Do it for the 'stache

Pictured: Sean Salisbury, ESPN personality, and AJ Daulerio, the balls.

Please vote yes on "lemme know" for the Deadspin Hall of Fame. It's the most important vote you'll ever make.

246 greatest films of all time: #87 Inside Man

Here is a new feature on the fainting goats that will likely never be completed. I have a "master list" of the best 250 or so movies as chosen by me. And by master list I mean I haphazardly assign rankings to films I happen to see on late night cable.

First up, the triumphant trio of Denzel, Jodie Foster and Clive Owen in Inside Man. It's a Spike Lee joint, which I know won't sit well with the racist members of the fainting goat world. But tough shit y'all are crackers.
Anyway here's the opening sequence, all indian music and the 5 W's. As a journalist I do appreciate the dedication to the who, what, when, where and why of a situation. And how!

Tagline: It looked like the perfect bank robbery. But you can't judge a crime by its cover.

Plot spoilers
Jodie Foster is the power broker hired to protect the interests of the owner of the bank -- who made all his money dealing with the Nazis during World War II and happens to have all the evidence stored in a bank safety deposit box. She makes time in her busy schedule of getting bin laden's nephew an apartment to try and help him out. But Clive Owen knows the bank owner's dirty secret, and in fact, that is why he's robbing the bank.
Also, Clive hides in a little room that the robbers construct in the back of the store room, then merely walking out of the bank unharassed days later after it reopened. Sneaky sneaky.

Best character
Here I gotta go with Denzel's Detective Keith Frazier. Clive Owen's bank robber is all monotone and calculated, and Foster's Madeleine White is a cunt. Nobody else really sticks out. Willem Defoe is entirely forgettable as the SWAT team commander. But Det. Frazier is all bombast and emotion and conflict. He has all the best lines without a doubt and Denzel turns in his best work since Training Day. Playing anti-heroes (especially somewhat crooked cops) seems to be his new forte.


Notable Quotes
Vikram Walia: Fuckin' tired of this shit. What happened to my fuckin' civil rights? Why can't I go anywhere without being harassed? Get thrown out a bank, I'm a hostage, I get harassed. I go to the airport, I can't go through security without a random selection. Fuckin' random, my ass.
Keith Frazier: I bet you can get a cab though.
Vikram Walia: I guess that's one of the perks.
Ahhhh current events and racial profiling. You see -- Vikram is a Sikh, which means he wears a turban. And that's what terrorists wear. OK, real terrorists probably don't wear turbans because that would get them noticed, but its ironic or something. TAXI!

Madeliene White: Don't take this personally, but I don't think you can afford me.
Keith Frazier: Don't take this personally, Miss White, but kiss my black ass.
I like this exchange because it sounds like Jodie Foster is a high class prostitute. Paging John Hinckley!

Keith Frazier: C'mon! You've seen Dog Day Afternoon! You're stalling!
Chose this over "THIS AINT NO BANK ROBBERY" because it references to another heist flick. I just wish they had recreated something from Heat. Or Point Break.


Another reason to see it
It's a think piece on how we define good and evil in a post-9/11 world, taking a no-holds-barred look at a variety of issues including corruption and multiculturalism. At first you think the bank robbers are the bad guys, but then it turns out old Nazi McBanker is the real asshole. Plus it has a twist you never would have expected if you hadn't read the spoilers above.

inappropriate

BAHAHAHAHA old surgeon
World's Oldest Neurosurgeon Turns 100
/got nothing

No one's gotten a handjob in cargo shorts since 'Nam

Saw Superbad last night and it certainly warrants a post. To quote some random YouTube commenter (because they are both intelligent and witty) -- this movie raped my face off.

It all takes place in one night, an epic coming of age tale of booze and parties, kind of like Dazed and Confused. It's probably not as good as that, but its certainly raunchier. Truly the Citizen Kane of dick joke movies.

The two main characters are Seth: the fat profane kid who used to draw pictures of dicks; and Evan: The awkward best friend who hits on girls with lines like "samesies." Not too mention McLovin and the two idiot cops.

Here's the R-rated trailer for your enjoyment. uhhh, NSFW.

Phriday Philler

First we have this foreign policy blog written by veterans, called 2Dinar. It's interesting to see the foreign policy perspectives of people who it affects the most.

Next we got some more Philly sports homerism. Donovan is making his return to the field tonight. And his return is welcomed by, uhhhh, this video?


Speaking of Philly sports homerism, Darren Daulton is fucking nuts.

Hrm ... this is pretty much the best amateur music video I've ever seen. It's for "Why does my heart feel so bad?" off Moby's album Play, which has more songs in commercials than any other album ever. The video is kind of strange and depressing, but it fits the song. Takes me back to the summer after freshman year of college, driving around listening to Play and Doggystyle stoned out of my mind.

Thats it, I've probably said too much already, enjoy the weekend.

edit: here's the video anonymous keeps talking about
its no cows with guns, but still.

Saverio the moment (sorry)

In case you are unaware, the Eagles have a former Australian Rules football star on their roster. Sav Rocca played 15 season's down under, where gained a reputation as a "strong full-forward with a huge kick" whatever that means. He's competing with Dirk Johnson to be the eagles punter, and as hilarious as the name Dirk is, you gotta pull for the Aussie.

I'm trying to think of something funny to write, but all I can think of is "throw another shrimp on the barbie." Too bad he's not Austrian.

Sav did instantly endear himself to Iggles fans everywhere with his performance in the first preseason game. Boomed one 65 yards, got cheap shotted on the return and bounced right up with a goofy-insane grin. He's the video -- I especially enjoy the exuberant rantings of Ike Reese. I really hope they put him in the radio booth with Merrill and Mike Quick.

One more video

you may remember the skateboarding dog that was posted twice here. Well he's got nothing on EXTREME PETE.

Look out Wimbledon

That's all I got.

Everyday I'm hustlin'

What a long strange trip its been. Conceived on the streets of philadelphia, inspired by a girl who wanted TMoney and I to sniff her armpit, the fainting goats has successfully helped me waste a year of my life. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Lets look back at a few of the highlights from the past year.
First of all, the video that gave this blog its name. I thought maybe the joke would have gotten old by now.
Nope, still hilarious.

In the beginning, I didn't really know what this blog was supposed to be(I still don't), so posting was sporadic -- hit or miss. Surely one of the hits that kept me going in the early days was drunken tales. Be it the reason I hate Wisconsin or pranking my narcoleptic roommate, the drunken belligerence was always a hit. A post in that category is still the most commented on in the history of fainting goats, with 8 comments. Prolific.
Kind of along those same lines was this post. My short lived attempt at live-blogging a trip.

Fast forward a bit, the blog has also given me opportunity to tune my ill-gotten photoshop skills, first there was this.

Pretty shitty. Then I used the photoshop skillz to augment a post. A post that was a blatant ripoff of The Dugout, but good stuff nonetheless. You may remember the team to beat.

And then there was the infamous Bonds gorilla.still not racist. And I should point out that was the result of my calling out of TMoney which he responded to in kind.

It was exciting time here then, the first flowers of spring had just bloomed. It was the time when a young man's fancy turns to love. Plus I had just started to hit my stride (evidence look at the March posts).

And we had a new gimmick here. DEATHMATCH LISTOFF, ie an excuse to post as many copyright violations as possible in record time. It began with adult swim shows, then moved on to places visit in the mushroom kingdom, stoner movies, video games, rap lyrics, simpsons episodes, bands of our youth and finally beer. Judge the winner for yourself (its me). I think the best one ever was the rap lyrics, culminating in this fucking badass headbutt of a post.

Another interesting idea I had around that time was the phriday philler post. Concept was simple, a linkdump of random crap I come across during the ridiculously excessive amount of internet surfing I do each week. Sometimes they have themes, sometimes not. But they always start off with a crazy picture (usually somewhat humorous) and then bounce all around the interwebs. I think the best one I ever did was this one. Can't go wrong with some Korean sex sculptures.

Theres a few other posts that should be mentioned:

My short-lived attempt at gonzo journalism went pretty well I think. Maybe I will write a book someday.

I thoroughly enjoyed the first championship by a Philadelphia team in my lifetime.

In addition to the gonzo posts, my job is a good inspiration occasionally. See here and especially here.

And finally, I invited anyone with a gmail address to become a contributor to this blog. It's a standing offer.

I'm getting tired from patting myself on the back, so I'm wrapping this up. I didn't include anything from the past two months or so, but chances are if you're reading this you read that too. So check back early and often for more of the drunken rants, excessive amounts of video, random pictures and headlines from song lyrics that only I recognize. And peruse the archives at your own risk.

The greatest drinking games of all times redux

This was originally a series of posts I did it back in January, but to commemorate the one year anniversary of this blog, I'm putting it all together. Plus, it's still probably the best and most coherent thing to grace this here small space of interweb. It was also the beginning of a more proactive approach to posting by me that has raised the number of regular readers of the fainting goats from two to 10. Enjoy.


So I got a call tonight from someone who I'll call "the godfather" of this blog. And he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Well actually I could refuse, cause he lives 4 million miles away and I am soooo lazy. But nevertheless, he made some good points and here we are.

The criteria are determined but not entirely understood by me. Fuck what you think, I am the decider.

First observe the unofficial mascot. The patron saint of all binge drinking: Nude Heuch Keggy.





















Now here we go.

10. The cigarette burn game. In this a game you take a cup and fasten tissue paper across the top with a rubber band. Place a penny in the center of the paper and fire up some cancer sticks. Everyone need not smoke but the more the better. One person will burn the tissue paper with their cig, and the next guy has to drink while the tissue paper is burning. Eventually the penny will fall, but do not doubt the freakish strength of tissue paper. Whoever makes the penny fall has to drink a whole beer or do 8 shots or something.

9. Keg Race. 2 teams, each with their own keg. Whoever runs dry first wins. Its inadvisable to play this with less than 15(?) people per team. For all you crazy frat boys out there, it makes for a good competition between pledge classes. Seniors always win.

8. Quarters. There are many variations on this simple game of bouncing quarter into a shot glass/mug/ice cube tray/strippers vagina but my personal favorite is speed quarters. In which you flip the quarters into 2 or more shot glasses as fast as you can, racing around the table. Anytime someone gets passed they must drink. Also, don't forget variations where someone can make a rule if they make 3 in a row.

7. Beer Pong. With all apologies to my east coast homeys this version is played with paddles. Teams of two hit the ball back and forth at the 2 cups set up on each side. Hit the cup=1 point, losers take a sip. Put it in=3 points, losers pound the rest. You can counter if the ball hits your cup, but not if it goes in (no shit). Honestly, this isn't even that good of a game (sorry CW), but it comes into play later in the countdown.

6. Caps. Ah caps. Truly a man's game. Sit in teams of two, teammates next to each other on the floor, across from the opposing team. Fling caps at the other team's cup, positioned between the two teammates. Sinking it means the other team must drink a full beer between them. No "half beers" and damn sure no "pussy caps" where each teammate only has to take a sip. A made cap can be countered by a made cap from the other team. no points are exchanged on counters but it continues in order as long as caps are made, only the threat of drinking remains as punishment of a miss. Many variations of this game exist as well. Standard rules are to 11, win by two. STEEL CONDOMS!














There truly is nothing better than a caps league, complete with running commentary on all the games from Hertel. That crazy bastard is probably dead now.

Stay tuned for the top 5, coming sometime in the next week if I feel like it.

----------------------------------

After much consideration, deep thought and whiskey, lets continue the countdown.

5. Asshole. Really this is just the token card game, with all apologies to Kings. Playable by any number of people. The object of the game is too get rid on all your cards. Play starts with the 3 of clubs then continues where each person has to play a card of equal or greater numerical value. You can also play doubles (ie 2 sevens) or triples, after which only doubles or triples of higher value can be played. If a card is played on another card of the same value, the next player is skipped and must drink. If you can't make a play, drink. 2s clear the pile. 4s can be played on anything and are a social. If all you have left are 2s you can give them away by holding them up in the air for some quick thinker to snatch away. And one optional variation is if a player has the completion of a set of 4, they can throw it down out of turn, also clearing the pile.
The first person to get rid of all their cards in the first round becomes president. Second=vice president. The hierarchy continues down to the last person, the asshole, who must deal the cards and clear them during the game. During the game the president rules and can make anyone drink or whatever. But while dealing the asshole can order out drinks. Positions change after each round, and moving around the table in accordance with rank is suggested. A three-term president gets to make a rule.
OK I think thats it. I never realized how complicated this game actually was. Also, a google image search of "asshole" is ill-advised.


4. The Triathlon. This game is not for the meek. In fact it is 3 games in 1. Two teams of 2 square off in an epic battle of caps, beer pong and finally cups.(Note: I realize cups has not yet been mentioned in this countdown, but its a simple game really -- drink then flip cup. Also, this is the version of beer pong played with paddles.)


Basically you play all three of these games to 15, starting with caps, then beer pong and finally cups. Each team should have a 30 pack to start, chances are it will be gone by the end. COnsequences of playing this are unpredictable, but whoever wins has bragging rights for quite a while. For example I remember CW and Denevi making a run of beating several consecutive challengers. In my defense, I was playing with Charlie. But Cullen and I eventually took them down, leaving Denevi to barefootedly scream gibberish about "stupid cubs fans" and CW hopelessly clinging to an exposed beam in his room while imitating Snarf from Thundercats. Ahhhhh, good times.

3.Beirut aka Beer Pong.



The classic ping pong ball throwing game. Once again two teams of 2, take turns throwing the ping pong ball at each others pyramid of cups. Honestly if you have never played this before, you are an idiot. But heres a diagram to help out.



House rules are in effect, ie just make shit up as you go along, and then in later games adhere to the same rules. Although if a team makes both their shots, they get the ball back.
When playing at a big party, get a list of challengers going, winner stays on the table.
Another interesting variation is to play "full contact" where a player can run over to the other side and try to get their ball back if it caroms wildly after a miss. Although that can result in violence or locking yourself in the laundry room while some maniac bangs on the door with a chair.


Thats it for now, big finish coming later tonight. One game is obvious, but whats the other?

----------------------------

This would have been up earlier, but I found the RBI baseball drinking game and after a few clicks discovered some sort of RBI baseball subculture on the Interwebs.

Anyway, lets finish this thing.

2. Baseball. Even though it's only been played a couple times, it is incredibly awesome. Its like a combination of cups and beirut and baseball plus a million. If only I had known about in college. Single tear. Here's the setup:

I recommend you print this out and tape it to your forehead.

The rules are the same as baseball, a miss is an out, 3 outs per inning, 9 innings per game. Best played with 3 people per team, but 2 is OK and 1 can suffice for the truly hardcore.

The twist is stolen bases. At any point when you have runners on base, you can run over to the side of the table with the stolen base cup and flip it. Someone on the other team needs to be alert and run over as well, if the offensive player flips his cup first, its a steal. Vice versa is caught stealing. Never has stealing home been so fun and easy.


And remember should the champion be unable to fulfill its duties for any reason, Baseball would take over as number 1. I don't know what that means.


1. Cups The grand champion. So diverse and awesome. Be it playing 20 on 20 against sketchy frat boys from Michigan, who then fuck their girlfriends/sluts under the pool table in the chapter room -- or 60 games of 2v2 against Rymac and Ryno on the sundeck on a lazy friday afternoon -- or even a cups tournament in the Kave where your partner injures his shoulder a couple days prior but still tries to compete with his arm in a sling, probably doing further damage to said shoulder -- This game is a winner and winners play this game.



Everyone should fill their beers an equal amount. I personally prefer less beer per round and more rounds. First person drinks, sets their cup on the edge of the table and flips it 180 degrees so it lands upside down. Then the next person drinks and so on. First team to the end wins.

Some versions of this game stand out:
Guys v Girls: Always good for some nice old fashioned sexist remarks, This also pairs well with strip cups and pants down/shirts off cups.
Survivor: Losing team must vote off one of their own. This can result in backroom strategy, not to mention one person drinking 7 cups of beer to match up with the other team.
2v2: For the intense competitor. Playing thousands of games of 2v2 led to such terms as "reset time" referring to how fast you could flip again after a missed flip and "cups czar" of which I am an emeritus.
Random bets: One particular instance was when Heuch and I decided the losing team had to go pick a fight with DK, a douchebag NUKE. Which I did by walking up to him, throwing his hat and slapping him upside the head. That was a good night.

Strategy. One of the greatest things about this game is the shit talk. After someone misses a few flips they tend to get flustered, which can be augmented by screaming in their ear. Also don't be afraid to use 2 hands. While the rules concerning number of hands are sketchy at best, chances are in the heat of the game no one will call you on it.




"What are you talking about guys? That flip was legit."











So there it is, get out there and drink everyone. In putting this together I realized there are many other games that deserve their due, an honorable mention if you will. So that post may be coming. Someday.

I'll leave you with the godfather TMoney creating his own variation of beirut. He describes it as " me spinning around 10 times on a baseball bat and then trying to throw a beer pong shot, while being harried by dogs."
I'm not sure its as good as all that, but the maniacal laugh/classic point at the end are fantastic.

---------------------------

Might as well throw this up here now cause I have zero other ideas until baseball season starts.

Kings:

Another good game for a good sized crowd of people who don't necessarily know each other that well. Spread a deck of cards in a circle on the table around a cup (the "King cup"). The rules can vary, but here's what I can remember:
2-drink two
3-give three
4-social
5-something
6-something else
7-i don't care
8-fuck you
9-Bust a rhyme. Say a phrase, next person "busts a rhyme." Whoever fails to make a rhyme or rhymes with the same word drinks
10-I never
Jack-Categories. Choose a category (ie brands of beer, bill paxton movies, whatever -- get creative). Failure drinks
Queen-Question. Turn to someone in the group and asks a question. That person then turns to someone else and asks something else. Whoever breaks sequence has to drink.
King-Pour some of your drink into the King cup. When that last King is drawn it ends the game and that player has to drink the King cup. It can be interesting if strangely different drinks are poured in it. The combination of whiskey sour, rum and coke and miller lite is outstanding. I suggest you try it.



Wine Game: Pretty simple concept. Pass around a bottle/jug of wine, preferably one of those big Edward Carlos Rossi gallon jugs. Each person chugs as long as they can, while everyone else chants "WINE GAME! WINE GAME! WINE GAME!"
And whomever finishes the bottle gets to go out in the street and smash it.



I'm told this is a fun game for catholics, cause they can pretend the wine is the blood of christ or something. Mmmmmm, that's good Jesus blood.





F*ck the dealer:

Another card game. Dealer holds the cards. Next person guesses a number. Dealer says higher or lower. Person guesses again. If they are right, dealer drinks. Wrong, they drink. Guess right, guess again. Guess wrong, dealer moves to the next person. Three wrongs in a row and the dealer passes the deck. Also, the cards get laid out on the table as the game goes along. The last dealer gets screwed.


Edward 40 Hands:


Tape a forty to each of your hands. Duct tape works well.


Century Club: Shot of beer every minute for 100 minutes. The big brother of power hour. And never play the "30 pack Challenge."

OK, thats it I think.



Yeah I am done.


Thats it for now. Later this pm I'm going to put up something comprehensive, complete with linky goodness.

I'm back, baby!

And by I, I mean football. Watching two always-disappointing preseason games right now. We got the local broadcast of Eagles-Ravens and 49ers-Broncos on ESPN, aka the Bill Walsh Memorial bowl. So here's a couple quick hit thoughts before I start working on the fainting goats' 1-year anniversary post for tommorrow.

• The eagles have some rookie DB named last name Barksdale. I hope he gets serious playing time just for the Wire comparisons that I am bound to make. For example, Barksdale is the kingpin of the secondary. OK, that's weak but I'll work on it.
  
  
• Is it just me or is the whole "Bill Walsh is a genius" thing overrated. I mean, he's still a football coach, right? Sure he invented the West Coast offense, but I don't think any sports coach deserves to be placed in the pantheon of geniuses. Einstein and Bill Walsh playing chess in heaven. Also, no disrespect intended to the deceased, but Mike Tirico is practicing necrophilia with how he's sucking Walsh's dick during this telecast.
  
  
• The other football started this weekend too, by which I mean the English Premier League. The most memorable moment for me was when super-scouser Steven Gerrard rescued Liverpool with an amazing free kick in the 87th minute. As the announcer said something along the lines of "Steven Gerrard has Liverpool-red blood running through his veins."
  

That's it, check in Tuesday for something special?

Hey look, it's some badass fictional characters!

Some of these are more obscure than others. And yes I'm aware I don't include John McClane, James Bond or Schwarzenegger in any incarnation. Too obvious. Plus these guys would kick the shit out of them. Well maybe not Dutch.

Keyser Soze from The Usual Suspects
"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."


Rorschach from The Watchmen
I'm about halfway through arguably the greatest graphic novel ever, and Rorschach is a fucking nutball. He's he only costumed hero still around at the beginning of the novel (1985 or so, after the US was victorious in Vietnam and Nixon declared himself president for life). Speaks in monotone, murders prostitutes, is clinically insane. When the police capture him and take off his mask he screams for them not to take his face. So there's that. I'm sure there could be more but I don't want to do an research and spoil the ending.

Ash from Evil Dead/Army of Darkness
Dude has a fuckin' chainsaw for a hand. Seriously. Spouts off one-liners like its his job. THIS IS MY BOOMSTICK. Yeah, he works at S-Mart, so what? He fucks the undead's day up, for regular.


The Sandman from ECW
I'm not sure how "fictional" this guy is. He's this wrester from back in the day in "Extreme Championship Wrestling" whose schtick was coming out and drinking a bunch of beer and then smashing the cans on his head, often drawing blood. He was known for beating the shit out of people with a cane, and became known as the "extreme icon." I remember watching matches between him and Cactus Jack (aka Mankind aka Mick Foley) on borderline public access in the 90s where they would throw each other on barb wire and set each other on fire for 30 minutes. Also, he's fucking scary, just look at this photo.


Charles Bronson in any movie, lets say The Mechanic

You gotta give a shout out for the so-called "Granite face of destiny." Death Wish or the Magnificent Seven? Fuck and Yes.

Tyler Durden from Fight Club
A fictional character that only exists inside the brain of another fictional character. deeply badass. Plus he starts a series of fight clubs, eventually forming a vast underground network that he uses to build his own personal army. He then blows up a bunch of credit card headquarters or something to the Pixies. And he never sleeps.


Jack Shaftoe from The Baroque Cycle by Neal Stephenson
"Half-cocked" Jack, the king of the vagabonds, exists in this trilogy of historical fiction set around the turn of the century 1600. It's an epic read (seriously, each book is like 800 pages). In the first novel he is slowly going crazy from syphilis and gets into a bunch of ridiculous adventures -- including riding into a turkish harem, killing an Ostrich and abducting a prostitute; winning a war on the subcontinent via fiery phosphorus bombs made from his men's urine; and riding to a royal gathering on his warhorse and cutting off the arm of a prince, the so-called politest man in France. He was just being polite in his own badass way.
Later Shaftoe is part of a grand plan to break out from slavery and steal a cache of silver, nay gold, nay legendary gold. His badassery apparently is genetic. One of his progeny is Bobby Shaftoe from "Cryptonomicon" a black ops Marine who tells off Ronald Reagan while high on opium. In other words, if you haven't read any Stephenson, I recommend you give it a shot.

Jules Winnfield from Pulp Fiction
Everybody knows the old Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous man et cetera et cetera. But I still think his best line is when he's cleaning up the car with Vincent:

Well, I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm Superfly T.N.T., I'm the Guns of the Navarone! In fact, what the fuck am I doing in the back? You're the motherfucker who should be on brain detail! We're fuckin' switchin'! I'm washin' the windows, and you're pickin' up this nigger's skull!

Gripping, compelling, and rich. Nevermind the fact that Jules is the only person in this movie (besides the Wolf obviously) who should really be called badass. Vincent? Killed after taking a dump. Marcellus Wallace? Raped. Mrs. Wallace? Can't handle her heroin. Zed? Balls blown off. Christopher Walken? Stored a watch up his ass. Butch? Has long conversations about pot bellies.

Anyway enjoy one of the greatest scenes in cinematic history.
Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast.

Deathmatch Counterpunch^2: Best Beer

Rolling Rock

Ah, that marvelous beer once brewed in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. Then big-and-bad Anheuser-Busch came along, scooped those green bottles up, and moved shop to Dirty Jersey. Jersey? Booo. Still, their pledge is inspiring:

From the glass lined tanks of Old Latrobe, we tender this premium beer for your enjoyment as a tribute to your good taste. It comes from the mountain springs to you.

I thought memorizing that tidbit and romantically reciting it to a hot piece-of-ass at the bar would be a guarantee score. Not so much. Still, the mysterious '33' is a good conversation starter.



Smithwick's

I was fortunate to be introduced to this fine Irish red ale by S-man. He received a case as a present from a co-worker and he was kind enough to share. Although we used it for beer baseball, which means I was drunk and not as appreciative to the flavor of a fine beer, Smithwick's caught my heart and I'm quick to order a pint if a bar has it on tap.



Moosehead Lager

The moose is loose! Once upon a time, I thought this tasty lager was brewed in the region by the lake in Maine with the same name. This bad boy is a Canadian beer, and now that Molson and Labatt are owned by a foreign company, Moosehead is Canada's largest brewery. Congrats on that.

Furthermore, this is a fighting beer. Use the Moose in your beer pong/baseball tournament and you will most likely have a throw down by the end of the night. Tempers flare when you start debating whether a steal was legitimate or not.

Just like a one-flip suicide squeeze, each and every Moosehead is special:



Guinness

The sweet nectar from Dublin had to make my list. A great beer to warm you up on a cold winter evening, or drop a shot of Jameson and Bailey's to make an Irish Car Bomb during a summer bachelor party. Either way, this is a staple to any beer fan's diet. Added bonus if the bartender can imprint a clover in the head.

As fine as it is, Guinness isn't the greatest binge-beer. Besides being pricey, morning-after Guinness farts and shits are the worst. Damn. Although I've been told Guinness has similar good-for-the-heart characteristics as wine. So you'd have that going for you.



Coors Barmen Pilsner

Yeah that's right, bitch. Coors. I said it. The boys in the Rockies brew this beer for only a few restaurants and bars in the Golden, CO area. I was fortunate enough to eat at one during my trip to the area back in 2002. The 7-minute pilsner went nicely with the slab of meat I had for dinner. Well worth the wait. If you're in the vicinity, order one. Then again, if you find yourself in the town of Golden, I could suggest a few other "activities" to experience as well, but that's off subject.

Phriday Philler

After a two week absence we have another edition of Phriday Philler, where I hastily throw together some stupid crap I found online while drunk. Politics? Sports? Comedy? Who knows what you'll find!

In case you doubt the hatred of my corporate overlords, check out this blog. Granted you probably need to work for a JRC paper to truly appreciate the blog, but it is a surprisingly accurate depiction of the culture I work in every day. Yay! Takes me back to days like this one.

Check this out, it's some sort of miracle substance. But will it blend?

Hey, did you hear NFL training camps have started? It's true. To celebrate check out this list of action stars who you want leading a two minute drill. My vote is for Arnold from Predator.

Hrm. What else? An ancient lake trapped under antarctic ice? Sure why not.

And finally, I don't know how many others have been watching John from Cincinnati, but the season finale is on Sunday. It's what would happen if a mildly retarded Jesus entered a surf community south of San Diego. Or something. I am anxious to see if there are any answers coming. Thank god David Chase isn't involved. I guess the twin peaks comparisons are apt.

Thats all for now. I got a few things in the works that may or may not happen. Most badass fictional characters anyone? I call Jules. Enjoy your weekend.

Apropos of nothing

Barry Bonds is the Greatest Baseball Player in History

A message from Big Poppa to all the playa haters:

"I'll see you bitches in the baseball afterworld. And if you don't kiss my ring, I'll shiv you with a needle. For emphasis. Come get me bitches."

That is all.

Your beliefs are tragically inferior to my own

When the people getting richer, off the people getting poorer; its do for peeking over. Theres justice on the way. If we only knew the truth about what really goes on, maybe all the things I do would make sense, just for once.
-Nonpoint "The Truth"

One of my major beefs with the American people is how fucking uninformed they are. Granted, being in the news business affords me the luxury of being ridonkulously up to date on all the latest happenings, but its fucked how stupid we as a people are when it comes to current events.

Take my roommate for example, from now on referred to as "churchy mcfascist." He is one of the worst kinds of uninformed Americans, the kind that thinks they do know what is going on in the world, when in fact all their info comes from daytime talk radio. Colin Cowherd sucks. The other day churchy mcfascist told me to "hold down the left side of the apartment," which really pissed me off. The worst part is I don't think he even realizes that he is coming off as a condescending prick. I am going to start praying to Mecca just to fuck with him.

OK I got off track there for a second (like I was ever on track). I think my point is Americans, as a people, are tragically uninformed. It's only natural to let our experiences shape the way we view the world. but that in itself can be problematic due to the numerous ways this crazy country we live in allows us to insulate ourselves from other's point of view.

Take politics for example: If you're a conservative hate-monger you have a wealth of talk radio options, Bill O'Reilly and web sites like little green footballs. If you're a liberal pussy you've got a million web sites, the Daily Show and Steven Colbert. Nevermind who is right (the progressives) -- in both situations the result is an echo chamber that demonizes the other side without proposing any real solutions.

(Of course a the clowns in Washington are more to blame for the divided state of American politics than anyone else. What a bunch of clowns. Don't praise the machine.)

My point is it's much easier to scoff at others beliefs when they differ from our own than to consider said beliefs for their merits. I mean, I don't snowball, but that doesn't make someone who does is less worthy of my respect. Well maybe it is kind of weird, but it takes different strokes for different folks. And that, my friends, is the point.

If everybody stepped outside their comfort zone once in a while, it would go a long way toward making the world a better place. Walk a mile in someone else's shoes. And if you disagree with that, well, take a look over here at my .357 and you might just change your mind.

Rock the Bells

The show on Randall's Island (between Manhattan and Queens) was two days of hip-hop and rage one week ago. Namely, the reunition (not a word) of both Rage against the Machine and Wu Tang Clan in New York City. I was visiting with former NUKE bro Max aka Shiles aka Teach aka homeowner, and we had planned going to this show months in advance. Anticipation was heavy.

We checked the weather before leaving Queens, and unfortunately the forecast was for rain. No matter, "We'll just wear hats." So we set off on our way, none the worse for wear under threatening skies. Walking in, we were behind some guy whose shirt proclaimed "If you can't drag it. You're a faggot." I believe it has something to do with motorcycles.

Truly an interesting crowd, most attired in commie-shiek olive drab. I guessimate 50% of the people were there entirely for Rage. It started raining almost immediately after we entered the venue, a huge field with two stages. We started at the second stage "Paid Dues" which was MC'd by this guy.


We saw two members of the living legends, which I assume are some sort of bay area hip-hop collective. Anyway, Eligh and the Grouch were pretty good. Eligh had some ridiculous flows and the grouch had a shirt with Oscar's eyes on it.

We were at the stage because Max wanted to see Mr. Lif. He had seen him back in the day in Boston apparently. Mr. Lif came out with some sort of cowl on, covering his face while he rapped about vampires. After his set, we walked over toward the main stage area. Talib Kwali was up, followed by Mos Def. Talib then came back out on stage because Mos Def and Talib Kwali are BLACKSTAR.

Unfortunately their set was marred by pouring rain. We stood huddled amongst the crowd taking slugs of Jameson to keep warm (We had hats! And T-shirts!). I felt Max's steely-eyed glares -- damn me, why did I get him into this. At one point, it was noted that Rage wouldn't be onstage for five more hours, prompting this exchange.
Me: This concert is only for the true believers.
Max: Are we true believers?
Me: /grunts
So needless to say conditions were less than ideal to enjoy some quality rappers taking on modern day issues. I was wet and cold. Nevertheless, Redefinition was good.


Then Rakim came on but I didn't care cause it stopped raining. We worked our way up toward the front of the crowd in anticipation of the heavy hitters of the evening.

First up was Cypress Hill. I'd seen them before in theory. By that I mean I was semi-passed out on the Tweeter Center lawn a couple summers ago while they played their set.

Funny story -- right before that I decided I needed one of the tweeter center's ridiculously overpriced slushy drinks that comes in a novelty glass. I was served despite my obvious intoxication, and when I went to pay the lady, I knocked the guitar-shaped beverage all over her and her cash drawer. She served me another free of charge, god bless her.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Cypress Hill. They put on a good show, giant inflatable buddha adorned with a pot leaf and all. I'm pretty sure Cypress Hill puts on the exact same show everytime. Insane in the Membrane, How I could Just Kill a Man, I ain't goin out like that and Rock Superstar among others. They bring a hours'worth of instantly recognizable songs and a small chronic break. That band sure does love them some reefer. Definitely worth seeing live.

It brings to mind the memorable clip from the simpsons. I wish they had played with the London Symphony Orchestra.


The next act was Public Enemy, and as bad as it is to say about one of the earliest most influential hip-hop acts, they were teh suck. I blame Flava Flav, particularly when he thanked the crowd for his hit show on VH1. Totally out of control. They did provide many an opportunity for the black power fist, but really they sucked. Everyone was just waiting for who came next.


That's right -- straight from the slums of shaolin, the RZA, the GZA, -----, Inspectah Deck, Raekwon the chef, U-God, Ghostface Killa and the Method Man. The last of whom repeatedly berated the audience. I think it was because they were returning to New York and were faced with a way lighter-skinned crowd than they expected. At one point they even said that the fans at a show in Germany were better and more excited. Sorry Meth, a legion of disaffected suburban kids has discovered 36 chambers. It did come out nearly 15 years ago, after all.

But still, I don't blame the Wu for their hostility -- looking at this makes me inexplicably angry too.

Anyway, despite the clear disdain for the audience, it was quality to see them in concert, playing all the classics. They even gave ODB a shout out in heaven, having everyone sing "Ohh baby I like it raw." But in all fairness, what came next was what everyone wanted to see.

Rage against the Machine. They were all business. No preaching about politics (shut up Flav!), just an hour and a half of fucking RAWK. They don't even need to talk, their lyrics say enough, especially when Morello makes his guitar sound like bagpipes. The raw power of their set defies my abilities of description, so here's a small anecdote.

Somewhere in the midpoint of the set, I think during a bombtrack, some mandude in the mosh pit in front of me starts puking. Clearly not as hardcore as the chick that was holding her own right next too him. Well the pit scatters, and one guy runs up behind him, mid-hurl, flashes the double devil horns and screams METAL. And it was. Then the chick put a poncho over the puke and the moshing resumed.

Plus they encored with Freedom, Wake Up and Killing in the Name of. Gotta love the lyrics: "Some of those that burn crosses, are the same that hold office." If you want to see it the amateur Youtube videos are abundant (I searched rage rock the bells). But frankly the quality is fucking shitty on those, so I'll leave you with this instead. Directed by none other than Michael Moore. Actually this is better, plus they opened with it.
The more things change the more they stay the same.

Comic-Con is funny

The annual collection of nerds, geeks, dorks and Hollywood types is going on now I guess.

Well it was on TV earlier today. Awkward interviews with Stan Lee anyone?

Anyway, I came across this video of Kevin Smith totally destroying a fanboy who tried to give him shit. I think the lesson is you shouldn't insult the guy who wrote Clerks.

Where the hell is my hat?

I'm back from vacation. It was an outstanding trip, but not without casualties. Most notable was the loss of my trusty phillies hat.

Somewhere between two strippers lesbian and sleeping outside in New York City, I lost an old friend. If you know me you know the ever-present red hat has been through many a tough scrape. Or something. I vomited on it once.

Here is the last known photo of the hat in question. Drunkenly taken outside some random wine bar in the Meat Packing District.



It did it's job all week until the unfortunate disappearance. Although still I think its around somewhere. It could turn up!

Obviously, it provided head cover when necessary, be it playing golf or watching the oh so rare hip hop show in the rain. Although it was still cold as shit. That show deserves its own post though -- coming later.

But the hat also successfully shielded my eyes during poker, allowing for modest winnings. They would become less modest on the roulette wheel, and then hail on the strippers.

Lets see, what else did it do? It made me look like a tourist when I was walking around midtown Manhattan. But that kind of helped me blend in.


So I mourn .... oh wait no. It's on my head. It's been a long week.