Don't call it a comeback

I sure picked a good Sunday to be laid up on the couch with some sort of back strain (related to biking 50 miles in two days, to breweries?). Because all the day's sports results seemed to work out according to my tastes. Rather than try to construct a narrative, here's a list in reverse chronological order.

Sixers beat Orlando
Some may have counted the Sixers out when they fell behind by 18 in the second half. Including me, because I fired up the sky level on Mario 3. But its a good thing to check in after some boot-related hijinks, because then you get to see an epic comeback capped by 18-foot contested fadaway from Andre Iguodala. I think FreeDarko put it best when they said he's "like a Youtube clip that eats and plays Wii" even though that makes little to no sense. Or does it? Also this is further proof that Superman sucks.

Phillies beat Padres
If there is one thing to be determined from the first two weeks of the baseball season, its that Raul Ibanez has god-like powers. It's true, I just edited into his wikipedia page. You gotta appreciate any come from behind walk-off win, even if it is in April -- or as Skip (possibly Chip) Carey said, "If this was the NFL, we'd just be starting the fourth quarter of the first game." Relevance!

Flyers beat Penguins
I just hope the Flyers can make it out of the first round so my annual "caring about the Flyers" period lasts longer than a week or so. Also apparently there is quite a rivalry between the Penguins, probably the biggest Philly-Pittsburgh sports fan feud. Still, I think its setting the bar a bit low.

Manchester United loses to Everton in FA Cup
Can't forget the schadenfreude. I know most of you don't care a bit about English football, but here's some perspective. This year the Red Devils, as they are called, were going for something called the "quintuple" or five separate trophies, which is totally absurd. They are the Yankees times 10 in their hubris. This loss knocks them down a peg, in that the quintuple is no longer possible. That the loss came by Everton is a bonus because they are a like-able squad. They have this guy, and are Paul McCartney's team of choice.

Danger

A brief linky consideration while watching something called Werder Bremen vs. Udinese Calcio. The UEFA Cup is neither relevant nor exciting (for soccer). Where is the marking indeed, announcer whose accent I can't place. Argentinean?

Anyway. Watch out for card skimmers at the ATM.

I'm not sure if I've ever linked to Hey Okay before, but its my go to place for some random visuals, on occasion. Also good is Eat Sleep Draw. Both should probably be in the sidebar, but I'm too lazy and forgetful. It's a deadly combination.

Hey look, Bush torture memos. Somebody read them and tell me what they say, cause I sure as hell ain't reading some grainy-ass PDFs on HuffPo. If there is one thing Ariana Huffington knows, its that the kids love them their PDFs.

Here's a pretty awesome Inside Edition piece on Nintendo from 1988. Make your Bill O'Reilly joke of choice below. PLAY IT LIVE!


That's it, don't get eaten by a giant prehistoric sea monster.

A historic day

You know, if you are going to protest "taxes" by dressing up like a tighty-whiteyed President Obama, you better be sure to bring an inflatable Elmo to clarify your message.

Book Club: A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again

I had never heard of David Foster Wallace before he hung himself last fall. Upon his death I read a bunch about him from various sources, and a few of his essay's available online. That whet my appetite, but I doubted that jumping into his work with the epic-long novel "Infinite Jest" was the best idea. So I went to the local bookstore to see what was available, hoping for either this collection of nonfiction pieces or Consider the Lobster. This is what they had.

Wallace's style takes some getting used to. The prose is as good as it gets, but the advanced vocabulary and numerous lengthy footnotes can be tricky. But where else can you read an essay on the Illinois State Fair that uses the word "rictus" not once but twice. That essay, along with the titular piece in which Wallace takes a Caribbean cruise are the clear highlights of this book. But it also includes five others including an analysis of David Lynch's Lost Highway, a trip to the Canadian Open (Wallace was big into tennis), and an article about television that I quoted before.

It's a hilarious book, particularly when Wallace immerses himself in Americana. He's a bit of an elitist, but the elitism is grounded in a kind of self-concious earnest voice. And that voice has got a hell of a way with words. The state fair expo is a "Xanadu of chinzola." His bathroom on the cruise ship is "bitchingly nice." A tropical moon is "a sort of obscenely large and dangling lemon." I could go on and on with this stuff. In fact, just for the hell of it, here's a couple grafs gratuitously copy-pasted from some random blog found by googling "xanadu of chintzola":

Booth after booth. A Xanadu of chintzola. Obscure non-stick cookware. "EYE GLASSES CLEANED FREE." A booth with anti-cellulite sponges. More DIPPIN DOTS futuristic ice cream. A woman with Velcro straps on her shoes gets fountain-pen ink out of a linen tablecloth with a Chapsticky-looking spot remover whose banner says "AS SEEN ON 'AMAZING DISCOVERIES,'" a wee-hour infomercial I'm kind of a fan of. A plywood booth that for $9.95 will take a photo and superimpose your face on either an FBI Wanted poster or a Penthouse cover. An MIA--BRING THEM HOME! booth staffed by women playing Go Fish. An anti-abortion booth called LIVESAVERS that lures you over with free candy. Sand Art. Shredded-Ribbon Art. Therm-L-Seal Double Pane Windows. An indescribable booth for "LATEST ADVANCE ROTARY NOSE HAIR CLIPPERS" whose other sign reads (I kid you not) "Do Not Pull Hair From Nose, May Cause Fatal Infection." Two different booths for collectible sports cards, "Top Ranked Investment Of The Nineties." And tucked away back on one curve of the mezzanine's ellipse: yes: black velvet paintings, including several of Elvis in pensive poses.

And people are buying this stuff. The Expo's unique products are targeted at a certain type of Midwestern person I'd all but forgotten. I'd somehow not noticed these persons' absence from the paths and exhibits. This is going to sound not just East-Coastish but elitist and snotty. But facts are facts. The special community of shoppers in the Expo Bldg. are a Midwestern subphylum commonly if unkindly known as Kmart People. Farther south they'd be a certain fringe-type of White Trash. Kmart People tend to be overweight, polyestered, grim-faced, toting glazed unhappy children. Toupees are the movingly obvious shiny square-cut kind, and the women's makeup is garish and often asymmetrically applied, giving many of the female faces a kind of demented look. They are sharp-voiced and snap at their families. They're the type you see slapping their kids in supermarket checkouts. They are people who work at like Champaign's Kraft and Decatur's A. E. Staley and think pro wrestling is real. I'm sorry, but this is all true. I went to high school with Kmart People. I know them. They own firearms and do not hunt. The aspire to own mobile homes. They read the Star without even a pretense of contempt and have toilet paper with little off-color jokes printed on it. A few of these folks might check out the Tractor Pull or U.S.A.C. race, but most are in the Expo to stay. This is what they've come for. They couldn't give one fat damn about ethanol exhibits or carnival rides whose seats are hard to squeeze into. Agriculture shmagriculture. And Gov. Edgar's a closet pinko: they heard it on Rush. They plod up and down, looking put out and intensely puzzled, as if they're sure what they've come for's got to be here someplace. I wish Native C. were here; she's highly quotable on the subject of Kmart People. One big girl with tattoos and a heavy-diapered infant wears a T-shirt that says "WARNING: I GO FROM 0 TO HORNEY IN 2.5 BEERS."

Outta here

RIP. As much as I want to toss up the Old School quote, I just can't. There are some things even I won't mock the day they happen, and the death of Harry Kalas is apparently one of them. It's difficult and sad, almost like the death of a grandparent. Except it was millions of peoples grandparent. Listening all the announcers voices cracking during today's game fills me with despair like a memorial facebook.

Longtime baseball announcers enjoy a special place in the collective regional consciousness. For generations of Philadelphia fans, Kalas will always be the voice of the game. Think Harry Caray or Vin Scully. Hopefully the Phils don't construct some bizarre statue of Kalas rising from the depths of hell like the Cubs did with Caray.

Matt Stairs

So old that he has to use his bat as a cane after hitting game-winning home runs. Also the Denver altitude makes him tired with its thin air.

That game plus a thrilling end to the Masters (for golf) plus a delicious dinner of kung pao chicken and crab rangoon (burrito plans were foiled by holiday hours) equals the best Easter ever. He is risen, etc.

A few predictions regarding baseball

To commemorate the start of the baseball regular season, here's something for every team. We can only hope for the same level of prognostic success I had in forecasting the last season of The Wire.

AL East
Tampa Bay Rays - Promising future for young, talented team ends in tragedy when bandwagon fans take next logical step from "rayhawks" and start scalping opposing fans.
Baltimore Orioles - Finally bounce back from retirement of Cal Ripken 8 years ago to finish fourth in division.
Boston Red Sox - Red Sox Nation finally gains the sovereignty it has worked so long and hard for after the battle of Lowell.
Toronto Blue Jays - How about that Roy Halladay? He'd look good on whatever team you happen to root for, eh?
New York Yankees - Miss playoffs for second straight year because "Yankee mystique" was based on old stadium, not stocking roster with overpriced frauds.

AL Central
Cleveland Indians - Continue to sell out home games regularly, because what the hell else are you going to do in Cleveland.
Chicago White Sox - Owner Jerry Reinsdorf ignores conventional wisdom to hold a 30-year anniversary event dubbed "Disco Demolition Night 2: The Breakening"
Minnesota Twins - Commemorate final year of the Metrodome by having another solid season of above .500 baseball based on strong fundamental play.
Detroit Tigers - Magglio Ordonez finally learns Brandon Inge's name, but still calls him bendejo.
Kansas City Royals - Just glad baseball has not yet adopted the European soccer concept of "relegation" in which the three worst teams are sent down to a lower echelon league.

AL West
Oakland A's - Jack Cust hits 30 home runs to the delight of fantasy baseball owners.
Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim - Chone Figgins gets the 73 singles he needs to pass Bobby Grich for seventh place on the team's all-time list.
Seattle Mariners - In strange case of life almost imitating art, Ken Griffey Jr. forced to retire due to radiation poisoning.
Texas Rangers - Tom Hicks is impeached as owner of the team because of war crimes, and George W. Bush takes over.

NL East
Philadelphia Phillies - Worst record ever for World Series champion tempered by every win coming in absurd, 7-run behind fashion.
Atlanta Braves - Management makes critical error of underestimating the importance of Mike Hampton.
New York Mets - Another September collapse, this time with more hilarious crying.
Florida Marlins - Crack researchers finally crack the code of why anyone would think playing baseball in July in South Florida is a good idea. The answer may surprise you.
Washington Nationals - Promotional tie-in day for new slugger Adam Dunn based on nickname "Big Donkey" goes horribly awry.

NL Central
Chicago Cubs - Win World Series. Ha ha, just kidding, actually Lou Piniella will have a heart attack mid-season when Alfonso Soriano asks him how to bunt.
Milwaukee Brewers - Prince Fielder's vegetarian diet gains popularity in Wisconsin, surpassing that of former culinary leader Jeffrey Dahmer.
St. Louis Cardinals - Albert Pujols suffers severe emotional damage from hecklers telling him to "put it in her Pujols" all season despite his wife's refusal to do anal.
Houston Astros - That stupid ass train thing they have at their stadium derails, killing hundreds.
Cincinnati Reds - Forgettable season highlighted only by Edwin Encarnacion dying his hair blond in an ill-conceived attempt to pick up the sexy ladies of Cincinnati.
Pittsburgh Pirates - City unites behind team after pitcher Ian Snell dies in tragic smelting accident, only to forget about them once football preseason starts.

NL West
Arizona Diamondbacks - Ride strong pitching and situational hitting to another division title, even though they are all totally into dudes.
Los Angeles Dodgers - Manny being Manny takes bizarre turn when outfielder tries to incorporate his unrequited love of Miley Cyrus into fielding fly balls.
San Francisco Giants - Fans, management wistfully remember the Will Clark era.
San Diego Padres - Effort to reach out to the nearby Naval Base doesn't work as well as planned due to unfortunate misspelling in ad campaign dubbed "Balls with Seamen."
Colorado Rockies - Kaz Matsui gets in trouble with team, stadium sponsor when a picture of him shotgunning a can of Milwaukee's Best surfaces on the internet.


So there you have it, science.

Shut down

Productivity here this week plus factors means I'm not posting for a minute, or day. You have such things to look forward to as a David Foster Wallace Book Club, some ill-defined post on sports fandom that may or may not ever see the light of day, perhaps a dissertation on the nature of blogs vs. other media, or baseball. Til then, enjoy this trailer made better by Arcade Fire.

Thinking outside the box

The countless hours that drivers waste stuck in traffic when they could engage in more productive activities like watching television is one of my chief concerns. Often times I lie in bed at night, unable to sleep due to the crippling traffic problems that plague our cities. Why doesn't someone invent a smaller, two-wheeled vehicle that theoretically existing drivers could use to get to their jobs that also exist? This is the question that haunts me day and night.

And once again it seems our friends and beneficiaries at General Motors have their respective fingers on my neck, and thus on the pulse of the American motorist. This week they unveiled a new vehicle sure to revolutionize the way one gets around in a city. Dubbed the Personal Urban Mobility and Accessibility project or PUMA, it seems destined to fill the hole in U.S. transportation industry left by the inexplicable failure of the Segway, which is a partner in this enterprise.

It figures that it would take teetering on the brink of bankruptcy for a Detroit automaker to finally get its act together and embrace the gyroscope technology that has long eluded them, despite public clamoring. Everything I've read on PUMAs is exciting and innovative, sure to cut to the quick of hip city-dwellers who don't get theirs on the very first day they become available. A veritable iPhone of the road.

So GM, to you I extend a salute and hearty handshake. May you be successful beyond your wildest dreams in this new endeavor. I don't see how it could possibly go wrong. There simply aren't any other two-wheeled options available for urban commuters who want to travel just outside walking distance. And no, I'm not forgetting the rickshaw, I just think that the time of a man pulling another man on a cart has come and gone.

Blurring the line

Perhaps the above video isn't as iconic or classic the meta-cultural I'm on a Boat, but for my money it's funnier. Plus the lower production values. Maybe my preference lies in that Rick Ross' boss-like nature pleases me. Whatever the reason, the video is a good example of the "Lonely Island esthetic" if such a term deserves to exist. The Lonely Island is a comedy group including Andy Samberg and two other guys, they just released some album.

Another example: Hot Rod has been on cable a lot lately. Surprisingly watchable, although I can't figure where it stands on the comedy spectrum. There is a high level of absurdity and satire, which are traditionally associated with high, sophisticated laughs. But the absurd elements tend to be extremely stupid and low -- for example there's a punch-dancing montage, a taco fights a sandwich, and (spoiler) Al Swearengen shits himself.

This is about basketball

Here, of course, is where the ultra-right and ultra-left unwittingly crash into each other, when Communism becomes Fascism, or communes giving way to cults. I doubt it ever works the other way—a sinister consolidation of power and crushing of all opposition giving way to egalitarian sunshine and light? But certainly, the nexus is both unlikely and potential ammunition for both sides, even if it's that moment where you look across the battlefield and realize your enemy is human. We all want the same thing, sometimes.

-Freedarko

For your consideration

Submitted for your consideration and my catharsis: Which is "worse" -- that 4 Fast 4 Furious dominated its opening box office weekend, or that the World Fucking Champion Philadelphia Phillies were booed in the second inning of their home opener. Both upset me on an an vaguely guttural level. Let's just lay out what's wrong.

4 Fast 4 Furious is a successful movie
Yes I know that isn't technically the name of the "film." But Jesus H. tap-dancing Christ, you cannot simply add/remove the articles from a film title, and expect not to be mocked. It has got to be some kind of rule. I thought I lived in a world where there was no possibility of a movie called The Batman. Now I'm not so sure.
It's probably true that 4F4F (terrible) has plenty of thrills, spills and probably kills. Still, as one reviewer said, "The plot is utterly incomprehensible, but the legions of street racing fans hopped up on NOS and Full Throttle energy drink aren't going to care." Ha ha energy drinks, ZING.
This flick is just one more step in the dumbing down of the American cineplex, where mediocre drivel is hailed as groundbreaking. Also, it means the continued viability of both Vin Diesel and Paul Walker as "film actors," a tragedy in its own right.

Phillies booed
THEY JUST FUCKING WON THE WORLD SERIES YOU DUMB ASSHOLES. THE FIRST CHAMPIONSHIP IN THIS TOWN SINCE 1893 OR SOME SHIT. THAT BUYS SOME SORT OF GRACE PERIOD, YOU CUNTS. THERE ARE 162 GAMES IN A BASEBALL SEASON. THIS ISN'T YOUR PRECIOUS EAGLES. LOOK ON THE GODDAMN BRIGHT SIDE OF SOMETHING, FOR ONCE IN YOUR PATHETIC, GREEDY LIVES.
Indeed. Anyone want to start a vacation travel service to go boo Donovan McNabb in his daily off-season activities? It would be a gold mine.

In conclusion: I'm going to see/do both of these things very soon, and will enjoy them. It's a race to the bottom and Ima gonna win.

The good kind

Innappropriate? Sure. Let's see what else this Friday, a filler of sorts.

Goat meat: It's what's for dinner.

Here's a case of life imitating art:
Skinner: Well, I was wrong. The ants are a godsend.
Lisa: But isn't that a bit short-sighted? What happens when we're overrun by ants?
Skinner: No problem. We simply release wave after wave of Chinese needle snakes. They'll wipe out the ants.
Lisa: But aren't the snakes even worse?
Skinner: Yes, but we're prepared for that. We've lined up a fabulous type of gorilla that thrives on snake meat.
Lisa: But then we're stuck with gorillas!
Skinner: No, that's the beautiful part. When winter rolls around, the gorillas simply freeze to death.

How about this thing: Kid's internet toy, or crazy acid experience? You be the judge.

I highly recommend checking out the Norm McDonald monologue from the ESPY's back in 1998, which was posted Deadspin yesterday. Ho ho, Anthony Mason is a statutory rapist.

Don't mess with teenage mutant ninja turtle fans who are interns at The Onion, cause if you do, they will send you harshly worded letters.

That's it for now, maybe I'll add some more stuff this afternoon, but I doubt it.

And then the robots became self aware, signifying the beginning of the end for humanity. First baker's yeast, then the Matrix or Skynet. It's science.

This is how to protest. Sort of.

Mobius Trips

Well it seems my earlier confusion and dismay regarding LOST was a bit premature. It seems that you can't just jump in and watch this stuff. Because as this season has chugged along it has become steadily more engrossing, and then BAM! you get one like last week's Sayid-centric "He's Our You" that blows any and all doors completely off. Revelations galore, mostly related to the relationship between everyone's favorite back-stabbing weasel with the creepy stare, Ben Linus, and good-old Tortury McMurderer, Sayid.

This is what I want in television: Something that makes you think. Like when Ben says to Sayid "It's what you are, you are a killer." Does Sayid think about that when he's interacting with the pre-teen Ben back in the 70s? I assume so, especially when he shoots him. That little cliffhanger had many a viewer highly anticipating what would be resolved this week, if anything.

Unfortunately it was with a Kate episode. Sure Evangeline Lilly does a good job emoting after having her stolen child go missing in a grocery store, but I can't watch her without the suspecting that her best work may have been in phone sex commercials. Not as embarrassing as Liz Lemon, but still.

Where was I? Oh right, Lost. I'm not going to get too deep, because frankly, who cares? It's a TV show, and there are already countless online resources. But I will say Hurley as audience proxy was in fine form last night, asking all the right questions, wondering when he would start disappearing a la Back to the Future, etc. It helps a labrynthine show to have a character offering some sort of voice for the viewer. Makes me feel less like I am watching a live action Escher painting.

Have you heard the Good News?

There are many evils in this world: Terrible desert wars, godless communist presidents, pyromaniac rapists, rap music, and drug-abusing abortionists. It can be quite scary out there on Earth, in "real life." Shadowy, inconceivable bogeymen lurk around each and every corner, often baiting your kids into vile temptation with delicious candy.

Fortunately there was a man who understood the pains and ills of the world, and took it upon himself to forgive all of us for our awful acts of sin and malice. I am referring of course to the one and only man on the cross, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It's amazing the confidence and love one can instantly attain, simply by accepting this dead Jew into your heart. It's power could be described as unconditionally irrational.

Some mock those who have accepted God's love -- even in this very space, verily. They mock what they do not understand: That there is a plan for all of us. Some are more noble than others, but anyone can earn their place at the Lord's side. You might think killing heathens is somehow "better" than spreading The Word in devoutly-atheist internet forums, but killers don't risk virtual humiliation and banishment. Plus, if even one person opens up to God, your online evangelizing was a success.

Those that do not accept Jesus' love will soon be smited, and hard. I had a vision last night that the end times are nigh. It was a guy in a skeleton costume riding a donkey, which I can only assume signifies the four horsemen will soon be making their charge. Also there was a talking dog. Although it didn't move its mouth so maybe it was communicating with telepathy. The bottom line is all true believers will soon be called home to be with their Lord in Heaven, and those who deny God's love will be left behind. So get out there and spread the Good News.

Young Americans

This video was may have been 25 years ahead of its time, Vanilla Ice notwithstanding.

Golden Gods

So, uh, anyone watch that shit on Saturday? Scottie Reynolds did himself a hell of a Tyus Edney impression.

Rich kids from Long Island throughout the Main Line are waking up with hangovers after celebrating like its 1985. Kudos to them, and Sean.

Reward? A berth in the Final Four, and also possibly something involving Eagles cheerleader tryout rejects. That's the gift that keeps on giving. I don't know what that means.

Don't hurt me, giant robot baby!

Oh Japan, is there anything you can't do?

And yes, I am only posting this to push that rage-based initiative from earlier this morning down the page. Reading that is not so good for the humors. Makes 'em bilious.

Urge to kill ... rising

I don't know if its illness, lack of sleep, job stress, too much internet or what, but everything seems to be stimulating my aggravation bone (edit: That's what she said). Here's a few items in particular. Sorry in advance for the negative tone.

Cars:
Fuck you and your precious driving. I will be riding my bike right down the middle of the lane. The speed limit is 25 and that's what I'm doing. And I will be running that stop sign as well. Here's a little analogy: If the energy you personally need to expend to stop and start your giant piece of junk road hog with the idiotic bumper stickers and custom paint job is the equivalent of one ear of corn, then the energy I must expend to stop and start my bike is a whole fucking silo. I am going to start carrying my chain lock on my handlebars for ease of swinging. You fucks.

The legalization brouhaha:
Apparently Obama "casually dismissed" the marijuana question during his online townhall thing the other day: Extreme irritation on all levels. On one hand, it means a never-ending drug war and escalating border violence. Take that, New Mexico! On the other hand you have the "heads" reaction that completely ignores political realities, such as entire generations of people in this country that actually believe this shit is grown by the devil. But hey, if you're a progressive there is no need to try and understand what other people might think. You dumb fucks.

Random ugly faces of people I see on the street:
Oh how much I would love to punch that stupid look right off your face. Go run into traffic. Seriously, what the hell do you think you are looking at, with those beady eyes.

Lingering coughs:
I quit smoking upon first sign of illness, throat. That means I shouldn't wake up in the middle of the night feeling like my lungs are trying to make a mad dash for Guatemala, possibly on a drug run. That's where the money is.

DLN web site commenters:
Jesus Christ on a crucifix, best not get too deep into this one. Let's just say the comments section of your local newspaper's web site is not the best place to cast a passionate defense of your recently-arrested loved one. And trying to moderate the resulting discussions, by freepers, is like trying to herd some sort of genetically engineered super-cats that can teleport and shit.

Old people:
Just die already, no one wants you here. A bit harsh? Well, lets limit that to old people who drive terribly. Or how about the just the old woman who I am forced to make conversation with all day. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP you old bag, if you bitch about how tough you have it one more time I'm going to start getting into some serious violence with a claw hammer.

Well that's a bit disturbing, but at least I feel slightly better now. TGIF etc.

This is just absurd

Maybe more posts later, been sick this week.

Game over, man

The people who have spent their lives cloistered in this Wall Street community aren't much for sharing information with the great unwashed. Because all of this shit is complicated, because most of us mortals don't know what the hell LIBOR is or how a REIT works or how to use the word "zero coupon bond" in a sentence without sounding stupid — well, then, the people who do speak this idiotic language cannot under any circumstances be bothered to explain it to us and instead spend a lot of time rolling their eyes and asking us to trust them.

That roll of the eyes is a key part of the psychology of Paulsonism. The state is now being asked not just to call off its regulators or give tax breaks or funnel a few contracts to connected companies; it is intervening directly in the economy, for the sole purpose of preserving the influence of the megafirms. In essence, Paulson used the bailout to transform the government into a giant bureaucracy of entitled assholedom, one that would socialize "toxic" risks but keep both the profits and the management of the bailed-out firms in private hands. Moreover, this whole process would be done in secret, away from the prying eyes of NASCAR dads, broke-ass liberals who read translations of French novels, subprime mortgage holders and other such financial losers.

-Scary stuff from Taibbi

Overdue: Hard Boiled

That there is part of the epic "Hospital Shoot Out" scene from Hard Boiled. I haven't seen too many Hong Kong actioners (this makes one) but Jesus Christ this movie. Not content to just make one of the most absurdly violent movies ever, John Woo puts the climactic battle in a hospital.

Too spell it out: Hospitals are where people go when they are sick or injured to get well -- here we have hundreds of people being shot to death. The irony isn't lost, or subtle. Plus the whole maternity ward aspect. Apparently cotton balls completely muffle the sound of gunshots, and the best way to save babies is by lowering them out of windows. It's not like they can fly.

But I digress. The bottom line is I watched this today with subtitles, and I'm going to watch it again tomorrow dubbed, assuming that is an option on the DVD. Hard Boiled belongs in the top 10 all-time pantheon of action flicks, right alongside Predator, Die Hard and whatever else you want to throw in there. Double Impact? No. Maybe Point Break.

The plot doesn't really matter, as it holds up. Chow Yun Fat wields what appears to be an explosive shotgun throughout. Tony Leung is badass with a conscience. Random stuntmen get repeatedly gut shot. If you are like me and crave stylized filmed gunplay, get thee to a DVD supplier immediately. John Woo went on to make some arguably good films in Hollywood, but this blows Face Off out of the water. No doves or John Travolta, always a good thing.

Trained Seals

On an unrelated note: Be sure to vote on Name of the Year.

Get out of town

Sometimes I think the posts here are like tiny little babies, born prematurely, and suffering from fetal alcohol syndrome. Or maybe they are crack babies, abandoned on the doorstep of an orphanage run by old Polish immigrants. Not really sure where this analogy is going, so let's leave it there try and just create something that actually makes some modicum of sense.

This may have limited appeal, but it would be a shame not to mention the closing of that venerable West Chester institution, 15 North. Before the borough's explosion of college bars, not to mention "hip" city-type bars like the abortion that is Landmark: Americana there was one(1) place where the kids would go to get cheap drinks, and probably VD. That place was 15 North.

It's easy to forget how hot that spot once was. There was a time when the goats went there on average 3 nights a week, for an indeterminate length of time. A year? The bar didn't have the history of the Rat, or even Rex's, but it didn't suck either. There was a time when it was the place to be seen, I guess. At this point it's not really clear why, given it was a complete hole. The clientele was shiftless, and there was a mechanical bull on Tuesdays. Did I mention the cheap drinks?

I guess there's just no place for that bar's rough and tumble, cover-band aesthetic in today's town of popped collars and hot chicks with douchebags. It's a shame. People would rather go to a "nice" "classy" establishment where there is no constant implied threat of violence, with dress codes.

In memoriam, two anecdotes that sum it up all too well:

1)St. Patrick's Day, some 5 years ago. The "I Can't See" incident of which some of you may be aware. At the time it seemed like it would be a good idea to celebrate the Irish holiday by taking vicodin and smoking trees before hitting the bar on an empty stomach. Going for my second drink, my vision suddenly diminished by a frightening degree. No periphery visible, and only by extreme determination could I focus on what was directly in front of my face. Apparently that warning on the pill bottle about alcohol isn't complete BS. Long story short, I puked on a friends girlfriend (now his wife) and my eyesight was instantly restored.

2)The Turnpike. This is something I have no direct experience with, but a friend has assured me that it is true. A hazing ritual for employees of this establishment, supposedly secret, the Turnpike is a drink that resurrects the wounded soldiers that the bartender collects during the night. It also includes all other forms of gross terribleness such as wrung out bar rags, spit, cigarette butts and who knows what else, possibly ass hair. It depends on the employee. NUKE alums, think "The Vat" except slightly more drinkable. Anyway, this was a badge of honor, an eternal brotherhood for those who drank it, and not just because of the inevitable reverse drink that follows.

Huh, both those stories involve vomit, probably a lesson in there.

Year in movies: 1994

Inspired by Sinclair, who said that 19--(censored by memory) is the best year ever in movies, we have this feature. Limited research will be required, and requests are encouraged to a point. The idea is to examine the movies from some particular time to determine something, somehow. Results may vary.

Holy hell 1994 was a good year for movies. The most obvious narrative is that of Pulp Fiction vs. Forrest Gump. Or perhaps more accurately it could be remembered as the year the 3 Ninjas finally kicked back. Ha ha, no. Every year will have its fair share of crap, a pregnant Schwarzenegger for every deranged prison warden, if you will.

Still, I could mine this list of movies released that year for hours, or perhaps minutes. Even though I haven't seen Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla the plot is pretty obvious. Plus this is a year with not one, but two skydiving action movies: Terminal Velocity and Drop Zone. Which was better? Drop Zone, in a question best left for another day.

According to some article I just read, 1994 was the year that the dark nihilism and drugs of the counter-culture made their way into the mainstream. Sure, why not? It was also the year that a retard played ping-pong and ran ... into America's collective heart. And ate chocolate. Just a question of generational preferences I guess.

It would be pretty easy to cherry-pick films from this year for random purposes. A compelling argument could be made comparing the relative intelligence of Dumb and Dumber versus say, Speed. Or Clerks. Or what about some sort of re-imagining of The Lion King replacing major plot points with parts from Natural Born Killers and The Shawshank Redemption. That would include Rodney Dangerfield, which is a bonus. You get the idea?

Box office top 10:
Forrest Gump
The Lion King
True Lies
The Santa Clause
The Flintstones
Dumb and Dumber
Clear and Present Danger
Speed
The Mask
Pulp Fiction

Others of note, not previously mentioned:
Fear of a Black Hat, The Hudsucker Proxy, Ed Wood, Hoop Dreams, Quiz Show, Stargate, The Crow, The Professional

Today, we are all Bison

So I marched in the St. Patrick's Day parade in Baltimore on Sunday for some reason. Well the main reason was a keg of Guinness on a bus. I enjoyed yelling "Where the fuck is Wallace? Where Wallace at String?" at small children along the parade route.

Also apparently the Wire is fiction, because there are nice areas of Baltimore. I didn't even see anyone who looked looked like Bubbles. Disappointing really. What wasn't disappointing was a bar district called Fell's Point, where we went after the parade.

It's Monday morning now, and I've reached that half-drunk, half-hungover state where everything is somehow stupid, annoying and hilarious all at the same time. But I didn't call in sick, because of dedication and experience. This is not the first time I've been drunk at work. Wearing sunglasses in a cubicle is not suspicious.

Is it inappropriate to laugh at something called "Crime Spree-Asians" on the AP wire? Probably, considering its crime against Asians. Although I don't know whether it would be OK if it were crime committed by Asians. Clearly I'm babbling. In conclusion, uh, this video.

Zombie twitch dance

Right back atcha there buddy

Click to embiggen.

Society's blood

Picture via here

Here's a few things for your perusal. Sorry for less this week, but constant harassment by Rita's PR flacks has cut my productivity. Why yes, our readers would like to participate in mystery water ice FREE-ver promotion! It's like a disease, but better!

Should I have put something up about Watchmen? Nah, except to say read the book first and its enjoyable. There was way too much written out there already. Oversaturation, if you will. Still, the people complaining about this, that and the other were a bit obnoxious. Good thing the voice of reason comes from ... Patton Oswalt's MySpace page?

This is some crazy shit about some sort of dirty bomb inauguration plot. Too bad its from a source(wikileaks) only slightly more credible than Alex Jones, 9/11-truthers and the like. Although the passive aggressive nature of the section titled "Why hasn't the story been picked up by the national press?" pleases me. Uh, guys? Your paranoia is showing. WAKE UP SHEEPLE.

Via Vishnu's facebook feed (where else?), we have this thing about something called WeedMaps, a google maps derivative that aims to be a Yelp for the chronic. Ah decriminalization, I'm twittering in anticipation, and not electronically. The new drug czar is Michael Douglas from Traffic!

Speaking of twitter. So queer, I don't care if Shaq does it. No one cares what you ate for breakfast. Shit I have enough trouble keeping this thing relatively current without that level of over-sharing. I enjoyed this vicious takedown that contains more than 140 characters.

That's it. Not sure what future there is here. Reading things like this makes me feel terribly inadaquate in bloggerocity (Warning: Contains Soccer). I blame lack of focus. Wow, a blue car!

Here's something

Not only is this the best possible use of iPhone technology, it is also the most productive municipal meeting on record.

Deuce Deuce

Before taking in much-anticipated Watchmen, the goats made their way down to Philadelphia for some Beer Week related revelry. Notably a bunch of drinks from some Colorado brewer at For Pete's Sake Pub, a small neighborhood bar that for some reason was determined by a local weekly to be one of the top ten bars in Philly. It's no Oscars, but still, $7 Chimay.

No other major details, because it didn't occur to me to scrawl in my notebook until I realized I was too drunk to read David Foster Wallace on the bus ride back home. Consulting it now there really isn't much legible, let alone coherent. Random sketches of billboards and retail signs. Something about an old man with a huge white beard, although he may have been younger, because the beard obscured his age. He had difficulty walking, which indicates advanced age or hard-living, or both. The bus driver was able to somehow lower the bus to allow his exit, while someone said "Jesus Loves You." Probably a black woman.

Also I wrote this: "Kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day, good thing kitten is not allowed on the bus." Presumably that has something to do with this, along with public transit's staunch anti-pet policy. Or maybe I was thinking of murder because of some token idiot who happened to be within ire range. Or the faint smell of urine that accompanies any trip on the 104. I don't know. Maybe things will be clearer if I make a second trip to beer week, to bicycle.

Oh right, Watchmen

So it opens today. Here's part of a "negative" review.

WATCHMEN is a repulsive, mediocre, long movie filled with gory violence, graphic sex, extreme nudity, and other immorality. Audiences have never seen so much gore, blood, sex, and sadism, especially in a major action movie meant for a mainstream audience. Ultimately, WATCHMEN strongly affirms humanist, socialist, anti-American values promoting a socialist utopia where liberty, justice and goodness are destroyed for the sake of a totalitarian peace.

At least there's the inevitable Saturday morning cartoon.

Sometimes this job has rewards

And yes, I am only putting this up to push that horrifying picture of Nicholas "Birdhead" Cage down the page. More later? Perhaps.

Couldn't resist

Cleaning out the queue: Christ on the Moon edition

Lets go back to an old standard here and take a look at DVDs that have been sent to me through the mail. Some removed due to previous looking and typing.

Ninth Configuration
Shades of Stanley Kubrick here. This film (aka Twinkle Twinkle Killer Kane) from Exorcist writer William Peter Blatty falls into both the categories of "genre-defying" and "criminally under-seen." It's set in a European style castle in the Pacific northwest, which is being used as a sort of experimental treatment center for soldiers mentally damaged during the Vietnam War. It's surreal, funny and subdued. The best moments are kinetic exchanges about the nature of good and evil and the existence of God between Colonel Kane (Stacy Keach in a definitive film role) and an astronaut who suffered a nervous breakdown seconds before being launched into space. Also: Hamlet as performed by dogs and a great bar fight scene.

Running Scared
Without a doubt I can say this is the best Paul Walker movie of all time. And he is a man whose film credits include 2 Fast 2 Furious and Meet the Deedles. In all seriousness though, Running Scared is one of those action thrillers that moves so fast you don't have time to realize how ludicrous it all is. Like Walker getting fluorescent hockey pucks shot at his face. Not for the squeamish.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Here's something a little lighter, which definitely has some laugh out loud moments. "VJ" Russell Brand is surprisingly funny as a playboy rock star. I also enjoyed the Dracula puppet rock opera.

The Onion Movie
This is basically a bunch of Onion News Network sketches strung together, with the loosest of plot strings combining them. Fortunately that plot string has the strength of a cock-punching Steven Seagal. It's irreverently hit or miss, but always cutting satire.

Iron Man
Yeah, finally got around to seeing this. Good, not great. Here's some synergy.


Beowulf: Director's Cut
This was a terribly skippy disc, so I didn't watch it too closely. Probably for the best.

Munich
The revenge of the Jews! That's anti-semitic at best, but still true in that this film is about a death squad enacting vengeance for the deaths of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. A bit long, but nuanced look at the changing nature of warfare in the time of terrorism. Eric Bana is at his best as a killing machine with a conscience.

Futurama: Bender's Game
NERDS!!!!! Since I don't have anything else to add here, check out this outstandingly simple Simpsons site: Eye on Springfield.

Gonzo
This documentary is required watching for any fan of Hunter S. Thompson. Way better than "Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride."

Wanted
I bet you thought Running Scared would be the most violently absurd movie on this list, didn't you? Well it doesn't have curving bullets and a "loom of fate" which makes a hit list for a secret order of assassins. It's ridiculous, but oh so entertaining. I think this scene sums it up pretty well.


Hancock
I think this could be useful to judge other's taste in movies. Borderline watchable, but ruined by the predictable twist. Put it this way: If after 20 minutes you can't make a sort of accurate prediction of the left turn this film will make in its second half, you suck at movies. Still, Will Smif.

Man on Wire
You may know this one because it just won an Oscar for best documentary and then the guy balanced the statue on his chin. It's about some crazy French guy who thinks his life's calling is to walk on a tightrope between the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Plays out like a heist caper, and gains poignancy now that the towers no longer exist.

Dead Man
This is black and white western starring Johnny Depp is an interesting in concept, but failed to hold my attention.

Primer
This is one of those that causes multiple thoughts along the lines of "guh-wha" or perhaps "snuh?" It's about two engineers who accidentally invent time travel. Not flashy (It was made for $7,000) but the ideas in the film carry it. Frankly, I barely comprehended what was going on, multiple paradoxes inside boxes of paradoxes. This and Ninth Configuration are two of the biggest mindfuck movies I've seen in a while.

That's it, Repo Man's on the way.

What could this be for?

Since the dawn of time domestication, man has yearned to get his pets high. And thanks to the ingenuity of one Nebraska man, that dream is now reality. Assuming he doesn't go to jail for animal cruelty charges, this so-called "cat bong" could revolutionize the lives of pet-loving stoners the world over. Ferret owners in particular.

It amazes me what people think of to do with animals.

Indeed, local humane society representative. INDEED.
Also, this:

Jarrett said Schomaker told deputies the cat was out of control and he wanted to calm him down.

Redux

So that video was briefly up here on Sunday morning (?) because I accidentally posted it. The Internet and Scotch can be a bad combination. At least I didn't go on some sort of facebook wall-writing spree. But at the time I thought it would make hazy sense to post that video along with this link: Hipster: The dead end of Western Civilization. Because that is a hipster band? I don't know.

What I do know is that that an article talking about how terrible hipsters are appearing in AdBusters is a bit counter intuitive. This is a publication that uses terms like "culture jamming" in complete seriousness. I remember some quote in Naomi Klein's anti-brand bestseller No Logo in which one of these so-called jammers talks about how his work is like cultural jujitsu, taking the momentum of advertising campaigns and spinning the message to something counter of what the company intended. Thus does graffiti supposedly instill social change.


The problem with that article is it uses a broad brush to paint what should be a narrow subject. Yes, kids with trust funds who ride fixed gear bikes, wear skinny jeans and glasses with no lenses are stupid. But what about those that drink PBR and shop at thrift stores and cut their own hair because of genuine financial hardship? Where does one draw the line between manufactured image and reality? And does a cultural group exist if no one self-identifies with it?

I may be raising more questions than I have the ability or desire to answer. It is difficult to determine where the line between genuine and fake lies these days. As if it ever was easy. But with marketing groups and cool-hunting consultants seeking out and co-opting the next big thing instantaneously, it's impossible to sell out when everything has already been bought. Maybe it's better to just party in the streets and not worry about what it looks like.

There are no believable gods

My internet/cable is broken, probably forever. I'm currently posting this at the library, and it's not clear when I will be able to put something more up this week. Til then, turn every link on this page grey. It's not worthwhile.

That's a new one

I was actually watching this live last night. Caught the last 30 seconds or so after the latest Heroes, aka Lost for dumb people. Not going to get into that. For those unaware, the Sixers dropped a game to the Nets when Devin Harris hit an absurd half-court heave, while being harried by Iguodala.

Watching the Sixers in close games has been agonizing at best. Last night was the fourth (4th) loss from a buzzer-beater this season by my count. So as the clock ran down, each missed free throw inspired feelings of -- the opposite of faith? And those feelings were justified by the most ridiculous of shots, by a Wisconsinite.

Also, the clock didn't start on time, because New Jersey cheats.

Independent Spirit Awards > Oscars

Today should be a holiday

Four years ago today Hunter S. Thompson killed himself. And it should be made a holiday, at least for the Freaks (god save them). But how to celebrate? Grapefruit and mescaline would be involved somehow, but what else? Running for sheriff?

Perhaps a good way to get in the right mood would be with a viewing of documentary Gonzo, followed by some Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas. Then renting a huge American convertible which could be driven at terrible speeds while shouting "Tell me about the fucking golf shoes!" Hmmm. The documentary film is certainly worthwhile, focusing on the good doctor's prime years, before he became so well-recognized and found himself berating british journalists. Not sure about the rest of it.

Or what about some sort of gonzo comparison between the presidential campaigns of George McGovern and Barack Obama, through the use of rhythm logic. This would require the consumption of large amounts of wild turkey. Or taking some high-powered hallucinogens and listening to the Gonzo Tapes at high volume, while shooting guns. Not really sure what results one could expect from that, probably the fear.

This isn't going anywhere, so straight from the theater of the absurd, here's video of Thompson's appearance on Late Night with Conan O'Brien, in which the host "met him on a farm in upstate New York to shoot guns and drink hard liquor."

No self restraint

Against my better judgment, I read a column today by John "Free Market Uber Alles" Stossel. It compares Obama's stimulus package to the building of the pyramids in Egypt, then goes on to say we should outlaw machines, and later insinuates that the draft may be reinstated. It's like some sort of bizarre trifecta of socialism, only with its own web site, and lacking grounds in reality. The goats like to keep the discourse friendly and mature, but Stossel should go suck John Galt's dick.

Moving on, here are two outrageous time sinks that have been killing productivity of late.
a) Sporcle.com is trivial but gives your brain a workout, and your wrists carpal tunnel. Apparently I know 14 of the 20 richest football clubs in the world.
b) Kongregate.com is far worse in that the brain doesn't have to do much to play flash games like Superstacker 2.

Just gotta dig out an innappropriate pic and that's a post.

Surrender is death and death is for pussies

If you have access to HBO, highly recommend checking out the new show from the McBride-Hill-Best combo, Eastbound and Down. Danny McBride plays the main character, a washed up baseball player forced to become a teacher in his hometown, you may remember him from small roles in Pineapple Express and Tropic Thunder.

For anyone familiar with Foot Fist Way, McBride plays Randy Powers like Fred Simmons with a mullet. A man who listens to his own audio book: You're Fucking Out, I'm Fucking In (narrated by himself, of course).

Undaunted I knew the game was mine to win. Just like in life all of my success depend on me. I'm the man who has the ball, and I'm the man who can throw it faster than fuck. So that is why I'm better than everyone in the world. Kiss my ass and suck my dick, everyone.

The first episode contained everything that is wrong, like antisemitism and excessive cocaine. Oh and more profanity in a half hour than any other show in the history of television. Just unbelievably crude, but it does have a heart. Just before Powers becomes a completely insufferable oblivious ass it pulls back a bit. Not much, but something to give the characters some depth.

You get the feeling this show is actually going somewhere. It's certainly got more going on than that other HBO asshole-fest, Entourage. Plus it has more Valtrex jokes.

This holiday sucks (bad language)

Presidents Day is lamer than a bucket of stale carrots baby owls, or perhaps the people who dedicated hours of their lives to making this.

Wither without Gerald

Don't know how many of you watched the NBA "extravaganza" Saturday night. If you didn't consider yourself lucky. Disappointing, truly. No blowing out cupcakes. Just straight corn, and Barkley wasn't there to eat it. The biggest news was Lebron saying he will be in the dunk contest next year.

The highlight of the evening may have been the first event, the terribleness of which is made apparent by the sponsor, Haier, a company know one has heard of (but that's all changing thanks to their "Shooting Stars" sponsorship!). The other events have known brands paying more money than you'll make in your life to have their name associated with them. Haier makes washing machines.

Anyway, dunk contest. The problem is the competitors. Dwight Howard, obviously, puts on a show. His dunking on a 12 foot rim was pretty entertaining. But really ... The cape again? How about something new. The power of Christ compels you to channel your God-love into some sort of crucifix slam. Too soon?

But what about Nate "Kryptonite" Robinson you ask? He's relatively short, yet can still dunk! Ugh. I feel safe in saying that Nate is the most unappealing player in the NBA, and that's not just because of his running feud with Lou Williams. And the inclusion of Rudy Fernandez by fan vote is inexplicable, and proof of stupidity.

That's it, the blood is up. Gotta watch some AI to calm down, or Skeets.
So robbed.

Like a rat in a cage hauling minimum wage

Don't do drugs

And if you do, certainly don't go on Letterman.

To Bonnaroo

Or not? Line up seems impressive so far. The Phish reunition aspect is a bit discouraging because Phishheads will outnumber everyone else, but still, a good scene. I'm convinced by the consecutive listing of The Mars Volta, TV on the Radio and Yeah Yeah Yeahs. So much good music in one place Bob Geldof is spinning in his grave.

The goats would enjoy getting to a festival, especially cause they haven't been to one since Rock the Bells in NYC a couple years back. Who doesn't enjoy dozens of bands and fires, a la Woodstock. Or some Ozzfest or Feztival or Live 8 or some other thing I can't remember because I got a concussion in the mosh pit? Stupid Korn.

There have been serious discussions about Bonnaroo with Sinclair, in which the conclusion of "going" has been reached. The lack of cars means we are looking at flying to Nashville and thumbing it. Or going Greyhound. Options are unlimited at this point, and I'm dreaming of the Greenbriar. Not to mention, any Midwestern folks out there could probably make it a trip somehow.

Bottom line -- days of entertainment for the price of a Wii. Any takers HMMMMMM?

Louis Guthrie didn't kill anyone

So that there is the the video for The Giraffes song "Wage Earner." Low budget, yes, but not lacking merit. And by merit I mean T&A. Seriously, this band rocks, Queens of the Stone Age-style except harder. Call it surfer metal if you are inclined. Just ordered their relatively new CD "Prime Motivator" off the tubes. With random record label schwag!

Three minor points here:
1) This band is worth a listen, and I don't care if they are making fun of this blogger. Just read the ridiculous backstory. In fact, it seems the gunshots and heart attacks may have hardened up the lyrics a bit. In other news, stonerrock.com is something that exists.

2) The Brooklyn music scene has been blowing up over the past couple years, with bands like The National, MGMT, Grizzly Bear, Vampire Weekend, etc. gaining popularity if not cash. Its good to see something a little harder come out of there, even if hipsters don't like it with their high bikes. Note: If anyone has a current day picture of someone riding one of those old timey bikes with a big front wheel and small back wheel please send it to me.

3) A great thing about the web is how it has democratized music consumption. No longer are you confined to what they have at the local record store or venue. Supporting local music is a good thing, of course, but now one can seek out tunes beyond their normal everyday sphere. It's clear iTunes and Myspace are in the mainstream. And there is all types of niche sites and blogs that cater to every possible taste, Pitchfork be damned.

Heroes is good again

Gotta say, this new season of Heroes has picked up its game after the last two lackluster installments. As the gravelly voiced announcer guy says: They're on the run ... from the U.S. Government. Plus Sylar's new sidekick Microwave Boy, fairly major characters dying, and Peter Petrelli's ham-fisted plot exposition dialogue.

Sure, the whole show is about as subtle as a 2x4 to the ribs. It's not "smart" or "deep" but sometimes its nice when every thing is spelled out, and it makes sense (unlike last season). Even the oh so ambiguous HRG hits the audience over the head with his moral grayness. Oh really, you had the shot but didn't take it? What's next, arguing with his daughter about something. Speaking of which, does anyone else want to see a My Two Dads type spin-off with HRG, the cheerleader and Nathan?

That's neither here nor there. This season shows how much better socio-political commentary works in television as compared to time travel. I read somewhere that they picked up a writer from Battlestar, and it shows in that they are going with more a topical narrative. Orange jumpsuits! Black-clad gunmen! Hoods! So much better than rolling out new characters with random-ass powers every week. Black hole Bubbles comes to mind. Terrible.

Anyway, the Sylar torture scene was probably the highlight of the episode, even if I laughed at Microwave Boy's frying the coffee cup to stop his slutty mom from getting choked out (Must ... help!). Also, Sylar had two of the best lines I can remember from this show -- the ones comparing himself to a force of nature, and about letting the kid live being a big deal. Almost enough to make up for Peter's consistent terribleness.

Coming next week? Fingers crossed for Japanese people in India!

03.06.09

Lobster parade

Since posts remain elusive this week, I dug this half-done guy out of the archive and tried to wrap it up.

Meant to post this last week in November, but then bad things happened.

Remember when I started this blog, more than two years ago? I don't. Reason being one of the "founding principles" was the posting of drunken stories. There was a good run of those -- involving baseball bats, condiments or fake blood. But drinking and memory are not two great tastes that go great together, it seems, and the telling of the belligerence petered out. But hey, its never too late to resurrect a classic. So here's one man's experience from the Phillies Championship Parade two weeks ago to the day. History.

The original plan was to take SEPTA into the city. No car, hey. But the worst public transit system ever had different ideas. Those ideas being to run fewer trains on a day with their highest ridership ever. The local station was packed with people. Some shitfaced patrons were entertaining themselves by setting their empties on the tracks and then throwing rocks at them. Broken bottles are fun to cheer at 10 a.m.
But standing around with 800 drunks and children got old after about 20 minutes and my friend, lets call him Justin, decided to drive into the city. Glorious internal combustion got us there in no time at all. Seems all the dumb saps were waiting for the train, leaving the highways relatively congestion-free.

ed note: Up to this point this was all written back in November, let's see what the old memory can provide without notes. May contain false information.


The closest I could get was at the very start of the parade. Close enough to snap that photo of my hero and yours at least. Close enough to shout "Bulldogs!" and get a wave in response. After seeing them off, Justin and I decided to make our way down to Broad Street to "see" the rest of the parade. And by the rest of the parade I mean Greenman. Not really sure what is going on behind that parking meter.


The parade went by, and the street was opened. We went to McGlinchey's, a bar right in the heart of Philadelphia that maintains what I like to call a "blue-collar asthetic." Meaning dirty as all hell, bathrooms don't work, reeks of cigarette smoke despite a citywide ban, etc. The kind of place where a nearby group of reprobates in stylish caps asks for your empties, to fill with Keystone Light from a backpack. Don't want to raise suspicions.

An indeterminate amount of time passed, several hours at least. Eventually Justin called it day and I walked out to West Philly to meet some relatives who were in town. Not much for the goats there, except for a hipster I saw holding his own dance party on the street. He was certainly more amusing than the homeless man Sinclair and I encountered a month later outside a Hard Rock Cafe. He was letting out blood-curding screams every minute or two. Terrifying.

Indeed. Where was I? There were drinks at some place called the Raven Lounge. And finally met up with some others at Oscar's, a Rittenhouse dive known for its $3 23-ounce domestic drafts. There I chatted up a couple Obama volunteers, and received a sticker. Unfortunately the mood was ruined by some over-educated white girl who insisted on dropping the n-bomb in an attempt to seem with it. Even a McCain-supporting friend of mine was confused by the situation.

I think there may have been more, like the journey home, but that's just about all I care to remember at this point.

Fryolaters for all

Never underestimate the popularity of canned meat. Spam-maker Hormel saw net growth in 2008, with published reports saying that manufacturing of the meat product is “pretty busy.” Better than most, I suppose.

[DLN column]

Mmmmm, pie

Is there such a thing as an avant-garde talk show?