I had, there was no way I was gonna get him up the 25 steps to my apartment. I decided to leave him. I went inside and passed out. I woke up about 7:30 or so feeling like shit, and then remembered Ross was still in my car. I went out to check on the kid. One problem - my car is not in the designated spot I always leave it. It's moved. Somehow the car has rolled backward and the back wheels are up over a curb and the front wheels are still in the road. Thankfully there were no parking spots directly behind where I park, or that would have been a disaster. And thankfully the curb stopped the momentum of the car or it would have gone straight into some girl's living room window. I get in and re-park the car in its normal spot. Ross had managed at some point in the night to wake up enough to get himself up into the front passenger side seat. Only while wiggling around, he'd managed to take off the parking brake - hence, the car almost ended up in some girl's living room window. I got Ross inside, got him several blankets (the kid was shivering like crazy from spending the night in the car in 30 degree weather), and he managed to sleep until about 10:30. When he woke up, we started laughing our asses off -obviously. In between the laughter Ross kept asking how he got this huge cut above his right eye. I eventually told him it was probably from when the bouncers dropped him on the sidewalk outside KAOS. And that's the real story of what happened the night Ross and I went to a strip joint. There is no moral to the story and no lesson to be learned - other than, as Geilfuss noted in his 100th post, Ross and I really benefit from having Andy around.

You're In Nauseating Hands With Allstate

Well, I stumbled across women's curling yesterday on the old TV set. And the USA was playing a death match against some Asian chicks. I had no idea what was going on or how they kept score or why they used brooms. It seemed a bit sexist, what with these women using brooms (very domestic). I did watch it for awhile. Why? Because the Asian chicks were screaming in barely coherent, orgasmic type cries as they broomed these big stone like things down the ice. I enjoyed that quite a bit. If only they'd played this competition topless, then curling would be awesome.

I got a call from Luke (one of the Jacobys) yesterday and he seems to be doing well with the stoneware business these days. So that was good to hear. I did ask Luke about The Lonely Russian Jacoby and how the poor kid was doing. And I'm sorry to report that The Lonely Russian Jacoby got stood up by some girl on Valentine's. The guy can't catch a break with the ladies to save his life. He just gets lonelier and lonelier. Maybe if The Lonely Russian Jacoby gets super lonely, he can order a mail order bride from Russia. Wouldn't that be ironic? I mean a Russian in America being so lonely that he has to order a woman from back home? It's something to think about.

I also got a text from Geilfuss and his big 100th blog post is gonna be up soon. He mentioned that Ross and I will be featured. It should be interesting, to say the least. Because if Geilfuss is gonna delve into tales involving the 3 of us, it's gonna be ugly. But in an amusing way. Maybe he'll revisit the night we got started at some cajun joint in the Towson Town Center. Things went downhill quickly...obviously. They always do.

My thoughts are that I don't have many thoughts worth sharing today.

I also happened to flip by Larry King at just the wrong moment (he looks like a corpse by the way) last night after midnight. Larry was "interviewing" the politically correct guy who used to host a show called Politically Incorrect. And that guy is almost as angry as Barack Hussein Obama and The Guy Who Used To Work With The Guy Who Says En Fuego, Has Been Fired Countless Times, and Steals From Edward R Murrow. Between the 3 of them - I don't think there is enough booze in N America to get them to lighten up. Sad. The politically correct guy who used to host a show called Politically Incorrect was pissed at old Barry, the Ex-Governor of Alaska, everyone in the Republican Party, everyone in the Tea Party crowd, and white Americans in general (especially men). It struck me as pretty self-loathing. I'm guessing he's suffering from a massive amount of white liberal guilt.

Also, these Allstate commercials that are hosted by that brother who drove the getaway car in Heat. They are the most nauseating ads currently on the air. There's a newer one where he has the gall to ask: "Will this be remembered as the 2nd Great Depression or the depression that made us great?" And I start to scream in horror every time it comes on. He always says "You're in good hands" to wrap up these cringe inducing ads. And a quick note for the brother who drove the getaway car in Heat - Not yet I'm not. Sellout.

I took a good long look at the UNC game last night against the Jackets. And, oh man did they suck. I don't think they could have beaten Elon last night. Seriously. Also, this guy Delaney for the Gobblers - he was huge against Wake last night. Every time I watch the Gobblers, the kid stands out. I don't think he's got any game as far as the NBA goes, but in this year's ACC - he's been the 3rd or 4th best player I've seen.

I realize this is yet another pointless post. I don't feel too bad about it though. It's not like it costs anything to read the damn thing...

I know no shame

I feel no pain

I can't see the flame

Note: I think I'm starting to repeat song lyrics at times on this blog. I'm not gonna go back and check 180+ posts though to be sure, but I feel like I've mentioned Mandinka before.

I'm out.

My Man Brobee

Huge news out of the crazy world of air travel - literally huge news. It seems the good folks at SW Airlines kicked Kevin Smith off a flight recently for taking up too much room. Now, I have written a number of times on this blog about my experiences in airports and on airplanes. And the whole air travel deal is just tedious. Terrible and tedious. A couple things I wonder about this Kevin Smith getting kicked off a SW flight are 1) why is Smith flying on SW airlines in the 1st place? You'd think a successful movie director would be on an airline that actually offered 1st class seating. 2) I, believe it or not, have often felt pretty bad for the plight of obese fliers on most domestic carriers. They can't be comfortable. And they gotta feel like garbage for making the folks sitting next to them uncomfortable. The best solution to this problem is for real heavy people to go ahead and buy 2 seats, but I realize that can get pretty pricey. The other solutions are less practical, as they involve enforcing a weight limit on air passengers holding a ticket for 1 seat in coach. That's not a pleasant thought though, as watching everyone get on a scale before boarding a plane would be a spectacle no one would feel good about participating in (from the heavy passengers themselves, to the airline employees who would have to monitor the scale, to the innocent bystanders trying to desperately look away as such a process was undertaken). I have had a number of experiences sitting squeezed into a seat in coach (especially on regional carriers like ComAir) next to a heavier person. And it's just an impossibly bad predicament for everyone involved. The only thing worse are the screaming babies, as that situation makes me suicidal. I have experienced being packed into a small seat on a regional jet, next to a really big person, with a screaming baby in a nearby aisle, in the middle of summer. And that's not a good time. Believe me.

I got a chance to look in on some of the college hoops action over the weekend. And some things to keep in mind 1) TOSU looks good, really good. I haven't been as impressed with a player from TOSU as much as I am with Evan Turner, since Jimmy Jackson - and yes, that includes my man Michael Redd. 2) The ACC - not impressive this year at all. Watching the UNC/Duke game last week was painful, it reminded me of a Patriot League tilt. 3) The Pac 10 - does not have 1 good team. 4) Kansas is the team to beat for the title. 5) UNLV - totally puzzling. 6) New Mexico - don't be surprised if they make a run to the final 4. 7) The Big East - I like Villanova and Syracuse a lot, but with the other teams, I see some major flaws. 8) And finally, our favorite swearing and sweating machine, my man Gary Williams - the Terps look pretty strong some nights. But, when they face a bigger team who can dominate them physically (hell, Zoubek had his way with the Terps the other day), they're gonna be in deep trouble in the tournament. Brandon and I are working on scoring some tickets for the ACC Tournament here at the Coliseum (well, Brandon is, he's got clients with connections. Me, I meet random fans in bars...), which is always a good time if you can sit near enough to the Terps bench to listen to Gary's stream of consciousness swearing. And back when Billy Hahn was Gary's top assistant - listening to those 2 swear back and forth to one another about every 1/2 second during an entire game - awesome. Possibly the most entertaining thing in the history of the known universe.

It looks like the Brett Favre watch is already in full effect among the morons in the sports media. Wake me up in mid-August and let me know if he's reporting to Vikes camp. I don't have any interest in daily updates on this - it's truly nauseating.

Interesting news from our friend Joe Biden. For some baffling reason Joe has decided to get in a war of words and ideas with my man Dick Cheney. Joe's not gonna win that fight. Anytime Joe responds to Cheney's criticisms, he looks even dumber, more poorly informed, and most importantly more wrong than the last time he decided to respond to Cheney. Say what you will about Cheney, as he is maybe the least popular person in this country (I saw a poll at one point that put his popularity on par with Bin Laden). But, he's an adult - he tells it like he sees it. Joe Biden should stick to criticizing someone more of his intellectual equal - like Dexter Manley, JWoww, or my main main man Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba (on 2nd thought, that is unnecessarily cruel - to Brobee - Sorry Brobee - you are awesome). Oh yeah, and Biden should also get some ice to aid in de-stiffening his medically aided massively erect boner before appearing on the stupid Sunday Morning talking head shows (or just get with JWoww before going on air, either way...).

Speaking of Yo Gabba Gabba, they aired an episode over the weekend where they sang a song called: Don't Bite Your Friends. And I get the message to the 3-5 year old set there. I really do. But, I also think there are situations where you might find yourself being urged to bite a "friend." Some girls do get freaky that way. I'm not saying we need to introduce the idea of mutual S&M to toddlers or preschoolers, but at some point we need to be honest with them about the way some babes like to get freaky- just something to think about.

Some of you might be wondering why I watch the Noggin network (although those of you who know me pretty well are not the least bit surprised). I like Yo Gabba Gabba because it is one of the most entertaining things to ever be conceived by mankind. The shows I currently watch on a semi-regular basis are these: Mathis, Springer, Yo Gabba Gabba, Robot Chicken, Celebrity Rehab, Hoarders, Pawn Stars, 30 Rock, and The Office. And hoops. Lots of hoops.

Speaking of The Office, last week's episode was one of the best in a long time. And I'm a little pissed at NBC for taking it off for 2 weeks for figure skating. Because figure skating is one of the most pointless and silly competitions imaginable. Why anyone watches it is beyond me. I'd rather watch bowling, or NASCAR, or even Glenn Beck. Anything else, except for ladies basketball of course. That's the only thing I can think of that's more boring than figure skating. Yikes!

Do I date you

Do I hate you

I'm out - TBFH

Killing Time At A Wing Joint

I went into some joint on New Garden the other day called Wings & Bling (the wings weren't so great, but I liked the place okay). Anyway, the UNC/NCSU game was on and Sid Lowe was rocking the pimp coat. There was this Heels fan sitting behind me - a bigger guy who was very displeased with Larry Drew for most of the game. And even though I could have cared less who won the game, I was talking to this Heels fan about their offensive woes. And he was venting something fierce for the 1st half. So I asked him what his expectations were before the season started. And he replied "Not last place in the ACC." I told him he had a point there. No doubt about that.

Later Brandon stopped in Wings & Bling and we were amazed at the number of kids (by kids I mean in the 7-10 year old range) in the bar area at 10 at night. They were all wearing UK jerseys (the Cats were playing the Vols at the time). So at one point I asked one of these jersey wearing UK kids how to spell Kentucky. The kid looked down at his jersey and managed to spell it correctly. I was impressed enough to note to the kid that he was smarter than the UK players themselves, because as I mentioned on this blog last week, most of them apparently believe they play for something called Kentcuky. The kid looked at me like I was crazy. Then his mother comes over and tells him to sit back down with the other kids and not to talk to strange drunks in bars. I informed this UK mom that she was right about that, but that the best way to insure that her son not talk to strange drunks at 10 at night in a bar, is to, you know, not bring her son into a bar at 10 at night. That would pretty much solve the problem right there. This UK mom didn't like what I had to say at all. As she was walking back to her table to sit with about 7 other UK moms, I did manage to yell this in her direction, "Can you get me Ashley Judd's phone number?"

They were showing the Olympics on 1 of the TV's in the Wings & Bling. And I have very little interest in the Olympics at all. One of the guys in the bar seemed keenly into short track speed skating (Greensboro is the home of Joey Cheek) and was chanting "USA, USA!" So I started chanting "Korea, Korea!" It was pretty amusing - at least for me...

Warning! New feature on this blog: Wine Review - Pinotage from South Africa. When I was informed that such a thing exists, I asked "Did you say Penis Tog? Do they make wine from fermented semen in South Africa?"

I was back out at Wings & Bling killing time yesterday and a guy to my left was talking about the big auto race on Fox. There was some delay to the race because of pot holes or something. Anyway, this guy was nice enough and I guess fairly knowledgeable on NASCAR (me, I know almost nothing about it - except for my man Bowyer). So, this guy informed me and an awesomely cool girl who was also hanging out that his wife had dropped him off to drink while she ran some errands (there is a huge Target nearby). And both this awesome girl (her name is Tammy) and myself were kind of waiting for this NASCAR fan's wife to show up. It's always interesting to hear a guy talk about his spouse. You get a certain image in your head of what the woman might look like. Rarely do you get a chance to see how close you might be to right. But Tammy and I got that chance yesterday. We'd been talking with the guy about an hour and then he bolted up and ran to a table behind us. Sure enough, his wife was there. And she was a bigger gal, pretty ugly, and wearing these unflattering sweat pants out in public on a Sunday afternoon. Both Tammy and I were a little surprised by this wife's appearance. It goes to show that you never can tell who a nice random guy at a bar might be sharing his life with just by talking to him for awhile. The funniest part about the whole thing is that this nice guy and his chubby, sweatpants wearring, stringy haired wife sat at the table behind us for a couple more hours after the wife came in. Only the guy we'd been talking to about NASCAR and whatever didn't acknowledge us again the entire time. My guess as to why he didn't acknowledge us again is because he didn't want his homely looking bride to know that he'd been chatting with Tammy for awhile. Because Tammy is way hotter than this guy's wife ever was or will ever be. And the difference in body types between the 2 could not have been more pronounced. So this nice NASCAR guy didn't want to catch any shit from his wife for talking to a woman who was so infinitely hotter than her. I don't really blame him I guess. My solution to that problem is don't ever get married in the 1st place. That way you can talk to and hit on and whatever with whoever you might meet in a wings joint on a Sunday afternoon. It seems pretty simple, doesn't it?

I got a couple comments after my post Saturday about the Seattle Sonics. One of them mentioned Bobby Swift. And I'm not sure who left the comment, but to whoever it was, I enjoyed that quite a bit. Thanks.

I know Valentine's Day was yesterday. And it's a completely fake "holiday" invented to get guys to pump money into the economy in the middle of winter at restaurants, Hallmark stores, lingerie joints, florists, and chocolate shops. Silly. Nothing says "I love you, honey" more than a stash of candy, dinner at a wing joint, some roses, and a crotchless teddy.

Half Angel

Half Tart

The Silly Plates At The Place You Go To Get Your Vehicle Registration Renewed

I had the great misfortune of spending some time at the place you have to go to renew your vehicle registration yesterday (over at Golden Gate). I got there just before 4 and the line was out the door - literally. And I won't bore you with the conversations I overheard while in line or the pitiful people who were taking forever once they got called to be helped by the folks working there (most folks were taking 3-4 minutes for a transaction that should take 45 - 60 seconds). But I did want to mention one thing about this place. In NC, you only display official state issued license plates on the rear of your car. That means that in the front of your car you can put anything you want (or nothing). And lots of folks have plates that show support for their school of choice (lots of UNC, NCSU, and App State) or their pro sports team of choice (lots of Steelers, Cowboys, and Panthers). But some folks have plates in the front that are more folksy or are an attempt at humor. To that end, the place where you go to renew your vehicle registration sells such plates. And I always get real depressed standing in line, waiting to get called by a clerk, and looking at all the options they have for these plates you can put in the front of your car. Some of the ones that stood out the most, and I'm afraid will never leave my mind, were these:

1) Gone Fishin - Why would you feel the need to inform me of this? I don't care.

2) Fish Shudder At The Mention Of My Name - This seems highly implausible. Are fish swimming around talking about you? Fish 1: "Hey Arnie, that guy Rick might come by and fish again today." Fish 2: "I can't talk now, I'm shuddering at the mention of Rick's name."

3) Retired And Spending My Children's Inheritance - Splendid. You're blowing your kids' inheritance on the all you can eat buffet at Golden Corral?

4) Hug A Nurse - Well, maybe. But probably not. I don't like to touch people. Do you just want random men to run up to you when you get out of your car and try and hug you? That's asking for trouble.

5) Duke Fan - Shocking!!! What you're telling me is that you didn't go to Duke and are a long time front running fan who has issues with Dean Smith for some reason.

6) Mom's Taxi - Just stupid.

7) I Love To Cuddle - No doubt purchased by larger gals who have body image issues and don't like actual sex.

8) My Other Car Is A Mercedes - Sure, right. And my girlfriend is Keira Knightley.

9) Life's A Beach - Awful. Awful. Awful. Now, if it said Eat A Peach, then at least I'd know you rocked out to the Allman Brothers.

10) Retired And Getting Away From The Wife For Awhile - Why are you still married then?

11) Carolina Girl - Mostly bought by boomer gals who are into shagging (the dance, not the sex, sickos).

12) American By Right, Southern By Birth - This has a secessionist bent to it.

13) I'd Rather Be Cooking - By all means. Go ahead. Get your ass in the kitchen and make me some waffles.

14) Golf - Not sure if this refers to the game of golf or those old Volkswagon Golfs. Either way, I don't care.

15) I May Be Old, But I Still Have FIRE! - That's the sign of a GILF right there, or at least a woman who views herself as a GILF. I say, Rock On Granny! Get your skank on!

The plate on the front of my car says Van York Honda. I drove the car off the lot with it on there and have never bothered to take it off. They are pretty good guys over there (for car salesmen anyway...). But I'm thinking of getting a Seattle Sonics plate and putting it on there. I'm wearing my Sonics hat as I type this. The X Man, The Glove, Detlef Schremp, Tom Chambers, and my main main main man Dale Ellis.

I finally got around to seeing Pineapple Express. And it was silly nonsense. Maybe if you're stoned it's better. But I wasn't stoned. And the movie wasn't better. Danny McBride does get off a few funny lines. But other than that...

AK 47 is the tool

Don't make me act the motherfuckin fool

The Bluegrass

I was checking the Faceshit yesterday and saw that I had a message. And it was from an occasional reader of this blog who I haven't seen in quite some time (2007?). Anyway, she noted something pretty interesting, and dare I say accurate, about yours truly at one point in her note. It was this: You are weird, _____. And I gotta say, I wrote her back and told her she was right on about that. No question, I am weird. I think she enjoys the blog though. She's a smart girl, with a vicious sense of humor. If anyone would enjoy it, it would be Frances.

I saw a picture of the Wildcats of Lexington basketball team that was used as an official team photo for some publication. Anyway, they managed to spell the state they represent as follows across the front of the jerseys: Kentcuky. Now, I've spent some time in the Bluegrass State. And I used to work with a guy way back in the early to mid 90s named Bart Pierce, who happened to be from way out in the sticks or back in the hollers or wherever in NW Kentucky. Bart was always promising to get me moonshine (alas, he never did come through). This guy was as country as you can get. His favorite rocker was Ozzy. Every time I'd walk past Bart while working, I'd yell "Ozzy Rules!" Bart would yell back "Ozzy Rules!" That was about the extent of the depth of our conversations. And even this backwoods, moonshine promising, Ozzy disciple could at least spell the name of the Commonwealth he hailed from correctly. But apparently Coach Cal can't. Of course, when you're constantly getting into trouble with breaking NCAA rules and trying to sneak around like a snake and steal recruits from other coaches (Calipari has made a career out of that stuff), I guess spelling the name of the state you represent correctly can fall through the cracks. I mean, you gotta figure most of his players can spell the shortened "UK" aspect of the school and state they represent. That's only 2 letters. But, getting them to understand how to properly spell the state they represent in its entirety right is evidently asking too much of them. Way too much. The kids who are balling for the Wildcats this year probably honestly believe they play for something called Kentcuky. If they didn't, why did they sit there and pose for the team photo as if nothing was awry? It makes you wonder... And yes, I'm still bitter over the NCAA Title game in 2008 - brutal. Brutal. Brutal. Coach Cal, he's great at cheating and having someone take the SAT for Derrick Rose, I give him that. But, he can't teach his guys to shoot damn free throws to ice a big game. I've never felt so sick in my life...

I wonder if Ashley Judd knows how to spell Kentucky, or is it Kentcuky (even I'm starting to get confused)? It's okay if she can't though. Her sister is as nasty as sin, but Ashley - there you go. Heat - she looked hot in Heat (which makes sense when you think about it, what with the movie being called Heat and all...).

Of course, across the Bluegrass state a bit is Coach Pitino. And I don't have any real issue with Pitino (other than that white suit he wears from time to time). But, I thoroughly enjoyed when he went to the Celtics. That was awesome. Pitino fell flat on his face (as did Calipari with the Nets - I guess Calipari can only win when he can do things like hook Marcus Camby up with bling...). The funny thing is that I like the Bluegrass. When you can get around civilization in the state, it's pretty cool. Believe it or not, Lexington is actually lots of fun. If I could have ever run into Ashley Judd there, well..., come to think of it, that would have had incident written all over it. Probably just as well I didn't.

Speaking of UK hoops, you can't rally think about it without recalling that classless piece of shit, Christian Laettner, stomping on that brother's chest in the Regional Final in Philly. I'll just say this about the whole incident: if it had occurred the other way around, if the brother playing for UK had stomped on Laettner's chest in that kind of premeditated and vicious manner, he would have been tossed from the game in a heartbeat. But that was a long time ago. And Laettner was a joke in the NBA. And Duke hasn't won a meaningful game since 2001. And UK got them back in 98 in another Regional Final. So, that's something I guess.

Speaking of Duke, and their teams of the early 90's, it reminds me of my favorite Dukie ever. And that of course, is my man Billy McCaffrey. He's the only guy with enough common sense and a mind of his own to have not bought into Coach Kry's crap. He got out after the 91 title game (if I recall, he rained 3's on Roy Williams' Jayhawks that night). Very smart move. McCaffrey transferred to Vandy. And, ironically in light of the thrust of this post, he went on to share SEC Player of the Year honors in 1993 with, you guessed it, the Monster Mash from UK. Weird, huh???

Speaking of Vandy, the folks in their admissions office had the great wisdom to wait-list me when I applied there. You can't blame them...

That seems like enough for today. If any readers here in Greensboro want to get together for a beer, just let me know. I know I'm gonna get with Brandon here tomorrow sometime. The kid owes me a few bucks...

Fuckin with me cause I'm a teenager

With a little bit of gold and a pager

Retard Is Not A Pejorative Term

Note: I realize that trying to figure out how the picture above is related to this post is way trickier than normal. Put your thinking caps on and you can do it...

I saw where the Tea Party people had some big convention over the weekend in the Music City. Some of you might recall that last spring, when the Tea Party people had their demonstrations on Tax Day, I mocked them quite a bit. But, I also noted that politicians should take these people seriously. They are really unhappy with everything going on with government, especially the federal government. Now, I didn't watch any of the convention myself (I think they aired it on CSPAN), but from what I could gather, the folks seemed as loony as ever (dressed up in colonial era garb and wigs, reminiscent of that gay orgy scene in JFK...). But do not underestimate the power these Tea Party people are gonna wield moving forward. It will be considerable. I don't think Barry and his minions have any kind of grasp on this movement and what it means. What it means is that the Democrat Party could very well be swept right out of power in the Congress come November. Just watch...

I also saw where Barry's spokesman (one of the Gibb brothers I think) was mocking that woman who used to be Alaska's governor and has written a best-selling book, for keeping crib notes on her hand to remind her what key points to touch on during some speech. And you gotta find that criticism a bit curious - to say the least. Because Barry was using a teleprompter recently at a speech to an elementary school class. How old Barry can't feel comfortable speaking extemporaneously to little kids is beyond me. But to rip this ex-governor of Alaska for having some notes scrawled in her palm is certainly hypocritical. I don't know for certain if this spokesman for Barry was actually in the Bee Gees or not. It would make sense though, because he certainly knows a lot about Jive Talkin'. I do wonder How Deep Is His Love. And if he gets Night Fever. Or if Mrs Obama Is More Than A Woman To Him???

As far as the woman who used to be Alaska's governor and has written a best selling book, I can't figure out the fascination with her - from either folks who love her or folks who hate her. I don't get it. She seems harmless enough to me. I'm not sure what she ever did to engender such fanatical feelings, positive or negative. It's baffling. I did see where this ex-Alaskan governor got very upset at one of Barry's Chicago henchmen for using the term "retard." She almost got him fired. I believe he was forced to apologize. Regular readers of this blog know that I use the word retard pretty often. Only I don't attach any necessarily negative connotation when using the word retard. I only use the word retard to describe retards. It's that simple. If someone is a retard, just call them a retard. What else should we call them? Mentally challenged??? That's way worse than retard. Developmentally disabled??? Also way worse than retard. If I were a retard (and some folks would argue I am...), then just call me what I am - a retard. Why the condescending euphemisms??? Who benefits??? Again, it's baffling.

I heard from my friend Jen recently and for what it's worth, she, like others, completely agrees with my assessment of State Workers. It's intersting to note that, as far as everyone who has read my posts on that subject, none of them disputes anything I wrote.

I actually spent the better part of an hour last night watching Charlie Rose on PBS. His guest was David Brooks of the NYT. Why was I watching, you might ask? Well, I chalk it up to feeling like garbage and generally being out of it (I do feel a little better today). Anyway, there was an interesting part of the conversation that Rose and Brooks had where Brooks admitted that there is a huge disconnect between folks who live on the coasts of this country and just about everyone in between (something I've noted on this blog several times). Brooks talked at some length about the reality of this disconnect. The problem is that the elites on the coasts have no conception of the day to day lives of most folks and don't seem to have any interest in trying to figure out where these people are coming from. This fact is what has led to all the Tea Party anger and so forth. If these elite types could just put aside their disdain for normal people for a few hours and come and sit in an average watering hole or workplace break room someplace in the middle of the country, it would serve them well. What they would learn is that regular people aren't quite as stupid as they assume. But this won't ever happen. These over-educated liberal types never learn. Never.

I also managed to look in on Oprah yesterday for awhile. She was interviewing nuns from Ann Arbor. And when I found out that a bunch of women from Ann Arbor had become nuns, my immediate thought was, who can blame them? If your choices are dating guys from U of M or leading a life of celibacy and poverty, what would any reasonable woman pick? Celibacy and poverty, obviously. It's not even close.

I got an interesting comment concerning Matt Jones possibly getting into the NFL HOF. And if you only consider cocaine busts as criteria for induction, then Jones is right there - no doubt about it.

Dave drop a load on em'

The Playmaker vs Cris Carter

Real quick here today - super quick. I've got some virus and feel like death - just terrible. I wouldn't wish this feeling on the Lurch-like Tom or even Fran for that matter. But there has been a bit of controversy in the comment section of yesterday's post over Cris Carter not being in the Hall vs Michael Irvin already being in. 1st of all, Carter will get in - it's just ridiculous to make him wait. As far as Irvin, I don't think I've ever noted on this blog that he was the most money receiver on 3rd down I have ever seen in my life - and now I have noted it. I don't think it serves any purpose to debate who is more worthy HOF-wise between Carter and Irvin - they were both awesome. The reason Irvin did not have to wait as long as Carter is simple - he has 3 rings. That's it. As far as the relative differences between attending TOSU and Thug U in the 80's - well, both Carter and Irvin managed to find whatever they wanted as far as drugs, women, whatever. I think it is safe to concede however, that Earle Bruce may have been a bit more old school than Jimmy Johnson or Dennis Erickson when it came to allowing players to go a bit wild in their free time - to say the least. The main difference on this whole collegiate career point, and both players transgressions in general, is that Carter cleaned his act up way before Irvin. To debate who is more worthy between the 2 of them on the football field is utterly pointless. It's like the debate between the actress from Jerusalem and Keira Fucking Knightley. Move forward...

Who Dat Comes Through Like Champions

Well, big day yesterday. And if you read this blog last Friday, you knew what was coming. All Saints when it counted. I give all the credit to Britney Spears.

One final note on the gambling aspect of the game. Vegas and the offshore books needed the Saints to cover. What happened is that the public pounded the Colts by about a 2 to 1 or so margin. The bigger bets yesterday were generally coming on NOLA however. Let me explain real quick. If I put down a sizable wager on the Saints (and I did), even though many more bets were coming in on Indy, it takes 5 to 10 casual bets to match 1 big bet. There was definitely more money on the Colts overall, but I'm guessing most of the higher bets were on the Saints. The book still made their money. So, they're happy to pay Saints backers. As I've noted before, you're gonna have a hard time going broke betting against the public. As far as the total, I also predicted the Under, and it hit fairly easily. I figured both defenses would try and keep everything in front of them and not give up big plays. That's exactly what happened. It didn't hurt that Indy failed to pick up a 1st down the entire 2nd quarter either.

In my mind the MVP had to be Garrett Hartley. He was money. Brees played well and very smart, as he didn't force anything downfield. And Sean Payton has brass balls. That onside kick, I can't think of any other coach who'd try it in that situation (maybe Barry Switzer). Kudos to Payton.

As far as the other Peyton. He made a few great throws (the 3rd down pass to Clark comes to mind in the 3rd quarter). But, he was out of his comfort zone there in the 4th quarter. And when he threw that pick, for a moment I thought Brett Favre had come in the game for Indy. As far as not shaking hands at the end, I'd give Peyton a pass there. He had to be in shock and utterly devastated (or, as Geilfuss would say, devasted).

As far as The Who. Again, I was prescient there. They played a silly medley of hits. I thought they sounded pretty good though. Daltrey's voice seemed as strong as ever. And Townshend did windmill a number of times. I was a little disappointed he didn't smash his guitar at the end though. I would have enjoyed that. I'm sure Jalen Rose hated the whole thing. So, that's something at least.

The commercials - I paid no attention to them.

I watched the game at home. I was tempted to go over to Brandon's folks for a big party and that would have been fun. But, other than New Year's Eve, Super Bowl Sunday is the worst night to be out driving. Too many drunk amateurs. And last night they were angry drunk amateurs, as they were pissed about losing money on Indy and the Over. Wise to stay in under the circumstances.

It was interesting as always hearing from the football experts leading up to the game. As all of you know, avoiding sports media is hard to totally do. Even if you make a concerted effort to, as I do. Now, I missed ESPN's picks and CBS's picks in their pregame silliness. But, I did see where The Swami was on Indy. And Bill Simmons was on Indy. And almost all the other media morons I couldn't completely escape last week were on Indy as well. I'm guessing Ditka took NOLA though. He was on fire with his MNF picks this season (although granted, they don't pick against the number on that show...).

Lastly on the big game - I was extremely happy for all of Who Dat. I did cry a little, as I suspected would happen when the Saints won outright. I only wished that Andy, Beck, and I would have been on Bourbon St after the game. Because that would have been a time. I promise you that. Beck on Bourbon St has incident written all over it. And Andy trying to control both Beck and me in such a situation would be something.

Pro Football Hall of Fame announcements came out Saturday. And I have no problem with the guys they put in this year. But, just like last year, I have a huge problem with Cris Carter not getting in. He has the best hands that I've ever seen in the NFL. I don't get why the NFL is making him wait. They should be ashamed.

We've only got to wait about a month until college hoops conference tourneys start. And that should be very profitable as always.

Random 1996 Journal Entries

I was looking through a box of old stuff earlier and came across a journal I kept back in 1996. I reread it. And got exceedingly depressed. Just to give folks a bit of a taste of what things were like for me as a 25 year old in 1996, I am gonna reprint, word for word, a few random entries from that journal. For readers of this blog who know me, no context is needed. For all the folks who've found their way to this blog and never met me, I don't think much context is needed for you folks either. Why am I doing this, you may ask? Because it's my blog and I can.

7 April 1996 -

It's been almost 3 months since my last entry. Why you may wonder? Don't ask. It's too stupid to go into. However, there was a suspension from work, a total mental breakdown, trip to Las Vegas, lots of drinking, being arrested for disorderly conduct, charges dropped on some nonsensical deal, more alcohol drank, and eventual reinstatement to work. So things are back to normal in my pathetic life. Does anyone care?

I did go on an actual date with Heidi in January and she told me she was 37. Thirty-Seven! This news depressed me beyond words and even though I kind of liked her, I never called her again. Also, I went through some kind of ordeal as mentioned earlier.

I have picked up two women at En Unison. One was 35 and we fooled around in her car, but things were doomed because of her low IQ and the fact that she has a 20 year old kid, and a baby. The other woman is 28 and I slept with her 2 Fridays in a row. The first time was ok. She was fairly adventurous and really wanted to be fucked from behind, so I did, but was almost laughing at her and shaking my head in mockery, at me and her, while she was moaning, panting, etc. in some extended orgasm. The next morning we fucked again before she left , which was different for me because I was sober, hungover but sober. The next week was stupid and I haven't been back to En Unison to pick her up the last two Fridays. She seems ok as a human being but is not even remotely my type. She wants a casual fuck, but I don't want to be it. She also has a 2&1/2 year old from a marriage or something. I hope to never see her again. I haven't been on an actual date since I went out with Heidi in January. I'm not meeting good prospects right now.

My parents are bitterly disappointed in me right now and who can blame them? When they bailed my ass out of jail, it was a humiliating experience all the way around. The main thing about jail, I was there for about 21 hours, is the smell. It's foul and putrid. A mixture of feces, urine, body odor, and a general stench. I did not eat the food. I did not move my bowels. I did not shower. It was very cold and I shivered most of the time. It was difficult to sleep. The other guys seemed ok, certainly better people than you'd think. They left me alone, except they made sure I got a tray of food and a spoon. So in a way they looked out for me, these were the black guys. All the white guys tried to sleep and stayed to themselves. There were around 10 guys in my area. Each had a private cell with a bunk, a toilet, and a sink. There was a commons area with 2 televisions. I stayed in number 11, toward the end. As I said, my parents were not thrilled to have to bail my ass out. It has all worked out pretty well now. I paid a $78 fine on a disorderly conduct charge (crazy story). The charge I was brought in on was dismissed. Enough about that. It's too depressing.

Work has been stupid as it was before. Everyone seems glad I'm back, I've been back 2 weeks. I worked 49.5 and 46 hours so I've been busy.

12 May 1996 -

It's been a crazy weekend, to say the least. I woke up yesterday and went to BW3 to watch the Knicks/Bulls game with Eric , a bartender there and a friend of mine. The Knicks won in overtime. It was exciting. We then went to Eric's and got stoned out of our minds from Eric's water bong. I was completely fucked up. We went back to the bar and I sat there feeling really bad and drank one sip of my beer. I got the impulse to leave and actually drove, which was totally stupid. I decided to get food, so I went to Donato's and sat stoned while they made my pizza. I brought it home and ate it in bed, then slept for awhile. I woke up and went out drinking. Starting with 4 pints at Houlihan's. For something new I went to Rosie O'Grady's, an incredible white trash/brother dance bar. It was one of the strangest places I've ever been. I was extremely out of place. It was somewhat entertaining. I came home and watched Porky's on TV. Then fell asleep about 5 or so. Today I watched some hoops, then went to dinner with my folks and sister and her 2 roomies. I didn't eat and was unsociable. I then went and had two beers at BW3, got bored, ate wings, and left. I went to Blockbuster and rented Pulp Fiction and and Angus. I just watched Angus, which was pretty good.

I did not meet any women this weekend. Sometimes I wonder if things will ever work out for me. I am reasonably sure that I am the problem. My neighbor has not responded to my letter on Wednesday. Who can blame her? I am a 25 year old aimless slacker who hates his job, has no career in mind at my current place of employment, is a drunk, smoker, insomniac, constipated, always feeling sick, depressed loser. I am unable to get any meaningful relationship going with anyone. I have friends, but not a girlfriend to talk to in any real way. I have no one I can trust or feel like trusting. I am living a very sad life. I wonder if this will change. I am trying, I just can't get it right. I have to keep hoping that something big will happen soon in a positive way. I'm falling into new ruts to go along with the old ruts. These are not positives. I need someone to save me.

2 June 1996 -

Something happened. Finally. I'll get to that in a bit. Thursday I got a day off from work and went down to BW3 , drank for free for four hours, then went to Maxwell's. A cheesy move, I admit. I picked up some Art Ed major from Newark named Sarah. I walked her to her dorm (in the stupid stadium, a long walk). She annoyed me. Not much happened. I left after a 1/2 hour or so. I made the mistake of giving her my phone number. She called Friday, but will hopefully not again. Friday night after work, I went to En Unison and was hit on by some 40ish year old woman named Sharon. It was pretty pathetic. She gave me her number, I don't think I'll call. Saturday, I went to BW3 Bethel and hung out for about 3 hours, then went to campus to see my friend Dave Elhatton. I realized I left my ID at Bethel and went back to get it around 10:30 or 11:00. Dave left to get stoned. Anyway, at Bethel I saw Carol Matthews again. Only this time Laura Simpson was with her, and she and I talked for 2 hours or something. I hadn't seen her in 2 years, and only once in like 5 years. Anyway, she looked great and I gave her a ride to her apartment. She lives with Carol and the great Tom Wade. She had to get up for work at 7 this morning, so I only stayed about 45 minutes. But we did start kissing pretty heavily for awhile, and I realized it was the first meaningful kiss I'd had in a long time. It was pretty amazing. Things would have progressed, but Laura had to get up early, which was ok in a way. There may have been some kind of connection. I will pursue this. I promised her I would not and cannot fuck this up. I met Laura in 1st grade or something and really liked her in 4th grade a lot. She was the best looking girl by far in 4th grade. In 5th grade we had different teachers, then we quit going to the same school. I didn't see her until 1990. She became friends with Cara at school and we hung out a lot that summer. There was a group of 6 or 7 of us that did a lot of underage drinking. I saw her a few times after that, but something was always wrong as far as getting involved. Last night was the first time we kissed. It was pretty cool. Normally I hate kissing because I don't really care about the girl I'm with. Last night was different. We work incompatible hours, which sucks. Something good finally happened. I can't screw it up. Wish me luck. Today I worked. Then rented Casino. It was not as great as I had hoped. Still, pretty damn good. I've been spending a lot of time today thinking about old Laura. I must call her tomorrow.

Who Fucking Dat

More snow here in the area this morning. One of the rotund local meteorologists was giving out accumulations around the western Piedmont when I heard him say this "Bud in Elkins is reporting that he's only got 3&1/2 inches." And, wow! I'm not sure why Bud decided to share this with viewers of WXII this morning, but I felt bad for the guy - only 3&1/2 inches. I bet Bud's a lonely man...

I saw Jalen Rose earlier on some awful program on ESPN2. He was really down on The Who playing halftime of the Super Bowl. I would have simply asked Jalen who Ed Martin would have preferred to see at halftime (I believe Martin died a number of years ago). That would have done the trick in shutting Jalen up pretty fast. Because U of M basketball players still don't like to talk about Ed Martin. Damn cheaters. As for me, many of you know my great affinity for Pete Townshend - he is one bad bad motherfucker. I'm not sure what Pete is gonna play Sunday. But I'm hoping he eschews the normal medley of hits that acts tend to play for the Super Bowl. Instead, I'd like to hear full length versions of Substitute, The Seeker, or Squeeze Box. But all of those are highly unlikely. The best we can hope for is Won't Get Fooled Again. And I hope Jalen Rose hates it.

When you start to really break down the game itself, I think it's important to consider both sides. Now last year I dismissed Pittsburgh out of hand. Other than my buddy Jeff and a few other reasonable folks here and there, Pittsburgh has almost nothing going for it. This year is a little different. You can make a case for Indy. They have 2 things going for them. One, is Peyton Manning (although Peyton is from NOLA, so really that should count against Indy). The other is much bigger, Kurt Vonnegut. Vonnegut was born in Indianapolis in 1922. Now, as all of you know, I've never read a book in my life. But, when listening in on literary conversations over the years, I developed a great fondness for Vonnegut. Billy Pilgrim & Montana Wildhack - those 2 alone are strong arguments in Indy's favor. And then when you throw in Kilgore Trout - well, it's almost not fair. And, Poo-tee-weet? That should seal everything in Indy's favor. But, as that failed old coach Lee Corso says - not so fast my friend.

Because, when you start talking NOLA, they've got more going for them than almost any city possibly could. One, voodoo. Voodoo freaks me out. Two, legalized prostitution. Storyville operated from 1891 until 1917 in NOLA (shut down because of the damn first world war). Three, Lil Wayne. I love his teeth. Four, Clarence Frogman Henry. He sounds like a frog. Five, Trent Reznor. Head Like A Hole. And six, the New Orleans Jazz and my man Pistol Pete Maravich. A true wizard. Now, all of the above is awesome, but not why Who Dat is the pick. Not even close.

The reason NOLA will cover the number (it will be at least 4&1/2) is simple. It's because of that damn hurricane that hit back in 2005. I remember seeing footage of the dogs left behind. And that depressed me beyond words. Many of the folks left the city in the aftermath of the storm and have never returned. And I'm not gonna get all political here today, but I've had a certain discussion with several residents of NOLA over the past couple years about folks not being able to come back and they do agree with me on this point - that for most of the folks who were displaced, it was the best thing for them. They lived for generations in squalor with an endless cycle of poverty and a horrible public education system. And that hurricane was a very strange blessing (or at the least, some kind of do-over) for folks seemingly forever trapped by the cruel accident of birth. And anyone who didn't feel for all the folks (pets included) from NOLA when that hurricane hit (even though, as I noted, it will end up helping a significant segment of the population in the long run by them being given a fresh start in a new city), you have no soul whatsoever. And as everyone knows, if there's one person who may not have a soul, it's me - and even I am pulling for the good folks of NOLA (wherever some of them may be living now). And I'm pulling hard. Hard. I promise you this, if Who Dat covers, I will be mildly pleased, obviously. But if Who Dat wins outright (and if they have the ball last, and are within 6 points, I like their chances), I will cry. No question in my mind about that.

Plus, I was in NOLA one time for some party called Mardi Gras (this was back in like 1990 or 1991). Well, I went into this bar called Pat O'Brien's and started to drink Hurricanes with some buddies of mine. And those will get you hammered. Shit faced hammered. The whole day was a bit of a blur to be honest. But I do slightly recall stumbling around after leaving the bar for a bit and getting flashed by dozens of girls. So that's something.

As far as the total on Sunday's game, I can't bet over at 56&1/2. No way. That's 8 touchdowns. It wouldn't surprise me to see the total go over 60, but I can't bet that.

Lastly, even though Britney Spears was not born in Louisiana, I know she grew up there. So,...

Black as your soul

Tim Tebow Walks Into An Abortion Clinic...

Our favorite home-schooled, overrated, sure to be a flop as a QB in the NFL, chronic masturbating (possibly...) Florida Gator is back in the news - on 2 fronts. 1st, I didn't get a chance to watch the Senior Bowl, but everything I've read about the game and the practices leading up to the game, indicates that Tebow struggled terribly. I'm still hoping some team will try and turn Tebow into an NFL QB, but it's looking less likely now. I imagine after the combine, his stock will plummet even further. I think the best comparison QB-wise for Tebow is Alex Smith (both flourished in Urban {I might be dying of a heart attack, but might not} Meyer's offense). Now, Tebow is bigger than Smith, and possibly tougher. But, Smith is far more accurate, has a bigger arm, and a much quicker release. And he's struggled terribly in the NFL. And since Tebow is not nearly as talented as Smith, I can't see a franchise (other than the Jags - I hope, I hope, I hope...) taking a chance on Tebow as a QB. But, again, I'm really hoping I'm wrong. The 2nd thing with Tebow right now is that he's doing some anti-abortion ad that will air during the Super Bowl. And he's catching heat from all sorts of groups about it. I'm gonna defend Tebow on this one. I'm sure he deeply believes whatever about abortion being murder, or a sin, or something. While I completely disagree with the guy and all the other anti-abortion folks, I think his viewpoint should be heard. And if Tebow and his Christian cronies want to pay a couple million dollars to get his opinion out there, then cool. The left never changes. Ever. Liberals talk a big game about free speech. But, as I've noted on this blog a number of times, when someone wants to say something they disagree with, free speech privileges go right out the window. Damn hypocrites. I haven't seen this anti-abortion ad. And since I'm one of the few people who will not be paying any attention to the commercials during the game Sunday night, I doubt I'll ever see it. Now, if Tebow were doing an ad on the dangers of chronic masturbation, that I'd watch. It could feature Tebow, a tub of lube, and some kid going blind - it would be awesome.

It looks like our sputtering fake leader, Barack Hussein Obama, has done it again. He urged folks not to take vacations in Vegas. And while blowing wads of dough at the tables (by the way, my advice is to never bet on any game of pure chance - stick to sporting events and poker) may not be the wisest decision a guy with a family and mortgage could make, it's hardly Barry's place to try and regulate morality. Last I checked, the economy in Vegas was in the tank. The casinos have been pretty empty the past year or so. Unemployment there is fairly high. And the man who seems hell bent on making as many folks as possible become down on their luck and penniless, decides to discourage potential vacationers from going to Vegas. Thus further killing tourism dollars there. Way to go there dude.

Some really weird stuff has been going on with the Super Bowl betting line. Some of the most bizarre weirdness I can remember. As I noted last week, the Mafia dudes pounded the Colts when the line opened at -3. It went to 6 at one point. Then, over the last few days, the mafia guys are at it again, only this time on the Saints. Offshore, the line is back down to -4 or -4&1/2. For the uninitiated, what the Mafia guys are trying to do is middle the book. If you have Colts -3 and Saints +6, you've got a decent chance to hit both bets. I wouldn't be surprised if the same guys make huge moneyline bets on the Colts before kick off. As for Joe Uninformed, the public is about 2/3 with the Colts right now. And I fully expect them to move even more to Indy as Sunday approaches. I noted last week that I have a pretty strong feeling on how this game will go and why. I will do my annual Super Bowl write up tomorrow. And I promise that Kurt Vonnegut will be mentioned prominently. Obviously...You don't want to miss it.

Plenty of college hoops here lately and there are a couple teams flying under the radar that I think folks should keep in mind when next month's hoops tournament starts. Wichita State being one of them. Baylor being another. And UAB being the 3rd. All 3 are tough as nails and won't back down to anybody. It'll be interesting to see who these teams draw (assuming they all don't somehow collapse the next 5 weeks...).

I was flipping around the old TV last night and came across the Fight Club. And Meat Loaf and those giant man boobs, it cracks me up every time.

Lastly today, there was poll released on some web site called the Daily Kos. The poll had to do with the feelings of Republicans about Barack Hussein Obama. And the results have been shocking to many people. I don't pretend to know anything about the Daily Kos. But my assumption is that it traffics in way out leftist silliness. Which is fine, whatever. Here are some of the results of this Daily Kos poll vis a vis the GOP:

1) 21% believe ACORN stole the election - hard to define "stole" in this context, but if anyone is under the illusion that ACORN didn't make a huge difference in getting out votes for Barry, they're delusional. And the fact that ACORN signed up some folks dozens of times to vote certainly could give a slightly informed person the perception that something funny was going on.

2) 31% believe Barry is a racist who hates white people. I'm a little surprised this number isn't higher. Now, I have no idea what's in Barry's mind or heart or whatever concerning white folks. But I do know what he said about white folks clinging to guns and religion. And I do know the stuff that African wizard looking preacher of his said about white people from his pulpit. So, again I can see how an impression can be formed that Barry hates white people.

3) 23% want their state to secede from the Union. This has been tried before and if memory serves, it didn't work out too well. But, I don't really blame folks for wanting to get out from under all the big government Barry and his minions are pushing. Seceding is way misguided, but understandable.

4) 67% think the only path to heaven is through Jesus Christ. I'm stunned this number isn't higher. The only problem with the question is presupposing that heaven exists at all. It's highly doubtful, to say the least.

5) 39% think Barry should be impeached. For what, I have no idea. What an odd question.

6) 63% believe Barry is a socialist. Umm, Duh??? That's it??? They need to read this blog more often.

7) 36% don't think Barry was born in the US. Pure silliness, but if you listen to some of the nutty dudes on TV and talk radio, I can see how you'd get that impression. As always, don't watch any of the cable "news" shows (this includes all of them on the MSNBC as well as the Roger Ailes Network) for any reason other than sleazy entertainment (much like Springer and Mathis). Because if you're basing your opinions on any of them, you're crazy...

One last thing, I got a comment recently that simply said: I thought you were illiterate. Don't be fooled. Let me state for the record again, that yes, I am completely illiterate.

I know the answer but I'm asking you the question