Some of you might recall a bit of a spat that occurred on this silly blog back in January of this year involving YES! Weekly and its editor or manager or whatever fake title is used at alternative weeklies, one Brice or Bradley or Bruce or Buddy or Brian Clarey (I'm confident it's one of these, but I'm not going back and actually checking). Anyway, Mr Clarey took offense at some stupid throwaway comment I'd made about YES! Weekly and wrote a way overblown attempted rebuke of little old harmless yours truly. I only bring this up because for the first time since then I did leaf through an issue of YES! Weekly. Last week I found the latest sizzling issue sitting on the bar at the Wing Joint on Battleground, and that was when the historic event went down. I will give Mr Clarey credit for one thing - I didn't see the typos and grammatical errors that I recall so fondly from the paper years ago. You'll find errors of that kind in this pointless blog from time to time, as it is terribly difficult to self-edit. And since this retarded blog is a one person operation (and a poorly educated and dimwitted one person at that), I self-edit (or attempt to anyway). Besides the cleaned up grammar and such, what I was mainly struck by is how little of what is in the paper interested me. There was a long piece on a congressman named Brad Miller. I didn't read it. Miller is a terrible human being and a disgrace to this state. He fits right in with the Democrat caucus in Washington, no doubt. YES! Weekly also had several columnists. Back several years ago, YES! Weekly ran Ann Coulter. She wasn't in there. Instead, Mr Clarey runs a column by, and I'm not making this up, Chuck Norris, or someone ghost writing for Mr Norris, either way. I read 2 paragraphs. It was laughably poor. I didn't really notice a local columnist per se. YES! Weekly used to run socialist musings by some old hippie back in the day. I don't remember the dude's name, but he hated W. Hated him. That I remember. After the opinion section of YES! Weekly there wasn't much left to peruse. Movie reviews from some local hack and live music dates - things I have zero interest in. As I got to the back pages of the YES! Weekly there was some sex advice and a NASCAR article of all things - weird combination. I will admit that there were 2 things I saw in the YES! Weekly that really caught my attention. Both were ads of a sort. One was an ad for something called The Playroom. It promised "light" dominance and "role" playing in a safe setting. The ad was quick to mention that it wasn't a sex service, but it sure seemed aimed at folks with some freaky proclivities in the old boudoir. If my phone were working I'd call the number for The Playroom and let everyone know the specific services and prices for the various domination and dress-up sessions. Alas, ... The other thing that caught my eye was another advertisement. This one hyping a book penned by Mr Clarey himself. For $24.95!!! - wow!!! Who will buy this??? For $24.95??? No one, or virtually no one. I didn't see what publishing house was rolling the book out. But for some reason I don't think it was Knopf. Anyway, I wish Mr Clarey luck with peddling this outrageously overpriced book. The title of it, if any readers of this blog are interested in logging onto Amazon and checking it out, is The Doofus Hipster and Other Men I've Picked Up At The Bar. Or something like that. Something close to that. Oh, and how long, you may be wondering, did it take for me to digest the entire YES! Weekly while sitting at the bar last week? Answer: 3-4 minutes. After that Goose walked up and said hello. That was it for me and the glorious YES! Weekly. Maybe I'll check in on it again sometime in 2 or 3 years. Unless I'm dead, then I won't be able to read it very well. There's always that possibility.
Speaking of Greensboro weeklies, I've mentioned before on this blog that I'm a somewhat faithful reader of the Rhino Times - mostly for the NY Times crossword, that always helps pass some time. My favorite part of the Rhino, besides the crossword, is something called Beep. It's awesome. What they do is print phone rants by supposed readers of the Rhino on every topic under the sun. I almost always find at least one that makes me laugh. I don't know how real the rants are though. I will confess to calling in totally fake rants back in the day, utter nonsense and incoherent ramblings. And they often got printed. I don't think I can be the only person in the Gate City to "accomplish" this over the years. In the recent issue there were 2 Beeps commenting on the fact the the UNC Tar Heels were ranked in some pointless basketball poll and they shouldn't be. The fact that one person, let alone two, would take the time to call and complain about this is astonishing. Awesomely astonishing that is. I have also mentioned 2 of the columnists in the Rhino before on this poor attempt at a blog. One, Scotty Roast, I did a whole piece on back in the spring when he was wanting peace between Duke and Carolina fans. Most of his columns bore me pretty fast and I skip right over them. The general impression I get from Roast is that he's a very lonely man who longs for something he can't quite put his finger on (I could be way off on this, but I don't think so). The one really astounding thing that Roast does, and has done for years and years, is run a weekly piece called Scotty's Night Out. He features photos of women in them. Women he finds attractive. And some of the time, the women in these photos are kind of attractive. But a vast majority of the time, the women are nasty, garish looking skanks. It's really off-putting. To each his own and all that, but...yuck! I'll pass on hanging with Roast for a night. For one thing, I'd have him so drunk that God knows who he'd hit on. Moving on...I have also mentioned the other Rhino columnist on this blog before, one Scotty Card - the admitted cultist. Putting aside the man's bizarre Mormonism for a moment, he's also a best-selling author of self-help books or something (A Young Mormon's Guide To Family Circle Jerks, for example). Being a superstar writer, Scotty Card must feel like a bit of an expert on many things. I certainly don't begrudge the man his success. It's not his fault millions of morons want to read his groundbreaking Mormon advice books (How To Get Ejaculate Off The Sacred Undergarments, another example). Anyway, Mr Card writes a column where he kind of covers everything that pops into his head (not unlike this solipsistic piece of shit blog). Often I just kind of scan his musings for something that strikes me as interesting. I skip his thoughts on movies, he thinks Marty Scorsese is a pretentious piece of garbage for instance. But when Mr Card delves into the sordid underbelly that is Mormon living in the Gate City, I'm all eyes, or ears, or something. I particularly enjoy when Mr Card regales readers with tales of family love gone bad and scarring some poor kid for life. Those are very sharp. In a recent issue Scotty Card noted he's working on yet another tome for the sexually adventurous and confused Mormon youth. I'd encourage everyone, while they are at Amazon looking for Mr Clarey's book, to pre-order this sure to be best-seller by Mr Card. I'm not sure of the title, but I think it's something like: Getting Over The Guilt Of Nailing Harry Reid In A Bus Terminal Men's Room. Something along those lines.
Well, it looks like old Barry has turned the corner and might be on the path to sanity. MIGHT BE. Barry announced that he's caving into public will and doing the sensible thing for once in keeping the tax levels where they've been since 2001. Well done Barry. There might be hope for you yet. Now if he'd just undo all his socialist health care deal, then we'd really be headed in the right direction. We'll see. But I did want to give Barry some props after 2 years of ripping him ceaselessly.
Someone asked me about Christmas the other day at Scams Brassfield during Sunday Ticket. Something about "Will you be in town for the Holidays?" And the answer is yes. I don't have anywhere in particular to go. Except on Christmas Eve, we've got the Hawaii Bowl. And on Christmas night, we've got Dallas/Arizona. And then the next day, Sunday Ticket Week 16. So, I explained to this person at Scams Brassfield that I've actually got a lot going on this Christmas. Not like most folks do, I'll admit that. No family or any of that heartwarming garbage. But in my own narcissistic and delusion riddled world, I'll be plenty busy - at the sports bars. There's football. That's enough for me.
I ran into KC last night at Wing Joint and she pleaded with me to never mention her again on this blog. And I caved. So I won't mention KC ever again on this pitiful excuse for a blog. What I'm gonna do is this - I'll start mentioning someone similar to KC named Lacy. That seems like the best way to proceed.
Speaking of last night at Wing Joint, Dave and I got into our typical discussion of current horrible movies he's dying to see. I told him the main film I'm interested in seeing now is Black Swan. It not only is directed by Darren Aronofsky (Pi, The Wrestler) and features that girl from Jerusalem, it also has Winona Ryder. With all that going for it, Black Swan has the chance to be the best movie ever made.
I am out.
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