Those Damn Blue Arrows

I was at a Quickie Mart earlier (the Circle K on W Market & Dilly Madison, if anyone cares) buying smokes. And you know those debit card machines at the counters??? They drive me crazy. The reason they drive me crazy is because you've got to wait like 4 or 5 seconds for the blue arrows to flash before you can swipe your card. And that's 4 or 5 seconds you can never get back. I was complaining to no one in particular about this tedious waiting for the blue arrow situation, when the vaguely Hispanic looking skanky clerk behind the counter threw this nugget out: "Some day they're gonna put a chip in your wrist and you can just wave it at the little machine and that will be that. No more debit cards." The Hispanic looking gal said this with some alarm and disdain in her voice. I took her manner and tone to mean she was against having a chip in your wrist to make cigarette transactions go faster. I told her I was all for it. I said, "I'll give up all freedoms to make the wait in Quickie Mart lines shorter. You know, what with the damn blue arrow situation, stupid women fumbling through their purses for minutes on end, dudes searching each pocket for that last dime so they can buy a Black & Mild, and the rank incompetence of most clerks, I'd give up anything." Well, this Mexican-esque, small chested clerk went on a rant at that point about big brother or little sister or perverty uncle or someone or other. Blah, blah, blah...I ran out of that Quickie Mart and lit up one of the smokes I'd just spent way too much time purchasing. Damn blue arrows...

In fact, I'm going out to smoke another one now. So, be patient...

Okay, that wasn't so bad, was it??? While I'm thinking of it, I finally got around to seeing The Blue Valentine the other night via that NetFlix deal. Anyway, it's really depressing. I mean, you basically wanna kill yourself after it's over. But it's good. The way the filmmaker explains the relationship between Ryan Gosling and that chick who had the Joker's baby, the whole thing makes perfect sense. By the way, the chick who had the Joker's baby is very appealing. She's pretty much riveting. And I'm beginning to think, the more I see him, that Ryan Gosling is the 2nd best actor alive today - right behind my man Robert Downey Jr. And if you haven't seen Lars And The Real Girl yet, I urge you to. It's awesome.

I also saw The Fighter recently. And it's good and all. The most impressive thing about it was those ladies who play all the sisters of Marky Mark and Batman. One in particular stood out. She was this horse-faced big gal who, while having very few lines in the film, made me die laughing every time she said anything. I don't know who this actress is, but she nailed playing Massachusetts white trash woman. Nailed it.

I have another browser open to Pandora at the moment. They are playing the old U2. Anyway, Where The Streets Have No Name is playing. While many people think the song is about heaven, I've always thought it was about Bono's dead mother. It makes perfect sense if you think about in that light. Perfect sense. It makes me cry just about every time I hear it. And I've heard it thousands of times the last 24 years. So, ...

I'm sitting in some furnished apartment at the moment off Cottage Place (the WiFi hear is excellent and I have a key...). Anyway, these 2 fat women keep walking by the window in ill-fitting bathing suits. And people wonder why I hate going to pools...

I got a note from Brandon yesterday via the Faceshit. He and his dad are throwing some pig pickin type party today in the parking lot at Sloppy Seconds. And as some of you know, I've always wanted to go to a pig pickin. The problem has been that I don't like the idea of being out in nature for hours without having some kind of air conditioned building nearby to hang out in. And since this pig pickin is in the parking lot of a bar, that problem is solved. I can just wander into the bar any time I please and feel the cool, regulated air flow over me. Brandon said there was gonna be music and games. I always figured the only music appropriate for a pig pickin was David Allan Coe. Obviously. As far as games, I'm sure the old and much maligned and properly despised Cornhole will be played. Not by me, of course. As I'm typing this, it's about 11:30. I'm guessing Brandon and his dad are well into their 6th beers already. They started on the damn pig at 6. I'll give everyone a full report of this pig pickin event in the next post.

Even Better Than The Real Thing

Geilfuss Brings Something To My Attention

Geilfuss left a comment on this blog after the most recent stupid post. In that comment, Geilfuss informed me that the cliche king of ESPN, one Bill Simmons, wrote an article for the ESPN website comparing Lebron James to Scottie Pippen. Now, I have no clue if Simmons has ever stumbled onto this pointless blog. But, if he has, he would know, like all you sometimes readers of this blog know, that I made the comparison between James and Pippen last July. I have not read the Simmons article in question. Nor will I. However, I'm sure that in typical Simmons style, he used several thousand words to make a point that could have been made in several hundred. Anyway, what it shows is that, once again, readers of this blog are way far ahead of the curve on lots of issues and topics, sports or otherwise. I may need to reassess my comparison between James and Pippen. Because once someone like Simmons comes around to your viewpoint, you gotta think maybe you were wrong all along. In light of this development, I may have to start comparing James to another player. Maybe Jerry Sichting??? What with Simmons being a Boston homer and all, he'd probably not appreciate me linking the 2.

Speaking of Bill Simmons, on SportsCenter Tuesday night, ESPN showed some of those silly tweets that seem to be all over the place these days. The tweets in question were in regards to Lebron James's sorry performance in game 4 of the NBA Finals. I didn't pay attention to the context of the tweet itself that Simmons had shot out into Twitterland. But I did notice his screen name or handle or whatever the hell Twitterites call it. Simmons choice was SportsGuy33. At first I thought the name or whatever might have something to do with Simmons' age. But I know he's considerably older than 33. Then it hit me. Simmons, as I noted above, is a big Boston homer. The 33 is probably an homage or something like an homage to the Hick from French Lick - Larry Bird. And that makes sense. Because if there's one ugly, poorly spoken, & might I add white athlete that folks like Simmons worship, it's Bird. God forbid Boston homers use a black player's jersey number for their Twitter musings. Personally, if someone put a gun to my head and made me choose a Boston pro athlete's jersey number for a Twitter deal, I'd go with 23 for my man Dennis Oil Can Boyd. Or 45 for my man Pedro Martinez. What's ironic about those 2 numbers is that both were worn by one of Boston's nemeses, Mike Jordan.

Speaking of Twitterland, I don't exactly get what's so fascinating about it. I have no interest in what my fav celebs are doing at any given moment. It seems lots of the tweets or whatever concern the most inane details about this or that. Do I really need to know the up to the minute thoughts of the likes of the Ryan Stileses or Jeri Ryans or Jerry Rices or Rice-A-Ronis or Ronnies from the Jersey Shore of the world??? No, I don't.

Speaking of following someone on Twitter, the only person I'd follow personally would be Geilfuss. His minute to minute thoughts on whatever is going on around him are fascinating. Usually incoherent, yes. Usually poorly thought out, yes. Sometimes mystifying, yes. Occasionally deranged, yes. Often alcohol fueled, obviously. But fascinating nonetheless. If we could just have gotten Geilfuss elected Governor of Maryland last fall, the whole world would be a better place. The whole fucking world.

I might also follow one of the Jacobys on there. Probably the lonely Russian Jacoby. I never understand a word the kid is saying or what his thoughts are behind whatever he's poorly communicating, but the lonely Russian Jacoby laughs easily. He's certainly jovial. You gotta give the kid that. Most of his tweets would be something like: Ha ha hahahaha. Something in that vein.

So, I was perusing the latest scorching issue of the Rhino the other day at the place I occasionally show up to work. So, Greensboro's favorite sketchy writer, one Scotty Roast, was going on about folks who start sentences with the word "so" when it was so unnecessary. So, I read over Roast's rant on this "so" issue. So, I can slightly see where he's coming from. So, I somewhat disagree with Roast anyway. So, I'm writing this paragraph using too many so's. So there.

Say It Isn't So is a terrible song by that Daryl Hall & his pornstached little sidekick, one John Oates. No doubt the duo is on pretty regularly at Scotty Roast's mansion in Irving Park or wherever.

I was informed via the old Faceshit that a sometimes reader of this blog got hitched a few weeks back. And while I don't condone, nor even remotely understand marriage, congratulations, Frances!

Okay, I've now written 8 stupid little paragraphs today. That's about enough.

Commercial Reign

A Wiener Grows In Brooklyn

I was aimlessly flipping around the old TV channels last night and came across something called Severe Makeover: Weight Loss Edition. It was about some kid from the ATL who was 459 pounds & over the course of a year lost 216 of those pesky pounds. It was all uplifting and heartwarming. Blah, blah, blah...Anyway, as a viewer who used to watch the original Severe Makeover back 8 or 9 years ago or whenever it was, I was hoping that when they did the "reveal" of this kid who lost the 2 bills, he would look like a poor woman's version of Meg Ryan. Because back on the old Severe Makeover, almost all the ladies they made over on the program looked like a deranged version of Meg Ryan at the "reveal" for some reason.

I've been seeing something on the news channels about some tool named Weiner who likes to send pictures of his wiener to girls half his age he's never met. Evidently this Weiner wiener guy is some congressman from Brooklyn or someplace around the old NYC. I've written about sexting before on this stupid blog (back when Greg Oden sexted). But I didn't think a Jewish congressman would send lewd photos of his junk to unsuspecting & slightly chubby Jewish coeds. I mean, as always, I don't pass judgment on how folks get freaky. Whatever floats your boat. Or your wiener for that matter. Rock on with your bad self. All this does beg the question though, if your last name happens to be Weiner, doesn't it stand to reason that at some point you're gonna be fixated on sending photos of your wiener to lonely Jewish coeds??? And the obvious outcome of sending photos of your wiener if your name is Weiner, is that folks will say things like Weiner's wiener is wistfully wanton. Things like that. Silly and obvious jokes. Poor fella. I hope he finds the right Jewish coed who will accept this wiener that Weiner so desperately wants to share with the right low self-esteem inflicted, slightly pathetic looking gal of Hebrew descent.

Speaking of sexting and sending naked photos of yourself to every possible drunk hook-up partner, many readers of this blog have received such photos on their little Blackberry or I-Phone or whatever the hell they're called. How do I know this, you may be wondering??? Well, I know it because a number of guys who I hang out with from time to time receive naked photos of potential hook-up partners on a regular basis. And they wanna share with a drinking buddy when they receive such a photo. Not that I'm too eager to take a look. Because on the occasions I have taken a look at these naked photos that drunk, lonely ladies send out around midnight on an evening when they want a fast fuck, I've seen some strange things. Lots of piercings for one thing - both nipple and labia. Lots of 2 or 3 fingers shoved in vaginas as well. Even a few with a finger in the old poop chute (a not so subtle invitation to partake in the dark world of the anal arts). Now, I'm not gonna name any names of who exactly seems to get these photos sent to them on a chronic basis, but you can find a couple of them imbibing at Wing Joint from time to time. I've seen too much in that bar. Hell, I've seen too much in too many bars.

Summer is basically here and that means some hot days in NC. I was happy to see that our weather friends on WFMY News 2 here in the Gate City suggested to go ahead and run the air conditioner if the temperature gets over 95. I hadn't considered doing that until they suggested it. Thanks, WFMY. I'm not sure if Fox 8 & WXII have passed along this little known tip to their viewers, but in case they haven't, I thought I'd pass it along myself.

Speaking of the heat, I hate the heat (not the Miami Heat, I always enjoyed watching Glen Rice shoot the rock). In fact, I hate almost all weather. Unless it's like 60-75 degrees out with a decent breeze, I have little interest in being outdoors. I prefer manufactured indoor weather. Like 62-64 degrees. You know these folks who are outdoor enthusiasts??? I can't relate to them. For the life of me, I don't know why someone would prefer to be outside when they could be sitting inside a cool bar, watching sports, and hoisting back a few. And these folks who go camping or hiking or kayaking or whatever, I don't get it. I really don't.

There's been a number of bear sightings around Greensboro the past month or so. Someone at the place I occasionally show up to work asked me if I'd run across any bears myself. And the answer is, yes I have come across a bear. Yogi Bear to be exact. I sat next to him at a dive bar on W Market a few weeks ago. He was drinking Red Stripe and Royal Flush shots. I asked him why he wasn't at Jellystone harassing those pesky campers like always. He said he needed a break from that annoying little Boo Boo dude. I can sympathize with Yogi there. That Boo Boo, much like Scrappy Doo, is one tiresome sidekick. Now, I haven't come across Scooby Doo in any bars. At least not to date. I'm guessing he and Shaggy like to frequent higher end joints. And come to think of it, smoke a lot of joints. If I ever do run across Scooby somewhere, I'll ask him to give me old Daphne's number. Obviously...

Well, yet another completely pointless post comes to a conclusion.

Shaquille O'Neal Will Munch On Hannah Storm

There was a little news out of TOSU this past week. The disgraced and crooked Jim Tressel finally was forced to quit. Something I called for back in March when it came out that Tressel had breached his contract, sat on information that would have made several of his best players ineligible, and generally ruined the lives of hundreds of thousands of nuts who live vicariously through the football team's exploits each fall. Good riddance to you, Mr Tressel.

Speaking of TOSU and the crooked Jim Tressel, I have found the media coverage of his resignation hysterically funny. Many sports journalists have been quick to talk about how his leaving will be a tremendous detriment for the football team moving forward. What's funny about that is that many of these same journalists have ripped Tressel the past 4 &1/2 years for his inability to beat either Florida or LSU in the big silly national championship games. I've read countless opinion pieces, and heard from dozens of ESPN hype-machine talking heads, that Tressel was an epic failure because of those 2 losses. And I wonder, how can they have it both ways??? How can Tressel be both an epic failure for those losses and yet be some irreplaceable messiah at the same time??? As usual, the hypocrisy is laughable.

I know there are a few TOSU fans who check in on this blog from time to time. And for them, I would just say, don't panic. Don't get too wound up about the future of TOSU football. They will keep playing. No matter how severe the NCAA sanctions that will come down sometime later this year or next, TOSU will be just fine. They will hire another coach in December or January. That coach will know what the hell he's doing. That coach will more than likely win a lot of football games. As for who that might be, I could care less to be perfectly honest with you. It almost doesn't matter. TOSU has had 4 coaches the 60 years. And won and won and won some more. Hayes, Bruce, Cooper, and the crooked Tressel all are hall-of-fame coaches. This is no accident. The TOSU job is tailor made for winning. You've got a football crazy state. You're at one of the biggest universities in the world. You've got more alumni than just about any school in the world. And kids grow up in Ohio wanting to play for the Buckeyes - dreaming of it. Dying to. Hell, TOSU could hire Geilfuss and win 75% of their games. Seriously. So, don't fret. Just wait until Sep. 3rd. TOSU will take the field. Everything will be fine. Sit back with a cold beer and watch. That's all you have to do. That, and ignore the sports journalists who will try and convince you that your world is coming to an end. It's not. Hope that helps...

Lots of terrible economic news keeps trickling out - week after week, month after month. Barry and his boys have been just awful with their attempts to help kick start job growth. Long time readers of this blog will recall that I said from the get-go that Barry would be a disaster. And he has not disappointed on the disaster front. He's been golden as a disaster. As many of you know, I got bored of making fun of him last year. It became redundant. However, there is still a good likelihood that Barry will stick around for a 2nd term of folly and tyranny. The GOP can still manage to screw up their nomination process and leave voters with 2 terrible choices. Barry and that Mormon Mitt Romney. Or Barry and some Tea Party freak. If you recall my piece last December on the impending 2012 race to be our next fake leader, there were 2 guys who I said would have a great chance to beat Barry - Pawlenty and Daniels. Daniels is not running (evidently his wife has some skeletons in her closet). But Pawlenty is running. We'll see how he does. But I still firmly believe that he has the best chance of beating Barry. The other choices for GOP primary voters are bad at this point. Really bad. If you care about this stuff and actually bother to vote (which I don't), you've got to be a little depressed over the whole thing.

On the hoops front, Shaquille O'Neal called it quits the other day. I got in a bit of a conversation about where O'Neal ranks in the pantheon of NBA big men. I never saw Russell or Chamberlain play. So, I can't speak about them with any authority. However, of all the centers I have seen over the past 30 years or so, I would rank O'Neal third. Right behind Olajuwon and Malone. O'Neal was a terrible rapper. And the worst actor I've ever seen save for Rick Fox. He couldn't shoot a free throw to save his life. And then there's all the classy behavior he showed when doing things like mocking Yao Ming in a strange, stilted, and exaggerated Chinese accent. Having noted that, O'Neal was the best passing center I've ever seen. And obviously an unstoppable force around the rim for much of his career. There was speculation that O'Neal will be hired by ESPN. It would be interesting to watch him on set eat Jalen Rose and Tim Legler whole. And maybe munch on Mike Wilbon for dessert. Of course, O'Neal would probably really like to munch on Hannah Storm. But I digress...

Speaking of hoops, we're in the midst of the NBA finals. And not to toot my own horn or anything, but everything I wrote about James and his decision last summer has come true. I know that if you listen to the sports media, you'd be hard pressed not to buy into the idea that James has been the best player in the history of the world this post-season. That's bullshit. James has been really good for the most part. I wouldn't argue otherwise. But there's a reason for that. It goes unmentioned by the ESPN hype-machine and their ilk, but it's because the kid isn't playing tight. He's got a real closer next to him. He knows when the pressure is really on, Wade is there to take over and finish. That, in my mind, is the reason that James has played so well. Once again, James should be praised, not ridiculed, for admitting that deep down he's Scottie Pippen - not Mike Jordan, not Kobe Bryant, and certainly not Dwyane Fucking Wade.

I haven't been out and about too much here lately. I've been laying low. Hence, no ridiculous bar stories to relay...

I did manage to catch The Black Swan the other night, and it wasn't quite as good as I had hoped. I liked it okay, don't get me wrong. But for Aronofsky, it wasn't as good as Pi, Requiem For A Dream, or The Wrestler. As far as that girl from Jerusalem goes, she was excellent. And that chick from That 70's Show was good as well. The only disturbing thing about the film was that Barbara Hershey popped up again (much as she did in the awful Insidious) and her plastic surgery ravaged face is too much for me...

This Must Be The Place