But enough about Mr. Isaac and the shortcomings of his research skills. Today is Tupac's birthday which, in my opinion, calls for a party. A gangsta party.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Happy 40th Birthday Tupac
But for a previously unknown gunman's bullet, Tupac Shakur would turn 40 today. I say "previously unknown" because some guy named Dexter Isaac (who clearly did not go to law school, read any relevant criminal codes, or google "statute of limitations on murder in nevada") claims he shot Tupac:
But enough about Mr. Isaac and the shortcomings of his research skills. Today is Tupac's birthday which, in my opinion, calls for a party. A gangsta party.
But enough about Mr. Isaac and the shortcomings of his research skills. Today is Tupac's birthday which, in my opinion, calls for a party. A gangsta party.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Why People Write Shitty Things About LeBron James, Alternatively Titled "LeBron James Will Never Clerk for the Supreme Court"
By popular demand, the first-ever re-post of a G:TB entry. Consider this G:TB Classic:
Getting a job in the NBA is an incredibly competitive task. Only 60 people get drafted each year, and perhaps a handful (I'll ballpark it at nine) of undrafted players make teams.
An even more competitive job market exists in DC. Each year, the Justices of the Supreme Court hire clerks for one term. Each Justice may hire up to four clerks, and the Chief may hire five (but apparently he typically takes only four). So only 36 or 37 people get taken in this legal draft.
Hear me out before you scoff at this comparison. Supreme Court clerks command signing bonuses in the neighborhood of $250,000 if they go to a big law firm after their clerkship. Many just go to a firm for a year or two for the bonus, then go on to whatever career they want to have until they die. Many take cushy jobs like professorships or 9-to-5 government work and resign themselves that in exchange for the easy lifestyle they will never make baller money. But if they choose to stay at a law firm they are all but guaranteed to become partners with seven-figure earning potential. And even if they choose to work a government gig for ten or twelve years, many can get a partnership at a firm and make seven figures due in no small part to their SCOTUS clerkship.
In short, getting drafted by Scalia is just as much of a golden ticket as getting drafted by the Bulls. Perhaps even more so, given the length of a career in law compared to one in the NBA.
Getting drafted by one of the Supremes (or "the Big House" as some law students call it) may be the tougher task. The majority are pulled from the holy trinity of Harvard, Yale, and Stanford, with a fair number from Columbia, Chicago, Virginia, and Berkeley. Before earning one of these golden tickets, applicants must first complete another clerkship, almost always with a federal appellate court judge. Getting an appellate clerkship is very hard too, and even then you have to clerk for one of the "feeder" judges.
Most SCOTUS clerks are put on a track to the Big House early on in law school by attracting attention from famous professors. For example, Laurence Tribe writes one clerkship recommendation per year, referred to as "The Larry Letter" by HLS students. Anyone who gets The Larry Letter has an inside track on a SCOTUS clerkship.
How, you ask, does one make this happen? I'll tell you. First, you have to be smart, born that way as Lady Gaga would say. Second, you have to work your ass off for at least the first 26-or-so years of your life. You have to do well in high school and on your SAT's so that you can go to a premiere undergraduate program. Then you must earn excellent grades for three years. Then you must place in the top percentile on the LSAT. Then you will hopefully be accepted to one of the HYS trinity schools, where you must continue to assault your schoolwork and graduate in the top 10 or so of your class. Not the top 10%, but in the top 10. While doing so you must attract the attention of professors by showing genuine interest in the subject matter of their classes, and by proposing creative viewpoints on how the law should be. Then you land a top clerkship with a feeder judge and dazzle him or her with your brilliance, work ethic, and scholarly mien.
While everything in the previous paragraph is happening you can never fuck up. You can't get a DUI, you can't get busted for smoking pot, you can't get in a fight and break a potted tree over some guy's head, you can't be the summer associate who jumped into the Hudson River, you can't be the featured baby daddy on "16 and Pregnant," and you can't get caught spray painting an "A" between the unit letters on the frat houses across the street from yours. In fact, you probably can't be in a frat. Scholars look down on them and so should you, if you want your name called in the biggest of legal drafts. And you certainly can't be a really smart guy who never studied in high school but still managed to do well enough to get into one of the country's best schools with a top-notch biological sciences program, who, despite his interest in biology, instead went to a very-good-but-not-outstanding public school with almost no national street cred because his guidance counselor, who, incidentally, wore a very bad toupe, suggested it was the wiser idea, and then proceeded to do absolutely no work whatsoever in college, somehow graduated in 4 years, putzed around for 7 years, went to a good-but-not-very-good law school despite his undergraduate shortcomings, applied himself, beat the snot out of law school, and got a good job. That guy has no chance of even sniffing the chambers of the Big House, outside of a guided tour.
The NBA draft seems somewhat similar, if not a bit more forgiving. First, you must be born with insane athleticism and, ideally, freakish size, speed, jumping ability, and hand-eye coordination. Then you must work your ass off at the high school level to attract the attention of scouts from premiere undergraduate basketball programs. You might be fast-tracked to the pros via some AAU league, but you must sign with the right school, one where you can start, learn the game, and get plenty of TV time. You must work your ass off to be a starter, and then you have to do all the things that are now terrible sportswriting cliches. Show heart. See the floor. Make your teammates better. Be clutch. Feel the moment. Raise your game. Swing momentum. Be a leader. Be coachable. Be a student-athlete. Be a student of the game. Do the little things. Have a feel for the game. Have a high basketball IQ. Know how to put your foot on their neck. And so on.
The big difference is that athletes are allowed to fuck up as much as they want. They can take money from scouts, they can get in fights, they can smoke pot, they can get drunk and piss on the Dean's door. They'll still get drafted.
No one ever got a Supreme Court clerkship just because they were smart, and no one ever got drafted in the NBA just because they were tall. It takes lots of effort and God-given talent and people teaching you, coaching you, generally giving a shit about you and your success.
Which (finally, you might say) brings me to the point of this post. LeBron James is by all accounts a good guy. No DUI's; drugs; gambling rings; serial animal cruelty; manslaughter, murder, attempted murder, murder-for-hire, or murder cover-ups and the associated obstruction of justice; womanizing, bastardizing, or using public funds to cover up same; rape; brawling; drunkenness in a public canal; defecating in a laundry hamper; gunfighting; making it rain and then gunfighting; or anything like that.
But people still dislike him. I can tell you why.
Remember that hypothetical smart guy I mentioned before? I bet he would have hypothetical friends from his hypothetical high school days who lambaste him about how lazy he was when he was a kid and how he "could have done something" beyond whatever it is he did or does, like "you could have clerked for the Supreme Court." Kind of like in "Good Will Hunting" when Ben Affleck tells Matt Damon "Fuck you, you don't owe it to yourself man, you owe it to me. Cuz tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be 50, and I'll still be doin' this shit. And that's all right. That's fine. I mean, you're sittin' on a winnin' lottery ticket. And you're too much of a pussy to cash it in, and that's bullshit. 'Cause I'd do fuckin' anything to have what you got. So would any of these fuckin' guys. It'd be an insult to us if you're still here in 20 years. Hangin' around here is a fuckin' waste of your time."
Not to say that this hypothetical guy is a genius, but his hypothetical friends hold his intelligence in pretty high regard. Hypothetically. Whether he truly could have been a Supreme Court clerk is irrelevant. That his friends think he could is key. His failure to live up to their perceived potential irritates them, no matter how much he redeems himself through hard work as an adult.
It's safe to say that people envy LeBron James. He has unbelievable physical gifts, and, despite being born to a 16-year-old single mom, he managed to get enough love, support, coaching, and direction to avoid all the pitfalls that typically ensnare kids born to 16-year-old single moms. So not only is he physically gifted, he was lucky enough to be surrounded by people that cared about him. This convergence of good fortune, this embarassment of biological and social riches, allowed him to become the best basketball player on the planet, to make millions of dollars, to have legions of fans, and to become ragingly disproportionately important in public discourse.
When a guy with that much good luck fails to give, or appears to fail to give, 110%, people get pissed off. Squandering such gifts makes the average person angry, perhaps irrationally, but that's how it works, especially when these squandered gifts are bestowed upon someone who makes hundreds of millions of dollars via his squandration.
And that's why people write shitty things about LeBron James.
Getting a job in the NBA is an incredibly competitive task. Only 60 people get drafted each year, and perhaps a handful (I'll ballpark it at nine) of undrafted players make teams.
An even more competitive job market exists in DC. Each year, the Justices of the Supreme Court hire clerks for one term. Each Justice may hire up to four clerks, and the Chief may hire five (but apparently he typically takes only four). So only 36 or 37 people get taken in this legal draft.
Hear me out before you scoff at this comparison. Supreme Court clerks command signing bonuses in the neighborhood of $250,000 if they go to a big law firm after their clerkship. Many just go to a firm for a year or two for the bonus, then go on to whatever career they want to have until they die. Many take cushy jobs like professorships or 9-to-5 government work and resign themselves that in exchange for the easy lifestyle they will never make baller money. But if they choose to stay at a law firm they are all but guaranteed to become partners with seven-figure earning potential. And even if they choose to work a government gig for ten or twelve years, many can get a partnership at a firm and make seven figures due in no small part to their SCOTUS clerkship.
In short, getting drafted by Scalia is just as much of a golden ticket as getting drafted by the Bulls. Perhaps even more so, given the length of a career in law compared to one in the NBA.
Getting drafted by one of the Supremes (or "the Big House" as some law students call it) may be the tougher task. The majority are pulled from the holy trinity of Harvard, Yale, and Stanford, with a fair number from Columbia, Chicago, Virginia, and Berkeley. Before earning one of these golden tickets, applicants must first complete another clerkship, almost always with a federal appellate court judge. Getting an appellate clerkship is very hard too, and even then you have to clerk for one of the "feeder" judges.
Most SCOTUS clerks are put on a track to the Big House early on in law school by attracting attention from famous professors. For example, Laurence Tribe writes one clerkship recommendation per year, referred to as "The Larry Letter" by HLS students. Anyone who gets The Larry Letter has an inside track on a SCOTUS clerkship.
How, you ask, does one make this happen? I'll tell you. First, you have to be smart, born that way as Lady Gaga would say. Second, you have to work your ass off for at least the first 26-or-so years of your life. You have to do well in high school and on your SAT's so that you can go to a premiere undergraduate program. Then you must earn excellent grades for three years. Then you must place in the top percentile on the LSAT. Then you will hopefully be accepted to one of the HYS trinity schools, where you must continue to assault your schoolwork and graduate in the top 10 or so of your class. Not the top 10%, but in the top 10. While doing so you must attract the attention of professors by showing genuine interest in the subject matter of their classes, and by proposing creative viewpoints on how the law should be. Then you land a top clerkship with a feeder judge and dazzle him or her with your brilliance, work ethic, and scholarly mien.
While everything in the previous paragraph is happening you can never fuck up. You can't get a DUI, you can't get busted for smoking pot, you can't get in a fight and break a potted tree over some guy's head, you can't be the summer associate who jumped into the Hudson River, you can't be the featured baby daddy on "16 and Pregnant," and you can't get caught spray painting an "A" between the unit letters on the frat houses across the street from yours. In fact, you probably can't be in a frat. Scholars look down on them and so should you, if you want your name called in the biggest of legal drafts. And you certainly can't be a really smart guy who never studied in high school but still managed to do well enough to get into one of the country's best schools with a top-notch biological sciences program, who, despite his interest in biology, instead went to a very-good-but-not-outstanding public school with almost no national street cred because his guidance counselor, who, incidentally, wore a very bad toupe, suggested it was the wiser idea, and then proceeded to do absolutely no work whatsoever in college, somehow graduated in 4 years, putzed around for 7 years, went to a good-but-not-very-good law school despite his undergraduate shortcomings, applied himself, beat the snot out of law school, and got a good job. That guy has no chance of even sniffing the chambers of the Big House, outside of a guided tour.
The NBA draft seems somewhat similar, if not a bit more forgiving. First, you must be born with insane athleticism and, ideally, freakish size, speed, jumping ability, and hand-eye coordination. Then you must work your ass off at the high school level to attract the attention of scouts from premiere undergraduate basketball programs. You might be fast-tracked to the pros via some AAU league, but you must sign with the right school, one where you can start, learn the game, and get plenty of TV time. You must work your ass off to be a starter, and then you have to do all the things that are now terrible sportswriting cliches. Show heart. See the floor. Make your teammates better. Be clutch. Feel the moment. Raise your game. Swing momentum. Be a leader. Be coachable. Be a student-athlete. Be a student of the game. Do the little things. Have a feel for the game. Have a high basketball IQ. Know how to put your foot on their neck. And so on.
The big difference is that athletes are allowed to fuck up as much as they want. They can take money from scouts, they can get in fights, they can smoke pot, they can get drunk and piss on the Dean's door. They'll still get drafted.
No one ever got a Supreme Court clerkship just because they were smart, and no one ever got drafted in the NBA just because they were tall. It takes lots of effort and God-given talent and people teaching you, coaching you, generally giving a shit about you and your success.
Which (finally, you might say) brings me to the point of this post. LeBron James is by all accounts a good guy. No DUI's; drugs; gambling rings; serial animal cruelty; manslaughter, murder, attempted murder, murder-for-hire, or murder cover-ups and the associated obstruction of justice; womanizing, bastardizing, or using public funds to cover up same; rape; brawling; drunkenness in a public canal; defecating in a laundry hamper; gunfighting; making it rain and then gunfighting; or anything like that.
But people still dislike him. I can tell you why.
Remember that hypothetical smart guy I mentioned before? I bet he would have hypothetical friends from his hypothetical high school days who lambaste him about how lazy he was when he was a kid and how he "could have done something" beyond whatever it is he did or does, like "you could have clerked for the Supreme Court." Kind of like in "Good Will Hunting" when Ben Affleck tells Matt Damon "Fuck you, you don't owe it to yourself man, you owe it to me. Cuz tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be 50, and I'll still be doin' this shit. And that's all right. That's fine. I mean, you're sittin' on a winnin' lottery ticket. And you're too much of a pussy to cash it in, and that's bullshit. 'Cause I'd do fuckin' anything to have what you got. So would any of these fuckin' guys. It'd be an insult to us if you're still here in 20 years. Hangin' around here is a fuckin' waste of your time."
Not to say that this hypothetical guy is a genius, but his hypothetical friends hold his intelligence in pretty high regard. Hypothetically. Whether he truly could have been a Supreme Court clerk is irrelevant. That his friends think he could is key. His failure to live up to their perceived potential irritates them, no matter how much he redeems himself through hard work as an adult.
It's safe to say that people envy LeBron James. He has unbelievable physical gifts, and, despite being born to a 16-year-old single mom, he managed to get enough love, support, coaching, and direction to avoid all the pitfalls that typically ensnare kids born to 16-year-old single moms. So not only is he physically gifted, he was lucky enough to be surrounded by people that cared about him. This convergence of good fortune, this embarassment of biological and social riches, allowed him to become the best basketball player on the planet, to make millions of dollars, to have legions of fans, and to become ragingly disproportionately important in public discourse.
When a guy with that much good luck fails to give, or appears to fail to give, 110%, people get pissed off. Squandering such gifts makes the average person angry, perhaps irrationally, but that's how it works, especially when these squandered gifts are bestowed upon someone who makes hundreds of millions of dollars via his squandration.
And that's why people write shitty things about LeBron James.
We Had No Idea
We came here today to break wide open one of the most amusing and befuddling trends we've seen in some time. Then, in what is a significant departure from our usual editorial methodology, we did some research. And found that we're really late to the game.
Time magazine, Wired, Urban Dictionary, and dozens of other web curators already know about the rise of the Brony. Bronies, or men with an interest in all things My Little Pony, are out there, and they have been for some time, drawn by the highly refined production values of the new cartoon version of MLP. They've even got their own Brony Wiki, where one can display his own My Little Pony creation, like The Wastelander, or Atticus, or Scamper Lockstock. (As an aside, there's a better than even chance that Greg uses Scamper Lockstock as his courting name next time he heads out with lady-killing intent.)
It should come as no surprise to avid FoG:TB that we find this development awesome. And scary. But mostly awesome. We think that the similarities between the Brony nickname and King James' given moniker are coincidental, though Rainy Day sure bears more than a fleeting resemblance.
Stay gold, Ponyboys.
Time magazine, Wired, Urban Dictionary, and dozens of other web curators already know about the rise of the Brony. Bronies, or men with an interest in all things My Little Pony, are out there, and they have been for some time, drawn by the highly refined production values of the new cartoon version of MLP. They've even got their own Brony Wiki, where one can display his own My Little Pony creation, like The Wastelander, or Atticus, or Scamper Lockstock. (As an aside, there's a better than even chance that Greg uses Scamper Lockstock as his courting name next time he heads out with lady-killing intent.)
It should come as no surprise to avid FoG:TB that we find this development awesome. And scary. But mostly awesome. We think that the similarities between the Brony nickname and King James' given moniker are coincidental, though Rainy Day sure bears more than a fleeting resemblance.
Stay gold, Ponyboys.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
An Important Topic That Requires Your Immediate Consideration
I would like everyone in the G:TB universe to take a moment to reflect on the fate of Lauren Failla-- a New Jersey native who was killed in India by a saltwater crocodile-- and I'm not asking you to feel sorry for her, she led a wonderful life until the moment of her death: she had recently graduated from the "prestigious Southeby's Art Institute in London" and was vacationing with her boyfriend in a lovely high-end tourist destination (the Andaman Islands). The crocodile attacked her while she was snorkeling. It's not that she had it coming to her or anything, but when you do adventure travel, there is always risk (and, coincidentally, and what makes the story more awful, is that her older sister died in a rock climbing accident in 2006).
The tragedy of her death isn't my concern here, nor do I wish to rail against the inherent dangers in extreme tourism . . . in fact, I love adventure travel and I've tried my best to get myself and my wife killed in many exotic locales, but the demise of Laura Failla makes me aware that I need to be better prepared when I travel. I need to be prepared that I might be eaten by a predator, and I need to consider what kind of predator I would like to be eaten by. Of course, a determination such as this can effect your vacation plans, because you can only travel to locations with the kinds of predators by which you wouldn't mind being eaten. I'm guessing you haven't reflected on this important topic much, so here are a few ideas to get you started.
As a bare minimum, it's got to be an animal that sounds good when people say the phrase: Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by a ___________.
Let's try this with saltwater crocodile. "Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by a saltwater crocodile."
That's not bad, but there are better. Here are my top seven, in reverse order for dramatic effect.
7. Piranha.
A shitload of piranha. "Did you hear about Dave? He was kayaking down the Amazon and he gotten eaten by a shitload of piranha."
That's got a nice ring to it.
6. Great White Shark.
Good for a dramatic pause. Did you hear about Dave? He was surfing and he got eaten by a shark . . . a great white shark.
5. Mountain lion.
Did you hear about Dave? He was biking and a mountain lion pounced on him and ate him. I admit that the sentence is a little clunky, but I love mountain lions-- they are powerful, agile, and American-- and wouldn't mind providing a meal for one, even if the description of my death isn't as poetic sounding. That's how much I love those guys.
4. Polar Bear or Grizzly Bear.
Either one sounds awesome, but their hybrid, the Pizzly Bear, is NOT acceptable. If people would promise to call it the much cooler sounding "grolar bear," then I wouldn't mind, but I don't want my name in this series of questions: "Did you hear about Dave? He got mauled and eaten by a pizzly bear? Is that some kind of stuffed toy? How did it kill him?"
3. Thylacine.
If you're not familiar with the "Tasmanian Tiger," check out the footage below and read David Quammen's excellent book Song of the Dodo: Island Biogeography in an Age of Extinctions.
Getting killed and eaten by a marsupial predator that is thought to be extinct is a sure-fire way to have a long celebrated death: "Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by a thylacine!"
2. Yeti.
Even better than being killed and eaten by something thought-to-be extinct, is to be killed and eaten by something that never existed at all. Who could forget this story?
"Did you hear about Dave? He was hiking in Nepal and he was abducted by a band of yeti. They ate him. The yeti ate him! And, even more fantastic, is that the word "yeti" is both singular and plural!"
1. Tiger.
Why? Because moments ago I asked my son Alex what animal he'd most like to be eaten by, and this was his answer. When I asked him why he would like to be eaten by a tiger, he simply said, "Big."
He's usually more garrulous than this, but he had just woken up moments before, and I could tell from his expression when I asked him the first question, that he had not reflected on this very important topic, and that's the point of this post.
You need to think about this now and choose your vacation spots wisely. You don't want to end up in a sentence like this: "Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by wood lice. It's a real shame."
Yes it is a shame. Yes it is.
The tragedy of her death isn't my concern here, nor do I wish to rail against the inherent dangers in extreme tourism . . . in fact, I love adventure travel and I've tried my best to get myself and my wife killed in many exotic locales, but the demise of Laura Failla makes me aware that I need to be better prepared when I travel. I need to be prepared that I might be eaten by a predator, and I need to consider what kind of predator I would like to be eaten by. Of course, a determination such as this can effect your vacation plans, because you can only travel to locations with the kinds of predators by which you wouldn't mind being eaten. I'm guessing you haven't reflected on this important topic much, so here are a few ideas to get you started.
As a bare minimum, it's got to be an animal that sounds good when people say the phrase: Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by a ___________.
Let's try this with saltwater crocodile. "Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by a saltwater crocodile."
That's not bad, but there are better. Here are my top seven, in reverse order for dramatic effect.
7. Piranha.
A shitload of piranha. "Did you hear about Dave? He was kayaking down the Amazon and he gotten eaten by a shitload of piranha."
That's got a nice ring to it.
6. Great White Shark.
Good for a dramatic pause. Did you hear about Dave? He was surfing and he got eaten by a shark . . . a great white shark.
5. Mountain lion.
Did you hear about Dave? He was biking and a mountain lion pounced on him and ate him. I admit that the sentence is a little clunky, but I love mountain lions-- they are powerful, agile, and American-- and wouldn't mind providing a meal for one, even if the description of my death isn't as poetic sounding. That's how much I love those guys.
4. Polar Bear or Grizzly Bear.
Either one sounds awesome, but their hybrid, the Pizzly Bear, is NOT acceptable. If people would promise to call it the much cooler sounding "grolar bear," then I wouldn't mind, but I don't want my name in this series of questions: "Did you hear about Dave? He got mauled and eaten by a pizzly bear? Is that some kind of stuffed toy? How did it kill him?"
3. Thylacine.
If you're not familiar with the "Tasmanian Tiger," check out the footage below and read David Quammen's excellent book Song of the Dodo: Island Biogeography in an Age of Extinctions.
Getting killed and eaten by a marsupial predator that is thought to be extinct is a sure-fire way to have a long celebrated death: "Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by a thylacine!"
2. Yeti.
Even better than being killed and eaten by something thought-to-be extinct, is to be killed and eaten by something that never existed at all. Who could forget this story?
"Did you hear about Dave? He was hiking in Nepal and he was abducted by a band of yeti. They ate him. The yeti ate him! And, even more fantastic, is that the word "yeti" is both singular and plural!"
1. Tiger.
Why? Because moments ago I asked my son Alex what animal he'd most like to be eaten by, and this was his answer. When I asked him why he would like to be eaten by a tiger, he simply said, "Big."
He's usually more garrulous than this, but he had just woken up moments before, and I could tell from his expression when I asked him the first question, that he had not reflected on this very important topic, and that's the point of this post.
You need to think about this now and choose your vacation spots wisely. You don't want to end up in a sentence like this: "Did you hear about Dave? He got eaten by wood lice. It's a real shame."
Yes it is a shame. Yes it is.
Friday, June 10, 2011
God Bless People Like This
It's reasons like this that I love New York. Challenging authority? Check. Blatant disregard for one's own physical well-being? Check. Humor? Check. Repeated use of rhetorical questions and "Check" as an answer in consecutive posts by same contributor? Check.
Happy Friday folks.
Happy Friday folks.
Friday's "Insert Music of YOUR Choice Into YOUR Rectum" Post (A Love Letter to rdio.com)
As most of you know, I like a good dose of metal every now and then (usually when I'm wailing on my pecs and bis at the gym, but at other times when the adrenaline and energy from the music beckons). But I recognize that many of you prefer other types of tunes. So I would like to take this opportunity to pimp a web site that has changed my day-to-day work life, at least on days when I'm chained to my desk: rdio.com. Not sure how far behind the curve I am on this one, but it blew me away about a month ago when a younger co-worker alerted me to it, so I wanted to turn you all on as well.
The site is very straightforward and very powerful. They have access to most music you've ever heard of - classic rock, Finnish death metal, reggae, classical, show tunes, comedy albums, jam bands, pop, new releases, big labels, small labels, you name it. There are some tracks, albums and/or bands they don't have rights for, but they have almost everything you could want. New Lady Gaga, Adele, Lonely Island Boys or My Morning Jacket? Check. Junior Kimbrough? Check. Mumford & Sons? Check. Duke Robbillard? Check. Duke Ellington? Check. Dukes of Hazzard comedy bit from Patton Oswalt? Check. Mexican Radio on rdio.com? Check. Radiohead on rdio.com? Check. Primitive Radio Gods on rdio.com? Check. TV on the Radio on rdio.com? Check. Radio Gaga on rdio.com? Check. Radio Gaga by Queen on rdio.com? No. Bummer.
And here's where it's good for you lazy, cheap skeptics out there - you can preview the web site for a week at no charge. If you decide to indulge, it's a measly $4.99/month to be able to play any tune in their library on command on your PC. You can pay more to stream from your smart phone or iPad as well, but i didn't do that. For my $4.99/month, I play tunes from my work PC or my laptop at home. I no longer need to spend money at the iTunes store for a track because I can pull it up in literally three seconds on rdio.com. Need a party play list? Tee it up on rdio.com and plug your laptop into your stereo. And your party will rock. And you will get laid. Or, if you're like the Teej, you buy the newest Jock Jams CD and try to ignore the fact that you just put a few pennies in a pedophile's pocket.
For those of you who may be curious to hear some random new/old tunes I've been digging into recently, find my name here and look for "Rick's Awesome Mix." You'll be glad you did. Even if there is no metal.
The site is very straightforward and very powerful. They have access to most music you've ever heard of - classic rock, Finnish death metal, reggae, classical, show tunes, comedy albums, jam bands, pop, new releases, big labels, small labels, you name it. There are some tracks, albums and/or bands they don't have rights for, but they have almost everything you could want. New Lady Gaga, Adele, Lonely Island Boys or My Morning Jacket? Check. Junior Kimbrough? Check. Mumford & Sons? Check. Duke Robbillard? Check. Duke Ellington? Check. Dukes of Hazzard comedy bit from Patton Oswalt? Check. Mexican Radio on rdio.com? Check. Radiohead on rdio.com? Check. Primitive Radio Gods on rdio.com? Check. TV on the Radio on rdio.com? Check. Radio Gaga on rdio.com? Check. Radio Gaga by Queen on rdio.com? No. Bummer.
And here's where it's good for you lazy, cheap skeptics out there - you can preview the web site for a week at no charge. If you decide to indulge, it's a measly $4.99/month to be able to play any tune in their library on command on your PC. You can pay more to stream from your smart phone or iPad as well, but i didn't do that. For my $4.99/month, I play tunes from my work PC or my laptop at home. I no longer need to spend money at the iTunes store for a track because I can pull it up in literally three seconds on rdio.com. Need a party play list? Tee it up on rdio.com and plug your laptop into your stereo. And your party will rock. And you will get laid. Or, if you're like the Teej, you buy the newest Jock Jams CD and try to ignore the fact that you just put a few pennies in a pedophile's pocket.
For those of you who may be curious to hear some random new/old tunes I've been digging into recently, find my name here and look for "Rick's Awesome Mix." You'll be glad you did. Even if there is no metal.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Here We Are Now, Entertain Us
"A disaster of mammoth proportions.""Inexplicable."
"Inexcusable."
"Mystifying."
These and dozens (if not thousands) of other words died in vain over the past two days, sent forth to battle from the tongues and pens of the warriors of the great chattering sportshype machine in response to LeBron James' subpar and oddly passive effort in the 4th quarter of Tuesday's NBA Finals Game 4. General Stephen A. Smith implied (hell, he asserted) on this morning's Mike and Mike Show that LeBron was facing personal issues that were impacting his performance. (In a stunning display of both cowardice and look-at-me yellow journalism, Smith also claimed to know all about the issues, but declined to elaborate.)
Let us stipulate that James, the most physically gifted player in the NBA indeed played badly and un-starlike in the quarter in question. Let us further stipulate that his self-aggrandizing "Decision" was badly conceived and terribly executed. But we come here today not to bury LeBron James, but to wonder what the fuck we as a sports society want from him?
While we all say championships are what matter and build shrines to winners, we have an oddly skewed perspective on LeBron. Instead of celebrating a player who has routinely sublimated his (fairly massive) ego in pursuit of a championship, we flay LeBron any chance we get. The man took less money to play with Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh. He was clearly the star of the Eastern Conference Finals with his two-way play against Derrick Rose and the Bulls. And now, four games later, he's a bum because Wade's outshone him against the Mavericks? Bullshit.
Sally Jenkins rode to the rescue in today's Washington Post, channeling no less a sage than Phil Jackson, the man who convinced both Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant that they needed to share the ball at least a little in order to win. Says Jenkins,
“The fact is, selflessness is the soul of teamwork,” Jackson said a few years ago to EnlightenNext magazine. “We have a practical rule in our game: When you stop the basketball — when it resides in your presence and you hold it for longer than two counts — you’ve destroyed our rhythm. When the ball is in your hands, you become the focal point. And when you become the focus, our system breaks down. It’s that simple.”It's not enough to win now, we need style points. We need our superstars to win the right way, to dominate, to see their enemies driven before them, to hear the lamentations of their women. And to do it selfishly, individually, alpha male-style. That seems a perversion of everything we teach our kids and claim to want from our colleagues.
“It doesn’t matter how good individual players are — they can’t compete with a team that is awake and aware and trusts each other. People don’t understand that. Most of the time, everybody’s so concerned about not being disrespected. But you have to check that attitude at the door — that defensiveness, that protection of your own image and reputation. Everybody needs help in this game.”
For obvious reasons, I have a soft spot for LeBron. I'm rooting for him to have a big game tonight and lead the Heat to a win. And then I want him to walk over to the nearest big-mouth media member and stab him to death with a pencil, exclaiming for all our blood-lusting benefit, ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?
Stephen A. would still call him a pussy.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Welcome to the Neighborhood
Taking a break from all our worries about what to get Rob for his birthday today (Teej has some Skymall selections for us), I thought I'd add to the anticipation . . .
In less than an hour, Bill Simmons (née Boston Sports Guy, suivi de Sports Guy) unveils his heavily – but perhaps appropriately – hyped new endeavor Grantland. It’s a website independent of, or at least adjacent to ESPN, but one ostensibly still steeped in
sportswriting, as evidenced by the moniker; Grantland refers to Grantland Rice, the hallowed sportswriter of three generations ago. The press release indicates a broader scope, however, a “sports and pop culture web site” “with a mix of original columns, long-form features, blog posts, and podcasts.” Huh . . . sounds like a little website I know.
Okay, so it sounds like what 10,000 homegrown blogs and sites aspire to be, a forum for high-minded thought veiled in tongue-in-cheek humor that transcends sportswriting into limitless topics of interest. Somehow, though, the internet has become littered with pseudo-literati waxing indignant at the trifles within their reality (or in a reality show), tilting at windbags, and splashing together liberal arts alliteration and juvenile toilet humor like they were vinegar and water in mad railings against pop culture giants that reek of day-old hypocrisy doughnuts. Case in frickin’ point.
In truth, the only time you’ll find something truly original amid the html-ting pot these days is when some lunatic transcribes the insane, idle ideas that ricochet through his grey matter like Benoit balls in your mother’s attic, and we get Tourette’s-style renditions of chronicles of taco eating, updates on quests for salamanders,
Cliffs Notes on acid, hilarious inside jokes from a NJ English department, cute tales of two precocious little boys, and recorded songs fixated on the anal sex scene from Deliverance. “Unique” is misapplied nearly often enough these days to warrant some blowhard dedicating a blog post to expressions like it, but there are still one-of-a-kind places out there in the ‘sphere. Grantland, however, is probably not one.
What it may possibly be, however, is the apex of its ilk. Some of you know by now that my obnoxious bloggings have tended to take the piss out of Bill Simmons and his online works (unbeknownst to him, of course); most of you can figure out that’s predominantly because I am thoroughly jealous of him and the job he has earned the right to do every day. I will probably continue to put too fine a point on it, calling him SportGuy for his limited breadth of interest and understanding in certain pockets of the sporting universe. I will probably continue to hear Wyatt from Weird Science every time he speaks. And I will probably continue to casually dismiss most of his new projects, even as I tout the 30 for 30 series as one of the most enthralling recurring segments on TV, the Know Your Minor League Mascot of cable television, if you will.
Not this time, Biff. Not this time. ESPN’s fondness for doling out enormous amounts of melodramatic pre-event build-up on a regular basis usually evokes my ambivalence; truly, they sound like the radio spots for my local furniture outlet before the Memorial Day sale, and they garner the same amount of enthusiasm from me. This time, however, it’s been a little bit different.
For one, there’s the name. No, it’s not an amalgam of where the Keaton kids went to college. When I first read about Grantland, I thought, “Grantland Rice?” Really, it’s true. As much as I’d like to claim a vast knowledge of the late Mr. Rice’s journalistic or literary accomplishments, I don’t think I’ve ever read a piece of his in its entirety. I don’t know very much about him. I only know one quote:
Grantland.com has chosen not only to borrow its name from the man who gave us the quote, but – at least thus far, in “Coming Soon” status – to embed the quote in its main page logo. It will be interesting to see whether, and how, its message remains imbued in the offerings from Grantland. In a venture like this, there’s not a lot of winning and losing inherently incorporated. Seems like a different tagline might have been more appropriate . . . maybe . . . maybe, with the sports media world so aggressively self-important and non-ironic these days, something about taking ourselves less seriously would fit the bill?
The masthead impresses, with names like Klosterman and Gladwell, among many others, and with priors like the WSJ, NYT, GQ, and J’sW all over the staff’s collective curriculum vitae. How they play the game will dictate whether this is an instance of “we didn’t invent it, we just perfected it” or simply yet another road stop on the information superhighway where we can find insights and insults on SEC football,
Mayer Hawthorne, news of the weird, Monty Python, feats of eating, LeBron James, vajazzling, Live Aid, political gaffes, baseball card collections, cereal mascots, crystal meth, Andre Agassi, Mike Love, state fairs, the Fighting Wrens, Alfonso Ribeiro shirtless, Gheorghe Muresan, and rapping muppets. Here’s looking forward to their regularly scheduled dipshittery.
Best of luck, Grantland, and don’t steal our stuff.
In less than an hour, Bill Simmons (née Boston Sports Guy, suivi de Sports Guy) unveils his heavily – but perhaps appropriately – hyped new endeavor Grantland. It’s a website independent of, or at least adjacent to ESPN, but one ostensibly still steeped in
sportswriting, as evidenced by the moniker; Grantland refers to Grantland Rice, the hallowed sportswriter of three generations ago. The press release indicates a broader scope, however, a “sports and pop culture web site” “with a mix of original columns, long-form features, blog posts, and podcasts.” Huh . . . sounds like a little website I know.Okay, so it sounds like what 10,000 homegrown blogs and sites aspire to be, a forum for high-minded thought veiled in tongue-in-cheek humor that transcends sportswriting into limitless topics of interest. Somehow, though, the internet has become littered with pseudo-literati waxing indignant at the trifles within their reality (or in a reality show), tilting at windbags, and splashing together liberal arts alliteration and juvenile toilet humor like they were vinegar and water in mad railings against pop culture giants that reek of day-old hypocrisy doughnuts. Case in frickin’ point.
In truth, the only time you’ll find something truly original amid the html-ting pot these days is when some lunatic transcribes the insane, idle ideas that ricochet through his grey matter like Benoit balls in your mother’s attic, and we get Tourette’s-style renditions of chronicles of taco eating, updates on quests for salamanders,
Cliffs Notes on acid, hilarious inside jokes from a NJ English department, cute tales of two precocious little boys, and recorded songs fixated on the anal sex scene from Deliverance. “Unique” is misapplied nearly often enough these days to warrant some blowhard dedicating a blog post to expressions like it, but there are still one-of-a-kind places out there in the ‘sphere. Grantland, however, is probably not one.What it may possibly be, however, is the apex of its ilk. Some of you know by now that my obnoxious bloggings have tended to take the piss out of Bill Simmons and his online works (unbeknownst to him, of course); most of you can figure out that’s predominantly because I am thoroughly jealous of him and the job he has earned the right to do every day. I will probably continue to put too fine a point on it, calling him SportGuy for his limited breadth of interest and understanding in certain pockets of the sporting universe. I will probably continue to hear Wyatt from Weird Science every time he speaks. And I will probably continue to casually dismiss most of his new projects, even as I tout the 30 for 30 series as one of the most enthralling recurring segments on TV, the Know Your Minor League Mascot of cable television, if you will.
Not this time, Biff. Not this time. ESPN’s fondness for doling out enormous amounts of melodramatic pre-event build-up on a regular basis usually evokes my ambivalence; truly, they sound like the radio spots for my local furniture outlet before the Memorial Day sale, and they garner the same amount of enthusiasm from me. This time, however, it’s been a little bit different.
For one, there’s the name. No, it’s not an amalgam of where the Keaton kids went to college. When I first read about Grantland, I thought, “Grantland Rice?” Really, it’s true. As much as I’d like to claim a vast knowledge of the late Mr. Rice’s journalistic or literary accomplishments, I don’t think I’ve ever read a piece of his in its entirety. I don’t know very much about him. I only know one quote:
"For when the One Great Scorer comesI know this because I spent every summer from 1980-1989 deep in the Shenandoah Valley at a place called Camp Virginia. It’s an awesome boys’ camp steeped in tradition, and it’s where I learned everything from how to throw a curveball to how to get shot down by girls at the dance. In my time there I ate rattlesnake, I won the Malcolm U. Pitt Baseball Award (my proud mention of this flies directly in the face of the quote), and I learned that navigating the winding roads through the Goshen Pass after visiting a handful of Lexington bars is a terrible, terrible idea. More than just about anything else, I learned that Grantland Rice passage. It was (still is) painted on an old piece of wood hanging on the wall in the mess hall; our three squares were always accompanied by its message. A quick visit to the Camp VA website today reminded me that it’s still a big part of the lessons of gratitude, humility, and sportsmanship that permeate the summer. This graphic is from the main page (see the top right corner).
To write against your name,
He marks - not that you won or lost -
But how you played the Game."
Grantland.com has chosen not only to borrow its name from the man who gave us the quote, but – at least thus far, in “Coming Soon” status – to embed the quote in its main page logo. It will be interesting to see whether, and how, its message remains imbued in the offerings from Grantland. In a venture like this, there’s not a lot of winning and losing inherently incorporated. Seems like a different tagline might have been more appropriate . . . maybe . . . maybe, with the sports media world so aggressively self-important and non-ironic these days, something about taking ourselves less seriously would fit the bill?
The masthead impresses, with names like Klosterman and Gladwell, among many others, and with priors like the WSJ, NYT, GQ, and J’sW all over the staff’s collective curriculum vitae. How they play the game will dictate whether this is an instance of “we didn’t invent it, we just perfected it” or simply yet another road stop on the information superhighway where we can find insights and insults on SEC football,
Mayer Hawthorne, news of the weird, Monty Python, feats of eating, LeBron James, vajazzling, Live Aid, political gaffes, baseball card collections, cereal mascots, crystal meth, Andre Agassi, Mike Love, state fairs, the Fighting Wrens, Alfonso Ribeiro shirtless, Gheorghe Muresan, and rapping muppets. Here’s looking forward to their regularly scheduled dipshittery.Best of luck, Grantland, and don’t steal our stuff.
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Today's NY Daily News Front Page Headline Could Be the Title of My Autobiography
Looks like Weiner lost the schmuckoff.
Got a better caption?
Got a better caption?
Don't Text at the Alamo Drafthouse!
Kenny Powers must have a daughter who goes to movie the-a-ters in Austin, TX.
Gawker has the full story here.
Gawker has the full story here.
Monday, June 06, 2011
I Was Thinking (That You Were Thinking)
The Almight Yojo is proud to present another song by The Density . . . and this one explores the most awkward of moments: when you put yourself out there . . . when you tell someone you have groovy, special feelings for them . . . when you finally work up the courage and go for it . . . and you are rejected.
The lyrics are below, but once again, they don't do justice to the song. And so I'd like to thank Whitney, my colleagues at work, Jim Carrey, The Farrelly Brothers, The Coen Brothers, Lauren Holly, Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, Frances McDormand, and Steve Park for providing some excellent content for me to mangle in my own particular style. I sincerely appreciate it.
I Was Thinking (That You Were Thinking) by The Density
I Was Thinking (That You Were Thinking)
I was thinking . . . that you were thinking
that we could be something good,
but you weren’t thinking what I was thinking
I guess that I misunderstood.
I thought that we were on the same page.
You thought that I was acting kind of strange.
Now I’m so humiliated by the thing I created
I can’t be around you no more
I look down at the floor.
I was talking and you were walking,
but I thought walking meant something more.
I was waiting, anticipating,
when you’d let me walk through that door.
And now I’m so embarrassed
I didn’t mean to make you stressed.
Why’d you have to go and be so nice . . .
tempt me to roll the dice.
I opened up and I regret it
and now I can’t forget it.
How could I get it so wrong?
How could I be so damned dumb?
The lyrics are below, but once again, they don't do justice to the song. And so I'd like to thank Whitney, my colleagues at work, Jim Carrey, The Farrelly Brothers, The Coen Brothers, Lauren Holly, Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, Frances McDormand, and Steve Park for providing some excellent content for me to mangle in my own particular style. I sincerely appreciate it.
I Was Thinking (That You Were Thinking) by The Density
I Was Thinking (That You Were Thinking)
I was thinking . . . that you were thinking
that we could be something good,
but you weren’t thinking what I was thinking
I guess that I misunderstood.
I thought that we were on the same page.
You thought that I was acting kind of strange.
Now I’m so humiliated by the thing I created
I can’t be around you no more
I look down at the floor.
I was talking and you were walking,
but I thought walking meant something more.
I was waiting, anticipating,
when you’d let me walk through that door.
And now I’m so embarrassed
I didn’t mean to make you stressed.
Why’d you have to go and be so nice . . .
tempt me to roll the dice.
I opened up and I regret it
and now I can’t forget it.
How could I get it so wrong?
How could I be so damned dumb?
Saturday, June 04, 2011
Fun With Math, Alternatively Titled "A Dunce's French Open Final Analysis"
There are 7 rounds in a Grand Slam tennis tournament and 4 Grand Slam events are played each year. Two hundred and nine (209) rounds of Gland Slam tennis have been played since 2004: 196 for 2004 through 2010, and 13 so far this year. Thus the most Grand Slam matches than anyone could play from 2003 through today is 210, including Sunday's French Open Final.
Roger Federer has played in an absolutely staggering 196 Grand Slam matches over this span, going 182-14. To highlight just how preposterous this is, Federer won more Slams (15) since 2004 than he failed to win (14). He went 27-1 in major play twice (twice!): in 2006 and again in 2007. To the best of my knowledge only Rod Laver, after whom my favorite sneakers are named, can lay claim to this same feat (Laver went 28-0 twice, in 1962 and 1969). To say that Federer is the most dominant athlete of his generation in any sport is not an overstatement, although I'm sure golf fans can make a legitimate argument in favor of Eldrick Woods.
Federer will face Rafael Nadal in Federer's 197th Grand Slam match. Nadal is also mathematically impressive.
There have been 48 rounds of French Open play since 2005, and Nadal is 43-1 over this span, good for 5 titles. Six of Federer's Grand Slam defeats were meted out by Nadal, five of them in finals play. By my count Nadal is 6-2 against Federer in major events. He holds the record for most consecutive clay court wins with 81; Guillermo Vilas is in second place with 53. To dispute Nadal's all-time supremacy on clay is to prove you are a dolt.
Perhaps the most compelling math in Nadal's favor on Sunday is his 4-0 record against Federer at Roland Garros. Three of these matches were the finals, including a straight-set win in 2008.
But I'm picking Federer to win. I dislike Nadal fan for reasons completely unrelated to his tennis. For example, Nadal wears capri pants and sleeveless shirts. He still lives, some might say oddly, at home with his mother. And I suspect that he gets is vitamin B12 shots from Miguel Tejada's pharmacist. His game is all power, spin, and footspeed, and he lacks the artistry of yesteryear that Federer has in spades and for which I pine wistfully.
I also think Federer's window for beating Nadal in this tournament is rapidly closing, and that it's tremendously important to Federer to go through Nadal to win a French Open. As it is, his lone French trophy has a massive asterisk dangling from it and I'm sure that pisses him off. This may in fact be his last opportunity to get an asterisk-free French championship and I expect him to play balls out. So I'm taking Federer. But I can't guarantee that he'll win.
I can, however, guarantee that Sunday's match will feature brilliant tennis because I will miss most if not all of it as I will be schlepping around New Jersey with the rest of the zteam looking for a new zhome before the imminent expiration of zlease. Hannibal had an easier time completing his elephantine Alpine episode than I do in getting zwoman out the door so I will have zero time to watch the match. But you, constant readers, should.
Roger Federer has played in an absolutely staggering 196 Grand Slam matches over this span, going 182-14. To highlight just how preposterous this is, Federer won more Slams (15) since 2004 than he failed to win (14). He went 27-1 in major play twice (twice!): in 2006 and again in 2007. To the best of my knowledge only Rod Laver, after whom my favorite sneakers are named, can lay claim to this same feat (Laver went 28-0 twice, in 1962 and 1969). To say that Federer is the most dominant athlete of his generation in any sport is not an overstatement, although I'm sure golf fans can make a legitimate argument in favor of Eldrick Woods.
Federer will face Rafael Nadal in Federer's 197th Grand Slam match. Nadal is also mathematically impressive.
There have been 48 rounds of French Open play since 2005, and Nadal is 43-1 over this span, good for 5 titles. Six of Federer's Grand Slam defeats were meted out by Nadal, five of them in finals play. By my count Nadal is 6-2 against Federer in major events. He holds the record for most consecutive clay court wins with 81; Guillermo Vilas is in second place with 53. To dispute Nadal's all-time supremacy on clay is to prove you are a dolt.
Perhaps the most compelling math in Nadal's favor on Sunday is his 4-0 record against Federer at Roland Garros. Three of these matches were the finals, including a straight-set win in 2008.
But I'm picking Federer to win. I dislike Nadal fan for reasons completely unrelated to his tennis. For example, Nadal wears capri pants and sleeveless shirts. He still lives, some might say oddly, at home with his mother. And I suspect that he gets is vitamin B12 shots from Miguel Tejada's pharmacist. His game is all power, spin, and footspeed, and he lacks the artistry of yesteryear that Federer has in spades and for which I pine wistfully.
I also think Federer's window for beating Nadal in this tournament is rapidly closing, and that it's tremendously important to Federer to go through Nadal to win a French Open. As it is, his lone French trophy has a massive asterisk dangling from it and I'm sure that pisses him off. This may in fact be his last opportunity to get an asterisk-free French championship and I expect him to play balls out. So I'm taking Federer. But I can't guarantee that he'll win.
I can, however, guarantee that Sunday's match will feature brilliant tennis because I will miss most if not all of it as I will be schlepping around New Jersey with the rest of the zteam looking for a new zhome before the imminent expiration of zlease. Hannibal had an easier time completing his elephantine Alpine episode than I do in getting zwoman out the door so I will have zero time to watch the match. But you, constant readers, should.
Friday, June 03, 2011
The Big Premier
Shaq's retirement leaves an enormous void, his mammoth physical presence matched by his outsized personality. Dwight Howard's got the athletic gifts, but try as he might, he's no Big Aristotle. Birdman is crazy, but he's got more of a cry for help vibe than Shaq's fun-loving Gheorgheness. The league needs someone new.
How's this: a left-hander who's head-and-shoulders taller than most opponents, who makes fans of all ages cheer his every move? A man who rocks high black socks in the old school way, who's unstoppable on both ends of the court, and is as comfortable in the boardroom as he is on the boards. Look no further, Mr. Stern, G:TB gives you Wen Jiabao, the Big Premier.
How's this: a left-hander who's head-and-shoulders taller than most opponents, who makes fans of all ages cheer his every move? A man who rocks high black socks in the old school way, who's unstoppable on both ends of the court, and is as comfortable in the boardroom as he is on the boards. Look no further, Mr. Stern, G:TB gives you Wen Jiabao, the Big Premier.
No Metal Up Your Ass or Anything Else Friday
I love this song. It makes me think fondly of the summers of my youth and the fruitless time spent with women therein. And it's right on point with the weather lately, making it an integral part of my walk-to-work soundtrack. TJ will carp that the video is too weird and will throw a "fashion is dumb" tag on this post but that's fine with me. "Summertime Clothes" makes me immune to grumpiness. Hopefully it will put you in a good mood for the weekend.
Thursday, June 02, 2011
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Just Like a Gheorghe Party
Another find from our keen-eyed roving reporters to kick things off today. If we keep this up, we'll pass I Can Haz Cheezburger's crowd-sourced volume in no time. Now if we can only figure out a similar revenue model.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Some Music Stuff for the NBA Haters/My Morning Jacket Lovers Out There
There are not many folks who traffic this site who do not like the NBA, so this may fall on deaf ears, but I wanted to alert the music fans out there that My Morning Jacket is presenting a live concert stream of their 5/31/11 show on YouTube, starting at 9 PM EST. The show is in Louisville, KY, hometown of lead singer Jim James.
The link is allegedly this, although it is not active yet. Ifyou have problems accessing the concert, click here to be directed to the band's official website. Todd Haynes, who directed I'm Not There and Velvet Goldmine, among other projects, is directing the live concert. A trippy commercial is below.
I have been a big fan of MMJ since 2004 and I am very excited about this show, though very conflicted about this concert starting at the same time as the NBA Finals. Lead singer Jim James has a rustic Dylan-esque sensibility about his songwriting, with occasional leanings into hle love of metal as a youth. When he mentioned in an interview a few years ago that he loved Brazilian speed-metal band Sepultura as a youg teen, I was quite psyched.
The link is allegedly this, although it is not active yet. Ifyou have problems accessing the concert, click here to be directed to the band's official website. Todd Haynes, who directed I'm Not There and Velvet Goldmine, among other projects, is directing the live concert. A trippy commercial is below.
I have been a big fan of MMJ since 2004 and I am very excited about this show, though very conflicted about this concert starting at the same time as the NBA Finals. Lead singer Jim James has a rustic Dylan-esque sensibility about his songwriting, with occasional leanings into hle love of metal as a youth. When he mentioned in an interview a few years ago that he loved Brazilian speed-metal band Sepultura as a youg teen, I was quite psyched.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Porkslap!
Bought a six-pack of this last night to help ring in the holiday weekend. The beer's decent. The can is better.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Your (Rambling, Yet Somehow Abbreviated) Champions League Final Preview
The mainstream American media has been surprisingly on top of tomorrow's big club championship match between Barcelona and Manchester United. SI had a one-page preview in the mag and another good piece here, the WSJ has a big story in today's paper, and the NY tabloid papers are giving it a big mention (one is here). So I suggest you read those after this. My typing mojo has been suppressed by a 13-hour day on Thursday, a delayed train home last night and a short night of sleep thanks to the Heat's fourth-quarter slapdown. So here are some key points before my caffeine-induced energy fades into Bolivian:
Ruud van Nistelrooy - He is known for two things. First, he has the best name in the history of ever. Seriously. How could I miss an opportunity to type it? Pure awesomeness. Second, he set the record for goals in a Champions League tournament (12). Lionel Messi currently has 11, so he has a chance to make history, albeit a history that most Americans don't care about. Watch some of RvN's goals, including some tremendous post-up goals, here, in a video compilation set to what sounds like a terrible Oasis tune.
Lionel Messi - the diminutive striker is awesome to watch. The NY Post calls him a combination of Barry Sanders, Wayne Gretzky and Michael Jordan. To those of you who doubt this uber-comparison, allow me to remind you he may be THAT GOOD. He is the world's best player now, and on pace to become one of the greatest of all-time. Don't believe me? Check out the video below. He's the best striker in the world, so good that he offsets Manchester United, which has two of the top ten in the world in Wayne Rooney and Chicharito. And the best thing about Messi - HE DOESN'T DIVE. His teammates collapse and writhe on the ground if you look at them funny, but Messi does not.
Nemanja Vidic - This Ivan Drago lookalike is the most bad-ass athlete from Serbia this side of Novak Djokovic. He is a stopper for Man U and will be tasked with chopping down Messi. It will look bad when he tackels Messi hard, which he will do until he gets a yellow card. Vidic will also be a force on set plays, when his height and elbows will cause match-up problems against a short Barcelona side.
Fox - This game is airing on the real Fox. I'm crossing my fingers they have announcers who don't suck. I know they'll have Brad Friedel in the booth, and I'm cautiously optimistic he won't be terrible. He's been a keeper in the EPL for a very long time and he knows Euro soccer well. But my biggest fear is that they "Americanize" the coverage. We don't need animated robots fighting each other on screen with sound effects, we don't need scrolling information and we don't need Joe Buck.
Wembley Stadium - This match is being played in London, which will be an advantage for the Red Devils. But Barca is as big and powerful of a club, with a huge fan base. I bet they will represent themselves pretty well. Since we're talking about Wembley, I have an excuse to embed the video of one of my favorite live music clips of all-time, Queen doing Radio Ga Ga at Wembley in '85 as a part of Live Aid. Freddy Mercury was at the height of his powers here and it's fascinating to watch him captivate over 100,00 fans, even if his performance is dated and sexually ambiguous, to say the least. The forgotten subtext to this video is how incredibly effeminate this tune is for a live rock anthem. There is nothing remotely heterosexual about the tune, yet it captivated a legion of Queen fans at that concert. That's the power of Freddy Mercury, who was fresh off his role as the villain in Commando. Don't believe me? Go to the 0:13 second mark of this clip. Or look at this picture.
Enjoy the match, folks. Go Red Devils.
Ruud van Nistelrooy - He is known for two things. First, he has the best name in the history of ever. Seriously. How could I miss an opportunity to type it? Pure awesomeness. Second, he set the record for goals in a Champions League tournament (12). Lionel Messi currently has 11, so he has a chance to make history, albeit a history that most Americans don't care about. Watch some of RvN's goals, including some tremendous post-up goals, here, in a video compilation set to what sounds like a terrible Oasis tune.
Lionel Messi - the diminutive striker is awesome to watch. The NY Post calls him a combination of Barry Sanders, Wayne Gretzky and Michael Jordan. To those of you who doubt this uber-comparison, allow me to remind you he may be THAT GOOD. He is the world's best player now, and on pace to become one of the greatest of all-time. Don't believe me? Check out the video below. He's the best striker in the world, so good that he offsets Manchester United, which has two of the top ten in the world in Wayne Rooney and Chicharito. And the best thing about Messi - HE DOESN'T DIVE. His teammates collapse and writhe on the ground if you look at them funny, but Messi does not.
Nemanja Vidic - This Ivan Drago lookalike is the most bad-ass athlete from Serbia this side of Novak Djokovic. He is a stopper for Man U and will be tasked with chopping down Messi. It will look bad when he tackels Messi hard, which he will do until he gets a yellow card. Vidic will also be a force on set plays, when his height and elbows will cause match-up problems against a short Barcelona side.
Fox - This game is airing on the real Fox. I'm crossing my fingers they have announcers who don't suck. I know they'll have Brad Friedel in the booth, and I'm cautiously optimistic he won't be terrible. He's been a keeper in the EPL for a very long time and he knows Euro soccer well. But my biggest fear is that they "Americanize" the coverage. We don't need animated robots fighting each other on screen with sound effects, we don't need scrolling information and we don't need Joe Buck.
Wembley Stadium - This match is being played in London, which will be an advantage for the Red Devils. But Barca is as big and powerful of a club, with a huge fan base. I bet they will represent themselves pretty well. Since we're talking about Wembley, I have an excuse to embed the video of one of my favorite live music clips of all-time, Queen doing Radio Ga Ga at Wembley in '85 as a part of Live Aid. Freddy Mercury was at the height of his powers here and it's fascinating to watch him captivate over 100,00 fans, even if his performance is dated and sexually ambiguous, to say the least. The forgotten subtext to this video is how incredibly effeminate this tune is for a live rock anthem. There is nothing remotely heterosexual about the tune, yet it captivated a legion of Queen fans at that concert. That's the power of Freddy Mercury, who was fresh off his role as the villain in Commando. Don't believe me? Go to the 0:13 second mark of this clip. Or look at this picture.
Enjoy the match, folks. Go Red Devils.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Hot Off the Presses: New Between Two Ferns
Will Ferrell and Zach act, well, as only Will and Zach would.
I'm not sure why this is the case, but you have to click through at the bottom of the imbedded video to see the Between Two Ferns episode (click the writing in 6-point font). I would have fixed this issue, but I couldn't get a hold of anybody at the G:TB Help Desk.
And while you're at it, check out this video as well for The Landlord.
I'm not sure why this is the case, but you have to click through at the bottom of the imbedded video to see the Between Two Ferns episode (click the writing in 6-point font). I would have fixed this issue, but I couldn't get a hold of anybody at the G:TB Help Desk.
And while you're at it, check out this video as well for The Landlord.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
With The Sixth Pick In The 2011 NBA Draft...
...the Washington Wizards will most likely select a foreign dude who ends up as a huge bust (Jan Vesely, Jonas Valanciunas, etc.). It's what history demands.
This will be the fifth time in Bullets/Wizards history that the team has chosen sixth. Their previous four choices with the sixth pick?
Jerry Sloan in 1965
Mel Turpin in 1984
Tom Gugliotta in 1992
Calbert Cheaney in 1993
The history of the sixth pick is pretty entertaining. I embedded a screen grab below of all the sixth picks since 1980, and it's an eclectic mix of guys...with nary a superstar on the list. Who's the best guy on this list - Hawkins? Kenny the Jet? Um...Battier? And who the hell is Mike O'Koren?
This will be the fifth time in Bullets/Wizards history that the team has chosen sixth. Their previous four choices with the sixth pick?
Jerry Sloan in 1965
Mel Turpin in 1984
Tom Gugliotta in 1992
Calbert Cheaney in 1993
The history of the sixth pick is pretty entertaining. I embedded a screen grab below of all the sixth picks since 1980, and it's an eclectic mix of guys...with nary a superstar on the list. Who's the best guy on this list - Hawkins? Kenny the Jet? Um...Battier? And who the hell is Mike O'Koren?
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Restaurant Review, Vol. 2
Once again, our eagle-eyed fans have come through for G:TB, traveling the world (or in this case, having their friends travel the world) to find amusing dining/drinking establishments for us to chuckle over from the comfort of our prison cells/offices. We've taken some liberties with this one, as the original image (courtesy of KQ) was captured on a Facebook page and I couldn't figure out how to save it to my hard drive.
But this gets to the essence. Let it never be said that our correspondents don't know our audience.
But this gets to the essence. Let it never be said that our correspondents don't know our audience.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Wild Blue Yonder
As an Army brat, I've long been partial to our ground-based military forces in the ongoing fraternal rivalry between services. This week, though, the flyboys got my attention, reaching out in compassion to a community that means a great deal to me.U.S. Air Force Seeks Acoustic Squirrel-DetectorA friend of the squirrel is a friend of mine. Well done, USAF.
Predators of the threatened Mojave ground squirrel include badgers, coyotes, snakes, falcons, hawks -- and now U.S. military aerial strikes.
That's because the squirrel makes its home in a section of California's Mojave Desert also used by the Air Force as a practice area. But the military has to make sure not to accidentally bomb the squirrels, being threatened and all, and expends a lot of time and money trying to find them so as to avoid that.
Frustrated, the Air Force recently put out a call for proposals that might make tracking these animals -- and, in turn, lots of others -- easier.
The military specifically wants a sort of acoustic fingerprinting technology. Though often very effective, acoustic tracking -- registering the unique sounds animals make rather than, say, visual cues like zebra stripe bar codes -- is usually limited to birds and cetaceans (whales, dolphins).
There's no particular reason for that limitation, especially in this case, as Mojave ground squirrels (really, squirrels in general) are tremendously talkative animals, which should make them easy to track with sound.
The basic idea is to keep track of all of the Mojave ground squirrels within the Air Force's danger zone, identifying them based on their distinctive calls. That data could then be turned into a map, showing where to bomb and where to avoid.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
G.O.P. vs. C.R.E.A.M.
Further proof that the end of the world is upon us: 59-year-old Illinois Senate Republican Leader Christine Rodagno name-checked Raekwon on the Senate floor, and then mistakenly attributed Method Man's chorus from C.R.E.A.M. as a source of inspiration to fix what ails Illinois' budgetary woes. ODB is spinning in his grave. And I feel really old as this is further proof that the Wu-Tang Clan is the musical equivalent of classic rock to today's 25-year-olds.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Remain Calm. All is Well.
"Our planet is mortal. It's middle-aged and some day it will die."
So says Michael Moyar at Scientific American in an attempt to quash the doomsday theories of Harold Camping. The 89 year-old Camping is at the forefront of the movement declaring Saturday, May 21 to be the beginning of the end of times.
Me, I was kinda hoping for a more definitive and uplifting message from the debunking community. Shame, too - I was kinda looking forward to tomorrow morning's EPL games. Guess I'll hunker down tonight with a bottle of Louis XIV and put Blondie on the turntable.
See you all on the other side.
So says Michael Moyar at Scientific American in an attempt to quash the doomsday theories of Harold Camping. The 89 year-old Camping is at the forefront of the movement declaring Saturday, May 21 to be the beginning of the end of times.
Me, I was kinda hoping for a more definitive and uplifting message from the debunking community. Shame, too - I was kinda looking forward to tomorrow morning's EPL games. Guess I'll hunker down tonight with a bottle of Louis XIV and put Blondie on the turntable.
See you all on the other side.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Preview of EPL Relegation Battle Sunday
With one week left in the 2010-11 EPL season, Manchester United has been crowned champion. But we're not here to talk about them. We're here to discuss the losers clubs in the league. Man U will field a squad of reserves to play a match this Sunday that is totally meaningless to them, yet profoundly important to their opponent, 17th place Blackpool. Blackpool is one of three teams tied for 17th-19th place with 39 points (others are Birmingham and Wigan Athletic). Two of these three teams will join West Ham and be relegated to the Championship League next year. In the event some teams remain tied in points, the first tiebreaker is goal differential. The three teams in the mix have goal differentials of -20 to -22. So all three of these teams will have to win big or cross their fingers they don't get dumped.
Our friend at the cyber-carcass once known as the Wheelhouse has discussed this process in more detail than me in the past, but it is worth repeating that the stakes are enormous for these teams. By keeping their membership in the EPL, the teams secure themselves a hefty revenue stream for TV rights, increased merchandise sales, larger-breasted groupies and all the other good stuff that comes from playing in a larger league.
So what do we have on tap this weekend? Here are the three matches affecting relegation. If you plan to watch any/all of these, be warned that all league matches will start at the same time (11 AM ET on Sunday) to avoid teams changing strategy based on prior results in the week.
Our friend at the cyber-carcass once known as the Wheelhouse has discussed this process in more detail than me in the past, but it is worth repeating that the stakes are enormous for these teams. By keeping their membership in the EPL, the teams secure themselves a hefty revenue stream for TV rights, increased merchandise sales, larger-breasted groupies and all the other good stuff that comes from playing in a larger league.
So what do we have on tap this weekend? Here are the three matches affecting relegation. If you plan to watch any/all of these, be warned that all league matches will start at the same time (11 AM ET on Sunday) to avoid teams changing strategy based on prior results in the week.
Birmingham (-20 goal differential) @ Tottenham Hotspur. Unfortunately for Birmingham, this game has meaning for Tottenham, as it looks to lock up a 5th place finish and secure a place in next year's Europa League, the junior version of the Champions League. Despite possibly qualifying for this tourney, this year is disappointing for a squad that thought it could climb to the top four in the standings again and make a repeat showing at next year's Champions League tournament, after an impressive quarterfinals visit in this year's tourney. But the team still had an admirable year and will be playing in front of its home fans, who will likely be okay with the Europa League, where Spurs has the potential to dominate. Birmingham will need to sack up and show it belongs in the EPL. The squad has absolutely fallen apart to slide into the relegation zone. It has earned only 1 point in its last 5 matches. They will need to stop one of the best young players in the league, rising English star Gareth Bale. And they won't.
Prediction: 3-0 victory for Spurs.
Blackpool (-21 goal differential) @ Manchester United. Blackpool may have the toughest match-up of the teams in danger, but this game is merely a glorified exhibition for Man U. It has nothing to play for and will avoid exposing any valuable players to injury six days before the Champions League finals. But that said, Man U's reserves would probably be a mid-level squad in the EPL. And the match will be a rare showcase for some hungry youngsters auditioning for playing time next season. Blackpool has admirably fought over the last month to try to escape the cellar. It earned six points in its last four matches, including a 4-3 win last week against the (Michael) Bolton Wanderers. The team is showing some heart and some firepower, and we think it will hang in with the Man U back-ups.
Prediction: 2-2 tie.
Wigan Athletic (-22 goal differential) @ Stoke City. Stoke City is at the top of a log-jam in the middle of the standings, where the 9th-14th place teams are separated by only two points. They may have some financial motivation to hold down 9th place, but that would involve work on my end. And, as we know, this is difficult to do with the internet. And I am lazy. So we'll just assume they have little to play for. Stoke City has gone 2-2-2 in their last six, proving they are every bit as average as we think they are. Wigan Athletic, the worst positioned team facing relegation, has played pretty well recently, going 2-1-2 in its last five matches. It beat West Ham 3-2 last week to secure West Ham's relegation, which is like beating up a special ed kid to feel better about yourself. But Stoke City is no punching bag. It is more like Warren.
Prediction: 2-1 victory for Stoke City. Franks and beans, bitches.
Conclusion.Based on my inane and ignorant predictions, we have Blackpool edging out Birmingham and Wigan Athletic. So apologies to Birmingham, the city that spawned Black Sabbath, and Wigan, the city that spawned the World Pie Eating Competition. And Kajagoogoo. For reals.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Look for a Champions League preview post, which has a 40% chance of seeing the light of day.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Unwinnable New G:TB Contest
Jump in the comments and see if you can top the press release issued by Newt Gingrich's Presidential campaign in the wake of one of the worst opening weeks since Spiderman hit Broadway:
*** FLASH GLITTERATI UPDATE ***
“The literati sent out their minions to do their bidding,” Press Secretary Rick Tyler wrote. “Washington cannot tolerate threats from outsiders who might disrupt their comfortable world. The firefight started when the cowardly sensed weakness. They fired timidly at first, then the sheep not wanting to be dropped from the establishment’s cocktail party invite list unloaded their entire clip, firing without taking aim their distortions and falsehoods. Now they are left exposed by their bylines and handles. But surely they had killed him off. This is the way it always worked. A lesser person could not have survived the first few minutes of the onslaught. But out of the billowing smoke and dust of tweets and trivia emerged Gingrich, once again ready to lead those who won’t be intimated by the political elite and are ready to take on the challenges America faces.”Framed copy of this picture to the winner.
*** FLASH GLITTERATI UPDATE ***
David Kahn Hates Losing The NBA Draft Lottery
David Kahn is the president of basketball operations for the Minnesota Timberwolves. You might remember him from such training films as "You Can Never Draft Enough Point Guards" and "Have You Met My Media Whore Sycophant Power Forward?". Well, David Kahn is apparently sick of getting hosed at the NBA Draft Lottery, which of course is a yearly excursion for a boss of the T'Wolves. Here's what he had to say last night about the Cavs stealing the #1 pick, despite having only a 2.8% chance of doing so:
"This league has a habit, and I am just going to say habit, of producing some pretty incredible story lines," Kahn said. "Last year it was Abe Pollin's widow and this year it was a 14-year-old boy and the only thing we have in common is we have both been bar mitzvahed. We were done. I told Kevin: 'We're toast.' This is not happening for us and I was right."May I remind you this is the guy who signed Darko Milici to a 4 year/$20 million dollar deal last offseason. Darko. Milicic. He deserves zero karma breaks. And now you're obligatory "KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHNNNN" reference:
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Happy World Information Society Day
What exactly is World Information Society Day? Hell if I know. Wikipedia, care to explain?
For our non-YouTube fellas (Dave and Hoboken Mike), a picture:
World Information Society Day was proclaimed to be on 17 May by a United Nations General Assembly resolution, following the 2005 World Summit on the Information Society in Tunis. The day had previously been known as World Telecommunication Day to commemorate the founding of the International Telecommunication Union in 17 May 1865. It was instituted by the Plenipotentiary Conference in Malaga-Torremolinos in 1973. The main objective of the day is to raise global awareness of societal changes brought about by the Internet and new technologies. It also aims to help reduce the Digital divide.I'm all for reducing the digital divide. How 'bout a music video to begin the process?
For our non-YouTube fellas (Dave and Hoboken Mike), a picture:
Tuesday Morning Coming Up
In the second installation of our occasional series about moments of pure joy, live music style, we take you to Toronto. As he prepared to play 'Duncan' for a crowd at the Sound Academy ten days ago, Paul Simon heard Rayna Ford exclaim that she'd learned to play the guitar from the song. And in the best tradition of Billy Joe, Simon invited the shocked Ford onstage. What follows may well rank as the most thrilling moment of her life. Don't take it from me - her husband said as much in the video he uploaded. Stuff like this makes me happy.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Champion
Ladies and Gentlemen, the 2011 World Beard and Mustache champion, courtesy of @darrenrovell:
If only it had a squirrel, it'd be perfect.
If only it had a squirrel, it'd be perfect.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Summertime
One of my colleagues on the editorial staff complained to me yesterday about the increasing Tumblrification of this fair blog. He's got a point.
But we have a plan. The school year is almost over, and with it, the hibernation of Summer Dave. We love Summer Dave and his blog epics. This year, he's planning to write a serialized novel in addition to his usual Atavist-style declaiming. Like Bart Scott, we can't wait.
Until then, enjoy Snoop listening to the Gourds.
***FLASH UPDATE***
We have a photo of rob shortly before today's altercation at his softball game.
But we have a plan. The school year is almost over, and with it, the hibernation of Summer Dave. We love Summer Dave and his blog epics. This year, he's planning to write a serialized novel in addition to his usual Atavist-style declaiming. Like Bart Scott, we can't wait.
Until then, enjoy Snoop listening to the Gourds.
***FLASH UPDATE***
We have a photo of rob shortly before today's altercation at his softball game.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Common Cause
Did y'all know Common is black? And somehow got invited to the White House? Thank goodness the stalwart defenders of cultural norms at Fox News continue to stand watch for all that's good and right. Otherwise, we might have to be exposed to filth like this:
The lesson, as always: negroes are scary.
The lesson, as always: negroes are scary.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Operation Orange
Orioles fans and Redskins backers have become somewhat kindred spirits over the course of the Angelos/Snyder reigns of error. So it was with a note of solidarity that I received the news of the latest campaign by O's supporters to turn their home ballpark into, well, a home ballpark.A group of enterprising black and orange sufferers have started Operation Orange in hopes of filling Camden Yards with real, live Orioles fans. I wish them luck, but I'm not holding my breath.
Several years ago, a far less kind and gentle me had a bit different take on one of Operation Orange's predecessors in the late, lamented Misery Loves Company. At least the O's fans of yesteryear had some righteous outrage. Now, they're just worn down by the combined weight of the dismal Angelos years. Kinda like a football fan base I know. Here's what those guys at MLC had to say back in 2007:
Orioles blog The Loss Column (aptly named, indeed) is mad as hell, and they aren't gonna take it any more. Fed up with invading "sewer rat" Red Sox and Yankee fans, they're fomenting a mass movement (and by mass in the context of O's fans, I'm guessing 8-10 doofuses hopped up on Natty Bo) to Take Back the Yard when the Sox visit Baltimore on September 8.
I appreciate the effort, honestly. And I get the frustration. I've written several times in this space about my mixed emotions regarding Sox fans and their behavior in visiting parks. The Nation ain't perfect by a long shot. But my admittedly biased worldview informs an opinion that the protest is targeted about as accurately as Dick Cheney's shotgun. There's a reason Sox and Yankee fans overrun Camden Yards, and it sits in the owner's box.
If Peter Angelos hadn't gutted a once-proud franchise to the point where hometown fans stay away in droves, and erstwhile fans from closer to the Beltway completely ignore his team now that they've got another option, tickets wouldn't be available for Sox and Yanks fans. Were I an O's fan, I'd be bitter, too. But I'd probably be smart enough to target that anger appropriately.
And another thing, Loss Column. Before you go tossing rocks at other cities, consider the glass house in which you live. Despite the nickname, Charm City it ain't. Boston accents are funny? How 'bout Nancy the barmaid, hon? Downa shore from Bawlteeeemore. You probably think The Wire is fiction. You may not want to go down that particular path, lest the Sox fans that almost certainly will outnumber those in black and orange take umbrage.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Reader submission: "Dan should get royalties from my local Safeway"
Mayhugh sent this...this product looks terrible:
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Happy Mother's Day
Now seriously, I've asked enough times, let's get rid of ALL. THOSE. WIRE. HANGERSSSS...
Saturday, May 07, 2011
Last-Minute Mother's Day Gift Advice
I'm a tired procrastinator who hasn't slept for more than 5 consecutive hours in almost 9 weeks, starting down the barrel of my wife's first Mother's Day with nary a gift in hand. If you're similary situated, come join me at the local bookstore to pick up a copy of "Go the Fuck to Sleep" by Adam Mansbach.
Our pediatrician says you can read anything to a baby and he will fall asleep, so long as you use a sing-song voice. Her exemplary bedtime reading material was the Gettysburg Address. Honest Abe isn't getting the job done in the zhome. Hopefully "Go the Fuck to Sleep" will be more effective.
Our pediatrician says you can read anything to a baby and he will fall asleep, so long as you use a sing-song voice. Her exemplary bedtime reading material was the Gettysburg Address. Honest Abe isn't getting the job done in the zhome. Hopefully "Go the Fuck to Sleep" will be more effective.
Friday, May 06, 2011
Post Something
That's what I was told to do...so I'll post a question, which I have asked everyone I've encountered this week as I helped @baconbaking's 17 year old sister study for her AP American History exam:
"Who is your favorite U.S. President? And why?"
My answer? This guy of course...
"Who is your favorite U.S. President? And why?"
My answer? This guy of course...
Thursday, May 05, 2011
Nothing but the Dog in Me
There's an ongoing debate about the identity of the lone non-human member of the SEAL team that took out Osama bin Laden in Pakistan on Sunday. The American Belgian Malinois Club is sure that one of their own join the bipedal badasses in executing the mission, while the German Shepard Dog Club of America is equally confident that "the most versatile dog on the planet" participated in the raid.
While either of those noble breeds (confession: before reading this, I had no idea that the Malinois even existed) are qualified for the job, it's really not hard to understand why military leadership chose to go a different route:
While either of those noble breeds (confession: before reading this, I had no idea that the Malinois even existed) are qualified for the job, it's really not hard to understand why military leadership chose to go a different route:
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Now you can spit hot fiyah just like Ghostface!
Are you an aspiring MC who's just an average joe with average flow doing average things with average hos? Is your sword solid as opposed to liquid? When you throw your darts do you miss the target? Do you lack the skills to pay the bills? Are you stuck on Laffy Taffy? Twisted Pine Brewing company has the cure for what ails (ales?) you. They will release their latest beer, Ghost Face Killah (not Ghostface Killah), on May 5th. I don't know if GFK greenlighted this product, but if you drink it you will be able to spit hot fiyah just like Pretty Toney himself. 
And I mean that you will literally spit hot fire. According to their website:
GFK is brewed with 6 zany peppers. Anaheim, Fresno, Jalapeno, Serrano, Habanero and Bhut Jolokia – Otherwise known as the Ghost Pepper. 200 times the heat of jalapenos, Bhut Jolokia are the hottest peppers in the world, a pepper so hot it can be weaponized. So hot that our brewers had to wear masks and gloves to cut them up.
Which provides the perfect segue into this mashup of "Cutting It Up" with The Harvey Averne Dozen's cover of "The Word".
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
I bet President Obama reads G:TB
President Obama has a very Gheorghean approach to Donald Trump: he doesn't take The Donald too seriously.
Monday, May 02, 2011
Monday GIF Filler
It is Monday. It is a cloudy day in New York with a chance of rain. The death of Bin Laden means we may see a flurry of last-gasp attacks in several cities. My two kids are sick and aren't sleeping. I'm living in a house that may or may not be eligible for the location of Money Pit 2. And society says that having a drink right now is socially unacceptable.
You would think this would make me sad or grumpy. But I'm not. Because I found a way to share my favorite GIF of all-time with the tens of readers of this fine blog. It's been floating around the world wide web for a couple years, but it deserves some air-time here.
So enjoy JCVD's cameo from one of the Breakin' movies. May his spandex outfit and right-shoulder dip brighten up your day, as it has done to mine.
You would think this would make me sad or grumpy. But I'm not. Because I found a way to share my favorite GIF of all-time with the tens of readers of this fine blog. It's been floating around the world wide web for a couple years, but it deserves some air-time here.
So enjoy JCVD's cameo from one of the Breakin' movies. May his spandex outfit and right-shoulder dip brighten up your day, as it has done to mine.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Big Fat Bills Filler
As I noted in the comments the other day, Buffalo drafted a 398 pound guy named Leslie Michael Jasper in the 7th round of the draft. I learned the following disturbing information on Japser from these articles:
* Jasper played at 430 pounds last year for D-III Bethel University.
* Jasper weighed 448 pounds in January.
* Jasper weighed 378 pounds a week ago, so he lost 70 pounds in four months.
* It's not clear which side of the ball he'll play on.
Various other media outlets listed Jasper at 398, not 378, but I guess a 20 pound variance isn't a big deal on a 400 pound man -- it's only a 5% differential. Alternatively, Jasper can eat 20 pounds of food in one sitting so he could form a formidable competitive eating tandem with last year's second round pick Torell Troup.
I also learned that Jasper has a website with videos of him trying to blow his knees out:
He also has action photos that make him look impossibly large:
But if you look at other photos it appears that he looks so big because his running back is a midget, or because he's playing against D-III athletes, or both:
I am, however, completely sold on Jasper based solely on the following photo:
Who doesn't love a fat happy guy in a purple and gold sixty-nine jersey? Accordingly, if you're looking for a 7th round pick to follow and hope that he'll make an NFL roster, direct your positive vibes towards Michael Jasper, the big fat Bill in the fratty jersey.
* Jasper played at 430 pounds last year for D-III Bethel University.
* Jasper weighed 448 pounds in January.
* Jasper weighed 378 pounds a week ago, so he lost 70 pounds in four months.
* It's not clear which side of the ball he'll play on.
Various other media outlets listed Jasper at 398, not 378, but I guess a 20 pound variance isn't a big deal on a 400 pound man -- it's only a 5% differential. Alternatively, Jasper can eat 20 pounds of food in one sitting so he could form a formidable competitive eating tandem with last year's second round pick Torell Troup.
I also learned that Jasper has a website with videos of him trying to blow his knees out:
He also has action photos that make him look impossibly large:
But if you look at other photos it appears that he looks so big because his running back is a midget, or because he's playing against D-III athletes, or both:
I am, however, completely sold on Jasper based solely on the following photo:
Who doesn't love a fat happy guy in a purple and gold sixty-nine jersey? Accordingly, if you're looking for a 7th round pick to follow and hope that he'll make an NFL roster, direct your positive vibes towards Michael Jasper, the big fat Bill in the fratty jersey.
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