I have a crayon in my brain?

Reports have indicated that Ben Roethlisberger sustained a low grade concussion near the end of the second quarter of last week's Browns-Steelers game. Many pundits have looked back at Coach Tomlin's decision to have B-Roe in the game. Looking back at those oh-so-dominant Colts teams which had such a lead they could afford to rest guys starting in week 14. When they did so, they always seemed to come out rusty and flat in January as no one had played a meaningful game since Thanksgiving.
Today is not about rehashing coaching decisions though. Today we're going to look to the future and what we can expect Ben Roethlisberger to be going through as he recovers from his 'minor concussion'. To provide information, we have enlisted the foremost expert on concussions, Hennessy and illegitimate children, our good friend Barnes. As always, my comments are in red.

• What are the side effects of a low grade concussion?
  ~ The side effects of a concussion are nausea, dizziness, lack of coordination, iritability, and sensitivity to light. (Barnes is always irritable and generally sensitive to light, so those two were not good indicators for the training staff as to his condition.)
• How does it make you feel?
  ~ It's pretty much like getting drunk in high school. You get a good buzz going for about an hour (I remember singing in the training room after my second one) followed by a prolonged hangover. You also get really sleepy, but you can't sleep for 8 hours afterwards. Then when you do get to sleep, you can't sleep for more than 3-4 hours.
• What does that feel like as compared to a high grade concussion?
  ~ The main difference is pretty simple. For a high grade one, in the words of Smokey, "You got knocked the fuck out". Basically, if you don't go unconscious, its a low grade concussion. (Does this mean I've only been low-grade drunk as then?)
• This is Ben's third concussion in as many years – how is recovery time affected by multiple concussions?
  ~ It depends on the time between them and the severity. Mine were all minor, but three of them occurred within 3.5 months of each other. That's not good.
• IE – do you think he can be ready for the Jan 11 Divisional game?
  ~ Yes, I think he'll play.
• Which is more damaging – having a portion of ceiling falling on you while sleeping or bouncing your head off the windshield of a Buick?
  ~ Depends what timeframe you're talking about and if there are any other associated injuries. Short term, the windshield is more damaging. But if that's you're only brain injury, you should be fine. A ceiling falling directly on your back from 12 feet up, made of plaster and soaking wet, that will leave some long term damage. Hence why I have to look like a tool wearing a backback with a suit because a regular laptop bag causes pain after carrying it for 5 minutes.
• Do you think that concussions are directly proportional to cranium size?
  ~ I'm sure it can't help. Since it's essentially two forces (and force equals mass times acceleration) colliding and a concussion too much force for your brain to handle. In the words of Ron Burgandy, "It's science." (For anyone who doesn't know, Barne's has a tiny head. I mean like freakishly tiny. His toddler might have a bigger head. That makes his head trauma all the more enigmatic.)
• Do you feel a kinship to Wayne Chrebet because both you and he had careers cut short due to brain trauma?
  ~ I'm not going to lie and say it didn't help. But there's also the kinship that we're both undersized white guys. And he played at Hofstra.
• Would you recommend me buying a car from Wayne's dealership?
  ~ I would highly recommend it. (End of year clearances abound, as they try to offload all year end models!)
• Would you rather be blacked out from a concussion or blacked out from drunkenness?
  ~ Strictly from a physical perspective, drunkenness. You know it'll go a way in a day or so, and you can make it better by having an eye opener. From a mental perspective, probably concussed. Because I don't have to worry about what I did last night and who's pissed off at me. (I wish there was a way to apologize and not have it be awkward, but I'm still learning how to do it. I think I could spend a lifetime at it and not find a good way to go about it...)
• Have you been blacked out more from a concussion or drunkenness?
  ~ Drunkenness. I never actually blacked out from a concussion because the one thing doctors and trainers tell other people is to not let you fall asleep for like 8 hours. So you have people poking you all the time.
• Moreover, do you remember every occurrence of each?
  ~ I remember the first hour or so after each concussion. After that, its a blank. Most drunken black outs are blank as well, with intermittent highlights, mostly just pictures.
• How many concussions do you need to suffer before 'slipping one by the goalie'?
  ~ From my experience, 4 is the magic number. I'd also recommend that no one test the validity of that. (Don't be a fool, wrap your tool; lest you end up like Mr. TwentyPercent)
• Would you rather beat the Pats and end the Titans undefeated season then go 1-4 down the stretch to miss the playoffs after everyone touted the Subway Super Bowl? Or miss two FGs to lose in OT to the Steelers?
  ~ I'd rather have the former, mostly because I don't live with any Dolphins fans. It's one thing to lose a game painfully, it's another to have to be reminded of it every day. Plus the collapse just proved me right about Brett Favre being a bad move.
• Follow up, did you see Chad Pennington on a play-action pass with Ted Ginn having 3 steps on the NYJ defenders, then underthrow him so badly that Ginn had to come back 5 steps?
  ~ I'll tell you what, nobody in the league throws the "Underthrow the WR because the CB is face guarding" route better than Chad. Just like how he got complemented for his accuracy on short throws two weeks ago.
• Follow up to the follow up, would you rather have had CP or Brett Favre this season?
  ~ I was driving the "Please Don't Sign Brett Favre" bus back in July to the point that I got a text message at 8:15 one morning just saying, "HAHAHAHAHA" and immediately knew the Jets signed him. Back in August I was going to write an NFL preview, but only got around to doing the AFC East. Here's what I wrote about Pennington and what I was looking forward to seeing from Miami: "I'll miss you Chad. Maybe you didn't have a rocket arm, and were missing some shoulder ligaments. But dammit, you were one stupid Herm Edwards call from going to the AFC Championship. Maybe when this is all over, we can get an apartment together." And even better was seeing the Post report that part of the reason Cowher didn't want to go to the Jets was that he didn't want Favre. So to recap, the Jets got rid of the second best QB in their history, for a quarterback who threw more interceptions than TDs and sabotaged the best coach we could have gotten.

One Man's Trash...

Never more true has that old adage been than this NFL season in regards to Chad Pennington. Cast asunder one month before the season opener for the Living Legend Brett Favre, Chad was picked up by an old AFC rival, the Miami Dolphins. At the time, the move was analyzed as a strong positive for the J-E-T-S (JETS! JETS! JETS!), upgrading from the noodle armed Pennington to the old gun slinger.
At first glance, it was working out great for Gang Green as Favre returned to the form of his glory days. However after starting 8-3, the Jets could only muster a 9-7 finish. This ending was due mainly to Brett being Brett and looking like the old man who could no longer handle the harsh, cold ends of the NFL season. In the Jets 1-4 stretch run, Brett threw 9 INTs including three multi-INT games to end the year.
On the other end of the spectrum, you have a man given the dreaded tag as ‘game manager’. Pennington was near flawless to finish the season with only 1 INT through a 5-0 finish, having a passer rating over 100 in the final four. He even finished the season with a rating over 96 – his highest since 2002, his first year as a full time starter.
I suppose this is the time where I’m supposed to make my big point. Make some grandiose statement about what this means for the league. I don’t have one. In NY, Chad was tagged. They knew what he could do, they knew what he couldn’t do. At least that’s what they thought. Meanwhile, he moved down to Miami, where he doesn’t have to contend with the bitter winters. Then the Sparanos unveiled the Wildcat and you have RBs lining up in the shotgun, which was good enough to get the W versus New England. Now, the Fins are headed into the playoffs as the number 3 seed, hosting (and likely losing to) the Baltimore Ravens. Nevertheless, the Jets jettisoned a proven vet who’d worn out his welcome for an old man who no one knew was washed up until Thanksgiving.

Plax Packs Gats

http://www.nypost.com/seven/12012008/news/regionalnews/plax_bid_to_keep_his_shot_in_dark_141709.htm?page=2

There are so many good morsels in there. I thought it was funny when I first heard about it. But now I'm reading and it just gets better. Antonio Pierce won't tell anyone what happened. The supposed third man was told the Plax was shot and can only muster, 'Oh really?' our of his phone convo before going right back to it. As if this were complete normalcy. But my personal favorite is the thought of Plaxico in a Lex Ave night club on a Friday night in sweats. Who is going to tuck a burner into sweats? Get a fucking deringer that'll fit into the pockets. Goddamn that dude is retarded. Big ups to the Big 10. Go Spartans!

America's Team?

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3714369

Uh-Uh. No way. You're not going to feed me that humble as pie bullshit. Are you fucking serious? I'm supposed to buy this about this guy? 'Oh, hi. I'm Tony Homo. I do good things for good people.' I only hope it comes out that the homeless guy is homeless because he used to be a school teacher and he molested little children. Because that's what the Cowboys are. Everyone knows that the Raiders are ex-cons. And the Cowboys are child molesters. Especially Roger Fucking Staubach. To this day complains about losing to the Steelers in one of those Super Bowls. Are you serious? Get over it.
And half way down they say the he stopped to help a couple change a tire on the way home from opening day. Really? You know why he stopped? Because she had tits the size of Tijuana and he was a Cowboys fan. Which by definition means they were brother and sister. So big brother wanted his sister to have someone from outside the blood line inside her.
Fuck you and Jessica Simpson. Matter of fact she was molested too. By her father. If you think I'm kidding, check out some of the shit he's said about his daughter's tetas. Lemme guess, next we're going to find out that they are missionaries - not the position - and they've converted 39 little brown children to Methodism or some God awful snake handling Protestant church. Message to white people: let brown people be, they don't need salvation. Salvation won't help third world people achieve dinner. Cock suckers.
Speaking of cock suckers, I think Tom Landry molested collies. It's why he wore that hat. So the dogs wouldn't recognize him on game day and tell Timmy he's the reason they howl at the moon on Saturday nights.
And if you're a Cowboys fan ~ Attack! Attack! Attack! My left nutsack! Enjoy rooting for Homo while he's throwing another game in January for you. Jackasses...

CC Sa-bathe-in-cash-ia

As attested by my consistent finishes in fantasy baseball over the life of the Horsemen league, I am far from an expert in the field of baseball. The proverbial diamond of baseball, if you will. But allow me to break thisdown for you by some of my basic tenets. Actually, there is no plural ~ that should read TENET...albeit with some addenda.
The AL is superior day in and day out to the NL. Yes, I know the NL has won the World Series recently - including this year by the Goddamn Phillies. I'm not saying that head to head the AL will win in a landslide everytime. But let's delve a little deeper into my reasoning.
PITCHERS SHOULDN'T HIT! I think I've explored this theorum previously, but now I'll apply to something a tad more pertinent. Namely, the Yankees and their offer to CC Sabathia. Pause for a moment if you will and digest this:
CC Sabathia was traded from Cleveland (AL) to Milwaukee (NL) on July 7.
His Milwaukee Stats: 11-2; 1.65 ERA.
In toto for 2008: 17-10; 2.70 ERA.
Assuming that the onliest people who've made it to this point of my dissertation are baseball people, you can do the math and see that CC had a tremendous 2nd half. You can also see he had it against the NL ~ where you have a guaranteed out at least once every three innings.
Now this is where it can get interesting--I invite any of my readership to show me a pitcher whose gone from the NL to the AL and succeeded. And by succeeded I mean be worthy of a contract greater than 6 years, $138M. Go ahead, I'll wait.
...
...

Oh that's right, this isnt interactive. I'll keep on looking for any comments wherein you blast me Peter North style for my statements above. Keep this in mind though. I don't hate the idea of Sabathia or Lowe or Burnett playing for the Bronx Bombers. I don't like the idea of them spending 9 figures on any of them. Lowe and Burnett are already over 30. Sabathia is only pushing 30. But he's also a danger to push 300 - pounds not wins.

I'm not 100% sure what my point is. Other than to say fuck baseball one more time. Then say how much I hate the Yankees when Sabathia signs that ginormous deal and moves into the nearest Old Country Buffet, working on the old Clemens circa 1994 weight watch plan. As in, I watch the weight pile on.

Goddamnit! Baseball is so slow!

All Hallow's Eve

I know it’s mid-November but I still want to rehash my Halloween for you…
I was in the Burgh that night and I started out on 8th Ave handing out candy to the ninos in the neighborhood. MJ was the great pumpkin and he was a fierce pumpkin. The kid loves picking up Pop’s cane. He already knows what to do with a weapon, his daddy’s proud. Banana and Summation were Bo Peep and a sheep. Summ was so cute as a sheep. It was even cute when she started throwing a tantrum cuz she was so damn tired…
Then the real fun began. I went to the Univ of Pittsburgh to chill with Morty for the night. My brother as you may or may not know is like 6-6, 6-7…fucking tall for the rest of the world. He also has a terrible Jew Fro – this despite not being Jewish. So he bought a white head band and colored orange stripes on each end and went as Jackie Moon. He had his white Nike shorts rolled up and they were waaaaaaaayyyyyy too short – it was awesome.
I went as Jesus Christ. Because it’s awesome. All night long everyone was recognizing me and taking photos. If you’re on myface or spacebook and you see random people with Jesus from Halloween, there’s a decent chance it’s me. Morty was pissed at first because as we go walking down the street, I changed my gait and all night long I walked slowly with my hands folded in front of me. I tried to keep a peaceful look on my face under the beard all night. I thought it was awesome. He did too eventually but at first he was pissed that I was walking so slow.
We first go to one bar and split a pitcher, checking out the scene. I went to check out the up stairs portion and there was a live band so they tried to charge a cover. I asked the bouncer if he could let the son of man in for free and he told me he was an atheist. I instantly smote him.
Up next was a bar on the next block, which I found out later is notorious for shootings. We entered the main portion to an empty house, rifled down a shot and split a pitcher and went to the side with the dance floor. The people in costumes were surrounding the DJ booth. Morty and I made our way up there.
As we got there, the DJ announced a dance competition. We stood in the circle for the cipher and there were some terrible dancers, but there was a blue care bear with the lit belly who was doing the old rave moves from the mid-90s who had some decent rhythm. I let the anticipation build around me and everyone started to chant for their savior by name. the DJ called me into the middle. I walked slowly, then came to life doing every move I’ve ever seen in a music video. I think I even did a lil ‘Crazy in Love’ (just for you amor…).
Then they called in my brother. He looked at me with more fear than I’ve ever seen in him. A whiter man I hath never lain eyes upon. It was bad. It was so bad that he made the semis along with me and the care bear. So we start the semis and Morty is up first. this time around, he strode to the center with a confidence that was a high as his fear the round before. He gets to the middle. And he starts to stretch. It was a piece of comedic genius on his part. They proceeded to boo the ever loving shit out of him. Up next was the Care Bear and it was more of the same. I thought he’d come back with some pop lock but it was just mid-90’s rave moves. I’m up again. To a chorus of ‘Jesus! Jesus!’ chants again. I again bust out more music video moves. I did a lil motorcycle, took it up town for a shake, then brushed the dirt off to the Care Bear and his crew who was now booing me, in the greatest sign of hateration since Pilate sentenced the original Me in the days of yore. The DJ stops it and informs everyone that Morty was eliminated and Jesus and the Care Bear were to come out face to face for a dance off.
The music started and I was still again while the Care Bear went back to the well one more time. I let him go for a minute then when I started getting my chants again, I hit a lil Dwight Howard heart beat to match the rhythm just to get moving. The care bear presented and was grinding his bulbous buttocks against his savior. So I took it down low and started spanking him to the beat which got everyone laughing. The DJ asked the Care Bear to stop and let me go. He didn’t oblige but he moved away and I went back to music video moves. His boys called me out on doing the same shit – which I found funny for the aforementioned reasons. Then the DJ switched it up to Pitbull and I started some Salsa-esque Cha-Cha moves that brought the house down. Because how many times do you see your savior gyrating like a modern day Ricky Ricardo?
They proceed to announce the winner as I head for the nearest stool as I am completely out of breath and feeling like I’m going to vomit. Mid-stride the DJ announce me as the winner and I am to come to the booth to claim my prize. They awarded me a Miller Lite snowboard. On my way to the booth, I asked the Care Bear if he snow boarded, cuz Dad knows my black ass doesn’t do winter sports. He did so I said I’d give it to him. Some bitchy waitress stops me to ask if I even snowboarded. I smote her as well. I asked the DJ for the mike and have no clue what I said then gave the board to the Care Bear. In hindsight, I should have said ‘I can walk on water but I cannot glide upon snow’. But something else came out.
So there’s some douche bag at Pitt with my trophy, probably telling Jesus’ ass in a dance competition. I don’t care because I got a great story, I don’t need the board to justify what happened that night. There is more from the night, but this is long enough for now.

On the Cam-pain Trail '08

Sarah 'I'm only here because the GOP wants the Hillary Rodham votes' Palin has been travelling the country side dropping the ceremonial puck at various NHL venues. Her latest was at a St Louis - LA game. Being of the noble class, she and her family automatically get things the rest of us don't. For instance, they rolled out a red carpet for het from the bench to the ice so she wouldn't fall. Nevermind the fact that Ms. IOHBTGOPWTHRV is from fucking Alaska and talks like Martin Short and Dave Thomas [NOT the burger guy] on SCTV.
So with the carpet down, the St. Louis Blues take the ice. On their way through the tunnel, the players are warned that there is a carpet down. That doesn't preclude the goalie stepping awkwardly from stepping on the end, causing it to slide and him to bust his ass. Manny Legace is fresh off an All Star season and looking for the Blues to make the leap - and by leap I mean get out the basement and at least START walking up the stairs. Manolo said he felt a tweak and hoped it'd be temporary. After giving up 2 goals on 12 shots in the first period, ManLegend pulls himself and ends up with a hip injury. His reaction, "She's been pretty good for our game, eh. I'm starting to like her more and more. No grudge, eh." [Ed's. Note: Dylan may or may not have added the eh's.] I don't even know how to feel about that reaction. I did feel the need though to delve into potential reactions from other athletes around the sporting world.
Generic NBA - Did you know n!&&@s is playin' hockey now? That's some fucked up shit. I guess they might be smartest though cuz the audience is predominately white. Easier access to white bitches. Good call, yo...
Stephen Jackson (GSW not SLR)- Kraka ass kraka gettin me hurt and shit...That bitch does it again, I'ma go JO on her ass. Dap that bitch up on my way down coz...
Generic NFL - How do you expect me to feel pain when I'm so many uppers, pain killers and muscle relaxers that Heath Ledger is jealous???
Shawne Merriman - AHHHHHHHHHHHH! LIGHTS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tiger Woods - He left the game because of a hip tweak? I won the US Open with a torn ACL. Hockey is a sport only sissies would engage in...What's that? ... I recommend your 1-Iron for this drive. Aim slightly to the left and play the uphill side of that bunker 300 yards away on a dogleg.
Generic MLB - No hablo ingles...
Dusty Baker - The lighter skinneded guys like the colder weather better...
Having said all that, it's time to wrap this shit up. I hope everyone was thoroughly offended/entertained. I'm hoping to check back in the next two weeks with a political joint. I promise to break it down Dr. Jack-style. And if you didn't see the eventual barb at the dead guy, you don't know me well enough.

PS - sticking with the theme of the deceased; if you EVER think there's a chance where I won't up a hero of mines via recycling or flippin , you must be new here. RIP HST...

Funeral for a friend

I looked up this morning and noted that there was an old friend who had been neglecting me. Once, we had a special relationship - no not like that. But this was someone who I could always count on. Going back to our college days he was there for me. Even if I only saw him on some Saturdays or the occasional Thursday night out. It always made me feel better being around him for those scant few hours. Then we'd retreat our separate ways.
Then college ended and we started seeing less of each other. I didn't like the people he was running with. Though - they seemed successful so I didn't interfere and mess up his future with a great organization like that. Then there was some scanalous behavior and this friend came through the other side unscathed. His boss wasn't so lucky, but still they pressed on and were doing great until recently.
They started with some turbulence earlier this year, things leveled off for him, then tragedy struck right before the stock market started its wild fluctuations. I stuck with him through it all, but I just can't do it anymore. It's hurting me personally to see him stuck in this situation. Management was in a position to utilize him to maximum potential, yet they continue to defer to the old system and the office head case. I just KNOW after this fall's events that it's nearly time for the head case to regress and cause tension for everyone there. I just can't watch it. I can't take it anymore.
So this morning, I quietly cut ties with him. As I did so, I couldn't help but think of all the good times. All the times, we hung out and he made me laugh. He mainly made others look stupid though sometimes he bit it hard, but it was always entertaining for me. I thought about his chain and how it used to make me and Barnes LOL, ROFL and LLWHLSWWLG. We used to sit there, everytime we were out and saw him. Or whenever his name came up in conversation - which it did frequently during the good times. Right out loud. Right in the middle of the bar or whever we were at the time - KOOL-AID!
I dropped Laurence Maroney this morning from all THREE of my fantasy teams. It felt like a little piece of me just died inside. But it had to be done. He had 8 points in two and 3 in the other. Not last week, but for the entire season. Ugh. Well I'll always be there for ya kid. I'll always look on and root for ya. Even though you play for the evil Darth SonyHD, I'll always pull for you to have a good day. But I just can't take it anymore. OH NO!




PS - LLWHLSWWLG = Laughed Like We Haven't Laughed Since We Were Little Girls....

NBA 09

No not the cock diesel Tony Longoria version...but the NBA season is fast approaching and I felt the need to get back in the swing of things by throwing down with hoops in this here corner of the interweb. I’ve compiled a few random thoughts broken down by division as I see fit. And I’m anxiously awaiting the Barney preview as I’m sure are all of you. So without further ado…
Atlantic
NYK – A fast break coach with scant few fast break guys. I’m hoping Duhon can put it together and run the system. I’m not hoping to see either Curry or Z-Bo have a nipple slip while in ‘transition’.
Bos – I’m not convinced the old men will last another hundo. Employee number 34 will continue to be the best player on the court most any time he suits up and the Ticket will do his thing because he plays like a child. A child who makes over a Hun Mill, but a child nonetheless…Ray Ray won’t last. Too many miles. Congrats on your rings.
Philly – EB42? I like. I’ma wait to see how it all plays out with him and AI Jr.
Central
Cle – Two years away from Bronnie going to Russia until Jay has the Nets established in BK.
Det – Has that window closed yet? Doubtful. But is it really open? No, but the Central is weak outside of the James Gang.
Ind – Dealt JO but held on to Austin Croshere? Then added Roy Hibbert. NEXT!
Chi – Vinnie Del Negro? I hope Scotty Skiles and Bucks outpace Reinsdorf’s Rubes.
Southeast
MIA – After watching Mr. Falldownseventimesgetupeight in international play this summer, I’m intrigued to see what they can do on south beach with the Matrix and the Beeze. And I’ll be buying my tickets for the Dec 28th Mia @ Cle game as soon as they come available to the public.
Was – are they really starting the season with injuries? They didn’t even wait for Halloween to come and go. Well, at least they still have DeShawn Stevenson…
Orl – Superman and the Justice League should make a leap this year. SHOULD. We’ll see if they can put it together under SVG. (He really should come out and do Rob Van Dam’s old entrance, including the spinning heel kick at center court then everyone pauses and screams S! V! G! – I love the VanGundy’s)
Northwest
Den – do you think this will be the year AI + Melo put it together? Yea, me neither. Good job giving up that interior D in one move. At least they have the Birdman + my boy Kenyon. Though I am glad to see Smush still in the L…
Por – Dr. Oden, DDS will finally suit up. here’s to hoping he doesn’t replicate the first few years of Z’s career. But I am excited to see if their young’ns can build off last year. I think they’re good for 50 this year.
OKC – I’ve never rooted for a budding star to wreck his knee but Clay Bandit deserves it.
Southwest
NO – has an uphill climb with the Texas Trilogy in division.
SAS – I’ma put ‘em on ice cuz of Manu’s ankle and the sheer number of games they’ve played over the past 3, 5, hell 10 years. David Robinson is still fucking tired…no he’s not, who am I kidding, that dude is in better shape than Jesus and he doesn’t have to stop and talk to all those needy mother fuckers…
Hou – RonRon is the integral piece of a team that is trying to get over the hump and win a playoff series. I predict at some point the Tru Warier will slap TMac’s eye straight. Further more, I predict that Yao will not play an entire season. AGAIN.
Dal – Not 50. Scrape for 45. No post season.
Mem – Ladies and gentlemen, your 2010-2011 Seattle Supersonics. Welcome to Key Arena!
Pacific
LAL – Pissed off Kobe still can’t win the big one alone. Pau is not the savior in the West. How my ass taste?
PHX – See Dal. Then replace 45 with 40. Apparently not so good…
GS – See Phx. Then replace 40 with 35.
LAC – I’d say see GS then replace 35 with 30 after EB42 bizzounced, but BD makes them interesting. And maybe they can salvage Shaun Livingston’s career. Then again maybe the fighting will cease in Jerusalem…

The Best Birth Control

I got this from an O/C alum. Glad to see I'm gone but not forgotten...

http://www.vgcats.com/comics/?strip_id=271

That'll make sense most to someone who saw one of the old O/C shows. You forget I was once on a T-Shirt and a poster. But I was - Oh, I was...

Boldin-ly Going Across the Middle

Catchy title I know. I felt the need to weigh in on the 'dirty hit' in yesterday's Jets game. I didn't see it until on replay this morning but I don't think it was malicious. Look at it again if you can (try espn.com). The first guy hits Boldin from behind when the second guy launches himself toward Boldin's downfield shoulder (where the ball was). Because of the hit, Boldin is propelled forward and that's when the helmet to helmet contact occurs.
I'm not going to defend the Jet DBs decision to launch himself. That was just a bad idea from jump street. (I learned that from 'Playmakers'.) But he did try to put himself on Boldin's outside shoulder and break up the catch. So let's not all rush to judgement that this is the new Kermit Washington. This was a guy who was playing hard trying to play through the final whistle. He was a tad miguided in his efforts.
Get well AB...

Deportes

Fuck baseball. I've said it before and I'll say it time and again. It's archaic, stagnant, racist and run by fucking renobs. 'Baseball people' talk about how great the game is. And you say fuck it cuz you don't understand it. No I say fuck it cuz I do understand it. Except for the fucking infield fly rule.
My big beef now is the regular season. You play 162 games. Figure out the fucking thing by like Labor Day. Leave me one or two races and tie the shit up by the 15th. After that, we all go just cuz we like hot dogs and it's fun sitting outside at night in September.
161 games and you haven't figured out who's in and who's out? Fuck the Brewers, the White Sox, Twins and double fuck the Mets. After last year's collapse they should be relegated to the JV with Pittsburgh, KC, Fla, Montreal (what do you mean they're not there anymore?). Now this year, they've built up all this hope. They won a squeaker the other night when they were down and out 6-3 in the 7th. And all it's doing for me is to cause DJ to bitch more when they ultimately fail. (If a pro sports team is from NY and sounds like Ets, they're going to let down everyone who roots for me.)
The only thing I'm waiting for is to go and cop a nice new Dodgers cap and root root root for Torre like any good Yankees fan should. I'll even enjoy Manny being Manny. I'll pull for the Angels cuz Arte Moreno seems like a good dude and I secretly hope he doesn't think that $25M a year is too much for Blow Job - I mean A-Rod. I'm behind Milwaukee + Minnie cuz they have a dome. Baseball shouldn't be played outside in wintry conditions. All World Series game should be played in tropical places, starting no later than 7PM on a weekday and 4PM on a week end.
I'm soooo glad this season is over. I'm just ecstatic that football is in swing, the Knicks are bringing Marbury into camp - please no Allen Houston, please - hockey is starting which means I have a place to go watch white people do funny things. All in all, I love the fall/winter sports cycle. Go Guins. Go Knicks. Here we go Steelers, here we go...

PS - In case you were wondering. Yes, I did lose in my money rotisserie league...

How do you say my love in Spanish?

...Mi Amor. How do you say my love in thug? Can I hit it raw???? Thanks Angie. Thanks Jay...
Well, I've been meaning to post something for a few days. On Friday I turned 25. I was pretty amped that morning and had a great idea for a posting with a self-written horoscope. The whole 'today is the first day of the rest of your life' thing. About how I can make everyday better than the last and turn it all into a veritable world about me. Though I never got to sit down that day to bang that one out.
We went out on Friday night and Amor put together this amazing meal with all my friends including some that I've made through her. Then we went to a bar and I got ridiculously drizznunk. I'm told I had a great time - alas I cannot fully recall...
Saturday I slept until 2:30 in the afternoon mainly because I was still drunk all morning. I started getting hungover right around the time we arrived at the restaurant Amor had set up for us to dine, just the two of us. I feel bad about this cuz I've been dying to eat there. But the whole time I was just focusing on NOT vomiting. It was so bad that I was gagging tryna down some agua. I didn't feel better til I had a nice big BM in their wonderfully crafted minimalist bathroom.
Sunday started with my fantasy football draft. Then turned into a day of running around as we were yet to decide what we were doing for Labor Day. The options in front of us were go to AC, go to Great Adventure, go to the Shore to visit the Angry Guy, go to the local Sleep Eazy motel for some us time or just stay in. AC was ousted because she was geting out of work too late. Great Adventure just felt like a giant waste of money - not to say that gambling isn't either... Shore was out because I'm fat. We chose the Sleep Eazy and a good time was had by all. We made fondu and read classical literature.
Today was waking at the telly. Then the world's longest breakfast at Perkin's. She had the idea for us to have a cook out at 4, but agreed to go to her brother's at 2, so we pushed our plans to 5. No one showed there until 3 so we didn't get back to our BBQ until 5:15. No one was there yet, or responding to calls/texting. She began to fret that no one was coming and wasn't calling to cancel. Well, one called to say he was caught up with some family ish. Another (finally) replied to the first message and said he wasn't coming. The other 2 were MIA and the last one had announced he wouldn't be there til 6 anyway. Well those last 3 all showed at one time, because they all drove together. So we got the show on the road around 6. We gestated and delved into a conversation on religion and personal beliefs/group think mob mentality. It was quite rousing and stimulating all at the same time. I briefly felt it necessary to excuse myself to change my shorts.
Here I sit now. Exhausted from my insane weekend of fun and pleasure. All of it planned by the most beautiful, thoughtful, amazing woman I could ever imagine. An angel of mine own planted here just for me. Ah, redundancy. Well mi Amor commented that I never mentioned my wonderful birthday to the fellaz before, during or after our draft Sunday morning. So I felt it appropriate to take this time here to tell you about the weekend I had. Thanks Amor.

Twe, get the brooms....

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on a mother fucking minute. Fred Durst, former Limp Dilznik front man just directed the new Ice Cube movie? Are you fucking kididng me? I thought the 'Are we...yet' series was bad enough. But...seriously? Dred Furst?
I suppose Kiss was speaking only of Right Coast cats when he said Gangsters don't die - they get chubby and move to Miami. Is Cube really doing a movie with the biggest tool NOT named Gay Aikman? Horseshit! Mierda! I guess the Predator really is dead. Today is not a good day...

Reflectional morningSTAR....

For some odd reason, I’m feeling very nostalgic at this point. I don’t know if it’s my pending 25th berfday or something else. Right now though I’m thinking about my family and the state we’re in.
See, this past summer, the baby of the family graduated from high school. Good, great, grand. But go back and read that first sentence. The baby graduated. I speak not in shock of her graduation. But of the fact that the baby is done. I mean, these people have had an impact on our collective lives since 1987.
I can’t recall my first day of kindergarten in the late summer of that year. But I do remember some of the next few years on the playground at E-Town Elementary. I remember the jump ropes. I remember the games of tag. I remember the days we were give footballs to toss around. I remember the kids I was with. i remember the fights I got in, first on my own then with or because of my brother.
He and I had a couple years together of elementary school. But that was it. after that, each of us were on our own. Well not really. We used to share a room and I was such a bitch. We used to fight every morning, mainly cuz I’m a moody bitch – and still am. My baby sister and I never got to share a school building. I moved on to 6th grade when she was three years old. So I can’t tell you about us walking up the hill from the school to our house. Or fucking with the crossing guard on 6th St. (I wonder if she’s still alive. Follow up: I wonder if the old man who drove my bus in middle school is still alive. IDK which was more crotchety. I think they’re tied.)
What I can tell you about both of their educational careers though, is that I always used them as an excuse. After I graduated, I relished the chance to go pick one of them up at school. I loved talking with my old teachers – well two at least. I guess it was a cushion for me. I felt that they understood me. They would get that I was the kid who had to go because I outgrew the pond when I was like 5. I needed the ocean. But I also needed to swim back into the pond every now and then.
Part of that feels like it’s gone for me. Not that I had been taking advantage over the last couple years that I’ve been working. But it was there. plus, I’d go see Chee Chee playing ball and act like the cool older brother. BIG emphasis on the act part. But it was fun being the cool older guy coming back to impart wisdom on the kids. Kinda like a drunken Moses returning to the mountaintop to teach the white kids what ‘joder’ means. Random things of that ilk.
Well in the coming days, she’ll start at a Penn State satellite campus not too far from home. It’s the one everyone referred to as EF 13th grade (EF being the name of our school district). There’s nothing wrong with that, she’s just gotta figure out her ish. Morty is starting a new chapter too. He’s going to start at Pitt’s main campus this fall. He just moved out the house and into his first apartment. I’ve been to neither of those places before. No one knows me as the psycho who came first. I’m just some random chubby white kid with a baseless pimp walk who talks funny.

Checkin In....

So...yeah. That's pretty much how ish has been going. I been checking in daily to see if Barnes is posting, then intending to write him nasty emails when he hasn't. But I been neglecting my peoples as well yo...
Last weekend was Amor's berfday and I think a good time was had by all. I threw her a little surprise joint on Friday night. I was happy that she had people from school, people from home and friends of mines in attendance. It encapsulated her entire life. I kinda wish I'da rolled through with a Foley-esque This Is Your Life segment. But that mighta felt a lil too forced or suttin...
Now I feel like I haven't seen her since. I been crazy swamped at work. She's been going to class in the A and workin in the P. Never the twain shall meet. It's all good though. She's gettin back into her routine. Senior year of school and whatnot. And this guy is fitna head out on the road to see the countryside while erecting various places for you sustenanical pleasures. (Okay, maybe I made that word up, but fuck it...)
Oh and last weekend was the blues festival, jam, giant, weekend-long concert that we hooked the tickets up for in January. He had a blast. I became a rockstar for said random act of kindness. (I know what you're thinking, 'Geez STAR - save a back pat for us. Well I swear I wasn't tooting my horn, just telling a story yo.) He met some great people. Got some good stories from a weekend of debauchery. Made some connects. And mighta gotten a few gigs out of it. Big ups to ya, Pops. Do the damn thing.
As for me? Hustlin get my grinds on - cuz one day I'ma get my shines on. I ain spoken to Chee, Morty or Migg in a minute. I completely neglected my duties to Fly and the Hitterz. (Shameless plug #3 - www.latehitz.com - I got a new article coming out Monday [???]. Pass by check it out click on an ad and help a dude get some fucking ad money.) Most importantly I haven't seen Mi Amor since Monday. So I'm awaiting her return from her new financial enabler - aka bullshit mall job. Gotta love those right?
I been getting my create-o on, doing some writing nights before I go to bed. I got a new beginning for Life + Times aka the sequel to A Week Ago. I think it's a pretty dope scene. But I assure you it won't see the light of day for a hot minute. I gotta figure out some of details to it. I'm feelin good about it tho yo. Plus, I gotta get through like 3 things before I can really hammer out the details on that one - and even then I gotta finish another 2-3 before I can start shooting. I own Morty our joint before I finish my trilogy. Needy mother fucker....
Also, I gotta get the budget together for AWA. I need B and Don Carmine's collective input to pull that one off. Cuz this guy? He has no idea how much a movie costs. Though according to Bowfinger every movie costs $2,176.34. Before the net gross deduction in tax finance disbursement readjustment. So I might use that as a soft number and let it grow from there.
Ohandbytheway, I still got the UCB joint coming up on Sept 21st. (That makes 2 shameless plugs in my corner of the interweb.) So I get to get my improv on and show all these mother fuckers that not only can I come up with some insane shit. I can do it off the top of my head. And I could also probably do it off the top of my head and make you cry. Just cuz...EGO. Out. HAHAHA.

Wu U

Now that I'm on the right path and getting my 'on the road' monies from work, I decided I want to do things the right way this time around. And my the right way, I mean make a budget - figure out my daily expenses and coordinate my monthly bills. Then factor in pulling some money out for 'entertainment'. This of course is in opposition to what I did when I first started working and making money. Which consisted of Champagne fueled rampages at black jack tables, followed by all night parties with girls named Destiny, Coco, Peaches and other things of that ilk. Then it turned into $500 nights on the town, once I started to 'settle down' with amor.
Then came the 'rough times'. Student loans kicked in and after I paid rent and my loans, I was going to have something in the vicinity of $4.73 to live off for the month. (Maybe I'm exaggerating, but this whole story is one giant hyperbole at this point.) So things slowed down. And boy are they right when they talked about the stress that not having money can put on a relationship. Me and Amor are not married, but spending 90% of your free moments together starts to turn into crossing the Atlantic on a dinghy with no erotica when you can't afford to go out, eat like royalty then drink the night away. So we had some ups and downs. And I in general felt like dog shit because I couldn't afford to take my woman out for a nice meal at a sensible price.
But now as previously stated, 'I'm paid, I'm paid, I'm got it made in the shade'. (Sorry I wasn't tryin to rub it in, I just wanted you guys to start thinking about Chappelle's Show.) So I have been thinking of - how do white people call it? - making my money work for me. Something like that. I want to take on a couple of investments. Yea, I have a lot of student loans, but I also have a good base salary and that road money is nice.
So I'm looking at having a surplus and I want to do the right thing with it. I intend to pay down the student loans significantly but I also wanna start having some holdings for the future. So I went to the bank yesterday and to speak to the money man. (Much to my chagrin - he wasn't wearing a green suit with diamond encrusted $'s on it. Then I remembered he was a financial planner, not a pimp.) So he's sitting going over my finances and we're talking about my expenditures. Then we start talking about investment opportunities ranging from savings accounts to stock ownership. And as he's going through the different levels, all I can think of is Wu Tang investments' motto - Diversify yo' bonds, nigga...
So thank you Dave Chappelle. If it weren't for you, this wanna be G would just have his cash in an envelope under the mattress. Now I know to put 20% into something liquid, 20% into something risky and the remaining 60% into some things with varying RORs. I spit 'ot fiyah!

Double Stubble Toil + Trouble

The New York Jets made themselves relevant in the football world last night by acquiring quarterback Brett Favre. The move sends a 4th round draft pick to the Green Bay Packers. With escalators, it could easily become a 2nd rounder. If the earth opens and heaven falls to the ground (Favre takes 80% of snaps + Jets make the Super Bowl), it becomes a first round pick.
First, I'd like to let everyone know that Diddy is going to be okay. He drank himself into a stupor last night upon hearing the news (What's that - he was already in a stupor? Well he'll go for the hight score when he hears this...).
Beyond that, the Jets have now vastly improved their three yards and a cloud of dust passing game for something with a little more weight to it. Gang Green's receiving corps, led by Laveranues Coles, Jerricho Cotchery and David Clowney (Seriously?), was awaken this morning and told to just start running wind sprints. Precise route running drills will no longer be emphasized. Instead, the wide outs will be working on their ability to chase chickens - which will then be fed to D'Brickashaw Ferguson in hopes he won't make weight and the Jets will be able to cuz him at no extra cost to themselves.
The current Jets QBs were not quite as excited with the news of Favre's impending arrival. Though Kellen Clemens noted that if he turns into an errant pass throwing, sandlot style quarterback, he'll have good reason - other than Fuck Chad Pennington.
All of this will be rendered moot when Favre suffers what I'm sure will be a catastrophic injury, further perpetuating the Madden Cover Boy Myth. I can only imagine John Madden's last moments, were that to happen. I think it would end similar to Colonel Markinson in A Few Good Men - including the haircut and glasses, but with a Brett Favre SB XXXI jersey instead of a military uniform.

Almost. There.

I do have to admit that I was right. But I also have to take the fall for being somewhat off…for weeks, months, IDK how long I’ve been touting the fact that LeBron was headed out of Cleveland. At first I figured he was headed for the New York Knickerbockers. I know that an atrocity they’ve been for a while now, but they had positioned themselves to have a shitload of money coming off the books in time for his impending free agency. I thought the notion of playing in the Garden, the mecca of hoops around the world, would be enough to entice him to make the switch.
Then I changed my tune when I learned of his ‘close’ relationship with Jay Z. when Bron is available, the Nets should be prepping to enter into their new downtown Brooklyn digs. I surmised Jay could offer LBJ enough in terms of a contract, exposure and marketing tie-ins to make him just a lucrative as Michael – though not quite on Tiger’s level. I assumed playing for black NY out in Brooklyn in the Carter Center would fit the bill for the impending Global Icon and be enough to sway him from the lure of the world’s most famous arena. (I say black NY cuz if/when Jigga opens the joint out in Brooklyn, tell me how many white people are going to head out there to see them? This team rightfully should cater to a different community than the Knicks. Why go head to head when you can’t replicate the MSG experience? Make it about the fans and get a different ‘demographic’ [read: blacks and people of any race who have been priced out of the Garden.])
Now I am again altering cleffs. With the recent ‘trend’ of guys headed to Europe, I figure the allure of the game will keep calling James’ name. (And by trend I mean that Josh Childress just signed for roughly $30M AFTER taxes.) So let’s run down what Bronnie can do across the pond. He’s gotta be good for some ludicrious amount of money per year – forty-fifty million? He’ll play to a packed house every night and bring the game to a whole new audience, give the Europeans a different view of basketball.
The last of which brings me to my biggest point. King James said years ago that he aspires to be a Global Icon. What better way to do it than take your game on tour? how else could he do it? The Globetrotters? This ain’ the 50s. Dwight Howard didn’t go to Kansas for a year then start whistling Sweet Georgia Brown before hitting the Ell. (Not to diss the HGT. they’ve served their purpose, but they’re more show than game. LeBron would probably want more game than show.) So now I think he’ll hike across the pond after his contract expires in 2010. He can play there for say two years, the culmination of which will be the 2012 Olympics – in Europe – and his Leer Jet can stop off in Great Britain while on his way to Brooklyn to play to a packed house for Hov’s Nets.

Lemme Put You on the Game...

Fly has a new joint in cyberspace. It's a veritable wonderland of random sophomoric topics - ranging from sports + entertainment to general college life. I highly suggest it for those of you who enjoy what springs forth here in my corner of the interweb. I'm also a contributor, see if you can guess which...Any rate, peep it and go back often so as to drive up their ad revenue. HOLLA...

http://latehitz.proboards101.com/index.cgi

God I Hate Lil Wayne...

I hate to say that. Maybe I don't really hate him, I'm just kinda disappointed. He seems to be filled with such potential. But he always falls short for me. I remember him when he was like 13 in the old Hot Boyz shit. (Everytime I come around, you see me Bling Bling.) I remember getting my hands on pieces of Carter I and was semi-impressed.
So I went out and bought Carter II. I was completely disappointed. The only thing I found that I could listen to again was Hustla Muzik. At first, I liked Best Rapper Alive. I thought the Fly In was pretty cool. But after a re-listen, I couldn’t get with ‘em anymore. I guess I kinda put Weezy F Baby, please say the mother fuckin Baby on my pay no mind list. I never meant any disrespect to him. I just didn’t see the point in supporting an artist that couldn’t keep me enthralled for the entire second listen, let alone the first.
Well, none of that info stopped me from purchasing Carter III when it dropped. I gave it a first listen and a few things struck me:

~Is he taking a shot a Jay-Z when he says ‘two words you’ll never hear are Wayne quit.’ ???
~Why did he do a song with Fabo + Juelz? I asked Diddy and he said it was 2002, didn’t I get the memo. To which I replied no, I need to put those 50-70 lbs back on. He retorted that his liver is not in its '02 condition. Cirrhosis is a wonderful thing...
~Why does he pretend to be an alien in Phone Hom’? And why does my version have a contracted E?
~I was pretty impressed by the fact that the song 3-Peat was all one verse and fairly well crafted.

I guess my next part of the last item speaks to a larger issue. I think that opening verse is pretty creative, well crafted and well delivered. But he does the same thing over and over. Every song comes up being the same. It’s him saying shit like, ‘I don’t owe you like two vowels’. Witty, crafty, flipped scripts by the dozens. But there’s no content to his rhymes. I’m blanking now on which song it was, but there was only one record which I could tell you what the joint was about. Other than that it was Weezy being Weezy. (Something which I think Kanye does just as well, 'Tell these bitches like Dorito's that's notcho cheese')
Now I suppose I shouldn’t complain. He’s not stuck in that one track shit that’s killed too many artists. He doesn’t just rap about living in the streets and selling drugs. He is creative and smart with his wordplay. But there’s no substance.
By and large I enjoyed Carter III for its creativity. But Weeze ain’ the BRA. I still say that title belongs to Donda West’s son. Weezy is nice for a change and a step in a good direction away from thug life, back to the fun ish that was what hip hop was intended to be. He’s like the Sugarhill Gang for a new millennia. Like I said, I’m not knocking Wayne. I just think he has his place in this world. And it’s not the BRA.

Darlin I Love Ya but Gimme Park Avenue

Urban chic has taken a new and awkward step I must say. I saw this in the paper a few weeks ago and thought to myself, there’s no way anyone with any self respect in this big money town would dress like this. But strolling along 5th Ave daily, I must admit I was terribly, terribly wrong.
I’m speaking of course about dressing like farmers. Apparently it’s hip for the ladies to wear high rise jean shorts and plaid shirts with kitschy little sneakers. I saw a guy with a plaid shirt, nuthugger jeans cuffed like capris and the same kitschy little sneakers. I’m going to assume he was gay cuz of his mannerisms, but the same sneakers thing was kinda awkward.
It doesn’t make any sense to me. I doubt these people would even have a balcony ‘garden’ let alone tend to fields from dawn til dusk daily, with the onliest reward being the ability to feed one’s family for free. I love how the trend setters can take mundane everyday items and turn them into the hottest new fashions. I guess after the swing kids movement and the urban cowboy shit, city bumpkins is the logical evolution. I guess I just don’t care about fashion enough.
I just can’t wait for us to make the Seinfeldian transition to the single piece silver jumpsuit with the big vee on it and matching boots. It’ll be like Mork + Mindy were the only ones who got the ‘future’ right. But with all the coke Robin Williams was doing, I’m not surprised he could see into the future. I only hope that everyone need not wear his same sweater on a daily basis.

Mom, Please Don't Read This...

This is not for the faint of heart.



If you have an active, vivid imagination - the kind where you read something and get pictures of it - don't read on.



If you share chromosomes with me or are involved with anyone whom shares chromosomes with me - don't read on.



Don't say I didn't warn you, fucker...




Did you ever put on some erotica and the girl comes out and you're like, 'aw - she's cute...'? Then she looks sweetly into the camera. And they have her made up to look real. Like a woman you could meet on the street - not like something out of those Jenna Jameson Vivid movies where she's fighting for interstellar peace by fucking aliens and shit...She's got a twinkle in her eye cuz there's a million lights on her. You can tell she's got no bra on. She takes her top off. Then some more clothing gets shedded. It's like you're having your own private show. You half expect her to lean over and go, 'so you from around here or just here on business?' She seems so sweet and innocent. And everything has begun innocuously enough.
Then like 20 minutes later, she's getting DP'd by two $5 footlongs (5-5-5-dollar footlongs, thank you Jared strategy team. I can't wait to see the first movie company to use that title...) Next thing you know, Meatball Marinara + Italian BMT both finish in her hidden hole. Then she gets up and drips both back out onto the floor. And all of a sudden you've had a life-altering moment? You don't know what you just saw. But you hit rewind, kinda like slowing down for an accident on 78 where both cars on laying in the grass in the middle, two pieces of twisted metal and you just know that someone's ambulance isn't pulling out with sirens.
Yea, me neither....

Utter Nonsense

You know what's killing me right now? As I sit on the train each morning, I read little snippets in the paper or see this and that on the train - things that make me giggle. And I think to myself, man that would be funny to write about. (I refuse to use blog as a verb...)
But by the time I make it to midtown, I can't remember that shit and I open a Word document each morning and stare at it for the 15 minutes before I have to start my morning. All I can think is, 'Goddamnit! I completely forgot what I wanted to talk about.'
More often than not, I'm sure whatever grand idea I had wasn't so grand. It was more something stupid that I though Diddy or Morty would find funny...though Diddy works 16 hours a day, drinks for 3 and sleeps 5 - so he doesn't have the time to read it. (But he damn well better make time for fantasy football this year...) And Morty doesn't even have a computer right now in his Oak-town tenement. (I'm still workin on it, kid...)
So here we go again, I thought something was interesting in my morning prep time, but I can't remember it now. You're stuck with this mindless drivel.

PS--Stay tuned for my thoughts on the RonRon trade and maybe some baseball commentary because one of my favorite players from my younger days just became a Yankee and if the Buccos get in on this Manny trade (J-Bay to Boston, Manny to Fla + Hermida to Pit). I'll holla...

Home on the Range

I moved back to the ‘Burgh over the 4th of July week so that I could go on the road for work and pick up some extra cheddar to pay off my student loans. I am loathe for anything outside of NYC but my love/need of money out weighs my love of big city living and voodoo women named Phyllis. So I gave up the crib in Hoboken so that I could tackle cookie cutters in Kansas with people who talk funny – at least to me.
A funny thing happened on the way back to work though, I got shipped to…sunny Manhattan.
Believe me I’m not complaining, city rate for the summer is a beautiful thing. I’m just a little perturbed that I gave up the spot. So I’ve kinda been homeless for a few weeks now. I’ve technically been staying with Amor, but I’m not supposed to be there. I had my eye on an extended stay hotel in Elizabeth, NJ right near Jersey Gardens mall. I thought it was a pretty sweet deal, but two things came up. What about my car and getting to transportation in the morning? How much does $80 per night add upto over the course of 3 months? After considering the whole ‘kit and caboodle’ I saw that it was going to cost more than I’d like to pay at this point. I then checked out the extended stay in Jersey City, locate right off the path and had its own parking lot. Now crunch $100 per night over the course of three months.
So I opted to go the sublet route. I peeped out some places in JC, Bayonne and Hoboken. I had a great one lined up in Hoboken near the old spot but alas it wasn’t meant to be. Then a miracle came to me. There was an ad on craigslist for a place in Harrison/East Newark for $700 per month. I know what you’re thinking – something along the lines of the cribs episode of Redman. But you’re wrong. At least a little bit.
The roommate is cool. Black guy. Aspiring actor. Working late night at clubs in the city, tryna network. And he feels it’s worth mentioning that he’s gay. Just to get it out there. Make sure that I’m cool with it. Hell, it doesn’t bother me as long as he overstands that this guy is not. Thus far, I’ve spent a total of one night there over the course of a week. So I guess I’ll be checking back in with antics of living in East Newark and taking the path from there.
Also you gotta understand, it’s crazy different taking the Newark Train than the Hoboken train. It’s even different that the JSQ train. The Nwk train is like the melting pot. You have blacks from across Raymond Blvd. There’s the Spanish/Portugese/Hispanics from Down Neck. There’s the white people who drive into Newark from Suburban Hell. And they all ride the train all day long. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Newark Train that has more than one empty seat.
It’s funny too cuz JSQ doesn’t get many white people, so when I get on – I get the looks like maybe if we lynch him it’ll somehow make up for years of oppression. But the Nwk train is like being in the south in 70s. Everyone’s together and most people are cool with it. But the thing is a fucking powderkeg. If the wrong person were to step on the wrong person’s foot, it’d go bananas in there.
I already had my one instance. Evening rush hour (Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouf?!?!), train’s packed, I’m standing and it’s so tight that my crotch is way too close to this little old asian lady’s face and my arm pit is practically resting on this Indian woman’s head. Then this lady gets on at Exchange Place and decides she wants to not only talk to her girlfriend (standing on the other side of me) but she needs 3 feet from Petey Peckerwoods (aka – ME). So she wanna come through and just try and run her hip into my thigh (she was so short she could barely reach the grab bar) and get me to move. First thing’s fucking last, I may be a fat kid, but I’m still prolly the best box out man I know (mainly cuz IDK anyone in the NBA).
At first I was polite about letting her slide into the space and kinda leaned my hips away from her so she could squeeze. But then she wanna take that inch and push me a mile. So I waited til they were going to brake at Grove St (the stop after Exchange Place) and I threw my hips back in her direction. She kinda rolled into her girlfriend. So she still thought she owned the space so she started leaning on me. I gave no ground. Then the little asian lady was getting off at JSQ (next stop) and it was visible cuz she was gathering he things as we neared the station. I could tell Hipcheck McGhee wanted the seat. I wanted the seat, not so much cuz I needed to sit, but because HMG was a bitch and I wasn’t giving any ground (I have no white guilt. I’ve seen the system fuck white people too and I take every slight to heart…).
So I did a cool little pirouette where in I opened up space for the asian crotch facer and blocked out HMG. And boy was she pissed when I sat down. It was awesome. I whipped out my SuDoKu and pretended the whole thing never happened. I’d like to thank Dennis Rodman for this stunt because I love irritating mother fuckers. And watching D-Rod for those years with the Bulls was one of the most integral pieces to my youth.
Amor remarked when I got home that I’m a true gentleman. To which I responded, I open doors for you. Why I gotta be nice to them other bitches? I suppose I proved her point…

I Believe in Yesterdays

I didn't mean to come off as Walt the whining Wanker yesterday, but I suppose I did. I guess I'm in a reflective period - kinda like Picasso and his pink period, but gayer. I did receive some great advice though yesterday after writing that. A man much wiser than I told me to stop looking in the mirror before I crash into the oncoming tree. Allusions to bad Brendan Fraser movies aside (sorry Amor...), it's very true.
I've noticed this as well in my history. As I stand in a moment in my life, I think about how much better it could be. I never enjoyed HS basketball because of it and I lost it through my stupidity. I could go on, but this was supposed to be uplifting. I think the first thing I enjoyed while I was doing it and recognized it was UCB.
I guess what I'm saying is that, I feel like I'm in a transitional phase already. Something lie ahead. There is this 'thing' out there that awaits me. A 'thing' that I don't want to talk about for fear of ruining. A 'thing' that I can't wait for. A 'thing' that I only hope I have the balls to chase when the time is right...
Okay the repetition 'thing' is getting annoying even to me.

PS - for any of you wondering, Barnes is okay. He informed me that he was taking a hiatus from the Show. But I assure he's okay and will be back and sarcastic as ever - maybe sooner rather than later if his beloved Jets sign Brett Favre.

The Kid That Didn't Go to Wentworth

I’ve begun to notice that life is a funny thing. Happiness is fleeting. Urges are tantamount. And sometimes the two never meet…I say this because as I sat broke and in college, all I could think about was the day I started working and could make ALL that money. I suppose though that when I thought about said money, I never thought about ALL that would go in to making it.
At the time I was in college and had taken out a loan that was more than any car I had growing up – matter of fact, it was worth more than pretty much all those cars combined. Someone somewhere along the line told me this was the way to go. To continue on this path would one day pay for the education that I was getting. And as I sat in those classes, the other admin personnel told us about how glamorous work can be. AND we can get ALL that money.
But as I sat in those classes – well at least the ones I actually went to – I found myself disinterested. And those jobs the nice ladies prattled on about didn’t seem all that glamorous. But I really did like the sound of ALL that money.
So I did continue on the path that I was told would lead me somewhere. (Though looking back it’s really a catch-22. I was studying something that was boring me, taking out hella high loans to do it and hoping I could get a job that could pay it off in a reasonable amount of time. I’m sorry – which came first, the rooster or the hen?) And said path has led me somewhere. But it’s nowhere near where I ever envisioned being. I’m sitting at a desk that’s really just one of those shitty plastic picnic tables from Home Depot. I’m listening to people who couldn’t ever pass any class I ever had – including the ones I passed with almost zero self-application.
That’s when it hits me. I’ve never applied myself. I coasted in high school cuz it was a joke. I fought any teacher who challenged me with things I didn’t like until they challenged me with things I did. This gave me a greater sense of self importance than I deserved. So I went for this crazy expensive degree cuz I have a head made of concrete and wanted to get on the first fastest moving object that would take me farthest from home. I got to working at this degree and didn’t like it. (Not all the hard work, but I don’t see the merit in hard work for something you don’t like – it’s like the total opposite of masturbation.) I finished by the grace of God in a shade under a decade and took the second job offer that came my way. (I justified it because I made an extra something-grand per year, as opposed to my first real offer.)
But of all that time ‘working’ in class rooms and libraries, I never stopped to look at the things I actually worked at. Once I changed over to fat, drunk and stupid (and ‘retired’ from basketball), the only things that made me happy were my creative endeavors. But that ish don’t pay well. And I don’t have a rich Uncle PennyBags to pay my loans – if I did, I’da asked him to pay tuition in the first damned place. So here I am, working a job that should be a career. A job that I love and loathe, it just depends what day you ask me. A job that I can no longer see myself doing 10 years from now. A job that pays me well enough that I feel guilty for hating it.
So I’ve come to this conclusion. I sold my soul. I sold my soul when I didn’t leave school back in the day, but instead took on more loans. I’m a complete whore. I lost all dignity and self respect. I live by other people’s rules. I gave in. And now that I’ve begun to fight it, I get in trouble for ‘having a bad attitude’. I’m the bad guy because I won’t take the same crap that the those assholes would when they started doing this. I’m the bad guy for having my own thought process. Oh well, at least every Wednesday when I wake up, my bank account shows ALL that money.
I am lucky though. I do have a chance to buy my soul back…plus 10% interest.

Long Time Coming

Well that didn't last too long now did it? I came out the gate gunning in March, I dapped 'em up in April, but May saw me fall off and I ain write shit since the Cs won the chip. I guess I wanted to write the week of the 4th, but I ended up with a fever of 102 for three days. (I know what you're thinking, 'WAAAAH - get over it jackass'. To which I respond, 'I feel great - fuck you very much for asking'.) Since I got back, I been working then coming home and sleeping. Exciting isn't it?
Work and sleep. And I still got a shitty cough. I declare shenaniganz on my current state of affairs. Though it may all change as I look to moving into a sublet for the rest of the summer through September, when I'm slated to finish this job. I hope I hope I hope that I can stay in the city for the next one. But I think I'm headed to Iowa to build a goddamn cookie cutter restaurant that unimaginative people like to eat at. I'ma miss city construction, but I think this scenario is what they call a 'character builder'. Well fuck them and their characters. Just cuz I are a character, doesn't mean I have character.
On the flip side, I started UCB again ayer (Show in September, Show in September...). I was none too happy with my day though. I wasn't feeling it. I'm out of practice. I mean, I'm still the funniest person I know (That includes you Morty Hedberg.), but I wasn't there. I was rusty. Fuck rust. I don't like being outta practice. And the worst part was, as soon as I made these choices, I could feel they were wrong. I suppose that's good cuz it won't continue to happen. But I didn't like knowing that I was tanking as it was happening.
All I can think about lately is filmmaking. I think Amor is getting annoyed with me. We bump into one of her old friends and they make small talk for five minutes. And when we walk away all I can say is, wow that visual would look great with me killing everyone at the table in the sequel. She just smiles and nods. (Please believe, she's not a bitch. She's more than justified. Everywhere we go I comment on the asthetics of killing a shitload of people there. I'm beginning to think I have a problem...)
But that's therapudic to me. I have my next two projects lined up. I'ma do a sequel to the thing we did in October. And since I was shot in the first, I'm not in the sequel. So I'll get behind the camera and do this one while lookng through the lens. (Timmy, it's your Uncle Marty - how do you feel about turning 5 again?) I just hope all the great actors I've been blessed to work with will continue to want to work with me after I go Psycho Joe on 'em. After that, I wanna do the thing that me and the Don started in like....'06 (???, maybe even before that.) It's about us back in the day and what we coulda done versus what we did. (I know it's vague, but I don't wanna give the thing away yo...) I'm pretty hype for it cuz I always loved the idea, but we could never find the medium for it. It started out as too much to do at the time, because we were too new at this. Now, we've lived and learned. We worked on the thing in October and there's the pending sequel. Those are both short 15 page joints. I'm thinking I can get an hour out of this with no fat. Just tell the story, in and out - no subplots.
After we didn't get the original shoot off the ground, we wanted to do it as a serial which was great. Since it takes place at a college, we could advance it into the future and show the freshman grow up. But it was coming dangerously close to something else I wanna do after A Week Ago. So I think doing it as a long-short (approx 60 mins) will cover this shit. I feel confident I can get the story right and tell the story we originally set out to tell. But I can intro enough of the young'ns to make a sequel viable. (What is it with me and sequels? I guess I just see everything so 'big picture' that I can't ignore some of the more dynamic characters JUST outside the focus of the protagonists.)
But yea, that's what I'm sippin on for now. Work is gonna be kickin my ass, I'ma be sleeping in someone else's bed, I'ma be doin UCB (Sept 21st, UCB Theater at 1:30.), I'ma stay thinking about filmmaking. I got a short to do before October, then a long short next spring, I'm sure there'll be at least one more project before A Week Ago starts in '10. All the while, Amor will be smile and nodding at my ridiculousness....loooooooooooove yoooooooooou.

How About a Round of Applause for the Kid?

I remember reading an article in 1999 about the Kid. The kid who broke the NBA’s piggy bank. I remember reading that and being saddened by it. One man? Really, one man is the reason the NBA was headed for a lockout? It was just this one kid who was the reason that billionaires were quabbling with millionaires? I was shocked. Even moreso I was hurt. This was my favorite player.

Quick side note: I graduated High School in 2001, the same year as Tyson Chandler. It was my dream to play in the NBA and I knew he was going to achieve it right then, but I ate up everything I could about Tyson. I made Pops buy the Adidas Blue Ribbon guide and read all about him. We had just gotten the internet, but I read everything I could about him, even if it took an hour to load the damn article.

Well, before all that was KG. I read everything on him. This was before I became an ESPN.com 2 junkie. Before I’d ever heard of Bill Simmons. Before I had read Rick Reilly. Before the internet was huge. This was back when ESPN 2 had that cool graphic for in-game box scores. It was purple and had the handwritten 2 like it was graffiti. And I remember the SI articles. They talked about him pre draft. Was this high schooler going to REALLY get drafted as a high lottery pick? Was he really in the same breath as McDyess, Stack and Sheed? And I recall Joe Smith being pretty beastly at the time too.
This is when I came to ‘know’ Kevin Garnett. Do you remember the SI article that had the photos of him playing pool with Jimmy Jam? IDK how many times I read that joint. I was all about it. This was my guy. Tall, lanky, step outside and shoot or back you down and drop one on your domepiece. And on top of that, he was captain of the all-hustle team. This was the guy I wanted to emulate.
I remember the first time I got to see Kevin Garnett. I had tickets over one Xmas break to see him in Cleveland in Bron’s second year. It was amazing. KG never stopped playing. He was always moving, calling for the ball, looking to hit that open space to get a skip pass just so he could dunk on someone. It was a strange contrast to LeBron. He was a little timid – maybe even intimidated. Only a couple times were they face up against each other, but it was awesome to see the old Kid dissect the new Kid.
Well, the Kid grew up and became the Franchise. He never won anything. They said he shied away from the big time, like Webber and KarlMalone. He made only one run deep into the playoffs. The rest of the time he was McGrady’d right out that bitch. Next thing I knew, he was the old guard. I began to question if I’d ever see my favorite player hoist any more hardware. Then IT happened. You know what IT is. The day he was traded to Boston.
Next thing I knew it was all talk about championship this and celebration that. The coronation began right around the same time as training camp. Everyone pretty much obliged, except for those pesky Washington Wizards. There was the loss to the Pistons at home in December. There was the 3-game skid in February. Then the Hawks took them to 7 games. Same with the Cavs. But a home loss to Detroit was all it took to wake the C’s from their funk and right the ship. Now that same kid is a grown ass man with an NBA championship ring. Congrats to The Kid. The kid who was the first Kid since Moses Malone. You can keep Kobe, Tracy, Bronnie, etc. I’ll take this Kid over any of them.

Lupus Got Lucky

So I’m watching the Bad News Bears [the one with Walter Matthau, not that piece of shit with Billy Bob Thornton] and I think I came up with a decent drinking game to accompany the movie. The rules are to take one drink each for the following:

• Every time Tanner gets into a fight.
• Every time Tanner says crud.
• Every time the Mexican kids celebrate, just cuz it tickles me...
• Every time Matthau DUIs.
• Every time someone abuses a kid physically or emotionally [like when he calls Englebert fat]
• But my personal favorite, take a drink every time there’s a racial epithet or sexist remark, anything that generally wouldn’t be PC by today’s standards [this would make the scene where Amanda joins the team a little more exciting]

If you follow these rules, everyone should have a more pleasurable though possibly not memorable time. Remember to keep one sober person on hand at all times to photograph or otherwise record all the ensuing shenanigans. [I'd also like to make a special note for the ABC after-school special scene in the movie. Tatum O'Neal's faux tears are the best part. I'll make this the Joker's Wild portion of the broadcast. You guys choose your own.]
This is the point where the beer commercials say to enjoy the product in moderation, but we don’t vend any of those products here at DylanCorp. So thanks…and enjoy.

The Renewal

I got some random thoughts from watching game 1. I'm happy to see a rejuvenation to the winter sports world championships. The Pens-Wings should get the public consciousness back thinking about Hockey. Also, Pops made a great point. It sucks that the ‘Guins lost last night. But at least now we can focus solely on the NBA finals. I wanna see this one come back east next weekend. I got C’s in 7…

• Man, the C’s cheerleaders are ugly.
• I can’t look at Dick Bavetta and not think of him kissing Charles Barkley after their race. And that in every way is depressing…
• Where did all that early production by Cassell come from? He’s looking like an asset tonight…
• Did Turiaf get hair care tips from the Predator?
• Does anyone have worse facial hair than Paul Pierce?
• How would losing game 1 affect Kobe Bean? Will he say hey we need to gel a little more as a team earlier? Or will he say fuck it, I gotta do it for us to have any chance to win?
• God Sam Cassell looks like Gollum. Can we get him thin, wispy hair too?
• Man I can’t stand Will Ferrell.
• Wait – IDK what’s more surprising/traumatic. Miami actually considering a trade of Dwyane Wade and the number two for the number one pick? Or that I heard D-Wade is dating Star Jones. That bitch looks worse post-stomach stapling than she did before it. [Do you remember Tracy Morgan playing her on SNL spoofs of the View back in the day? I was talking to Barnes the other day about how they need to release and SNL Best Of Tracy Morgan DVD.]
• Was Pierce faking the knee injury to get his Willis Reed moment to energize his teammates and the crowd?
• Man, rebounding really looks like it can be a BIG difference in this series.
• Should Paul Pierce be jumping around in celebration with a balky knee?
• KG with 8 straight misses in the 2nd half? Color me surprised….
• Why is Cassell jacking up jumpers? He should be on the bench, allowing House to play. Goddamnit what a liability tonight...
• I like them showing Pierce on the workout bike and all the fans around him. I mean around him. It looked like they had to be pushed away from that bike. Boston is nuts for this one tonight…
  How about KG saving that near backcourt violation? He had enough presence of mind to flip it high and let his boys set up beneath it…nice play.
• How about Jesus Shuttlesworth hustling after those long rebounds? Somebody wants to win…
• The Great Khali is in Get Smart? And working with the fat producer from Borat? Man I hope there’s no nude fight scene in this one…
• For realsies, the Lakers can’t make a shot OR get a rebound. WTF?
• Game’s best closer huh? Only 4 points with 1 minute to play—for shame sir…
• But seriously, do you think Red Auerbach was sitting atop the Lakers hoop in the 4th quarter just swatting away shots and bounces?

I Told You So

I hate to say that but...wait, no I don't. I shottied Flip getting fired months ago. There was no way he returned if they didn't win the Finals or at least put up a good effort against this Lakers squad. So now here we are - and by we I mean the Detroit Pistons - at a crossroads. Do they try and continue this run or blow it up and start from scratch? Maxiell and Stuckey *might* be guys to lead you back to the promise land. Then again people thought that about Vince Carter and Tracy McGrady.
It really is a toss up in this instance. What are you really going to get for 'Sheed? What about Chauncey, Rip or Tay? I always thought the Pistons as a whole exceeded the sum of their parts. Everyone on that team just gelled and they turned into this swaggering, shot making, shittalking juggernaut - personified by Rasheed Wallace. Therefore none of them have the value that you think a member of a 6 consecutive conference finalist might. Especially now that Billy King and Zeke are unemployed.
IMHO--start breaking it up. I'd only deal 'Sheed in a sign and trade. Even then it's weird cuz you're gonna have to take something in return. He comes off the books after next year. Might as well keep him and let him play next year for next year - the disgruntled quotables would be off hte charts. Maybe he'll play like both teams - hard - or maybe he'll tank it and the Pistons end up with a lottery pick.
I'd think the most tradeable would be Billups. See what I could get out of a team like Portland. Late lottery pick, might could use his expertise, then again he could stunt the growth of Brandon Roy. Maybe he'd be better suited for Seattle, though their draft pick is too high. Honestly, what makes the most sense for him is either GS or Sac. GS could use him in the impending Baron Davis exodus. And Sacto could use him as a mentor for Quincy Douby. Both have the added upside of the late lottery pick. AND they're both out west meaning you wouldn't have to see Chauncey until the Finals IF either of those teams could actually get there.
Beyond that, if I'm Joe D, I'ma take my chances on some middling draft picks to turn it around and get younger. You're not going to find a competent substitute for Sheed but that doesn't mean you can't make a play for a rangy swing man who isn't afraid to bang or take a 3, though none come to mind. Or you can't ask for Ron Ron as part of a Chauncey trade. But you'll never be able to replace 'Sheed. Who else would be on national television and look directly into a camera and say 'Get that fucking camera out of my face. I'm serious.' then flash the Leonard Washingont glare replete with nostril flare and chuck a towel at it.
I'm not gonna lie to you - I'ma miss the 2000 Bad Boys squad....

Chivalry Is Dead....

And women killed it. I’m sorry to break it to you, ladies. But you killed gentlemanly life. I’ll grant you it started around the time of the revolution when the puritans made the voyage across the pond. But it really got going with suffrage and officially died with the second-wave feminist movement. I don’t mean to be a bigot here, but you altered the thing you desire most - male attention.
Now, I think equal rights is the most basic thing we are granted in birth. For all men and women, regardless of race, religion and sexual orientation. But for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. Remember in Pleasantville when William H Macy comes home, drops his hat and says ‘honey, I’m home’ but there’s no dinner in the oven and the missus is nowhere to be seen. In order to get your rights to be no longer be ‘barefoot and in the kitchen’ you have to sacrifice a little something - we all sacrificed a little something. And we're all better off because of it.
You wanna go out and make the same wages as me? You wanna work in a steel mill like me? You wanna play sports like me? You wanna be able to vote like me? Then open the door like I do. Stand on the train when there’s no seats like me. And don’t stand right outside the door on the subway when I’m tryna get out – and I won’t do it either.
I came to feel the need to write on this topic because of something I read in Friday’s NY Post. Apparently some woman opened up a dating service where she hooks up American women with British men, their fish + chips, bad teeth and fag smoking. The men like it because ‘there are a lot of very pretty girls in NY, I’ll say more that, more so than in London. And they’re a lot sexier too.’ Color me surprised – who’d you rather have Kathy Ireland and Tyra Banks or…I can’t think of one British model [Joss Stone is fucking sexy though, but that might just be her smoky voice]. And the women like it because the Brits are ‘on time, they open doors, they pull out chars and they’re more attentive’. I’m sorry that doesn’t happen all the time. Maybe if you shallow strumpets dropped your monetary statures and just went after a guy who could do that, you’d be happier. But you want that ‘financial security’. This is the country where Monopoly was born, the most played commercial board game in the world. This shit is cutthroat here. This is the original Wild West. When New Amsterdam wasn’t enough, we expanded and killed off all the natives.
So ladies, you have a choice. We can go back to how it was in the 1800s. Men will open your door and not look for a fuck on the first date, but you’ll be a second-class citizen. Or we can leave it how it is. You can vote, you can make an equal and fair wage but you have to deal with assholes men who’ve heard you scream forever that you’re exactly the same as we are. And you’re precisely right. You deserve to do the same things as any man on this earth. And that includes opening your own doors and pulling out your own fucking chair.

Sue me...

So I’m completely biting this idea, but I have questions of my own – sorry Barnes…

• Antonio McDyess is a major contributor on a championship-caliber team? Whose knees is he playing on? How angry are Knicks, Suns + Nuggets fans?
• With Detroit now eliminated – how long until Flip Saunders is fired? Is Avery Johnson the right man for the job? Can you imagine a stoned ‘Sheed in the first player meeting with the L’il General? Would ‘Sheed inhale a bunch of Helium before the meeting, then just start repeating everything Avery said? I’m brimming here as you can tell…
• I’m not prepared to live in a world where an Eli Manning led team beat the Juggernaut and Doc Rivers is 4 W’s from a world title. [Okay so that’s not a question, but bear with me.]
• If LA somehow blows the Finals to Boston, will Kobe ask to trade the West Conf. trophy for the Larry O’Brien trophy?
• Can we stop comparing Bron-Pierce game 7 to Bird-Nique?
• How funny was ‘Sheed cursing out the cameraman in game 6? Am I the only one surprised that he didn’t get a one game suspension in the playoffs?
• Jason Maxiell might go down as the best Cincy alum since a guy named Robertson laced ‘em up in the 60’s. How does KMart feel about that?
• Will Yao ever return to America?
• What are the odds that over the next couple years that DWade goes home to Chicago, Bronnie joins Team Roc in Brooklyn and Melo does end up at the Garden? Am I the only one who thinks that the Knickerbockers are the losers in that deal? Further more, what are the odds that another five-plus years after that, all three end up in BK – with Bron playing Christina to Wade-Melo’s Britney-Simpson?
• How did the Gasol brothers feel about being traded for each other?
• Which eye does Stuart Scott use to focus on the teleprompter?
• Is there any way in hell the C’s can beat the Lake-Show? Does anyone know where Smush is? Is he upset at all that the Lakers are on the cusp after his departure?
• How ‘in over his head’ did Doc Rivers look in his Game 6 post-game interview? Does anyone playing in the NBA know who Desmond Tutu is?
• Can the Red Sox please finish with the best record in baseball and lose the World Series – thereby making Boston home to the best regular season teams [ever]? [A little off-target, but still…]
  

Mooooe-Nay...Moe-Nay...

“Men, you are about to embark on a great crusade to stamp-out runaway decency in the west. Now, you will only be risking your lives, whilst I will be risking an almost certain Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor.”

I wrote something catchy and kitschy when Sydney Pollack died. But for some reason when someone I grew up watching and actually could say something of substance about, I’m at a loss for words. So I’ve turned to the sage writing of Mr. Mel Brooks. Maybe it’s because it was someone I admired. Maybe it’s because I thought he was an idiot. Maybe I secretly crushed on 1974 Harvey the way Hermano crushes on James Bond, Indiana Jones and Jack Bauer (fag). Whatever the real reason is, this is the first obit I’ve done [including my SITtv news days] where I don’t have any quips. There are no jokes. [Ed’s note: Dylan really loved the Sydney Pollack eyebrows line] There’s nothing witty I could come up with to say except:

I…
Your name…
Do pledge allegiance…
To Hedy Lamarr…
That’s HEDLEY!!!

RIP Harvey Korman. Just know you inspired a teenager in the mid-90s and he’ll always carry something of yours with him every time he’s fortunate enough to have an audience. And any time I pick up an encyclopedia, the first thing I look up is snatch…

Young Man's World

Word began to spread today that Vince Young, the next ‘man who could revolutionize the quarterback position’ almost retired after his first year in the NFL. Apparently he had some personal issues crop up that he wanted to attend to in addition to the building pressure of being an NFL quarterback and the face of a franchise. I have yet to hear any fallout from the Skip Bayless-types saying how wrong it would be for a young man with so much to gain, to forfeit. But I feel it necessary to chime in here in this instance.
I too am a young man, new to the workaday world with the pressures of waking up on time and getting your ass into work – also a time-measured task. I’d by lying if those things didn’t seem daunting at a time when my life revolved around catching Y+R and making time for a good 4 hours of Madden and Tiger Woods each day. I too considered I had made the wrong choice. I was miserable. I arrived at work at 7:15 on a good day and left 4 o’clock on the dot. I took multiple jaunts outside each day to get some fresh air. Meanwhile all I could think about was if The Man had me under full time surveillance or if I could make a break for it and not have it end getting shot in the back like Willem Dafoe in Platoon.
But I sucked it up. I knew I had loans looming on the horizon which would break me if I decided I ‘need more time to figure out what I want to be when I grow up’. So I kept showing up and things started to get better. I was having fun with the guys at work and slowly things started to make sense. I’m not going to sit here and claim that I have my profession figured out, but I’m beginning to get an understanding of it all.
So don’t chastise Vince Young and say that he’s another young black athlete with a horrible attitude. Let’s call it what it is: a young man with a lot on his plate – personally and professionally – that got to him and forced him to reflect upon his chosen profession. And for a young man that can be a daunting task. Everyone hears that alarm on at least one day and says I can’t do it anymore. But the winners are the ones who drag their ass outta that bed and get shit done. Even if I was 15 minutes late…

RIP

Sydney Pollack died Sunday after a 9 month bout with cancer. Director of such films as The Way We Were, Three Days of the Condor + Absence of Malice, his later work included Tootsie, The Firm, Sabrina + The Interpreter. Sadly, I will remember him most for his work in the promos @ theaters walking in on the guy whose crying and breaking up with his girlfriend in the 'I'm sorry is my directing interrupting your phone call' to stamp out rampant douche baggery in movie theaters. I guess if I had to go, that's how I'd want to be remembered. That or the Michael Bay 'Awesome' ads for Verizon FiOS tv service. Pollack had a long illustrious [and AWESOME] career that has pretty much been dormant since I was a born - not to say he hasn't worked or his work declined, just that the bulk of the work occured before the 80s - and for that I apologize. And good sir, we finally have an answer to that age old question - no they don't shoot horses, they just give them really big shots after finishing second in the Kentucky Derby.
He leaves behind a wife, 3 children and 2 eyebrows still seeking to challenge Martin Scorcese's for interstellar domination. Sydney Pollack was 73.