Julia Whatshername

So what’s new with you?

Not much.

You ever bang what’s her name?

Yes, yes I did. Julia Whatshername. My college sweetheart. Then she broke my heart.

No, cmon, you know, that one chick that had the one leg longer than the other and had to wear the giant heel on her shoe and at parties she would always ask people to taste her ear wax? Her, did you ever bang her?

Oh, you meant her. She had cancer, she struggled with basic physiologic functions, much of her life was a battle against biology, and you are asking me if I banged her?

Yes, yes I am. Did you get kinky and taste her ear wax?

Bitter it twas.

So what’s the plan for tonight? Do some horse then some e then hit the clubs then maybe grab a tube steak from the strip club you love so much then rally at the casinos for some blackjack hot enough to make George Gervin sweat in  a walk in freezer? Sound good.

I can’t make it tonight, I have a date with Brenda.

Do you mean Claire?

Brenda, Claire, pretty much synonyms. No I don’t mean Claire, I mean Brenda. Bravo Reno Energy Niner Dagger Allegra.

That is not how the police alphabet goes. Niner refers to nine you dolt. Well call her and tell her your scrotum is infected and go out with me.

Um, yeah, I’m going to go ahead and ask you to move your desk to the basement and clear up the rat problem and no, I’m not going to cancel with her.

Sure you are.

No I’m not.

Let’s just avoid all the gritty grimy repartee and let’s do some e and hit the clubs because in the end, what Heidegger called “at bottom,” an end to which we are both a party my friend, a party that is both at-hand and for-hand,-

Niner doesn’t stand for N?

No, it refers to nine.

Where’s the e?

Bar Scene

Bar Scene

Bartender: What can I get you?

Patron: I’ll have whatever you’re pouring?

Bartender: How about a little more direction.

Patron: Sounds good.

Bartender: No, can you be more specific?

Patron: Are you out of a little more direction?

Bartender: That’s not a drink at all; I need more specific information from you for your drink.

Patron: What kind of drink requires an ingredient from the customer? I’ve never even tasted specific information. Is it any good?

Bartender: Here, here is a whiskey, on the rocks.

Patron: Thanks. Too bad you got me going about that little more direction drink though. Maybe next time.

Bartender: (rolls eyes) you’re new, what brings you in?

Patron: I got lost.

Bartender: Where you headed?

Patron: Nowhere in particular, I was just out driving around.

Bartender: How are you lost if you aren’t looking for anything?

Patron: Cause I don’t know where I’m at. (Murmurs) Duh.

Bartender: (Frustrated) Where are you from?

Patron: Buffalo.

Bartender: What brings you to the city of angels?

Patron: I don’t live in Orlando, I live right here in Los Angeles.

Bartender: Los Angeles is Spanish for the angels.

Patron: I don’t speak Spanish and I’m not really religious. Is this some sort of cult bar?

Bartender: How about another drink?

Patron: Say, don’t the Angels play in Anaheim?  

Bartender: They are actually the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim.

Patron: They must be good to be in two places at once; hard to defend that kind of talent.

Captain and Officer – Jazz Hands

Captain: Did you have the guys at the lab dust for prints or retrieve any hair samples from the jazz player’s piano. I think this guy murdered his drummer on this piano!

Officer: I did, just like you asked captain. It wasn’t his drummer that was murdered; it was his alto sax player. The drummer is missing.

Captain: Well what did they get from the piano?

Officer: A lot of pubic hair and some fingerprints.

Captain: That’s great, this case is looking up.

Officer: Well, the pubic hair doesn’t help because it is apparently from a 6 foot tall albino woman with webbed feet with a penchant for bad merlot and most of it was burnt in some sort of pagan ritual to the point that it can’t prove useful and the fingerprints belong to the drummer. But we do have some good news.

Captain: Well what is the good news?

Officer: We think the drummer also plays piano.

Captain: That’s great. Play misty for me! This guy did it, I know it. We’ve got motive and opportunity. He hated that sax player; he knew he was sleeping with his mistress on the side and was soloing way too long and he sounded like Kenny G crying to Guy Lombardo. He threw this late night jam session just to get him over there. What do we have on the albino woman?

Officer: We think she was singing that night but things turned ugly when she requested a swingin’ version of Mmm Bop by the Hanson brothers.

Captain: Makes sense. What about the mistress? Anyone lean on her yet, good cop bad cop her?

Officer: We sent Markowics and Hershburger to her place but they ended up in the ER with posttraumatic stress disorder.

Captain: What happened?

Officer: She was into the heavy stuff captain. All the fusion stuff of Miles and Coltrane’s Love Supreme - they never had a chance, poor bastards. Hershburger has kids. How do you play catch with your kid after Bitches Brew?

Captain: Hmmm. Did the sax player have any other enemies?

Officer: Plenty, including the bass player.

Captain: So the whole band hated this guy.

Officer: He was a vegetarian to boot.

Captain: So let me get this straight, the whole band hates the sax player, the piano player knows the sax player is sleeping with his mistress, he then throws a late night jam session to off him, where a walking bass line breaks out over Mmm Bop when an albino Sarah Vaughn winds up mixed up in an electric shaving ritual for Thor, the sax players winds up dead, the drummer missing, but we can’t pin it on anybody? Have they at least given the cause of death?

Officer: They have: Acute respiratory failure due to complications of having a low E bass string wrapped around the neck.

Captain: Hmm, choked with a bass string. Well we can’t accuse Ernie Ball now can we?

Officer: I already told you that the drummer is missing.

Anhedonia

Let’s say you grew up poor. How poor? Let’s say 8 people in a 2 bedroom house poor; 1 bathroom by the way. Let’s say you know what it is like to drink powdered milk. Let’s say you know what it is like to have the gas turned off and be cold in the winter. Let’s say you know the humiliation of having the lunch tickets at school because you are poor. Let’s say you know the tension that surrounds Christmas and back-to-school clothes buying because you are poor. Let’s say that your high school was not in the highest tax bracket in your county and that said high school led the county in teen pregnancy rate. Let’s say that despite all this you become a first generation, economically disadvantaged student…and you graduate. Let us go further and say that you earn a scholarship to a master’s program and earn your master’s degree. Let us say you took out student loans because, of course, you were poor.

Fast forward to 2012 and Mitt Romney says that 47% of people in the U.S. won’t take responsibility for their lives. Are you now angry at Mr. Romney? Do you look at your retirement numbers and think that you didn’t take responsibility for your life? Do you hold down a job, pay taxes, have a wife and child, and think that you have not taken responsibility for your life because you are not wealthy? Do you, despite the urge to resist, despite your knowledge of self-fulfilling prophecy, THINK THAT YOU DESERVE IT? Do you? Has the message been said too many times to be false? Have you worn down, eroded your once held belief that you could escape, if not the financial poverty, at least the poverty of the mind, the belief that you are worthy and have dignity, despite your financial situation?

Do you believe them? Do you believe that the playing field is level? Do you believe that the past has no bearing? That not having is no reason for not getting? Do you now agree with them that circumstance is not a factor? Isn’t just the case that, as George Will postulates, that the cream rises to the top and you have not risen because you are not the cream? Are you now a social Darwinist and believe that, the less worthy are the poor, those that will not pass on their genes due to inferior constitution? Maybe you agree. Maybe you didn’t use to, while in undergrad, holding court in the classroom…or in grad school when your advisor mentioned an Ivy League school for your PhD.

Are you a Christian? Do you believe that all persons have dignity? That’s interesting; George Will doesn’t think that dignity rises to the top, the cream, the better people, the UN-POOR rise to the top. And why shouldn’t they? Why shouldn’t the rich have more dignity? Why shouldn’t the rich have more importance? Why?

Have you changed? Have you selected the history that supports your argument? Have you become, in Cornel West’s words, myopic? But don’t you wonder? Don’t you wonder how Wall Street can have lobbyists that spend 1 million dollars a day? Don’t you wonder how that isn’t fascism? Don’t you think that taking a race of people and enslaving them and cutting off their access (or right to) knowledge is going to impact their economic future? Of course you don’t wonder about those things and neither does Mitt Romney.

Is it ultimately about Mitt Romney? Of course it’s not. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I have anhedonia, just like in Franzen’s The Corrections. Maybe I’m cynical because life has beaten me down a bit. But maybe in spite or better yet, because of these things, I can face the truth. The shitty, unpleasant, can’t change without facing, set-you-free-but-fuck-you-up-at-the-same-time-truth. Hell, maybe it’s you.

The Case of The Half-Bitten Shrimp

He began circling like a vulture. His eyes were wide open and his mind alert; looking, waiting, praying and preying like only the religious can. And he needed a miracle in this crowd. These dames were way out of his league, what with the degrees, the money, the jobs, and the morals. But maybe, just maybe, he had god on his side or, in his pocket. No one needed to know he kept a small bible next to his condom, unless of course he thought he could score one of these Christian broads with such factoids. Cleanliness is next to godliness he could hear himself saying to some religious chick with a small streak of irreverence with a dash of verisimilitude. He knew many were phonies but that wasn’t the point at all. The point was to get some…by hook or crook or god or jesus or buddah or booze, or weed or feigning whatever needed feigned.
                His head on a swivel, he scanned the room looking for the right combination of nice enough body and drink-in-hand posture to suggest scorability. He remembered Eddie Muprhy in 48 Hours when he said “look, if I don’t get some trim, I’m gon’ bust,” and how it worked…in the movie. He didn’t think he could be that forward but some reasonable facsimile thereof might work on the right one. “Do something, even if it is wrong” he muttered beneath his breath.
                “Hi, how are you doing…(glance at namecard)…Meghan?” He noticed before she even got a word out that her eyes darted away for a millisecond, as if looking for help. She said something very polite but he knew before she ended the sentence that she was a no go. So he meandered through another minute and created a sultry escape hatch near the shrimp, where another candidate was standing in red heels and red dress and probably a glass of chardonnay.
                Different broad, different tact. He hoisted some shrimp and cocktail sauce to his mouth and smiled at the lady in red and just in the act of biting said crustacean, promptly spilled some of the tasty treat right into her cleavage. This created quite a scene. “Oh my gosh I’m sorry,” he said as bodies backed away from the activity while eyes closed in. “I guess the lord works in mysterious ways…(glance at namecard)…Woody. Wait, is Woody your name?” “It’s not Bathsheeba sugar. Would you mind getting me a napkin…(glance at namecard)… Lance?” Lance, what a terrible fake name he thought, phallic though it may be. He hustled and felt glorious to hand this bombshell in red what she needed. He snickered as he thought to himself that he knows exactly what she needs. “Yes, the lord does work in mysterious Lance, how else can we explain cocktail sauce between my 34 c’s?” Those words, those intoxicating words: “cock” and “34 c’s”…might as well have been the ten commandments. “Woody, allow me to make it up to you, allow me to rectify the cocktail sauce between your 34’cs, allow me to atone for the sin of sauce between the sheets if you will, and I know you will Woody.” By this time the crowd had dispersed and he had free reign to feign whatever needed feigning. “I was thinking tang in the tarps there Lance but pre tell, how might you atone for such a diabolical act of soiling my pretty dress and boobs with horseradish and ketchup?” He was in. He knew it like he knew 2+2=4.
                But where did the half-bitten shrimp go?

Aguilera

I think Christina Aguilera is losing it. Look at her new album cover.

Is she auditioning for a photoshop cover box or for some sort of extra-terrestrial salon that specializes in white wax jobs? It’s like the fairy from Lord of The Rings has gone pantless. Maybe Cee Lo Green is some sort of middle earth ork who strokes it under his revolving throne-desk-chair while Adam Levine looks down at his huge hobbit feet and the country douche calls his rebel flag “my precious.”

11/15/12 Monologue

Just one day after former Seahawks tight end Jerramy Stevens was arrested on suspicion of assaulting his bride to be Hope Solo, the two were married.

Dear Kim Kardashian, your 72 day marriage record may be in trouble. When you get into a fisticuffs at your rehearsal dinner, what the hell happens at cocktail hour? A tag team match between groomsmen and bridesmaids with a sideshow of in-laws knife fighting?

A furious Rex Ryan lashed into his team Wednesday morning, telling his players it was "cowardly" for some of them to anonymously rip Tim Tebow in a newspaper article.

Tebow was his usual gracious self after the bashing, openly acknowledging that is was god’s plan that he can’t complete a five yard slant or recognize a cover 2. 

The Seattle Police Department has come out with a practical guide to marijuana use posted on their website. The department's post has been viewed more than 120,000 times.

            What hasn’t been reported is that the Seattle Dominoes has sold over
            120,000 pizzas.           

The absence of vast swaths of summer sea ice is changing the behavior of Pacific walrus, federal scientists said Wednesday.

In fact, one walrus was spotted in a Hawaiian shirt, apparently drunk and hitting on the Kardashian mom.            

If sales hold up, One Direction could sell half a million records in one week.

The band’s manager said the members plan on giving some of the profits to a charity that helps kids straighten their hair after hurricane sandy.

Dr Gerald Crabtree of Stanford thinks humans may be (slowly) losing intellectual and emotional abilities because they're at risk from mutation or loss from the genome.
            What?! Get out! And here I thought episodes of Bridezillas was makin us so’s dumb.

Researchers have found a 'monogamy hormone' they say may help men stay faithful to their partner. The researchers found the chemical oxytocin could act as a 'fidelity marker' in men.
            Guys, you can forget the prenup, just pee into this cup.

Cute Couple..if yer Hannibal Lecter

Tom Hanks plays Olivier Sarkozy & Calista Flockhart is Mary-Kate Olsen in…French Kiss. Rated NC17.

Who Legalized Weed?

Sage Steel

Report: Sage Steel in 693rd day of hunger strike for espn anchor rights.

I Voted

I voted my conscience today…literally, a write-in vote for my conscience. Don’t worry, my id is my running mate so it is a pretty well balanced ticket.

Ask New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick

Ask New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Dear Bill Belichick

Yesterday I came to the realization that in the world of computer technology, my skills are well behind the times and getting more and more behind every day. My company won’t finance for me to go back to school to upgrade my skills and with a wife and kids, I can’t take on this financial burden; but if I don’t I may find myself out of a job. What should I do?

—Washed Up in Wilmington?

New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick: We'll try to put the finishing touches here on our preparations for the Seahawks. It's been a challenging week with all their outstanding players and the problems they present, a team we're not really that familiar with. Everybody has really been working hard to try to get down and understand exactly what we have to do. Hopefully today will be a good day [and] we can kind of pull things together and be ready to go on Sunday.

Dear Bill Belichick

Lately, when I go for a run I am noticing some mild pain from my left achilles. I can’t take time or training off because I have a marathon in a little over a month. Two weeks out I can begin to taper my miles but I’m afraid my achilles may not last that long. I don’t want to eat the marathon entrance fee because it was $75! What to do?

—Aching in Akron

New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick: Sure, yeah, absolutely. The technique is different. I think competing against that type of player is different. That's one of the good things about going against different players on our team that have different skill sets and also practicing against different teams like New Orleans and Tampa: you get different types of players that eventually over the course of the year, you're going to see somebody that's similar to someone you've seen and that kind of matchup. That type of experience helps. Technique is different and the playing style is different. Certainly it's a lot different for a quarterback throwing over a 5-9 guy, as opposed to throwing over a 6-4 guy. There's a lot more – those guys take up a lot of space. [Brandon] Browner is a very athletic guy. He moves well and covers a lot of ground and he's really long. We've played against those guys before, the [Ryan] McNeils and the [Antonio] Cromarties and Drayton Florence in Buffalo and guys like that: 6-2, 6-3 type corners. They definitely present a problem. [Bobby] Taylor in Philadelphia, those kind of guys, over the course of the years. They're unique. You don't usually see those guys with that kind of length out there. It presents a problem for the receivers and for the quarterback.

Dear Bill Belichick

Taxes are killing me and I want to vote for the right candidate come November. Problem is I can’t make sense of Romney’s tax plan because it seems so vague. Any insight into understanding the Romney/Ryan tax plan?

—Voter from Philadelphia

New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick: Yeah, but it doesn't really matter. It's Seattle; it's what happens this week. Hopefully we can be on the plus side of the turnovers against Seattle but that's hard to do because they do an excellent job of taking it away and they do a great job of protecting it. Their backs really run hard, they get a lot of extra yardage. That's often a time when backs will be less protective of the ball because they're struggling for those extra yards and trying to break tackles and all that but not these guys. They run hard, break tackles, gain extra yards and don't fumble. We'll see how it all plays out Sunday but just because it happened in a couple other games or didn't happen, I don't think that really means anything for Sunday.
Dear Bill Belichick

My mother recently hit a mailbox with her car and I’m worried she might not be suitable for the road. I hate to take away this important aspect of freedom from my mother but I can’t ignore the safety issue for her or for others on the road. I also fear how much the lack of her transportation would burden my family. I am now feeling guilty and afraid. Please help!

—Driving Miss Daisy in Deeborne

New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick: This is a real impressive Seattle team we've been watching here the last couple days. I'd say the things that really jump out are their overall playmaking ability, kicking game – they return kicks, they block them, they cover them, they're leading the league in kickoff returns, leading the league in kickoff coverage. They really have a lot of players that are very impact-type guys in the kicking game with good specialists. Defensively, big in the secondary, probably the biggest secondary in the league, big corners; physical, fast linebackers, real active front, they play a lot of different people up there but they're all playmaking type guys. I've really been impressed watching [Brandon] Mebane and [Red] Bryant and [Bruce] Irvin, of course [Chris] Clemons, [Alan] Branch, [Jason] Jones. They're a real good group and they take the ball away, they do a good job of stripping it out, it's not just sacks. They're talented and we're going to really have to work hard this week to get familiar with their schemes and their players to be able to do a good job against them. We'll have a lot of tough guys to match up against. That's our deal this week.
Dear Bill Belichick

Did you see Tom Brady after that Earl Thomas interception? He cowered like a little girl not only once but twice! What happened to football players?

—Not Exactly George Blanda in Boise

New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick: Tom’s a pussy. Need to play, need to coach better.

Bill Belichick is Head Coach of the National Football League’s New England Patriots and whose weekly column, “Ask New England Patriots Head Football Coach, Bill Belichick” appears in more than 250 newspapers nationwide.

We Divvied Up The Chores And Now We’re Divorced

A Norwegian study found that couples who split chores equally are more likely to divorce. I wrote a song about it. Wanna hear it? Hear it goes:

We Divvied Up The Chores And Now We’re Divorced

I washed and you dried                 you broiled, I fried

I swept, you mopped                     I diced, you chopped

We shared our love and we shared the chores

But I guess we needed, something more

The times’uh  changed so I learned to cook and clean

You changed the oil in our pick-up trucks with Valvoline

I hemmed your dress, my beautiful bride

Somehow you finished the basement in our double wide

CHORUS

We divvied up the chores and now we’re divorced

We yelled so much that now we’re hoarse

We split em fair and square but it tore us apart

I guess only one of us should have been the feminist from the start

REFRAIN

I’d let you do all the dishes to have you back

I’d let you get me a beer and clean my gun rack

I’ll give you all the warsh and be the better man

But now you’re doing all the chores… with my former best man, Stan
                                                                                      (crescendo)

CHORUS

Honey Badger Cares Quite A Bit, Actually

Fame can come with a cost and there is no cost greater than self. Honey Badger comes to you today as a Honey Badger with a message; an important message, a message that may not amount to more than a hill of beans for some, but the world for Honey Badger.

By now you all know of Honey Badger’s exploits in nature and thanks to the internet it has been contended that Honey Badger doesn’t give a shit. Nothing could be further from the truth. You see dear readers, when a person states that Honey Badger doesn’t give a shit, Honey Badger wants you to know that Honey Badger does give a shit, especially about Honey Badger’s mental well-being.

Honey Badger is gifted, no doubt about it. Mother Nature and eons of natural selection have provided Honey Badger with a physiology second to none. There aren’t many creatures that can survive cobra bites and a thousand bee stings to the proboscis but Honey Badger doesn’t get a dent in the fender. Honey Badger can eat a rat that’s been dead for two weeks, throw up, eat the vomit, and wash it down with scorpion poison and have not so much as a mild hangover. Honey Badger does not apologize for this. Physically, Honey Badger is the pinnacle of evolution but there is more to Honey Badger.

No man is an island and Honey Badger is more than a great body. You see dear reader, ever since this inane little video has come out, Honey Badger has experienced ridicule and verbal abuse in the wilderness the likes of which have, quite frankly, made Honey Badger cry. Honey Badger wasn’t built to handle teasing from prairie dogs and other assorted quick creatures Honey Badger can’t catch. Honey Badger is not mentally capable of a healthy processing “Hey Honey Badger, let’s see you walk backwards” or “Eeew Honey Badger, why don’t you give a shit?” Honey Badger has feelings and these feelings are hurt dear reader. Honey Badger feels like Honey Badger has no way out.

While Honey Badger’s proclivities in nature you may find “disgusting,” you wouldn’t ask water not to be wet. Popeye said “I am what I am” and Honey Badger is what Honey Badger is. So Honey Badger begs of you, cease with the teasing. Cease with the “ewe”, cease with the effeminate “oh god, what’s he doing now?” quips. Honey Badger is hurt. Honey Badger is hurt because Honey Badger cares.

My Interview with Actor Joe Pesci

The Funner: Hello Mr. Pesci. Thank you so much for being here. I can’t begin to tell you how much of an honor it is to have you here. I am a huge fan of your work, especially the latest snickers commercial.

Joe Pesci: Ha ha. That’s one. Don’t get two.

The Funner: Now you’ve had a great career and we will definitely get to that but first I want to talk about your relationship with Angie Everhart. Now you are 5’2 in high heels and she 6’ when kneeling. What was that like?

Joe Pesci: The height difference wasn’t a concern to either of us you know. Just made it work. I have a portable ladder.

The Funner: C’mon Joe, give us some dirt here. The American people deserve to know some details. What was it like in the bedroom? Was she like, just, a sexy set of monkey bars with a gorgeous mane on top?

Joe Pesci: Well I didn’t swing from her if that is what you are implying; my arms couldn’t get that high. There are, let us say, some advantages to height differences in the bedroom. My neck never got sore.

The Funner: Good to know. So let’s just get it over with and talk about Goodfellas you stuttering prick!

Joe Pesci: Man o’ man are you busting my balls here.

The Funner: Now go shine your fucking shoe box!

Joe Pesci: Ha ha. That’s two.

The Funner: It never gets old.

Joe Pesci: No, never.

The Funner: Ok, moving on, Raging Bull, your thoughts?

Joe Pesci: About what exactly?

The Funner: Cathy Moriarty of course.

Joe Pesci: A fine actress who gave a smoking gun performance in Raging Bull.

The Funner: You bang her? Kid, I kid. Now you play guitar and sing. Where did that come from?

Joe Pesci: That’s 3. This interview is over. This is just a hatchet job.

The Funner: What are you Bill O’ Reilly? Did you ever stab anyone with a hatchet?

Joe Pesci: I am not the characters I play.

The Funner: Oh sure, just like Ron Howard isn’t little Opie Cunningham. Woody Allen can talk all day long about his movies not being autobiographical but we all know he thinks Alan Alda is a fascist.

Joe Pesci: Opie Taylor and Richie Cunningham are two different characters from two different shows.

The Funner: How hard was it to memorize the lines for that snickers commercial? I can’t get over you and Angie Everhart. She is from my hometown you know, Akron, Ohio. Or as the locals call it, Crackron.

Joe Pesci: Never been. Why don’t you ask me about my upcoming projects?

The Funner: Well that’s all the time we have. I want to thank my guests, Joe Pesci, The Great Barberetzkiham and his pet gerbil Richie Gere. Let’s have the band take us out with a Joe Pesci original: I Think You’ll Crack Under Questioning You Stuttering Prick! Joe get up and sing. Oh’ cmon, don’t be a prick you stuttering prick. Oh please, come up and sing. What are you gonna do, whack me off you mafia midget…

[Fight on stage ensues]

A Man You All Can't

From on high you yell down

                Down below you – of course it’s relative

Under the cover I am protected, pecking orders have a purpose

The best laid plans…

Blow it all out of proportion and extrapolate incorrectly, Hume was right, all the variables can never be accounted for

You say you trimmed the fat a la Occam?

Ha! Kant died eating a wheel of cheese.

Was it provolone?

I love provolone.

Talkin'

The Funner is talkin’…bout this and that and that and uh…

Kate Middleton had her picture taken… when she was topless…and England is pissed. Ah the British, so stuffy. She’s young, she’s pretty, and she’s royal now, what’s the big deal about exposed mammaries? Mammary, mammary, speak to me mammary. I just hope they don’t go crazy and have some hooligans turn over a dust bin in Shaftsbury.

And the presidential campaigning is heating up…if you like that sort of thing. Kinda like having a hot sewing needle inserted into your pupil. He said this, he said that. It’s like the 8^th grade with Teleprompters. Did you see Mitt in phys ed? Gross.

And how bout this movie sparking protests in the Middle East? Where the hell were they when Breakin’ II Electric Boogaloo was made? Talk about a movie we should protest. That and Moulin Rouge.

The NFL enters week 2 this Sunday and somehow, the Browns have already been mathematically eliminated from the NFL’s Jacuzzi tubs. The Browns have had more high draft picks than the Army in Vietnam and yet, not one sighting of Agent Orange in one Cincinnati Bengal! Where is Herm Edwards when you need him? We play to win the game. Unless you are Pat Shurmur. “Shurmur High School Shurmur Illinois.” Apparently Pat Shurmur is in some sort of love triangle with Brandon Weedon and overthrown balls. And by overthrown balls, I mean overthrown balls.

In worse quarterback news, Mark Sanchez is dating Eva Longoria. Hey Mark you got nothing on Tim Couch. Tim used to bang former playmate of the year Heather Kozar… and without Tim Tebow around saying “dude, you should wait until marriage.”

Brandon Weedon

The Browns rookie quarterback is 29 years old. Do we really need a QB that can suffer a mid-life crisis in his rookie year? Any older and he’ll collect social security along with interceptions. He had 4, count em 4 interceptions in his first game. Not to mention a QB rating that can match the temperature in Alaska in mid January. Of course, some Browns receivers dropped some balls, but that happens when you start puberty. The coach backed the quarterback in post game interviews but he has to be second guessing himself, especially after Joe Nameth called him and said “I wanna kiss you.”

West Nile Virus Found In Providence Rhode Island – Reporting for Dummies

West Nile Virus is a serious matter. So is reporting. NBC 10 takes us to Journalism school on this one. Pay attention from 56 seconds to 1:10 if you wanna learn!

Reporter: Is it concerning to you that they found west nile in this area?

Area Man: Oh yeah. Yes, of course.

Reporter: Do you have bug spray? Do you use that?

Area Man: No, no, no.

Reporter: Think you should?

Area Man: Yes.

http://www2.turnto10.com/news/2012/aug/07/2/west-nile-found-in-providence-64057-vi-43993/

Repent And You Shall Not Be Saved

                The prince of darkness showed up at my door late one night. I only answered because I had ordered a pizza. He wasn’t delivering my double cheese with jalapenos but he did deliver a message: “Repent and you shall not be saved” he said as he fired up a cigarette. “I think you have that mixed up Mr. Darkness. I think you meant to say repent and you SHALL be saved.” Then I thought about it, why would he want me to be saved? This guy is in the business of the unsaved. This S.O.B. was trying to trick me. If I repent, won’t I be saved? Maybe he did have it mixed up. It’s either repent or damnation but not both right? I needed clarification.
                I invited Mr. Darkness in for a j and a beer to give me some time to try to sort out this dilemma. “Let us not bother with repenting and salvation when I have some grade-A bud and a fridge full of pale ale Mr. Darkness. Let us attend to more, shall I say, higher matters, if you are picking up what I am putting down.” I couldn’t really see his face in the dark because he had his black cloak uniform on but he stepped right in. Without a word he ganked the recliner and the tv remote like he owned the place. He turned the tv to fox news. “I’m gonna go grab the brews, I’ll be right back,” I said innocently. I heard Bill O’Reilly mutter something about his Peabody award as I bolted downstairs to the computer. I googled ‘repent and you shall be saved’ and sure enough, according to some impressive theologians this was quite correct. So then I googled repent: – to feel sorry, self-reproachful, and contrite for past conduct. I definitely feel sorry for myself so I was golden.
                I bounced back upstairs with brews in hand knowing I had this cat in the bag. When I peeked in, Mr. Darkness was watching the playboy channel. “Hey what’s up?” I said rather loudly, and he quickly turned the channel back to fox news. I handed him a brew. I figured we might as well get high before I trounce this sucker with my new-found google knowledge. So we killed a j and laughed our asses off to O’Reilly. Just when I was about to pull the plug on ole beelzebub, the doorbell rang, double cheese with jalapenos I thought.
                I grabbed my wallet and went to the front door. The sweet, sweet smell of pie wafted from that heated bag like an odorous heaven into my needy nostrils. I gladly paid and gave a nice tip and on a whim I asked the delivery guy “hey man, it’s repent and you shall be saved right?” He smirked and said “I may be as high as you but you got it backwards, it’s repent and you shall NOT be saved.” As he turned and walked away I looked down at my pizza and thought what the fuck?
                Heading back inside I wondered why google and theologians would steer me wrong. I was definitely high but this was a real mind bender. I plopped the pie down on the coffee table and Mr. Darkness had no qualms about ganking the first slice. Luckily, I saw that we both needed fresh beers so I said “I’ll go grab two beers, be right back.” I again bolted downstairs to double check my googling and found the same thing…even Wikipedia confirmed that it is repent and you shall be saved. Dumb-ass delivery guy I thought. If he knew anything he wouldn’t be high and delivering pizzas. But why would he have it mixed up?                                                                                                                                                                        
              Beers in hand I went back upstairs to find only two pieces of pizza left. “Jesus, you ate almost all the pie.” He took the beer out of my hand and spoke his first words: “relax.” I quickly grabbed the box to make sure I got at least my two pieces of sweet sweet pie. While I was scarfing down my slices, Mr. Darkness reclined in the chair and again said “Relax. The delivery guy was a plant. But I do want you to use your brain on the matter. Why would anyone feel sorry for their life? Why would such a fallible creature have contrition for fallibility? If ‘to err is human’ and you reproach your humanity, how can you be saved? You can’t. Salvation isn’t after the fact, it’s now baby. What am I Dick Vitale? But you do see my point right? So when I say repent and you shall not be saved it simply means that the waste of time you spend feeling sorry for being human is the very opposite of salvation, it is damnation, dammit!”
                Now light up another j, O’Reilly is coming back on.

If You Can’t Say Anything Nice About A Person, Ignore Them Till They Cry

If You Can’t Say Anything Nice About A Person, Ignore Them Till They Cry

by Bobby Breslin

My parents’ job is to teach me right from wrong and boy are they strict. Of course they’re right about most things and I appreciate all they are teaching me in life especially that if you can’t say something nice about a person, ignore them till they cry.

Such sage advice like this was impressed upon me at a very young age. Like most kids I rebelled at first and hurled my fair share of insults at my classmates, peers, teachers, grandparents and other mall patrons but my parents put the kibosh on that as soon as I came home ten times with related injuries like smashed lips, missing hair patches, various welts and bitten ear lobes. That’s when they taught me that ignoring people and not caring about them is the right thing to do when you can’t say anything nice about them.

My parents also walked the walk and talked the talk. Unlike other parents who too often resort to the old “do as I say, not as I do,” my parents modeled the behavior they wanted to instill. Let me tell you that hours and hours alone taught me the right morality. I soon began to treat others the same way and found out that, true to my parents teaching, ignoring people and complete apathy toward them is so much better than insults.

Take for instance Ms. Straiko at school. I used to just insult Ms. Straiko to her face and behind her back on the playground and after the detentions started piling up my parents had a nice sit-down with me and explained to me that while Ms. Straiko is indeed a complete buffoon who has no business teaching kids and will most likely be fired within months due to some sort of alcohol-at-lunch/sex-with-a-student/making-meth-at-home incident, it’s just not right not say something nice about her. Instead they taught me to ignore her as if she is invisible and be completely unavailable of any attempts she makes to interact with me and never, ever say anything to her or make eye contact of any sort. Let me tell you, that indeed was the ethical thing to do. With my parents’ teaching leading the way, and themselves not talking or looking at me for a week, I ignored Ms. Straiko like she had cooties – never a word, never a look, nothing for weeks. And when I was called to the principal’s office to talk about my complete lack of learning, I was able to simply blame Ms. Straiko and it all worked out because she got fired. I didn’t see it but I know she cried.

It’s like a win-win because the lesson was learned by all parties involved. It’s nice to know that I have my whole life ahead of me but have this social tidbit of wisdom tucked away. Thanks Mom and Dad! Mom? Dad?

Dear Gym Bag

Dear Gym Bag,

                It has been a good run my friend. We have been through a lot together…shared many a laugh and many a tear. It is with great pride that I am able to call you my gym bag. You are held in the highest esteem gym bag and you have most assuredly earned your stripes as they say.
                I can still recall taking you out of the box gym bag. You were young and clean and rarin’ to go. You even had that new gym bag smell. You jumped in with both feet, or in your case, both straps gym bag. You were so eager to learn and haul. No matter what I threw in you, you just gobbled it up and protected my privates as if they were your own gym bag. And I got to know you as well gym bag, your many zippers and compartments and where you liked what. I knew where to hide the camera for our secret locker room videotaping and you never made a peep. Shhh. It’s called symbiosis gym bag.
                And oh the experiences we shared gym bag! Remember that time after my first marathon when I spilled orange Gatorade all over you and you didn’t even get mad? Or when the energy gels squirted all over you and all you did was smile? Or how about when you lost my car keys after that 5k and I almost lit you on fire? Remember when we both had a good laugh when I put my ball bag in you? Who knew Rawlings’ balls needed extra support? Good times, gym bag…good times.
             But as Brett Farvre once quivered, all good things must come to an end and it is no different with you and I gym bag. And while we have grown old together and while you have been every bit the soldier that Kellen Winslow Jr was at Miami, we must <gasp> go our separate ways gym bag. I’m not going to disrespect you and give you the “It’s Not You, It’s Me” shtick gym bag. I owe you more than that. You’ve given it your all and you’ve served stoically, honorably, and you’ve always carried on…carrying things with the utmost grace and bottom support provided by your cardboard insert. But you see gym bag, you reek now and there is no amount of Febreze that can medicinally be applied to you. I know you have wicking material gym bag but you just wicked one too many times and the odors no longer dissipate. They stick like glue gym bag. A rancid glue. A guy at the work gym asked me if I had old bait in my locker gym bag! At the YMCA they thought I might be bringing in used diapers. It can’t go on this way old friend. Don’t you think we owe it to each other to be happy?
             No! I won’t do that! I won’t Clorox! No bleach. Don’t make this worse than it is. I know I’m not perfect, don’t you think I know that! What does that have to do with you smelling like a worm’s fecal matter surrounded by anchovies in a musty Dorito’s bag?       

It’s over gym bag, it’s just over. Just don’t forget me gym bag…and don’t tell anyone about that video.

Tame Me

I am reading ‘The Little Prince’ and came across the statement in the book, “that which is essential is invisible to the eye.” Upon reading this I immediately flashed back to reading Leo Buscaglia in my early twenties. Now 41, I felt a twinge of nostalgia, connection, and regret…or something like regret.
                Nostalgia is a familiar feeling; the longing for the past but a past when the future was more open. Despite having learned Heidegger and the idea that each choice can render an infinite number of new choices, I can’t help but feel that the number of choices is limted…very limited. And so the pull of nostalgia is strong; it is almost as if freedom resides in nostalgia. This particular nostalgia was my early twenties…when I knew everything and nothing, when I was studying philosophy and psychology with a keen interest in the idea of self-actualization and connectedness.
                Spinoza was a pantheist. The words literally mean back to god, figuratively it refers to god as everything. (Note: the god in this case is nothing like the christian god but rather, Being with a capital `B’, the greater existence in which all existences (lower case being(s)) reside.) I was never a Spinozist as Dr. Hart termed it, but I feel like I did understand pantheism. The idea that resonated with me in Spinoza was the idea that everything is connected but what I did was morph his idea of connectedness, which I felt was a very material understanding, and apply it to self-actualization within an emotional/aesthetic arena. Don’t overthink it…if you’ve ever been moved by a piece of music or experienced the joy of loving another, then you understand this connectedness and where you are it/him/her fit in the world. When I came across those words last night I felt that connection…I could see myself reading Leo Buscaglia, feeling like a sponge soaking up everything that was coming my way, growing intellectually, and here I was more than twenty years later reading what is considered a children’s book and feeling quite ignorant of the ways of the world and more importantly, who I am and what I am supposed to be. A strange connection, your present ignorant self to your younger know-it-all (naïve) self, but a connection nonetheless.
                Alas, in bed, my wife next to me and my 8 month old son asleep in his crib, I felt like I should be more…I felt un-self-actualized…disconnected…from myself, full of doubt, waiting, passively waiting for that thing, to happen to me and not from me…waiting for fate instead of creating fate…for a fate to sate me to fulfill me…and consequently them? Does it work that way?
                If Woody Allen taught us anything with `Match Point’ it is that luck matters.

If I learned anything from evolutionary psychology and sociobiology, it is that man survives in groups and not alone. But can we be alone from luck? Is luck necessary for self-actualization? Can the masses, a la the satirical newspaper `The Onion’, trudge through another day while the few, the lucky few, thrive with a self-actualizing wind at their backs? For all the books out there, and all the Leo Buscaglias,  and the sages with pithy one-liners just waiting to pass it on, are they wrong? What if it can’t be taught? What if those who have it can’t tame it and throw a connection to me? Or you?

Aurora Colorado Haikus

Assault rifle bang            

Semi-automatic bang

Help me understand

Well armed militia…       

Conscription. guns provided

Help me understand

The right to bear arms

Amendments, they have been made

Help me understand

Originalist…

Amendments, they have been made

Help me understand

The mind opens…bloom

Could fail…it could be better!

Help me understand

Canadians are now richer than Americans

Just when you thought the economic downturn could not get any worse. Canadians are now richer than we are! Where is a maple leaf? I need to wipe. Frustrating. But who's to blame? The housing crisis and Wall Street? I think not. I think it's obvious that the movie 'Strange Brew' is culpable. Canada wasn't even on the map till this movie...then next thing you know SNL is mostly Canadian with hockey overtones. Well, before this die hard american starts singin' O'Canada you can bet your maple syrup that this country will rebound (yeah canada, how's your hoops squad going to fare in the olypmics? That's what I thought!) and we will, we will own our cars and houses and dominate mtv cribs, we will sail on yachts and dine on fois gras in our home theaters lambasting your 80's cult classic 'Strange Brew'. Eh!

Bag of Hammers

So, along with the Red Sox’ incredible tank last year being part of god’s plan (per 1^st baseman Adrian Gonzalez), now the shooting death of Travon Martin is now part of god’s plan per accused gunman George Zimmerman.

I think it was George Carlin who once lamented that pro athletes never say that “jesus tripped me up at the goal line.” Well now thanks to Gonzalez and Zimmerman, we have to god to thank for some immeasurable suffering. Well, in comparison to Cleveland sports teams that is.

http://www.boston.com/sports/baseball/redsox/extras/extra_bases/2011/09/carl_crawford_a.html

And now George Zimmerman is pawning off the death of Trayvon Martin as providence.

Now we all know that a good god and human suffering create quite the philosophical conundrum. Perfect, good god… bad things – doesn’t add up. So to square this circle a philosopher named Leibnitz said that “if you could see things from the eyes of god, there is no evil…all things are good because evil can’t happen from a perfect, good god. You name it, it’s good. Abortion, slavery, the holocaust, Jerry Sandusky, even the ice capades…good things.

Doesn’t sit too well does it? It didn’t sit well with Voltaire either.

And that brings us to George Zimmerman. Good Christian, non racist, gun loving, “we don’t need you to do that” George Zimmerman. George wants to place the death of Trayvon Martin in god’s hands. Nice try. Theologically, you just might be ok Georgie, let us inquire about some catholic priests who get through the pearly gates... but you see George, a la O’ Brother Where Art Thou, the law is a little more hard-nosed.

Ahh George…dumber than a bag of hammers…with a bifurcated tail????