Archive for January, 2013

STFU HuffPo

January 31st, 2013

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: Girls Just Want To Have (White) Fun

That is a real thing. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the greatest center and scorer in NBA history, wrote a brief essay about the HBO series Girls. They must be kidding over there at HuffPo. Are they serious?

 

I can’t be bothered to link this. Fuck HuffPo right in the ear. I don’t care if Abdul-Jabbar has written an eloquent essay (he likely did), I don’t care if this means I am a privileged white male to say this. I have as much interest in Kareem’s take on Girls as I have in hearing Lena Dunham talk about the pick-and-roll.

 

Two things need to be said. First thing, we have officially written too much about the show Girls. More importantly, HuffPo gives a platform to celebrities to talk about whatever. Would you like to hear (fill-in-the-blank celeb) talk about (fill-in-the-blank hot-button issue)? You can. Sean Penn, Alec Baldwin, writers for Family Guy, and other showbiz windbags.

 

This is the most random grouping of byline and subject I’ve seen. I want political historian Doris Kearns Goodwin to write about Goatse. HuffPo can make that happen, or fuck off and die.

Death Pool Update: End Of January

January 30th, 2013

GAME ON, EVERYBODY!

 

At the end of January, only eight of the Death Pool Mourners have had a hit. If not for the deaths of Stan Musial (Alzheimer’s), Michael Winner (heart and liver diseases) and now Betty Andrews (natural causes. . . she was 94), our death pool would be empty and boring. But we have three bodies in the pool. Three old wrinkled bodies. And the game has just begun.

 

We’re still in the first quarter of this. The game ends at midnight, January 1, 2014. There is so much more room for dead bodies in the pool. All the mourners missed out on Ohio Players guitarist/vocalist Leroy “Sugarfoot” Bonner, who died of cancer last week at age 69. Surprisingly, “Sugarfoot” did not die of diabetes. Likewise, all of the mourners missed out on former Orioles manager Earl Weaver who passed of a heart attack at 82.

 

But the game has only just begun, folks. Still in the first quarter, everyone. I will stake my claim. You watch out. 2013 is my year. I am a master of death prognostication.

I’m In A Celebrity Death Pool

January 21st, 2013

I’m in a celebrity death pool. Some of you have no idea what this means. I’ll try to explain. Everyone puts $50 in the pool, then each of you pick 20 celebrities that you think will die in the calendar year.

If you pick a celebrity who dies, then you subtract their age at time of death from 100. Example: Stan Musial, the baseball great who died several days ago at age 92. Subtract his age (92) from 100 and you would get eight points.

Whoever has the most points at the end of the year wins the pool of money. Me and about fifty other people are in this deal. Since the picks are locked in, I will now reveal my picks and the reasons for those picks.

  • Annette Funicello – this Mouseketeer is nearly immobile from a long battle with MS and hasn’t spoken in years.
  • Bill Conlin – a disgraced sportswriter who is very old and kinda fat.
  • Bob Dole – Old, very ill.
  • Bobby Womack – announced he had Alzheimer’s after the near year.
  • El DeBarge – a long history of drug problems, owes the IRS six figures.
  • Ennio Morricone – famous film composer who is really old.
  • Fidel Castro – for all we know, he’s been dead for years and no one in Cuba will admit it.
  • Fiona Apple – busted for hash possession in ’12 and wrote a four-page letter to her dying dog, in longhand.
  • Gene Hackman – he’s just old.
  • George H.W. Bush – Old, very ill.
  • Glen Campbell – Diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2011.
  • Hugo Chavez – Very ill.
  • Jack Pardee – Gallbladder cancer.
  • Jim McMahon – former Bears QB has early onset dementia.
  • Marion Barry – an old black man who has been known to enjoy smoking crack.
  • Michael Douglas – battled cancer.
  • Mike Ditka – former Bears coach had a stroke last year.
  • Ralph Bakshi – just an old guy
  • Walter Mondale – everybody thinks he’s dead anyway.
  • Whitey Bulger – Gangster who tried to get out prosecution by claiming poor health.

I Went To A Hockey Game

January 20th, 2013

Went to Evansville the other night. Don’t go there very often but I think I need to go more often if only to check out awesome hockey action with the Evansville Icemen.

Not gonna lie, I don’t care for the name of the team. Icemen? Is that the best they can do? “Icemen” sounds like a race of people in Game Of Thrones. I can’t think of a blander team name. And the logo is an maniacal eskimo wielding a deadly hockey stick.

 

In spite of this, my friend and I had a very good time. The Icemen lost 2-1 to the Toledo Walleye, but it was an exciting game. The Icemen scored first, then there was a fight, then there the lights went out in the middle of the second period and then Toledo scored and then there were a few more almost-fights and then Toledo scored again in the third. Then Evansville pulled their goalie and almost scored in the last minute of the game.

I recommend you go to an Icemen game if you can, even if the team name sucks and the logo is racist toward Eskimos.

Not Ready For Romance

January 18th, 2013

I might not be ready for romance. I’m just judging on the evidence of my life so far.

 

Let’s look at the evidence, shall we? I am a serial non-dater. If this were something I wanted, you could classify me as an ascetic. But I would prefer to be a dater. Instead, I am one letter off and I am an “eater”. When I want a thing I can’t have, I try to fill that need with a thing I can get. People do that all the time. Some people make addictions out of it. Perhaps I have, but with food. I don’t eat every second of the day but when I eat I go overboard. I’m trying to shut up the gaping maw that is my stomach.

 

I’m probably not ready for love and romance. I’m not even close, am I? What a drag. If I were ready, perhaps I’d be in the moment, being in love, being in some sort of relationship.

 

Being in love is a great feeling until it turns into a bad feeling. It can be bad if you want someone who doesn’t want you back. You can’t make the world fair. You can’t make them love you back. If it doesn’t fit, it can’t be forced. Cows don’t make ham. I’m not ready. Booooooo. . .

I’m Not Going To “Man Up”

January 17th, 2013

Have you heard about this Manti Te’o business? Amazing, isn’t it? A star linebacker from Notre Dame has a girlfriend who he met online. She dies the same day his grandmother dies. Manti goes and plays his ass off for the rest of the season and Notre Dame goes undefeated, plays in the national championship game, and Manti finishes second in the voting for the Heisman Trophy for the best college football player of the year.

 

Turns out the dead girlfriend didn’t exist. As in a complete fabrication. Made totally up. There are two theories that come with this. One is that he was “catfished”, aka hooked in by a totally online persona by a cruel joker. The second is that he was in on it, for whatever reason.

 

I’ve been thinking about the culture of sports and the sublimation of personal identity in the concept of a team dynamic. I’ll give you an example. When Brett Favre’s father died in 2003, did he take a bit of time off to mourn? Not in the slightest. Rather, he played the very next night and led the Packers to a 41-7 victory over the Raiders. Favre threw for 399 yards and 4 touchdowns.

 

Many people will look at that game and say it was an inspiration for Favre to play that game perform so well in spite of terrible circumstances. I think about that game now and I wish Favre had told the Packers to shove it, if only for one game. “Guess what, it’s the Raiders. They’re horrible. You don’t need me. Let the punter line up behind center for all I care. I gotta go bury my dad.” But he didn’t, and he wouldn’t. Because he had sublimated his personal identity and needs for the team dynamic. In that moment, Brett Favre “manned up” and he was lauded for it.

 

There are times when people in athletics “man up” and don’t succeed, and they take a lot of flack when they don’t. In August 2012, Eagles coach Andy Reid’s son died of a heroin overdose during training camp. Reid took maybe a day off, the team went 4-12 and he was fired in January. The team owner basically said “no excuses, man up”.

 

What does any of this have to do with Manti Te’o and his situation, you may ask? Is he another guy who sublimated his personal identity into the team concept? I believe so. To be clear, I believe there is a detriment to the individual when they consistently submit to the team dynamic. I value individuality greatly and the sport of football is completely counter to that ideal. There are simply too many parts and cogs in the machine to allow someone to let their freak flag fly. The ones who do (people like the former Chad Ochocinco) are pilloried in the media and on social platforms. Is football the bastion of personal fascism in the United States?

 

You must be your own best advocate, no matter your station in life. You must say “I am who am I and that’s all that I am” like Popeye when people question you. You must not do what is best for the whole all the time. Sometimes you must do what is the best for you. Sometimes you have to “man up” in a way that has nothing to do with what others want. Your team, your job, your social club, sometimes even your family.

 

“Man up” is such a stupid phrase. Everybody needs to grow a pair and stop using it.

Fuck You WWE, Fuck You Forever.

January 15th, 2013

WWE, you’ve done a lot of fucked-up and borderline unforgivable things since I started watching you as a kid, but this time was too much.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFqrnwfu_Mc

 

This is going to be as melodramatic as all get-out, but wrestling and music were the two things that helped me mentally escape a troubled childhood. I watched WWF, NWA/WCW, AWA, CWA/USWA, World Class, you name it and listened to as much music as I could get my hands on in those pre-Internet days.

 

Ric Flair is a big part of my childhood, whether he knows it or not. I’m lucky that I got to watch him as I grew up. I will make the point that “The Nature Boy” is a cultural icon and a deep part of Americana, and defend that point to anyone foolish enough to argue it with me.  He is one of the greatest shit-talking stars of our time. Ric Flair is the Richard Pryor of pro wrestling. Most people think of incoherent screamers like the Ultimate Warrior, but Ric Flair has/had PATHOS. He is once-in-a-lifetime and on the sad day that he finally shuffles off this mortal coil, it will not be wrestling news. . . it will be INTERNATIONAL news.

 

 

I want to address what I’m about to say to the people in charge of WWE and their writers. Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you for a million years for trying to hitch Ric Flair to the no-hope wagon that is former Real World “star” The Miz. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK if the Miz can wear a suit well or not. I don’t give a fuck if he’s paid his dues in the wrestling business or not. I don’t care if The Miz sends me a personal check for $200. He is not to be given a fuck about. Nobody gave a fuck about him when he was a “bad guy”, or when he was the WWE Champion (side note: YOU PUT THE FUCKING WWE TITLE ON SOME PRICK FROM THE REAL WORLD, YOU OUGHTA BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES), and no one cares about him now that he’s a “good guy”. Seriously, when the Miz was champion it was the only time I ever felt like I could kick the champion’s ass. Hell, Vince McMahon was WWE champion for one day and is sixty-nine years old and I think he could beat up me and the Miz at the same time.

 

I just showed that clip of Miz and Flair to my friend Lyle and he said “wow thank you for reminding me why I haven’t watched RAW in seven years”. You can have Dolph Ziggler lose to John Cena a million more times for all I care, but this is too much. You cannot tell me that Ric Flair, the greatest performer in wrestling history, is passing the torch to a guy who looks like Chaz Bono after weight training. Fuck you, WWE. Fuck you forever.

 

Chaz Bono after some time at the gym, or a former WWE champion?

 

Now I understand how the Star Wars fans felt about the prequels.

 

Bad Art: Pop Singles From Europe

January 13th, 2013

Here are some obscure pop singles that were hits in other parts of the world that aren’t America. These would be the single sleeves for these songs had I designed them in MS Paint, a program which didn’t exist back in the days these songs were released.

 

“Una Paloma Blanca” by George Baker Selection, 1976. (#26 US, #10 UK, #10 Canada, #1 Switzerland)

 

“Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep” by Middle Of The Road, 1971. (#1 UK, #1 Switzerland, #2 Austria)

 

“Howzat” by Sherbet, 1976. (#1 Australia, #4 UK, #8 Norway, #61 US)

 

“Wages Day” by Deacon Blue, 1988. (#10 Ireland, #18 UK)

 

“Hey Manhattan” by Prefab Sprout, 1987. (#72 UK)

More Bad Art: Things I Like

January 10th, 2013

 

 

 

 

Letter To An Ex-Friend

January 9th, 2013

This is a message for one person who will probably not read it. And I don’t blame them if they don’t but this is a shot in the dark. I’ll keep her name out of it because I don’t want to blow up her spot. It’s been a few years since all this went down but I haven’t been able to get right mentally with myself over it. I destroyed a close friendship of many years over an infatuation I had and at some point I’ve got to put the whole thing behind me and admit where I went wrong. So here we go…

 

hey T.

Been thinking of you lately. I would have tried to get a hold of you but I don’t think you want to talk to me. We’re not friends any more, as you know. In the past I would say it was a little bit my fault, a whole lot your fault. And now I’m willing to admit, far too late, that I was way wrong about that.

 

I was actually wrong. Really wrong, all the way. I didn’t know at the time because I was in a lot of emotional pain, but I was wrong all the same. I blew up our friendship because I wanted more than that from you. You didn’t give me any signs that I misinterpreted. There weren’t any signs at all. I was just searching for something that wasn’t there, and I thought I saw it. You were just being a friend to me like you had for years.

 

I’m sorry about the ratchet way I acted towards you in those days. I feel bad about blowing up a friendship but I don’t think I can patch it up nor do I think you’d want to have anything to do with me anymore at this point. That’s probably for the best. I’m also sorry that it took me so long to figure all this out and process it to the point where I realize how I wrong I was. I’m sorry for any times I was ever antagonistic to you. I watched a movie where somebody said “Hurt people hurt people” and that might explain some things even if it doesn’t justify anything.