You're hooked now, aren't you? We bring you the latest brilliant video from this very funny (and cute) pair of ladies, titled "Loophole". It is pro-God, pro-sex and pro-anus. Enjoy.
Don't give up on the song. Give it a good couple minutes, if only because it's original title was "Fuck Me in the Ass Because I Love Jesus".
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Levels of Subjectivity and Deception in Sports
Some sporting victories are unequivocal. There is no debate. There is no question over who won and who lost, and there is no further discussion on strategy, tactics, rule interpretations, and/or alternate outcomes. The winner is the winner, and the loser is the loser. For example, there is rarely any discussion over the shot put. Whoever throws the giant iron ball the farthest wins. You can't even complain about the wind, as a gale-force zephyr would not alter the arc of a sixteen pound lump of metal.
But not every sport is like the shot put. Compare the images . . . synchronized swimming is not like the shot put. It's more subjective. You need to evaluate a lot of subjective criteria. You can't just vote for the hottest chicks in the most revealing swimsuits.
Or maybe you can.
You see the problem here. There is a continuum of objectivity/subjectivity in sports. Some sports are inarguably true and some sports are completely subjective. And I believe there is a correlation between the amount of deception (or "gamesmanship," if you like euphemisms . . . or "cheating," if you don't) and the amount of subjectivity in the sport. I'm certainly not trying to put together a comprehensive list here, nor am I completely confident in my rankings . . . but I'd like to open the discussion. I did my research, and I could not find a single article on the internet that ranks sports from subjective to objective, and neither could I find an article which ranks the corresponding levels of deception -- and so I will give it my best shot, and you guys can do the hard thinking in the comments.
Obviously, the most truthful and objective sport is the shot put. There are a bunch of rules for throwing the shot put, but I think those were created just so shot putters had something to say about their sport. Can you really throw the thing any farther if you break the rules?
Target sports: archery, darts, jarts, corn-hole, bowling, skeet-shooting, etc. These are mainly dead on. The only reason they are slightly below the shot put on the continuum of objectivity is because of the one-on-one nature of the matches. You might be able to mention something about a tail-wind or the oil on the lanes or the lack of friction on the corn-hole board and slightly change the way your opponent approaches the target, but this isn't going to work for long, as empirical evidence is going to override your poor attempt at gamesmanship rather quickly. Also, if everyone is drunk enough and can't see straight or do basic math, then you can pad your score in darts.
Running. The clock doesn't lie . . . but you can! But I don't think telling the rest of the folks in the pack that you're not even a little tired as you ascend Heartbreak Hill has much effect on anyone's time (other than your own, because you've depleted your oxygen levels trying to trash-talk). You can draft a bit and work in tandem to box competitors out during the longer running events, but if you do this in the 100 meter dash, then you're disqualified.
Golf. Fairly clear cut. If the ball goes in the hole, there's not much to talk about. There is some deception as far as clubbing goes . . . but it's subtle. You can't actually club your opponent with a seven-iron, though that would boost the ratings exponentially, nor can you act as if you are in da club and dance around your opponent as he addresses the ball, while your caddy plays trap music from a Say Anything boombox. What you can do, however, when your ball goes flying over the green and into a sewage ditch, is say, "I should have hit a six iron," even though you actually hit a four iron. This will make your opponent think you can skull a seven iron 210 yards, and perplex him into submission.
You can also lie about how the green breaks -- it's good to use classic aphorisms, such as: "this one always breaks towards the water" and then point towards the Caspian Sea. And if everyone you're playing against is three-sheets-to-the-wind, and you're in a deep pot-hole bunker, then you can chuck your ball out and no one will be the wiser.
Tennis. Tennis mainly is makes sense. If it goes over the net and stays within the lines (or hits any part of them) then it's in. The only major elements of deception are spin and wearing a really short skirt that shows off your incredible legs -- but the latter only works if your opponent is a lesbian. Aside from those tactics, however, there isn't too much subjectivity and deception, except that most of us don't have a Hawk-Eye line calling system at our disposal, and so we have to call our own lines. I'll let you in on a secret . . . if you play me in tennis, I'll give you the first questionable call, and then I'll call the next sixteen in my favor.
Basketball. As much as it's fun to complain about the refs in basketball, each team gets a LOT of possessions. Things actually have a chance to even out. Everyone walks. And there's nothing more unequivocal than the sound of a swish. It's the sound of truth. A team can get a few good calls and a few good rolls, but statistically, there's no such thing as a streak shooter. Despite the amount of subjectivity in any team sport refereed by humans, the numbers are big enough in basketball to let the better team prevail.
Baseball. Yikes. Called balls and strikes. Spitballs and corked bats. Pine tar. There is a certain truth to catching the ball before it hits the ground, or knocking it out of the park, but there's a lot of deception in between. Calling pitches is artistic deception, but giving (and stealing) signs is pure prevarication (my friend Kevin is a varsity softball coach, and I am assuming none of his rivals read this blog, so I'll reveal something deceptive that his team uses: ALL his hand signals are fake . . . the coaches sign continuously and preposterously, but none of it mean anything, because all their actual signs are verbal, so when the third base coach touches her cap, pulls her hand across her breasts, and then grabs her crotch, none of it means a thing (although it's very sexy), but when she tells the runner to "be smart" then it means she should steal).
Football. We all saw what happened last year when the real referees went on strike. Without a team of people who know the rules really well, you can't even play this game properly. There are so many ways to cheat at football, that it's not even worth listing them.
Soccer. Good lord. I coach soccer, and the main thing I try to teach children is that soccer is lying. You pretend to go this way . . . and then you go that way. You pretend to pass . . . and then you dribble. You pretend to shoot . . . and then you get fouled. Or maybe it wasn't a foul. But you fall down and hold your knee anyway. You yell and scream. Then you get a penalty shot, and your team wins and you are the hero.
The incentives to deceive in soccer are so far beyond the incentives to deceive at shot put, that the two sports might barely be in the same category of activity.. No matter how much I pretend that my shot put is going to go really far, or my bowling ball is going to knock all the pins down, no matter how much I sell it, people are going to know the truth soon. But with soccer, there are times when you'll never know, even with a replay. Did he hit him hard enough to knock him off the ball? Were his studs up? Was that from behind, or from the side? Shoulder or arm? Did he take a dive or was he actually fouled? If the player is deceptive enough, you'll never know. And then there is offsides . . . the penalty that is literally and scientifically impossible to call.
The histrionics of coaching soccer are extraordinarily different from the quiet logic of helping someone with their golf swing, or even the frantic tactical play-calling of basketball. I have coached all three, and I love the totally fucked up nature of soccer. I am working the referee from the moment I meet him, because the referee really matters in soccer. Even if it's a U-8 game. Especially if it's a U-8 game. That's disturbing. I am also constantly mentally manipulating my players -- including my son -- because that's the only way to get children to continue to play a game that is futile, impossible, random, and unfair. There is also the problem of the law of small numbers (also known as the Poisson distribution) which makes sports like soccer and hockey incredibly specious, and then when you add in the high levels of subjective refereeing and the even higher levels of deceptive play -- the flopping and faking and diving -- then you have to consider that the entire sport is suspect . . . which is not to say that you can't be incredibly skillful at it, but half the fun is cheating.
Diving, gymnastics, surfing and figure-skating. These sports are beyond the pale. They are so subjective that no one except the judges know the criteria . . . even the commentators are often baffled by the decisions. The nice thing about these sports is that they are so skillful and graceful, that no one actually cares who wins. Everyone is impressed that anyone can achieve these feats. But, of course, when people just gawk at your ability, but no longer relate to it, then you are something of a freak. Your best bet in these sports is to simply pay off the judges. Or get involved in a parlay.
Obviously I haven't mentioned a number of sports. Curling, for example. The sport looks fairly straightforward to me, but Wikipedia makes this claim:
"A great deal of strategy and teamwork goes into choosing the ideal path and placement of a stone for each situation, and the skills of the curlers determine how close to the desired result the stone will achieve. This gives curling its nickname of Chess On Ice."
And so Summer Dave -- who, ironically, hates the heat -- is off to Bemidji, Minnesota. Bemidji is one of the coldest places in the continental United States, and it is also home of the renowned Bemidji Curling Club, which has produced a long line of champions. I hope to come back with a greater knowledge of the sport, and I especially hope to interview this beautiful curling babe.
But not every sport is like the shot put. Compare the images . . . synchronized swimming is not like the shot put. It's more subjective. You need to evaluate a lot of subjective criteria. You can't just vote for the hottest chicks in the most revealing swimsuits.
Or maybe you can.
You see the problem here. There is a continuum of objectivity/subjectivity in sports. Some sports are inarguably true and some sports are completely subjective. And I believe there is a correlation between the amount of deception (or "gamesmanship," if you like euphemisms . . . or "cheating," if you don't) and the amount of subjectivity in the sport. I'm certainly not trying to put together a comprehensive list here, nor am I completely confident in my rankings . . . but I'd like to open the discussion. I did my research, and I could not find a single article on the internet that ranks sports from subjective to objective, and neither could I find an article which ranks the corresponding levels of deception -- and so I will give it my best shot, and you guys can do the hard thinking in the comments.
Obviously, the most truthful and objective sport is the shot put. There are a bunch of rules for throwing the shot put, but I think those were created just so shot putters had something to say about their sport. Can you really throw the thing any farther if you break the rules?
Target sports: archery, darts, jarts, corn-hole, bowling, skeet-shooting, etc. These are mainly dead on. The only reason they are slightly below the shot put on the continuum of objectivity is because of the one-on-one nature of the matches. You might be able to mention something about a tail-wind or the oil on the lanes or the lack of friction on the corn-hole board and slightly change the way your opponent approaches the target, but this isn't going to work for long, as empirical evidence is going to override your poor attempt at gamesmanship rather quickly. Also, if everyone is drunk enough and can't see straight or do basic math, then you can pad your score in darts.
Running. The clock doesn't lie . . . but you can! But I don't think telling the rest of the folks in the pack that you're not even a little tired as you ascend Heartbreak Hill has much effect on anyone's time (other than your own, because you've depleted your oxygen levels trying to trash-talk). You can draft a bit and work in tandem to box competitors out during the longer running events, but if you do this in the 100 meter dash, then you're disqualified.
Golf. Fairly clear cut. If the ball goes in the hole, there's not much to talk about. There is some deception as far as clubbing goes . . . but it's subtle. You can't actually club your opponent with a seven-iron, though that would boost the ratings exponentially, nor can you act as if you are in da club and dance around your opponent as he addresses the ball, while your caddy plays trap music from a Say Anything boombox. What you can do, however, when your ball goes flying over the green and into a sewage ditch, is say, "I should have hit a six iron," even though you actually hit a four iron. This will make your opponent think you can skull a seven iron 210 yards, and perplex him into submission.
You can also lie about how the green breaks -- it's good to use classic aphorisms, such as: "this one always breaks towards the water" and then point towards the Caspian Sea. And if everyone you're playing against is three-sheets-to-the-wind, and you're in a deep pot-hole bunker, then you can chuck your ball out and no one will be the wiser.
Tennis. Tennis mainly is makes sense. If it goes over the net and stays within the lines (or hits any part of them) then it's in. The only major elements of deception are spin and wearing a really short skirt that shows off your incredible legs -- but the latter only works if your opponent is a lesbian. Aside from those tactics, however, there isn't too much subjectivity and deception, except that most of us don't have a Hawk-Eye line calling system at our disposal, and so we have to call our own lines. I'll let you in on a secret . . . if you play me in tennis, I'll give you the first questionable call, and then I'll call the next sixteen in my favor.
Basketball. As much as it's fun to complain about the refs in basketball, each team gets a LOT of possessions. Things actually have a chance to even out. Everyone walks. And there's nothing more unequivocal than the sound of a swish. It's the sound of truth. A team can get a few good calls and a few good rolls, but statistically, there's no such thing as a streak shooter. Despite the amount of subjectivity in any team sport refereed by humans, the numbers are big enough in basketball to let the better team prevail.
Baseball. Yikes. Called balls and strikes. Spitballs and corked bats. Pine tar. There is a certain truth to catching the ball before it hits the ground, or knocking it out of the park, but there's a lot of deception in between. Calling pitches is artistic deception, but giving (and stealing) signs is pure prevarication (my friend Kevin is a varsity softball coach, and I am assuming none of his rivals read this blog, so I'll reveal something deceptive that his team uses: ALL his hand signals are fake . . . the coaches sign continuously and preposterously, but none of it mean anything, because all their actual signs are verbal, so when the third base coach touches her cap, pulls her hand across her breasts, and then grabs her crotch, none of it means a thing (although it's very sexy), but when she tells the runner to "be smart" then it means she should steal).
Football. We all saw what happened last year when the real referees went on strike. Without a team of people who know the rules really well, you can't even play this game properly. There are so many ways to cheat at football, that it's not even worth listing them.
Soccer. Good lord. I coach soccer, and the main thing I try to teach children is that soccer is lying. You pretend to go this way . . . and then you go that way. You pretend to pass . . . and then you dribble. You pretend to shoot . . . and then you get fouled. Or maybe it wasn't a foul. But you fall down and hold your knee anyway. You yell and scream. Then you get a penalty shot, and your team wins and you are the hero.
The incentives to deceive in soccer are so far beyond the incentives to deceive at shot put, that the two sports might barely be in the same category of activity.. No matter how much I pretend that my shot put is going to go really far, or my bowling ball is going to knock all the pins down, no matter how much I sell it, people are going to know the truth soon. But with soccer, there are times when you'll never know, even with a replay. Did he hit him hard enough to knock him off the ball? Were his studs up? Was that from behind, or from the side? Shoulder or arm? Did he take a dive or was he actually fouled? If the player is deceptive enough, you'll never know. And then there is offsides . . . the penalty that is literally and scientifically impossible to call.
The histrionics of coaching soccer are extraordinarily different from the quiet logic of helping someone with their golf swing, or even the frantic tactical play-calling of basketball. I have coached all three, and I love the totally fucked up nature of soccer. I am working the referee from the moment I meet him, because the referee really matters in soccer. Even if it's a U-8 game. Especially if it's a U-8 game. That's disturbing. I am also constantly mentally manipulating my players -- including my son -- because that's the only way to get children to continue to play a game that is futile, impossible, random, and unfair. There is also the problem of the law of small numbers (also known as the Poisson distribution) which makes sports like soccer and hockey incredibly specious, and then when you add in the high levels of subjective refereeing and the even higher levels of deceptive play -- the flopping and faking and diving -- then you have to consider that the entire sport is suspect . . . which is not to say that you can't be incredibly skillful at it, but half the fun is cheating.
Diving, gymnastics, surfing and figure-skating. These sports are beyond the pale. They are so subjective that no one except the judges know the criteria . . . even the commentators are often baffled by the decisions. The nice thing about these sports is that they are so skillful and graceful, that no one actually cares who wins. Everyone is impressed that anyone can achieve these feats. But, of course, when people just gawk at your ability, but no longer relate to it, then you are something of a freak. Your best bet in these sports is to simply pay off the judges. Or get involved in a parlay.
Obviously I haven't mentioned a number of sports. Curling, for example. The sport looks fairly straightforward to me, but Wikipedia makes this claim:
"A great deal of strategy and teamwork goes into choosing the ideal path and placement of a stone for each situation, and the skills of the curlers determine how close to the desired result the stone will achieve. This gives curling its nickname of Chess On Ice."
And so Summer Dave -- who, ironically, hates the heat -- is off to Bemidji, Minnesota. Bemidji is one of the coldest places in the continental United States, and it is also home of the renowned Bemidji Curling Club, which has produced a long line of champions. I hope to come back with a greater knowledge of the sport, and I especially hope to interview this beautiful curling babe.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Dropping Science
High school senior Jessica Lee dropped a little science in her yearbook quote:
Our readership does not include any chemists (sorry Mark, your bathtub crystal meth operation doesn't qualify you) so you likely don't have the periodic table memorized, making the joke hard to discern.
Still don't get it? Here's a Muppets-style cartoon mashup (featuring NSFW lyrics) to jog your memory.
"Tattoo on tittie sayin' B.I.G." gets me every time.
Our readership does not include any chemists (sorry Mark, your bathtub crystal meth operation doesn't qualify you) so you likely don't have the periodic table memorized, making the joke hard to discern.
Still don't get it? Here's a Muppets-style cartoon mashup (featuring NSFW lyrics) to jog your memory.
"Tattoo on tittie sayin' B.I.G." gets me every time.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Music Maelstrom
Out of nowhere, this has turned into three days of action packed live music for me.
Saturday night I went to Norfolk's Town Point Park, a grassy downtown knoll that overlooks the Elizabeth River, for the annual Bayou Boogaloo. If not inherently obvious, it's a New Orleans themed festival that runs for three days.
Upon entering the grounds, I caught the tail end of Amanda Shaw. (Awww, yeah.) I first saw her at JazzFest when her band played the Fais Do Do stage about 10 years ago. She was 14. She came directly from school that day to lead her band at the Fest. Unbelievable. Our late great friend Flynn went up and chatted with her after her set. I think he hit on her. Believable.
Highlights, as usual, included Amanda's renditions of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" and "The Devil Went Down to Georgia."
The Rebirth Brass Band followed, delivering their same brass funk soul beat that they have for years. Always great.
And Trombone Shorty followed. The offstage Troy Andrews is a phenomenal trombone (duh) and trumpet player who has been part of Tremé's music scene since we was a little kid; we first saw him onstage at JazzFest as a guest for his brother James Andrews (don't go to him if your knee hurts) and the All-Stars around the turn of the millennium, when Shorty was 13. These days he adds a whole lot of guitar rock funk to the brass, and it's a crowd pleaser. Saturday night he closed, and he crushed.
But I only saw the first half of the show. At that point stepbro Ian called a water taxi, and a few minutes later a 20' outboard number pulled right up the the bulkhead about 30 yards from where we'd lucked into VIP section free beers at Trombone Shorty. For $6 a head, the water cabbie rode us across the river to Portsmouth, right to the nTelos Pavilion. From drinking an Abita at Shorty to drinking some nameless domestic light at The Avett Brothers in about 12 minutes. The Avetts walked onstage about two minutes after we walked into the general admission SRO pavilion floor. Well played, Ian.
The Avetts offered up their each-and-every-time-I've-seen-them frenzied energy and great sound. They simply bring a level of effort not generated by most bands, plus they've got more talent in their whole body than I have in my pinky finger. As Willy said, strike that, reverse it.
The Avetts cranked through excellent numbers new (Live and Die, Geraldine, Paul Newman vs. The Demons) and old (At the Beach, Murder in the City, Paranoia in Bb Major) with seamless vigor. I'm a fan. They bring it. They brought it.
So, a big night for music for me. Sunday did not relent.
We're friends with the singer and guitarist of an Asheville, NC bluegrass outfit called Town Mountain, and they played last night at the Taphouse in Norfolk -- for $10 you got a great gig in a tiny watering hole plus all the pulled pork and fried chicken you could eat. Not bad. Check out these cats if they hit your town.
[They do many originals and lots of more traditional tunes, but this one has great appeal to me.]
. . . and then there's tonight. This afternoon I'm headed up to DC. One of our Virginia Beach friends is cousins with keyboardist Chuck Leavell; for those not in the know, he was with the Allman Brothers in the 70's and has played with Clapton, the Crowes, etc. . . . and, since the early 1980's, the Rolling Stones. So our friend asked for four VIP tix to see the Stones tonight, and we got 'em. Giddyup.
Saturday night I went to Norfolk's Town Point Park, a grassy downtown knoll that overlooks the Elizabeth River, for the annual Bayou Boogaloo. If not inherently obvious, it's a New Orleans themed festival that runs for three days.
Upon entering the grounds, I caught the tail end of Amanda Shaw. (Awww, yeah.) I first saw her at JazzFest when her band played the Fais Do Do stage about 10 years ago. She was 14. She came directly from school that day to lead her band at the Fest. Unbelievable. Our late great friend Flynn went up and chatted with her after her set. I think he hit on her. Believable.Highlights, as usual, included Amanda's renditions of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" and "The Devil Went Down to Georgia."
The Rebirth Brass Band followed, delivering their same brass funk soul beat that they have for years. Always great.
And Trombone Shorty followed. The offstage Troy Andrews is a phenomenal trombone (duh) and trumpet player who has been part of Tremé's music scene since we was a little kid; we first saw him onstage at JazzFest as a guest for his brother James Andrews (don't go to him if your knee hurts) and the All-Stars around the turn of the millennium, when Shorty was 13. These days he adds a whole lot of guitar rock funk to the brass, and it's a crowd pleaser. Saturday night he closed, and he crushed.But I only saw the first half of the show. At that point stepbro Ian called a water taxi, and a few minutes later a 20' outboard number pulled right up the the bulkhead about 30 yards from where we'd lucked into VIP section free beers at Trombone Shorty. For $6 a head, the water cabbie rode us across the river to Portsmouth, right to the nTelos Pavilion. From drinking an Abita at Shorty to drinking some nameless domestic light at The Avett Brothers in about 12 minutes. The Avetts walked onstage about two minutes after we walked into the general admission SRO pavilion floor. Well played, Ian.
The Avetts offered up their each-and-every-time-I've-seen-them frenzied energy and great sound. They simply bring a level of effort not generated by most bands, plus they've got more talent in their whole body than I have in my pinky finger. As Willy said, strike that, reverse it.
The Avetts cranked through excellent numbers new (Live and Die, Geraldine, Paul Newman vs. The Demons) and old (At the Beach, Murder in the City, Paranoia in Bb Major) with seamless vigor. I'm a fan. They bring it. They brought it.
So, a big night for music for me. Sunday did not relent.
We're friends with the singer and guitarist of an Asheville, NC bluegrass outfit called Town Mountain, and they played last night at the Taphouse in Norfolk -- for $10 you got a great gig in a tiny watering hole plus all the pulled pork and fried chicken you could eat. Not bad. Check out these cats if they hit your town.[They do many originals and lots of more traditional tunes, but this one has great appeal to me.]
. . . and then there's tonight. This afternoon I'm headed up to DC. One of our Virginia Beach friends is cousins with keyboardist Chuck Leavell; for those not in the know, he was with the Allman Brothers in the 70's and has played with Clapton, the Crowes, etc. . . . and, since the early 1980's, the Rolling Stones. So our friend asked for four VIP tix to see the Stones tonight, and we got 'em. Giddyup.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
This Week in Tigerball: Quinn to Win
When last we saw Quinn McDowell, W&M's do-everything small forward was closing out his terrific collegiate career in disappointing fashion, scoring 6 points in the Tribe's 57-49 first-round CAA Tournament loss to Northeastern. The loss ended a desultory 6-26 campaign, not exactly the valedictory McDowell might've hoped for or deserved.
If his first 18 professional games are any indication, he's gotten over it.
The 6th-leading scorer in W&M history, McDowell suits up now for the Willetton Tigers in Western Australia's State Basketball League. The Tigers are solidly ensconced in the middle of the SBL table at 10-8, but McDowell's one of the league's premier players. He averages 28.6 points, 7.1 rebounds, and 3.7 assists on 47.5% shooting. He's second in the SBL in scoring and three-point percentage (43.4%), and leads the league in total points and free throws made.
McDowell tallied a season and career-high 42 in a 112-105 road loss to the Wanneroo Wolves (who feature former ODU guard Trian Iliadis), and scored 34 with 15 boards in a 95-90 home win over the East Perth Eagles.
The SBL is a second-tier league, with players aspiring to Australia's top division. Our Aussie sources are bullish on the young American's character and commitment, so we're hoping to hear good news from down under. Until then, tune in here for your stateside SBL news.
(If you've got some time and want to watch an entire basketball game filmed via fisheye lens, the Willetton/Wanneroo game is available in full below. McDowell opens the scoring at 1:22 - you'll recognize the little hop as he gets set for the pure three-pointer.)
If his first 18 professional games are any indication, he's gotten over it.The 6th-leading scorer in W&M history, McDowell suits up now for the Willetton Tigers in Western Australia's State Basketball League. The Tigers are solidly ensconced in the middle of the SBL table at 10-8, but McDowell's one of the league's premier players. He averages 28.6 points, 7.1 rebounds, and 3.7 assists on 47.5% shooting. He's second in the SBL in scoring and three-point percentage (43.4%), and leads the league in total points and free throws made.
McDowell tallied a season and career-high 42 in a 112-105 road loss to the Wanneroo Wolves (who feature former ODU guard Trian Iliadis), and scored 34 with 15 boards in a 95-90 home win over the East Perth Eagles.
The SBL is a second-tier league, with players aspiring to Australia's top division. Our Aussie sources are bullish on the young American's character and commitment, so we're hoping to hear good news from down under. Until then, tune in here for your stateside SBL news.
(If you've got some time and want to watch an entire basketball game filmed via fisheye lens, the Willetton/Wanneroo game is available in full below. McDowell opens the scoring at 1:22 - you'll recognize the little hop as he gets set for the pure three-pointer.)
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Chronicles of teh Crazy
The fine Americans in our readership will be pleased to know that the GOP-controlled House of Representatives has taken a break this week from casting pointless votes to overturn Obamacare. Apparently 37 of those were enough. For now.
Fortunately, the House has moved on to more important things. Like jobs, growth, national security, civil liberties, and taking another run at making certain types of abortion illegal. In this case virtually all abortions post 20 weeks of fertilization.
That's illogical, you say. There's no way that'll pass the Senate, and even if it does, there's no way President Obama would sign that legislation into law. Silly you, with your common sense and your cute outside-the-Beltway (metaphorically, given the geographic breakdown of our audience) simple little life. This is the United States House of Representatives we're talking about. Very Very Important People with a clear understanding of our nation's most vital priorities.
As we've said before, we're not here to debate a woman's right to choose. Not really this blog's oeuvre. But if we were going to do so, we'd be hard-pressed to find an adequate response to Rep. Michael Burgess' (R-TX) scientifically-reasoned position. According to Burgess, abortion after 15 weeks should be illegal...because fetuses like to jerk off.
“Watch a sonogram of a 15-week baby, and they have movements that are purposeful,” he says. “They stroke their face. If they’re a male baby, they may have their hand between their legs. If they feel pleasure, why is it so hard to believe that they could feel pain?”
Burgess, it should be noted, is an OB/GYN, and should probably be aware of the fact that major medical bodies in most of the developed world have refuted the notion that fetuses feel much of anything before the third trimester. I think Rep. Louise Slaughter (D-NY) puts it better than I could when she says, “Well, I think all the members are cognizant of the fact that this is not a Congress that cares much about science."
I get honest political disagreement. I think it's critical to the function of a democratic society. But I agree with The Washington Post's Ezra Klein, who wrote yesterday, "The GOP’s' problem isn’t that it insults the intelligence of the voters. It’s that it insults its own intelligence."
I know a lot of intelligent Republicans. (Well, I know one. Two, maybe.) I wish their voices were the ones that got heard in Washington.
Instead, we get wankery about babywankery. Poor hairy-palmed little fellas. And that's just the Congressmen.
 |
| I NEVER TOSSED OFF!!! |
That's illogical, you say. There's no way that'll pass the Senate, and even if it does, there's no way President Obama would sign that legislation into law. Silly you, with your common sense and your cute outside-the-Beltway (metaphorically, given the geographic breakdown of our audience) simple little life. This is the United States House of Representatives we're talking about. Very Very Important People with a clear understanding of our nation's most vital priorities.
As we've said before, we're not here to debate a woman's right to choose. Not really this blog's oeuvre. But if we were going to do so, we'd be hard-pressed to find an adequate response to Rep. Michael Burgess' (R-TX) scientifically-reasoned position. According to Burgess, abortion after 15 weeks should be illegal...because fetuses like to jerk off.
“Watch a sonogram of a 15-week baby, and they have movements that are purposeful,” he says. “They stroke their face. If they’re a male baby, they may have their hand between their legs. If they feel pleasure, why is it so hard to believe that they could feel pain?”
Burgess, it should be noted, is an OB/GYN, and should probably be aware of the fact that major medical bodies in most of the developed world have refuted the notion that fetuses feel much of anything before the third trimester. I think Rep. Louise Slaughter (D-NY) puts it better than I could when she says, “Well, I think all the members are cognizant of the fact that this is not a Congress that cares much about science." I get honest political disagreement. I think it's critical to the function of a democratic society. But I agree with The Washington Post's Ezra Klein, who wrote yesterday, "The GOP’s' problem isn’t that it insults the intelligence of the voters. It’s that it insults its own intelligence."
I know a lot of intelligent Republicans. (Well, I know one. Two, maybe.) I wish their voices were the ones that got heard in Washington.
Instead, we get wankery about babywankery. Poor hairy-palmed little fellas. And that's just the Congressmen.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
My new favorite television commercial
This bumps the Wendy's "Raaaaaaaaaaanch" and Starbucks "Glen's the man...going to work" ads as the new personal favorite (though it still does not top Geico's "Tiny House" spot):
I. DON'T. WANT. YOUR. LIFE.
I. DON'T. WANT. YOUR. LIFE.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Just in Time for Summer: New Mayer Hawthorne and Other Funky-Ass Stuff
If you're looking for new music to enjoy in your backyard this summer, go cop "Modern Vampires of the City." The album is more evolutionary than revolutionary, despite my previous concerns to the contrary--it still sounds like a Vampire Weekend joint. Working this album into your summertime musical evening rotation will serve you well.
Kanye West's new album "Yeezus" (which is a portmanteau of Yeezy, Kanye's nickname, and Jesus, the name of the son of God ... Jay-Z previously did something similar when he called himself "Jayhova the God MC") comes out on June 18 (i.e., tomorrow) and recently leaked to the world through, of all random things, the internet. Kanye gives no fucks at all about this potential copyright misappropriation. I, however, have a long-standing respect for copyrighted material so I haven't listened to the album. You will doubtlessly hear it banged hard this summer at the beach, from the windows of luxury cars driven by the owner's children, and eventually during TV timeouts at sporting events. Get it now so that when the beat to the big commercial jam drops you can nod your head and say "Aw yeah" in synch with the people around you who are at least a decade younger.
Speaking of copyrights ... Mayer Hawthorne's new album drops July 16 and his label must've spent oodles clearing the copyrights for the video trailer:
I remember when musicians had to clear samples, not video, but I'm old. The new album promises to continue Hawthorne's tradition of funky-ass-white-boy-ed-ness but with more of a 70's sound and less of a Motown vibe. For example, Her Favorite Song will doubtlessly remind you of Herbie Hancock's Chameleon (or in Mark's case, Digital Underground's Underwater Rhymes):
And "Reach Out Richard," written for Hawthorne's father, unmistakably sounds like Steely Dan:
"Designer Drug," which may or may not be on the new album, reminds me of MJ's Off the Wall:
I predict that it will be an excellent album for grown-ass-but-funky-ass-old-men like us to tastefully rock in public and in group settings. The album is at least partially produced by Pharrell, who recently played a similar role in Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines" and its preposterously NSFW video. If "Blurred Lines" doesn't sample Michael Jackson's "Whew!" and rip off Marvin Gaye's Got to Give it Up then I'm Quincy Jones. Regardless, it's a decent summertime confection for the aforementioned grown-ass-but-funky-ass-old-men demographic.
Now go forth and musically dominate your neighborhood block party. But please remember to wear sunscreen.
*****SPECIAL BONUS MUSIC*****
If you really want to pull some grown-ass-man-shit at your next BBQ, Mayer Hawthorne did the legwork for you and put together the following hour-long mix titled "Soul With A Hole Vol. 1."
Kanye West's new album "Yeezus" (which is a portmanteau of Yeezy, Kanye's nickname, and Jesus, the name of the son of God ... Jay-Z previously did something similar when he called himself "Jayhova the God MC") comes out on June 18 (i.e., tomorrow) and recently leaked to the world through, of all random things, the internet. Kanye gives no fucks at all about this potential copyright misappropriation. I, however, have a long-standing respect for copyrighted material so I haven't listened to the album. You will doubtlessly hear it banged hard this summer at the beach, from the windows of luxury cars driven by the owner's children, and eventually during TV timeouts at sporting events. Get it now so that when the beat to the big commercial jam drops you can nod your head and say "Aw yeah" in synch with the people around you who are at least a decade younger.
Speaking of copyrights ... Mayer Hawthorne's new album drops July 16 and his label must've spent oodles clearing the copyrights for the video trailer:
I remember when musicians had to clear samples, not video, but I'm old. The new album promises to continue Hawthorne's tradition of funky-ass-white-boy-ed-ness but with more of a 70's sound and less of a Motown vibe. For example, Her Favorite Song will doubtlessly remind you of Herbie Hancock's Chameleon (or in Mark's case, Digital Underground's Underwater Rhymes):
And "Reach Out Richard," written for Hawthorne's father, unmistakably sounds like Steely Dan:
"Designer Drug," which may or may not be on the new album, reminds me of MJ's Off the Wall:
I predict that it will be an excellent album for grown-ass-but-funky-ass-old-men like us to tastefully rock in public and in group settings. The album is at least partially produced by Pharrell, who recently played a similar role in Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines" and its preposterously NSFW video. If "Blurred Lines" doesn't sample Michael Jackson's "Whew!" and rip off Marvin Gaye's Got to Give it Up then I'm Quincy Jones. Regardless, it's a decent summertime confection for the aforementioned grown-ass-but-funky-ass-old-men demographic.
Now go forth and musically dominate your neighborhood block party. But please remember to wear sunscreen.
*****SPECIAL BONUS MUSIC*****
If you really want to pull some grown-ass-man-shit at your next BBQ, Mayer Hawthorne did the legwork for you and put together the following hour-long mix titled "Soul With A Hole Vol. 1."
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Sunday At The Open: Open Thread
What do the following five people have in common, other than never having been in my kitchen?
That's right, they're all Dicks. Unfortunately, you will have to listen to one blather on all day. Enjoy the wicker baskets, Notah Begay's awkward commentary, and FIGJAM's moobs.
That's right, they're all Dicks. Unfortunately, you will have to listen to one blather on all day. Enjoy the wicker baskets, Notah Begay's awkward commentary, and FIGJAM's moobs.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Portrait Saturday
We're nothing if not supporters of the arts. And goofy shit. So when we heard about Wes Naman's latest work, we were naturally excited.
You may know Naman from his Scotch Tape series, in which volunteers allowed him to cover their faces and heads with tape and photograph the results. The portfolio quickly went viral, both overwhelming Naman and inspiring his next project.
For Naman's Rubber Band series, subjects wrapped themselves, creating grotesquely silly masks. As wired.com offhandedly notes, "Some went crazier than others, because rubber bands hurt a lot more than tape. That said, there’s still a whole lot of nose and ear warping, and the rubber bands do an even better job than tape when it comes to forcing skin and hair to stick out in awkward and painful ways."
We think this one's our favorite, but it's close. The Wu-Tang Financial t-shirt pushes it over the top.
The best/worst thing about this series? The Teej does this kind of thing just for kicks. If only he'd known he could get Internet Famous for it.
You may know Naman from his Scotch Tape series, in which volunteers allowed him to cover their faces and heads with tape and photograph the results. The portfolio quickly went viral, both overwhelming Naman and inspiring his next project.
For Naman's Rubber Band series, subjects wrapped themselves, creating grotesquely silly masks. As wired.com offhandedly notes, "Some went crazier than others, because rubber bands hurt a lot more than tape. That said, there’s still a whole lot of nose and ear warping, and the rubber bands do an even better job than tape when it comes to forcing skin and hair to stick out in awkward and painful ways."
We think this one's our favorite, but it's close. The Wu-Tang Financial t-shirt pushes it over the top.
The best/worst thing about this series? The Teej does this kind of thing just for kicks. If only he'd known he could get Internet Famous for it.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Hipster Trifecta: You Can Feel It (It's Electric!)
For those of you who live/work in/near urban enclaves and enjoy silently mocking everybody you encounter on your daily sojourn, I offer up a fun game I like to call Hipster Trifecta. In this game, you seek out hipsters with beards, flannel and visible tattoos. These are the three tenets of the incredibly specific uniforms worn by our fine youth who like to think they are expressing their individuality by dressing like everybody else. It makes for fun viewing. You can tally them on your commute, mall trip, night out, etc. When you find one, you can throw him away. It makes the world a better place.
(h/t to Mark for providing this photo of himself)
A similar game started when I went to Aspen to visit a friend and learned to snowboard in 2002. I was amazed at the number of dudes who rocked one-piece ski suits and fanny packs on slopes. I spent the whole week looking for my own trifecta (one-piece, fanny pack, mustache). I finally spied one my last day and took a picture of him. Not sure if he was psyched about that. An obnoxiously wealthy co-worker of mine at the time told me that he didn't understand the mockery of the one-piece because his dad wore one that was custom-made for him. Made me feel even better about indirectly making fun of his dad.
If you really want to do some elephant hunting, you can further refine your search to the Quadfecta (note to readers: we are still working on that name), which counts hipsters with beards, flannel, visible tattoos and big round-rimmed glasses. If you do find one of these rare creatures, please take a picture and email it to our web site (support@gheorghetheblogtheemailaddress.net). We will post it. Do not fear the reaction of the creature you photograph. They are timid and feeble by nature and will do you no harm.
Happy Friday folks. More fotos de testiculos next week.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Rational Exuberance
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| Sweet socks, GHWB! |
Turns out ol' 41 has a predilection for fanciful hosiery, and encouraged like-minded Americans to help him celebrate his birthday by donning exuberant socks of their own. I didn't get the memo until it was almost too late, and so I spent most of the day wearing this only modestly exuberant (soberly silly, perhaps) pair.
But when a former Commander in Chief asks me to do something, like most patriotic Americans, I listen. (Obviously, when Clinton calls and wants to go clubbing, I listen and then hang up.) And so, in the President's honor, I came home and changed. A few times.
God Bless America, and Happy belated Birthday, Mr. President.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Fashion is Dumb: Galactic Empire Edition
What are the monstrosities below, you may ask? Well, they're apparently robot leggings. Seriously. Long gone are the days of Olivia Newton John as leggings leader, replaced by the C-3PO, Stormtrooper and Vader looks coming to a runway near you.
These are not the robot leggings you're looking for...
[h/t Tumblr, of course]
These are not the robot leggings you're looking for...
[h/t Tumblr, of course]
Monday, June 10, 2013
Don't Just Stand There (Strike a Pose)
Worst Superhero Ever?
Common squirrel by day, some sort of low-budget superhero by night:
Maybe rob, Clarence and/or Summer Dave can let us know the origin story of this character in the comments...
Maybe rob, Clarence and/or Summer Dave can let us know the origin story of this character in the comments...
Sunday, June 09, 2013
Greatness
40 years ago today, Secretariat won the Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths in what most experts agree was the most dominant performance in the history of horse racing. I'd never actually seen the entire race until a few minutes ago. It's worth a watch.
Listen to the crowd as the great horse separates from Sham in the middle of the backstretch, and then again when he nears the finish line. Pretty cool stuff.
Secretariat ran the mile and a half distance in 2:24, breaking the existing record by 2 and 3/5 seconds. Consider this, though: he also broke the track's record for one and five/eighths miles, even though he was pulling up after the Belmont's finish line.
Listen to the crowd as the great horse separates from Sham in the middle of the backstretch, and then again when he nears the finish line. Pretty cool stuff.
Secretariat ran the mile and a half distance in 2:24, breaking the existing record by 2 and 3/5 seconds. Consider this, though: he also broke the track's record for one and five/eighths miles, even though he was pulling up after the Belmont's finish line.
Friday, June 07, 2013
Everybody Wave Hi To The NSA
Alternate title: "A Very Special (Monitored) Edition of The Ghoogles"
Hey, would you look at that, the government is spying on us, and apparently with extreme prejudice. (As an aside, that's the best PPT presentation the NSA could come up with? Really??) I saw "Enemy of the State" a decade ago, I know what's up. James Caan's kid has been secretly creeping on the American public for a looooong time, no one should be surprised by this latest "revelation". (Meme alert: Captain Jean-Luc Picard is certainly not surprised)
That being said, this news got me thinking about the poor intern at the NSA assigned to monitoring high-profile blogs such as this one...which is really just a forced segue into a super duper all-inclusive version of The Ghoogles, in which I've selected those terms which likely either entertained, frightened, confused or plain scarred those at the NSA monitoring G:TB.
Time frame of search (Apparently, I only signed us up for Google Analytics in 2005. Or that's when it started. Who knows):
To the Ghoogles...the cherry-picked selection of terms below have all been used 10 or more times to end up at our little slice of the blogosphere in the past 8+ years:
- circus peanuts
- alfonso ribeiro shirtless
- ron zacapa swim
- cameo tattoo
- kari wuhrer remote control
- zooey deschanel thighs
- lady spartan soccer wax
- nasal polyps
- sexy highschool girls
- tiny dictator
- awesome possum
- can white men jump ethnicity genes culture and success
- would you like some making fuck
- thursdays with maury
- brazilian pussy
- vajazzling
- you guys playing cards
- military squirrel
- right meow
- flux capacitor fluxing
- steve mcnair cinnabon
- short definition of internet
- fernando valenzuela rookie card
- whitesnake video girl
- putana da seatbeltz
- tom brady effete
- jamarcusian
- kato my little yellow friend
- christmas eve in washington
- a-rod jerk
- shoe fuck
- quaid total recall
- every halloween the trees are filled with underwear
- icelandic women
- lemmy kilmister
- comedy rhombus
- houston oilers zubaz
- philly fans are the worst people on earth
- ogie oglethorpe
- real tomato ketchup
- cauc hop
- jerry stackhouse eight day rental
- stromile swift
- wiz khalifa blog
- dante calabria
- disgruntled goat
- squirrel haters
- what happened to rutger hauer
- judy tenuta
- muffet mcgraw
- ryan atwood fluffer
- stan kasten email address
- battle mace
- cyclist boner
- eddie money heroin
- giant sturgeon
- i'm the damn paterfamilias
- mike love beach boys
- q: are we not men? a: we are devo!
- cake vector
- dave winfield herpes
- fashion is dumb
- kevin kline italian flatulence
- nut shot
- tracy morgan small nipples
- ebirt og
- funny lawnmower
- patriotic bikini
- pyongyang golf club
- prince markie dee
- robert plant package
- succubus
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