Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Body Movin'
Good hip-hop albums take a long time to produce. This could be a function of the intricacy of the lyrics which have been equated to developing organic chemistries (cuz I've been in the lab with a pen and a pad) and saving human lives (Lil Wayne's Dr. Carter). It could be that there is a behind the scenes legal battle that prevents certain songs from being sampled (unlikely, considering girltalk makes a killing doing this). I think this hip-hop hiatus between albums serves as a platform for building desire within the fan base. Once there is an insatiable urge to hear the musings of a lyrical savant, the album is introduced and thrust forth into the platinum pantheon. The godfather of this art is Dr. Dre. I've always respected him for the one album he puts out every 7-8 years (overlooking the Aftermath tragedy) and the way he is hailed as a blunt smoking mogul. Well it's been about 9 years since his album 2001 dropped and the Dr. is ready to prescribe his next great anecdote so appropriately named Detox. His Interscope pal and protege, Eminem, is also unveiling his newest project, King Mathers, this fall.
The most juxtaposed pairing in hip-hop history (black dude from Compton, white guy from Detroit) has found itself at the very antipodes of the anatomical world during the time between albums. Dre has always been known as the producing genius with flaccid arms and a penchant for the carnival like baseline and Eminem has been the archetype of a "hard" problem child who's more concerned with degrading his oft-abused girlfriend than providing for his bastard child. I hated Eminem so vehemently in the 7th grade that I convinced myself that I could actually beat him up after one of my female classmates commented on the "girth" of my biceps. Now the only time I think about girth and Eminem in the same thought is when I'm going face first into a bowl of Arby's curly fries. That's right, the fetal twat with impeccable enunciation is a grade A porker. I haven't seen jowls like that since Goldberg got his wisdom teeth out. He's gonna have to call his tour Marshall Fatters Worldwide. Dre has also seen a change in his physique, and is looking a lot more like the other Goldberg than a wet noodle. His new album would be more aptly named Negrodonnis or Anabolic Cannabis. At least these rappers chose the fate of their bodies. Get better regulator.
In other hip hop news R. Kelly has cemented himself as the CROAT (creepiest rapper of all time) after an interview with BET. Unfortunately, the interview has been removed from Youtube but the gist of it was:
Interviewer "Do you like teenage girls?"
R. Kelly: "How old are we talking. 19, I have a lot of 19 year old friends yea. I don't like nothing under 19, nothing illegal."
Funkmaster flex ain't too happy about it.
I think I've been underrating T.I. as a rapper and an entertainer. This is mostly because he looked like a prepubescent version of Master Splinter at spring fling a few years ago and I got stomped out by the crowd around the stage during his performance. This week he made a cameo on Entourage as one of Ari's clients, but it's this guilty pleasure of mine that is really making me rethink T.I. Admit it, you like it. And if you don't then at least appreciate how he out raps Kanye, Lil Wayne, and Hova on their new hit swagger like us.
The most juxtaposed pairing in hip-hop history (black dude from Compton, white guy from Detroit) has found itself at the very antipodes of the anatomical world during the time between albums. Dre has always been known as the producing genius with flaccid arms and a penchant for the carnival like baseline and Eminem has been the archetype of a "hard" problem child who's more concerned with degrading his oft-abused girlfriend than providing for his bastard child. I hated Eminem so vehemently in the 7th grade that I convinced myself that I could actually beat him up after one of my female classmates commented on the "girth" of my biceps. Now the only time I think about girth and Eminem in the same thought is when I'm going face first into a bowl of Arby's curly fries. That's right, the fetal twat with impeccable enunciation is a grade A porker. I haven't seen jowls like that since Goldberg got his wisdom teeth out. He's gonna have to call his tour Marshall Fatters Worldwide. Dre has also seen a change in his physique, and is looking a lot more like the other Goldberg than a wet noodle. His new album would be more aptly named Negrodonnis or Anabolic Cannabis. At least these rappers chose the fate of their bodies. Get better regulator.
In other hip hop news R. Kelly has cemented himself as the CROAT (creepiest rapper of all time) after an interview with BET. Unfortunately, the interview has been removed from Youtube but the gist of it was:
Interviewer "Do you like teenage girls?"
R. Kelly: "How old are we talking. 19, I have a lot of 19 year old friends yea. I don't like nothing under 19, nothing illegal."
Funkmaster flex ain't too happy about it.
I think I've been underrating T.I. as a rapper and an entertainer. This is mostly because he looked like a prepubescent version of Master Splinter at spring fling a few years ago and I got stomped out by the crowd around the stage during his performance. This week he made a cameo on Entourage as one of Ari's clients, but it's this guilty pleasure of mine that is really making me rethink T.I. Admit it, you like it. And if you don't then at least appreciate how he out raps Kanye, Lil Wayne, and Hova on their new hit swagger like us.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Sucked the Air out of the building
My job at CompassLexecon comes with a few perks--complimentary dry cleaning service, 401K plans juiced with Lehman Brother's shares, and membership to a gym that may or may not be a front for a Scientological cult. Amongst all this, the big ticket, showcase showdown perk is a pair of Red Sox season tickets that every employee gets access to several times a season. The company handed me the keys to the hot rod for Monday's game, a soporific 4-3 loss to the Cleveland Indians. This game confirmed two sneaking suspicions:
1. I hate baseball (Though I do enjoy how the Spanish spelling is "beisbol")
2. I always jinx the home team.
Point 1 merits discussion later on, but I'll give you a little background on the latter point. I haven't been to a sporting event in the past 10 years where the home team, or the team I was "supposed" to be cheering for has won. To wit:
The Celtics were indefatigable last year
1. I hate baseball (Though I do enjoy how the Spanish spelling is "beisbol")
2. I always jinx the home team.
Point 1 merits discussion later on, but I'll give you a little background on the latter point. I haven't been to a sporting event in the past 10 years where the home team, or the team I was "supposed" to be cheering for has won. To wit:
The Celtics were indefatigable last year
Sunday, September 21, 2008
A Most Unappreciated Man
Yesterday, my girlfriend and I went to Farm Aid, an annual benefit concert to raise money for America's family farms. The concert was in Mansfield at the recently renamed Comcast Center--known to most people as the Tweeter Center--and marked the first time that Farm Aid was held in New England.
The weather was gorgeous, the venue was spacious, and the performances were outstanding. One of Farm Aid's major selling points, beyond the obvious fact that it is for a good cause, is that it attracts a very diverse group of artists. We saw Arlo Guthrie, moe., Jakob Dylan (who played a terrific set with a band called the Gold Mountain Rebels), The Pretenders, Kenny Chesney, and Jerry Lee Lewis--who I didn't even know was still alive--all on the same stage. And these were just a few of the openers. Each set was around thirty minutes and then the next act would come on. All told, the music played almost continuously from the time we got there, at 1:30, until after we left at 10:30.
Almost every performer brought his A game. The event is hosted by Willie Nelson, the president and one of the co-founders of Farm Aid, and many of the performers are his friends, so the atmosphere is genuinely fun and friendly. I have never been to a concert where the performers seemed to be having such a good time. Willie was brought on stage repeatedly throughout the day to play with various acts and produced some pretty memorable moments. His duet with Kenny Chesney--singing a song about getting drunk and going home with this and waking up with this--was hilarious and, no doubt, based on a true story.
After Chesney finished his set, they got the stage set up for the headliners. Dave Matthews, with Tim Reynolds, played first as the guest headliner, followed by Farm Aid's three co-founders and its board of directors: John Mellencamp, Neil Young, and of course, Willie Nelson.
Matthews was pretty phenomenal. This is the third time I've seen him perform live, albeit the first with Reynolds and without his band, and I have to say that he continues to impress me. The guy is 41, has been touring practically nonstop for over a decade, recently lost one of his band members--the late saxophonist LeRoi Moore--to the aftereffects of an ATV accident, and yet he can still rock a concert better than anyone I've ever seen. He was cracking jokes and dropping one-liners about Reynolds, who threatened to steal the show a few times and definitely pushed Dave to another level throughout the hour-long set. Look, you can say all you want about Matthews' fanbase: that they're frat boys who smoke Newports and wear pink polos and go tanning ... or that they're obnoxious girls who over-quote his songs and use them as away messages and spill beer on everyone in their vicinity when they get sloppy drunk at his concerts. These pithy observations have been astutely pointed out ad nauseam by people who fail to realize that this doesn't prevent Matthews from putting on terrific shows night after night.
Matthews, to his credit, was the second most charismatic performer that took the stage at Farm Aid 2008. His presence on stage and rapport with the crowd was surpassed only by the man who followed him: John 'Cougar' Mellencamp, forever known to some of us as just The Cougs, a man who I feel is widely misunderstood and underappreciated.
Now, some of you are probably not surprised by this, since my respect for The Cougs is well-documented. Some of you are likely to scoff at the idea that The Cougs could excite a crowd in the same way as Dave Matthews. However, I think that these people are basing their sentiments on a misconception of who The Cougs is and what he is about, so I'm going to spend a moment defending John Mellencamp.
Most people hate on The Cougs for just one thing. We all know what I'm talking about, so I'm going to address it head on:
Mellencamp has been recording music for over thirty years, has won a Grammy for Best Male Rock Performer, and as of 2008, has been elected to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He has produced such classic songs as "Jack and Diane," "Small Town," and "I Need a Lover," among many others. He has won numerous humanitarian awards and been an important member of Farm Aid since he helped found it in 1985. And, since 2006, he has been known for just one thing: his song, "Our Country," being obnoxiously overplayed as Chevrolet's theme song to help them sell Silverados.
It's probably an exercise in futility for me to defend the merit of "Our Country" as a song--too many people have had it irreparably ruined by the advertising executives at Chevy. However, to write Mellencamp off as an artist based on "Our Country" is like writing off Michael Jordan as a basketball player because of his ill-fated tenure with the Wizards. (Yes, I know, I just compared The Cougs to Michael Jordan. If this is really too much for you, think of it as writing off Tyler Hansbrough's great college career just because he was a bust in the NBA).
How cool is John Mellencamp? Well, try this as a barometer: while every other act was introduced either by themselves or by--ugh--Carson Daly (the one real downside of Farm Aid), Mellencamp was introduced by Bob Costas. Bob Costas. Think about that for a second. Costas took time off from whatever important piece of journalism he was working on, flew to Mansfield, and probably didn't get paid for his time, just to spend thirty seconds on stage introducing The Cougs and saying a few words about how much he's done over the last two decades to help the American farmer. I don't care who you are, I don't care what your feelings are about John Mellencamp, that has got to give you pause. Bob Costas is not only the greatest sports broadcaster of our era, he's also a gentleman, and a scholar of the highest caliber. If I could pick one person to introduce me for the most important event of my life, there is no doubt in my mind that I would choose Costas for the job. He did just that for John Mellencamp, pro bono, because he has so much respect for The Cougs.
Costas set the stage and, let me tell you, The Cougs delivered. No performer--not Matthews, not Chesney, not even Neil Young--was able to electrify the crowd at Farm Aid the way Mellencamp did. They were loving it. I was loving it. And you could sure tell The Cougs was loving it. One moment illustrates this best: in between songs, Mellencamp asked us all to get out our phones and call someone so that they could hear what was going on at Farm Aid and be a part of the experience. Within second, thousands of cell phones were held aloft, and The Cougs walked to the edge of the stage and asked a young woman who she was calling. Then, he reached down, picked up the phone, and said, "Hey Terry, how you doing? This is John Mellencamp, and we're at Farm Aid, just wanted to let you know what a good time we're having, and we wish you were here." Then he laughed, gave the phone back to its owner, and went right on rocking. When he played "Small Town," he brought the house down, plain and simple.
The point is, Mellencamp is so much more than "Our Country," and he showed it on stage at Farm Aid. The farmers loved him, the drunk girls loved him, even the goth-punk-looking kid with long hair who was dragged there by his hippie parents loved him. And I'll bet Bob Costas would've loved him, too, if he hadn't had some important work to do as our nation's greatest culture emissary. Nobody crucifies The Who or The Rolling Stones or The Postal Service because their songs are used in crappy commercials--why crucify The Cougs?
PS. You would be surprised to know how hard it was to find those pictures of stereotypical Dave Matthews fans. Try google-imaging "frat boys" and "sloppy drunk girls" and see what comes up.
Friday, September 19, 2008
I was not like this until I stepped IN this house
Two episodes in and nobody’s even MENTIONED the thought that Kelly Anne might have some new Dr. 90210 enhancements? I’m talking about none other than the new RR/RW Challenge, that surprisingly, I can’t catch at all hours of the day. Perhaps MTV has enough shows now that I don’t have to watch Super Sweet Sixteen Remix Redux Uncensored rehash for the 12th time in one day (how dumb is this new show title: Top Pop Group. Did they get a bunch of first graders into a room and ask them to read Dr. Seuss out loud?)
However, I have some pretty dismaying news. This challenge sucks. It’s the antithesis to the hype of the RW:
The words are hushed (let's not get busted)
I really respect what my boy Willings had to say about the Josh Howard incident, but I'm inclined to see the issue through a different lens. I mean, what do we really know about Howard (aside from the fact that he's a fantasy basketball dynamo who can help you in virtually every category)?:
He is a dumbass.
He likes smoking that cali weed.
He didn't rep the national anthem at Allen Iverson's Celebrity Flag Football game.
Writers on virtually every sports site have been putting Howard on blast for his thoughtless remarks about the anthem, and deservedly so. However, my issue is that these writers are treating Howard's non-sequitur like it's his honors thesis on the economic modalities of the Southern colonies. People like Charley Rosen act as if Howard's five second blip on youtube was a treatise on race relations in the 21st century. But let's take Howard's comments for what they were: A stupid remark made by a stupid person.
This point is especially clear when you take into account the medium through which Howard is supposedly "disseminating" his message. He's mugging for some guy who's taping him on his LG Chocolate. Did Howard have the foresight to know that this guy would post the video on youtube? Probably Not. The only thing Howard is capable of planning ahead of time is what munchies to crack open after puffing some nuggets with his bois. I'm thinking funyuns and 2 liters of Cherry Vanilla Diet Dr. Pepper.
Does this lack of prescience excuse Howard's comments? Of course not. My point is merely that this was a random act of stupidity done primarily to be outrageous. As you know, Howard's are prone to hyperbole. How many times have you guys heard ME expound on Alexis Bledel's pixie charm (registered COAT), or deride some guy for having a light switch di-ack? This is the nature of male discourse--people say things that they only vaguely agree with just to make their friends laugh (granted, I mean everything I say about Bledel. She's the SOAT, HOAT and COAT all rolled into one). A spyda does what a spyda do. I think that the reactions to Howard's comments should be tempered accordingly. In the end, Howard's rebuke should be interpreted more like a line from someone on Chappelle's Show than an attempt at being a racial gadfly like Malcolm X.
He is a dumbass.
He likes smoking that cali weed.
He didn't rep the national anthem at Allen Iverson's Celebrity Flag Football game.
Writers on virtually every sports site have been putting Howard on blast for his thoughtless remarks about the anthem, and deservedly so. However, my issue is that these writers are treating Howard's non-sequitur like it's his honors thesis on the economic modalities of the Southern colonies. People like Charley Rosen act as if Howard's five second blip on youtube was a treatise on race relations in the 21st century. But let's take Howard's comments for what they were: A stupid remark made by a stupid person.
This point is especially clear when you take into account the medium through which Howard is supposedly "disseminating" his message. He's mugging for some guy who's taping him on his LG Chocolate. Did Howard have the foresight to know that this guy would post the video on youtube? Probably Not. The only thing Howard is capable of planning ahead of time is what munchies to crack open after puffing some nuggets with his bois. I'm thinking funyuns and 2 liters of Cherry Vanilla Diet Dr. Pepper.
Does this lack of prescience excuse Howard's comments? Of course not. My point is merely that this was a random act of stupidity done primarily to be outrageous. As you know, Howard's are prone to hyperbole. How many times have you guys heard ME expound on Alexis Bledel's pixie charm (registered COAT), or deride some guy for having a light switch di-ack? This is the nature of male discourse--people say things that they only vaguely agree with just to make their friends laugh (granted, I mean everything I say about Bledel. She's the SOAT, HOAT and COAT all rolled into one). A spyda does what a spyda do. I think that the reactions to Howard's comments should be tempered accordingly. In the end, Howard's rebuke should be interpreted more like a line from someone on Chappelle's Show than an attempt at being a racial gadfly like Malcolm X.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Meta Beef
I just wanted to tryout the new photoshop that I downloaded. A better header is coming....
LeBron and Grace?
"Under the table, LeBron's big-sneakered foot is underneath Maverick's. Their legs are touching, their expensive sneakers are canoodling. It is the ease of their friendship, of their closeness, that they don't even notice."
An innocuous line in Esquire's new feature (worth the time to read) about the aspiring Global Icon himself...or is it? To me, reading that line was like when Harvey Dent knew he had enough to slam the Chinese dude and all the mob bosses with a RICO indictment. As soon as I read that, I stopped the tape recorder. Gotcha 'Bron. It all made sense after that.
It now made sense that LeBron locked his so called "high school sweetheart" down when he can have any chick on the planet. Would a straight man choose this over this, or this? Let's be serious. Oh and if you think this post is another excuse to google image Megan Fox, well...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxNOCl7S7lU (embedding was disabled...rats)
And not only did LBJ wife up the first chick to slob his knob, there are absolutely NO rumors of him cavorting with any tasties. The only suspicious relationship he has is with Jay-Z. This could be because Lebron and his crew are so concerned with his image that they cover up scandals better than Blair Waldorf if she were running for president while on the Real World. Possible. It could also be that LeBron simply doesn't cheat because he is devoted to his first and one true love. Please.
Speaking of his crew, it now also makes sense why LeBron would fire Aaron Goodwin, one of the top powerbrokers in the game, in favor of his "friend" who didn't even graduate from college. Maverick Carter is clearly LeBron's Svengali. To put it simply Berry Gordy:Diana Ross Maverick Carter:LeBron James. It is well hidden to be sure, but nobody is perfect. Hence the discovery of the footsie. Sure it may be subconscious, but that's just the power of pure lust. It surfaces no matter how hard you try to keep it under raps.
That repression explains the whole Global Icon thing. I'm pretty sure LeBron isn't compensating for a small member, but he has an almost pathological desire to be the biggest and greatest entity in the history of entities. Now we know the driving force behind that. And I admire that. Having an alternative lifestyle should not hinder an athlete or celebrity from being the GOAT.
Let's not get it twisted, I see nothing wrong with this. A spida does what a spida do. I'm just glad all the puzzle pieces fit together in my mind.
An innocuous line in Esquire's new feature (worth the time to read) about the aspiring Global Icon himself...or is it? To me, reading that line was like when Harvey Dent knew he had enough to slam the Chinese dude and all the mob bosses with a RICO indictment. As soon as I read that, I stopped the tape recorder. Gotcha 'Bron. It all made sense after that.
It now made sense that LeBron locked his so called "high school sweetheart" down when he can have any chick on the planet. Would a straight man choose this over this, or this? Let's be serious. Oh and if you think this post is another excuse to google image Megan Fox, well...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxNOCl7S7lU (embedding was disabled...rats)
And not only did LBJ wife up the first chick to slob his knob, there are absolutely NO rumors of him cavorting with any tasties. The only suspicious relationship he has is with Jay-Z. This could be because Lebron and his crew are so concerned with his image that they cover up scandals better than Blair Waldorf if she were running for president while on the Real World. Possible. It could also be that LeBron simply doesn't cheat because he is devoted to his first and one true love. Please.
Speaking of his crew, it now also makes sense why LeBron would fire Aaron Goodwin, one of the top powerbrokers in the game, in favor of his "friend" who didn't even graduate from college. Maverick Carter is clearly LeBron's Svengali. To put it simply Berry Gordy:Diana Ross Maverick Carter:LeBron James. It is well hidden to be sure, but nobody is perfect. Hence the discovery of the footsie. Sure it may be subconscious, but that's just the power of pure lust. It surfaces no matter how hard you try to keep it under raps.
That repression explains the whole Global Icon thing. I'm pretty sure LeBron isn't compensating for a small member, but he has an almost pathological desire to be the biggest and greatest entity in the history of entities. Now we know the driving force behind that. And I admire that. Having an alternative lifestyle should not hinder an athlete or celebrity from being the GOAT.
Let's not get it twisted, I see nothing wrong with this. A spida does what a spida do. I'm just glad all the puzzle pieces fit together in my mind.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Drugs are cool, Josh Howard isn't
Last spring, we learned that Mavs forward Josh Howard enjoys a little of the sticky icky on occasion, and doesn't think it's a big deal. Now, I may have taken a rip or two in my time, so I'm not really in a position to hate on Howard for smoking weed. After all, if my seventh grade health class taught me anything, it's that smoking pot is cool and will make you popular. Plus, it's not as though he's the first NBA player to enjoy the fruits of mother nature.
But now Howard is making more headlines, and it isn't because he can smell colors or feel sounds. It's because he hates America. See for yourself. (Note: I haven't figured out how to embed a YouTube video. Here's the link. I'll fix this once I learn how to use a computer for something other than downloading porn.)
Seriously, Josh? Disrespecting the national anthem? Who do you think you are, Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf? For those of you who don't remember, Abdul-Rauf was a mediocre point guard for the Nuggets and Kings who was once traded for Lithuanian phenom Sarunas Marciulionis. Abdul-Rauf gained notoriety mostly for his refusal to stand during the Star-Spangled Banner because the flag was a "symbol of oppression." Or, to put it another way, Abdul-Rauf gained notoriety mostly for being a fego, another reason why he's being included in this blog.
Now, the great thing about America is that guys like Howard and Abdul-Rauf have the freedom to disrespect the country that has made them rich and famous. However, if I'm Barack Obama, I'm not jumping for joy over Josh Howard's endorsement. As if Obama doesn't have his hands full dealing with John McCain and Sarah Palin, now he has to distance himself from pot-smoking, freedom-hating hoopers. Howard can get high and write an entire dissertation about racism in America and the Wendy's dollar menu and why he's rated below this guy in NBA 2K9--just leave Obama out of it.
I have to say, I'm a little bit surprised about Howard's emergence as the NBA's newest loose cannon, liable to say whatever crazy shit pops into his weed-addled mind any time he is on camera. He should know better. I mean, he did to go Wake Forest, the same school that produce Tim Duncan, the least quotable athlete in the history of athletes and quotes.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
You wanna crown her? Then crown her ass!
Well, Denny, I'm not sure what you mean by that. But either way, whether you mean crowning Megan Fox as the new queen of the Jessica Alba Division or some kinky sexual act in the vane of the Frugal Chinaman (disregard the fegacious spelling in the link), I'm game.
Let me back up a second and give you some background on the JAD. I have named my own personal chick lists after the archetypes that made me start thinking about the topic in such a fashion. You got the Rachel McAdams division and the Jessica Alba division. Now you probably already know what I mean if you know me at all or have any traces of testosterone in your endocrine system. For readers slow on the uptake, the Rachel Div is the "wife me up" division and the Jalba Div is the "sex me up" division. This is not to say I wouldn't wanna lock down the Jalba or have a ravenous night with the Rach. In fact, crossovers are allowed and encouraged. The classification is based on the raw instincts that are elicited by the thought/sight of the subject. (You PUAs out there might recognize this as pair bonding vs the urge to f-close.)
Rachel remains on the top of her eponymous division despite not having completed any works relevant to me in the past 3 years. The reason for this is 3 fold. 1.) She hasn't done anything recently to dimish her status, like say getting pregnant, or the Herp from a certain Yankee Captain 2.) I saw Wedding Crashers for the 95th time pretty recently. 3.) The Notebook
Where Rachel remains a Rocky Marciano undefeated heavyweight champion type, Jessica Alba is more like Roy Jones Jr. Like Jones' domination of the light heavyweight division (he held all 7 belts from Feb '02 to May '05), Jalba was the long time undisputed champion of her own true division and perhaps GOAT (or HOAT, as Maktar might say). Jones also captured a lesser heavyweight belt against a lame opponent (John Ruiz) which is akin to Jalba's peak as number 3 in the Rachel division. Jessica also has her blemishes, which coupled with Fox's now meteoric rise has knocked her off the pedastal. Jones has his criticisms of weak opponents, 4 losses, allegations of taking Andro, and a connection to cock and dogfighting and Jalba has her aforementioned pregnancy and STD. Not to mention her blonde hair in the fantastic 4 creeping me out. Shades of RuPaul. Although don't get me wrong, Jessica Alba is like a combination of Bill Gates and Bruce Wayne and Ru would be like one of those dudes who goes through your trash looking for plastic bottles. For these reasons and others that I am not self aware enough to uncover, Jessica has unfortunately fallen off in recent years.
Which brings us to the winner....and NEW Champion of the Jessica Alba Division! Megan Fox! To what does she owe her ascent? Glad you asked. Exhibit A. She's ridiculously hot. Chicks that I talk to while I'm thinking about Megan Fox get hotter by mental diffusion(osmosis is for water, people). Now, like Mystery approaching a 10+ you may ask, "what makes her so special?" After all, beauty is everywhere. First there are her views on Nancy Botwin's cash crop. Rational thought = hot. She also claims to enjoy sex. A lot. That could be a publicity ploy (that same claim boosted Jalba's stock back in the day), but I'd like to think otherwise. And finally, the icing on the cake. You may have heard about Nikita, the stripper she fell in love with. I don't think that takes further explanation. T-Pain is a fine man to emulate, let's just hope she doesn't switch r&b role models and start peeing on 14 year olds.
(Note: In "researching" this post I came across plenty of evidence to contradict that Jessica Alba isn't the hottest chick on the planet. But, they are old pictures. Old pictures might have Britney Spears at number 1. These lists are for now, and right now Fox wins.)
Let me back up a second and give you some background on the JAD. I have named my own personal chick lists after the archetypes that made me start thinking about the topic in such a fashion. You got the Rachel McAdams division and the Jessica Alba division. Now you probably already know what I mean if you know me at all or have any traces of testosterone in your endocrine system. For readers slow on the uptake, the Rachel Div is the "wife me up" division and the Jalba Div is the "sex me up" division. This is not to say I wouldn't wanna lock down the Jalba or have a ravenous night with the Rach. In fact, crossovers are allowed and encouraged. The classification is based on the raw instincts that are elicited by the thought/sight of the subject. (You PUAs out there might recognize this as pair bonding vs the urge to f-close.)
Rachel remains on the top of her eponymous division despite not having completed any works relevant to me in the past 3 years. The reason for this is 3 fold. 1.) She hasn't done anything recently to dimish her status, like say getting pregnant, or the Herp from a certain Yankee Captain 2.) I saw Wedding Crashers for the 95th time pretty recently. 3.) The Notebook
Where Rachel remains a Rocky Marciano undefeated heavyweight champion type, Jessica Alba is more like Roy Jones Jr. Like Jones' domination of the light heavyweight division (he held all 7 belts from Feb '02 to May '05), Jalba was the long time undisputed champion of her own true division and perhaps GOAT (or HOAT, as Maktar might say). Jones also captured a lesser heavyweight belt against a lame opponent (John Ruiz) which is akin to Jalba's peak as number 3 in the Rachel division. Jessica also has her blemishes, which coupled with Fox's now meteoric rise has knocked her off the pedastal. Jones has his criticisms of weak opponents, 4 losses, allegations of taking Andro, and a connection to cock and dogfighting and Jalba has her aforementioned pregnancy and STD. Not to mention her blonde hair in the fantastic 4 creeping me out. Shades of RuPaul. Although don't get me wrong, Jessica Alba is like a combination of Bill Gates and Bruce Wayne and Ru would be like one of those dudes who goes through your trash looking for plastic bottles. For these reasons and others that I am not self aware enough to uncover, Jessica has unfortunately fallen off in recent years.
Which brings us to the winner....and NEW Champion of the Jessica Alba Division! Megan Fox! To what does she owe her ascent? Glad you asked. Exhibit A. She's ridiculously hot. Chicks that I talk to while I'm thinking about Megan Fox get hotter by mental diffusion(osmosis is for water, people). Now, like Mystery approaching a 10+ you may ask, "what makes her so special?" After all, beauty is everywhere. First there are her views on Nancy Botwin's cash crop. Rational thought = hot. She also claims to enjoy sex. A lot. That could be a publicity ploy (that same claim boosted Jalba's stock back in the day), but I'd like to think otherwise. And finally, the icing on the cake. You may have heard about Nikita, the stripper she fell in love with. I don't think that takes further explanation. T-Pain is a fine man to emulate, let's just hope she doesn't switch r&b role models and start peeing on 14 year olds.
(Note: In "researching" this post I came across plenty of evidence to contradict that Jessica Alba isn't the hottest chick on the planet. But, they are old pictures. Old pictures might have Britney Spears at number 1. These lists are for now, and right now Fox wins.)
Monday, September 15, 2008
So Long, So Long (Possibly NSFW)
The Dashboard Confessional streak lives on....
I was going to write a post in honor of Michael Phelp's appearance on SNL--proposing the top 10 athletes who I'd rather watch host the show. But a funny thing happened in compiling the list. I realized that, of my top 10, the majority of my choices were basketball big men. I think that we can all agree that we'd rather see the likes of Shaq, Dwight Howard, Big Baby, Greg Oden, and Tim "Xanax" Duncan doing their best Joe Piscopo impressions. This doesn't even take into account retired personalities like Georghe Muresan and Shawn "Sacrificial Lamb" Bradley who would surely bring the show back to its previous apex. Ok, so I was joking about the last three...but still--there IS a real and statistically significant correlation between being 6'9" and above and commanding a boyishly charming sense of humor.
So what is the origin of this relationship? Why are these otherwise gawky maladroits so, for lack of a better word, so cool? Some may point to the precedent set by Kareem Abdul Jabbar in Airplane as establishing the archetype of the confident, funny big guy. But I would argue that this traces back to something more fundamental. Something so inherent that even foreign born bigs like Who wants to Sex Mutombo fall somewhere between Michael Richards (sans being a racist bastard) and Seth Rogan on the comedy scale. Even Desgana Diop is a natural:
What is this elusive quality that I am speaking of? Well let's just say that if there's any type of reverse causality, my boys Peter North and Lex Steele should be taking money shots with Manu and Eva Longoria next season. Yes, I'm talking about dick size.
I don't know how to make footnotes in blogspot, but this article was certainly instrumental in the formation of this argument. My contention is one part Albert Camus, one part Rocco Siffredi. Once these descendents of Diggler realize that they have snake cocks, they are free to act however they damn well please. No matter how much of an ass they make of themselves, these heirs of (John) Holmes can always be consoled by the fact that they have a pringles can in their pants. The constant penile reassurance allows the big men to take on bigger, more boisterous personalities with aplomb, leading to phenomenon like the dance off at the all-star contest last year.
Imagine that you were the feature in this commercial:
Imagine that the name of the commercial was "Godzilla Penis". You're saying that you wouldn't act like a smug bastard and a cocky piece of shit at the same time?
You may be wondering, "If being funny is just based on size, then why don't I see Gilbert Brown on Whose Line is it Anyway?" Well for one, I'm pretty sure that he's too busy inhaling a whole pan of mac-n-cheese, oh wait, that's Lendale White. Additionally, I'll submit this (NSFW) as empirical evidence that football players don't necessarily have massive di-acks.
Why all of this? Why would I discuss large genitalia in such detail? I think it's largely an orientalistic admiration of the exotic. Much like jenkem addicts and people who actually date their own race, I'm just curious to see how the other side lives.
I was going to write a post in honor of Michael Phelp's appearance on SNL--proposing the top 10 athletes who I'd rather watch host the show. But a funny thing happened in compiling the list. I realized that, of my top 10, the majority of my choices were basketball big men. I think that we can all agree that we'd rather see the likes of Shaq, Dwight Howard, Big Baby, Greg Oden, and Tim "Xanax" Duncan doing their best Joe Piscopo impressions. This doesn't even take into account retired personalities like Georghe Muresan and Shawn "Sacrificial Lamb" Bradley who would surely bring the show back to its previous apex. Ok, so I was joking about the last three...but still--there IS a real and statistically significant correlation between being 6'9" and above and commanding a boyishly charming sense of humor.
So what is the origin of this relationship? Why are these otherwise gawky maladroits so, for lack of a better word, so cool? Some may point to the precedent set by Kareem Abdul Jabbar in Airplane as establishing the archetype of the confident, funny big guy. But I would argue that this traces back to something more fundamental. Something so inherent that even foreign born bigs like Who wants to Sex Mutombo fall somewhere between Michael Richards (sans being a racist bastard) and Seth Rogan on the comedy scale. Even Desgana Diop is a natural:
What is this elusive quality that I am speaking of? Well let's just say that if there's any type of reverse causality, my boys Peter North and Lex Steele should be taking money shots with Manu and Eva Longoria next season. Yes, I'm talking about dick size.
I don't know how to make footnotes in blogspot, but this article was certainly instrumental in the formation of this argument. My contention is one part Albert Camus, one part Rocco Siffredi. Once these descendents of Diggler realize that they have snake cocks, they are free to act however they damn well please. No matter how much of an ass they make of themselves, these heirs of (John) Holmes can always be consoled by the fact that they have a pringles can in their pants. The constant penile reassurance allows the big men to take on bigger, more boisterous personalities with aplomb, leading to phenomenon like the dance off at the all-star contest last year.
Imagine that you were the feature in this commercial:
Imagine that the name of the commercial was "Godzilla Penis". You're saying that you wouldn't act like a smug bastard and a cocky piece of shit at the same time?
You may be wondering, "If being funny is just based on size, then why don't I see Gilbert Brown on Whose Line is it Anyway?" Well for one, I'm pretty sure that he's too busy inhaling a whole pan of mac-n-cheese, oh wait, that's Lendale White. Additionally, I'll submit this (NSFW) as empirical evidence that football players don't necessarily have massive di-acks.
Why all of this? Why would I discuss large genitalia in such detail? I think it's largely an orientalistic admiration of the exotic. Much like jenkem addicts and people who actually date their own race, I'm just curious to see how the other side lives.
I was not like this until I stepped IN this place
Two episodes in and nobody’s even MENTIONED the thought that Kelly Anne might have some new Dr. 90210 enhancements? I’m talking about none other than the new RR/RW Challenge, that surprisingly, I can’t catch at all hours of the day. Perhaps MTV has enough shows now that I don’t have to watch Super Sweet Sixteen Remix Redux Uncensored rehash for the 12th time in one day (how dumb is this new show title: Top Pop Group. Did they get a bunch of first graders into a room and ask them to read Dr. Seuss out loud?)
However, I have some pretty dismaying news. This challenge sucks. It’s the antithesis to the hype of the RW:
When all is said and done, I hate this show, but I will continue to watch it, because that's what Real World does to you, make you a hungering, devouring, slobbering, dramaslut fiend. Maybe those that have seen the Island might disagree with its quality, but this remains true: Bad Boys (and Bad Boys II) is the best movie Will Smith has ever made.
Delonte West is High on Life
The Stephon Marbury Award for being an inexplicably absurd interview subject goes to Delonte West. I wonder if he was talking so slow because he was choosing his words carefully or because he was actually high. It makes me very curious about a)what the man does on a daily basis b) he's going to spend his new contract constructing a tunnel system under whatever property he owns.
http://sports.yahoo.com/nba/blog/ball_dont_lie/post/YouTube-of-the-Year-revisted-Delonte-West-unc?urn=nba,107760
http://sports.yahoo.com/nba/blog/ball_dont_lie/post/YouTube-of-the-Year-revisted-Delonte-West-unc?urn=nba,107760
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to GEICO!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Best Deceptions
Recently, I had a conversation with Harsh about IBM and how they track performance of their consultants. Apparently, the poindexters at the Big Blue monolith have developed a proprietary metric as a means to evaluate employees. What exactly goes into this hell broth is somewhat of a mystery to me, though surely it involves, some permutation of assessments by superiors, time spent training, and dick (or crocus) size. This is exciting because the economist in me loves creating formulas to predict the behavior of something more abstract, like the QB rating, the NIKE Sparq rating to measure athletic potential in high school prospects, or Raven Symone's weight fluctuations.
Unfortunately, the Sparq rating's track record is somewhat spotty. For every Brandan Wright that it predicts dead on, there's always a Von Wafer or three that destroy its legitimacy. This comes in equal parts because of imperfections in the formula itself, as well as motivational and mental variations in the athletes. While we can never fully eliminate the human variable, think of how powerful any of these measures would be, if perfectly calibrated. Imagine being able to look at this one number and pick out the perfect QB for your system from a crowd of Quincy Carter wannabes. I know it's all a pipe dream, but it's made me think of metrics that I can develop to employ when I get in arguments with my friends.
My most advanced concept so far is the 3:16 ratio. In truth, it may prove to be somewhat esoteric for you plebeians, but I'll humor you guys and give you a simplified version:
You guys may or may not realize it, but I am still somewhat of a wrestling fan. Really, when I say "fan" I mean that I'd be willing to pay two-week's paycheck to go to WWE: Survivor Series this November. By "fan" I mean that I woke up at 9:00 on a Saturday morning to buy tickets for said Survivor Series, only to be rebuked. By "fan" I mean that it's still real to me, damnit.
To this end, I've developed the 3:16 ratio as an objective means to settle debates about who's a better wrestler.
Methodology:
My first assumption is the (controversial) contention that Stone Cold Steve Austin is the best wrestler of all time (Stone_Cold = 1). Having established this, I then evaluate all other wrestlers as a function of how well they interact with Stone Cold. The dummy variable for this is, of course, how well they take the most devasating bump in the Wrestling Entertainment business--the mythical Stone Cold Stunner.
With this, a four-tiered hierarchy is established:
1. The Cindi Lauper Division:
Prototype: Donald Trump
You see it every year. Some has-been quasi celebrity attempts to capitalize upon their name recognition by wrestling at some Pay-Per-View. In its nascent stages, this phenomenon was promising with three of the baddest men on the planet (BMOP)--ever--entering the squared circle: Mr. T at Wrestlemania I, Mike Tyson at Wrestlemania XIV, and Dennis Rodman at WCW's Bash at the Beach. In recent years, however, we've seen jobbers like Pete "OJ's innocent, but I'm not" Rose wrestling, and unfortunately, it seems like this trend is here to stay.
The most embarassing of these attempts was Donald Trump's "hair vs. hair" match against Mr. McMahon. Regardless of how shitty the actual match was, the highlight was supposed to be Stone Cold giving the pouting one a stunner. What did we actually get? Mr. Trump pussy sipping a can of Bud Light like me at ATO freshman year and a bump that Omrosa could have sold better. Judge for yourself:
PUSSY.
2. The Jericho Stratum:
Prototype: Goldberg
This is where the vast majority of wrestlers fall. Most have a decent idea of how to take the Stunner bump, but show little creativity in how they perform it. *Yawn*.
Massive deductions for not selling the kick to the ballsiac (at least act like your stomach really hurts, or something), and the lack of explosiveness after getting his jaw crushed by Stone Cold's massive shoulder muscles.
3. The Hall Effect
Prototype: Scott Hall
Full Disclosure: I don't know exactly how to treat this subset--wrestlers who oversold the stunner. In one way, it's kind of cool to imagine the move being akin to a reverse Curb Stomp ( I LOVE the eyebrows when he gets arrested), pummeling the victim's brain stem into the dust. However, when people go over the top, it definitely hurts the legitimacy of the sport (yes I meant to say sport). Does anyone actually think that hitting your chin to someone's shoulder will actually cause you to do a reverse two and a half pike? Yeah I didn't think so. Then what the hell are you doing, Mr. Hall?
It's an 8 second video, and he's airborne for 6 seconds of it. At least react in a way that's vaguely realistic, like spitting out some chiclets soaked in catsup. The integrity of the game depends on it.
4. The Dwayne-Johnson Singularity
Prototype: The Great One
When you think back to your days as a wrestling fan, like a week ago, the one definitive rivalry is almost certainly the Rock/Austin feud. Personally, it's a toss-up between the two for the title of BMOP. This rivalry was memorable not only because you had the two biggest stars clashing at the height of their careers, but also because the two sold each other's moves better than anyone else. Much like the Cowboys and Redskins, Sooners and Longhorns, or LC and Heidi, these two helped elevate each other to reach greater heights. This is, by my account, the greatest stunner of all time:
Your thoughts? You have to appreciate how the Rock's spine turns into a slinky rolling down a staircase. Not only is he the most electrifying man in sports entertainment, but he's also the most electrifying man at getting his ass kicked. You can actually hear Jerry Lawler chuckle at how ridiculous his bump is. Still, shit like this makes JR have an aneurysm, and I think we're all better people for it. No one is too good for this bump; it is better than all of us.
Unfortunately, the Sparq rating's track record is somewhat spotty. For every Brandan Wright that it predicts dead on, there's always a Von Wafer or three that destroy its legitimacy. This comes in equal parts because of imperfections in the formula itself, as well as motivational and mental variations in the athletes. While we can never fully eliminate the human variable, think of how powerful any of these measures would be, if perfectly calibrated. Imagine being able to look at this one number and pick out the perfect QB for your system from a crowd of Quincy Carter wannabes. I know it's all a pipe dream, but it's made me think of metrics that I can develop to employ when I get in arguments with my friends.
My most advanced concept so far is the 3:16 ratio. In truth, it may prove to be somewhat esoteric for you plebeians, but I'll humor you guys and give you a simplified version:
You guys may or may not realize it, but I am still somewhat of a wrestling fan. Really, when I say "fan" I mean that I'd be willing to pay two-week's paycheck to go to WWE: Survivor Series this November. By "fan" I mean that I woke up at 9:00 on a Saturday morning to buy tickets for said Survivor Series, only to be rebuked. By "fan" I mean that it's still real to me, damnit.
To this end, I've developed the 3:16 ratio as an objective means to settle debates about who's a better wrestler.
Methodology:
My first assumption is the (controversial) contention that Stone Cold Steve Austin is the best wrestler of all time (Stone_Cold = 1). Having established this, I then evaluate all other wrestlers as a function of how well they interact with Stone Cold. The dummy variable for this is, of course, how well they take the most devasating bump in the Wrestling Entertainment business--the mythical Stone Cold Stunner.
With this, a four-tiered hierarchy is established:
1. The Cindi Lauper Division:
Prototype: Donald Trump
You see it every year. Some has-been quasi celebrity attempts to capitalize upon their name recognition by wrestling at some Pay-Per-View. In its nascent stages, this phenomenon was promising with three of the baddest men on the planet (BMOP)--ever--entering the squared circle: Mr. T at Wrestlemania I, Mike Tyson at Wrestlemania XIV, and Dennis Rodman at WCW's Bash at the Beach. In recent years, however, we've seen jobbers like Pete "OJ's innocent, but I'm not" Rose wrestling, and unfortunately, it seems like this trend is here to stay.
The most embarassing of these attempts was Donald Trump's "hair vs. hair" match against Mr. McMahon. Regardless of how shitty the actual match was, the highlight was supposed to be Stone Cold giving the pouting one a stunner. What did we actually get? Mr. Trump pussy sipping a can of Bud Light like me at ATO freshman year and a bump that Omrosa could have sold better. Judge for yourself:
PUSSY.
2. The Jericho Stratum:
Prototype: Goldberg
This is where the vast majority of wrestlers fall. Most have a decent idea of how to take the Stunner bump, but show little creativity in how they perform it. *Yawn*.
Massive deductions for not selling the kick to the ballsiac (at least act like your stomach really hurts, or something), and the lack of explosiveness after getting his jaw crushed by Stone Cold's massive shoulder muscles.
3. The Hall Effect
Prototype: Scott Hall
Full Disclosure: I don't know exactly how to treat this subset--wrestlers who oversold the stunner. In one way, it's kind of cool to imagine the move being akin to a reverse Curb Stomp ( I LOVE the eyebrows when he gets arrested), pummeling the victim's brain stem into the dust. However, when people go over the top, it definitely hurts the legitimacy of the sport (yes I meant to say sport). Does anyone actually think that hitting your chin to someone's shoulder will actually cause you to do a reverse two and a half pike? Yeah I didn't think so. Then what the hell are you doing, Mr. Hall?
It's an 8 second video, and he's airborne for 6 seconds of it. At least react in a way that's vaguely realistic, like spitting out some chiclets soaked in catsup. The integrity of the game depends on it.
4. The Dwayne-Johnson Singularity
Prototype: The Great One
When you think back to your days as a wrestling fan, like a week ago, the one definitive rivalry is almost certainly the Rock/Austin feud. Personally, it's a toss-up between the two for the title of BMOP. This rivalry was memorable not only because you had the two biggest stars clashing at the height of their careers, but also because the two sold each other's moves better than anyone else. Much like the Cowboys and Redskins, Sooners and Longhorns, or LC and Heidi, these two helped elevate each other to reach greater heights. This is, by my account, the greatest stunner of all time:
Your thoughts? You have to appreciate how the Rock's spine turns into a slinky rolling down a staircase. Not only is he the most electrifying man in sports entertainment, but he's also the most electrifying man at getting his ass kicked. You can actually hear Jerry Lawler chuckle at how ridiculous his bump is. Still, shit like this makes JR have an aneurysm, and I think we're all better people for it. No one is too good for this bump; it is better than all of us.
Musical Recommendation of the Month
This month's MROTM is brought to you by Chork. It's not quite chicken, it's not quite pork. It's Chork.
Ladies and Gentlemen.....Kidz in the Hall
Their song always plays on Pandora and it's a banger. The opening lines of Naledge's verse are my favorite. "It's the flicker of the year. Flicker on my ear make a hater shed a tear." It just sounds really cool when he says it. Also the guys seem pretty cool. They went to Penn and have a lot of stuff about Obama on the internet. I'm a sucker for artists with scholastic pedigrees.
Music vid:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZsYL6MGqDss
Segment about them going back for Penn spring fling:
http://therapup.uproxx.com/2008/09/kidz-in-the-hall-on-current-tv-college-survival-guide-101.html
Bio:
http://www.pandora.com/music/artist/kidz+in+hall
Obama stuff:
(talking about the song)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJWNW3g6Blo
(the song)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjtT1FAlkd0
Ladies and Gentlemen.....Kidz in the Hall
Their song always plays on Pandora and it's a banger. The opening lines of Naledge's verse are my favorite. "It's the flicker of the year. Flicker on my ear make a hater shed a tear." It just sounds really cool when he says it. Also the guys seem pretty cool. They went to Penn and have a lot of stuff about Obama on the internet. I'm a sucker for artists with scholastic pedigrees.
Music vid:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZsYL6MGqDss
Segment about them going back for Penn spring fling:
http://therapup.uproxx.com/2008/09/kidz-in-the-hall-on-current-tv-college-survival-guide-101.html
Bio:
http://www.pandora.com/music/artist/kidz+in+hall
Obama stuff:
(talking about the song)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJWNW3g6Blo
(the song)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjtT1FAlkd0
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Wendy Peffercorn
I'm gonna go ahead and play life guard right now. DO NOT CLICK ON THE LINK IN CHAN'S POST when he starts talking about gay porn. He has outdone himself and actually linked to an erect penis. This shit will get you fired at work. Repeat: NSFW.
We need a blog banner. Any ideas?
We need a blog banner. Any ideas?
At least I won't be unoriginal
So I was going to get started on this last night, but sadly my attention shifted towards a mixture of pitiful reruns of the VMA's (you were right Howie), America's Got Talent, and the Santa Clause 3. It really baffles me how they got to a 3rd one. Who approves this shit? No JTT, no Tool Time hottie, not even Kid Rock's dwarf pal Joe C wearing jingle bells. C'mon Tim Allen, throw me a frickin' bone. Give me Kardashian + Ray Jay's licorice candy cane + Haley Joel Osment = Santa Clause 4 - I Saw Mommy bangbroing Santa Clause.
Before I get started, here's a few things I wanted to get out of the way:
- I'm really excited for the Heroes series premiere. If you guys have never seen Heroes, this is a good reason to get started.
- Alex Smith is going on the IR for a broken shoulder, and this has affected exactly zero fantasy teams this year
- You can turn on the Spike channel at any given moment, and there is a 90% chance it's gonna be CSI
- I think I'm the last of the OHHH EIGHT allstars who has failed to acquire some source of income, whether that be eating free bagels on Casual Fridays or slobbering over Mike Lewis' cock in hopes of dollar bills cumming out. I fear my rejection rate is reaching Matt Cohen-esque numbers. I got the goods, but I'm missing the game.
ok NOW for the gayest thing that will ever be on this blog. So recently I was shown a certain video from a gay friend. It was a porno. It was kinda gay. It was a gay porn. But it wasn't just any gay porn oh no. I dunno if some of you know this kid, but Christopher LaCross, more aptly named Topher, went to Tufts, was part of Wilderness, and was quite frankly, part of our lives. By now you're already hating me for the link, but at least you didn't have to see the smegma particles up close and personal. My notions of a meathead douchbag was all changed after I was shown a video of him. Apparently he was paid to participate in a solo session, involving mostly his hand and his genitals. While I don't necessarily condone shoving oblong glass objects into your anus, and then using your own jizz as lubricant, I pose this question: what exactly would it take for you to do a homosexual porno? Millions of dollars? Free gas for life? 5 minutes with Erin Andrews? I'm jobless and the market isn't looking good, so don't think it hasn't crossed my mind...I used to sit behind this kid in Physics class. He's a premed and will one day be treating your herniated disks, or giving you Tommy John surgery. He also loves dildos up his butt. You stew on that for a bit.
Let's just end this on a heterosexual note, and I'll leave you with Michelle Hunziker, my new internet lust interest. Man, I have too much free time.
Before I get started, here's a few things I wanted to get out of the way:
- I'm really excited for the Heroes series premiere. If you guys have never seen Heroes, this is a good reason to get started.
- Alex Smith is going on the IR for a broken shoulder, and this has affected exactly zero fantasy teams this year
- You can turn on the Spike channel at any given moment, and there is a 90% chance it's gonna be CSI
- I think I'm the last of the OHHH EIGHT allstars who has failed to acquire some source of income, whether that be eating free bagels on Casual Fridays or slobbering over Mike Lewis' cock in hopes of dollar bills cumming out. I fear my rejection rate is reaching Matt Cohen-esque numbers. I got the goods, but I'm missing the game.
ok NOW for the gayest thing that will ever be on this blog. So recently I was shown a certain video from a gay friend. It was a porno. It was kinda gay. It was a gay porn. But it wasn't just any gay porn oh no. I dunno if some of you know this kid, but Christopher LaCross, more aptly named Topher, went to Tufts, was part of Wilderness, and was quite frankly, part of our lives. By now you're already hating me for the link, but at least you didn't have to see the smegma particles up close and personal. My notions of a meathead douchbag was all changed after I was shown a video of him. Apparently he was paid to participate in a solo session, involving mostly his hand and his genitals. While I don't necessarily condone shoving oblong glass objects into your anus, and then using your own jizz as lubricant, I pose this question: what exactly would it take for you to do a homosexual porno? Millions of dollars? Free gas for life? 5 minutes with Erin Andrews? I'm jobless and the market isn't looking good, so don't think it hasn't crossed my mind...I used to sit behind this kid in Physics class. He's a premed and will one day be treating your herniated disks, or giving you Tommy John surgery. He also loves dildos up his butt. You stew on that for a bit.
Let's just end this on a heterosexual note, and I'll leave you with Michelle Hunziker, my new internet lust interest. Man, I have too much free time.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
The Memories Will Fade
I've decided that ever post I write is going to take its title from a Dashboard Confessional lyrics. We'll see how long this lasts until I change my username to "Fegrodesiac".
The Memories Will Fade
I've decided that ever post I write is going to take its title from a Dashboard Confessional lyric. We'll see how long this lasts until I change my username to "Fegrodesiac".
I don't know if you guys realized it, but the MTV video music awards were held last Sunday in what appeared to be the Manhattan Jewish Community Center's grand ballroom. No seriously, did anyone actually watch the VMA's? I couldn't believe how scaled down this year's version was. Gone are the heady days of Fred Durst/X-tina Aguilera duets, Eminem giving Triumph the Insult Comic Dog the Rock Bottom, and Marilyn Manson trotting around like an androgynous LeeLoo from the Fifth Element. Instead, we were treated with the friggin' JoBros channeling Hanson, a host who bore a disturbing similarity to Boy George, and a patently unfunny opener featuring Baby Mama Spears and Jonah Hill. Even the venue was subpar--falling somewhere in between the BET awards and the Glass Slipper's center stage.
My point is, it's really sad to see things that used to mean so much to you flounder. I don't know how much of this is due to the fact that I'm like 85% of an adult now and I can't appreciate MTV anymore, and how much of it is just lack of effort on their part. What is clear to me is that the VMA's just aren't appointment television anymore. Riddle me this: Outside of Britney being all coked up and doped up last year, when's the last time the VMA's left you with something to talk about the next day? I would go as far back as 1999 when Voletta Wallace accepted a posthumous award for the Notorious one, and yelled, "Big up to Brooklyn". There was nary a dry eye in the house.
I'm talking about moments like this one from the '97 VMA's:
To me, this is the VMA's at its apex. Every award ceremony should have a moment like this--an unforgettable, singular moment that must be seen live to be enjoyed completely. This performance was equal parts heartwarming tribute, perfect musical syzygy, and Puff Daddy dancing around like a cocky asshole.
This may be upsetting to some, but I've thought of a couple other cultural institutions from my childhood that have fallen by the wayside. It may be depressing to think about the decline of the formitive events of our adolescence, but gather 'round, pour a 40 on the curb for your homies, and let's try to remember the good times:
The NBA on NBC:
Who can forget waking up early on Sunday mornings to this music and scrambling downstairs to watch Greg Kite and his Orlando Magic take on the resurgent Mt. Mutombo and his Denver (Poop) Nuggets. I think several factors converged to make this the best basketball coverage of all time:
1. The theme song was perfect. You start off with the majestic horn section while the NBC logo is drawn on a technicolor etch-a-sketch. This leads directly to that funky guitar groove that I always tried to imitate, playing air slap-bass like I was Flea. Finally, that nice mellow background that corresponded with helicoptor shots of the arena. Simply a tour-de-force. We saw faint glimpses of a return when NBC dusted off John Tesh's Roundball Rock for their coverage of Olympic basketball, but this lasted mere weeks.
2. Production Values:
Cultural allusions to in an opening montage? Pretty sweet. The best we can do now is constant plugs on TNT for "the closer", and Charles Barkley saying, "You'se a knucklehead" every 5 minutes.
3. At this time, you had (arguably) the best team of all time (da Bulls), the best player of all time (Rodman), and the best coach of all time (the Zen Master) all under one roof. Being the somewhat savvy business people that they were, NBC scheduled most of their Sunday games to be Bulls vs. some iteration of the Knicks/Pacers/Suns. (I realize that the numbers are juiced because the Bulls were always in the playoffs, but the disparity existed nonetheless.) Now, I don't have the up to date statistics, but I want to say 97% of their games featured the Bulls and Jordan doing something sweet. Be it the flu game, the shrug, or doing shit like this:
Of course, you may say that basketball's back--that we're experiencing a renaissance of talent and offensive creativity that makes the game fun to watch again. And I agree with you. However, until we can reconcile the game with its rightful intro music, it'll never be the same.
TGIF:
I'll admit it--I didn't go out until Sophomore year of high school. Do you know why? Because on Friday nights, instead of trying to make a play on that cute adopted Filipino girl from school, I was too caught up in the travails of Carl Winslow and that darn, unpredictable Urkel Bot. To make a middle schooler ignore his primal urges to mate with one of his own--that's some pretty potent stuff.
At its pinnacle, TGIF boasted a lineup of Family Matters, Step-By-Step, Boy Meets World, AND Hanging with Mr. Cooper. Think of how many cultural icons were made during those 2 hours ever week. It's easy to cite Urkel and Pheeny and the other marquee names from those shows. But these casts also had surprising depth. Like Mark, that poindexter kid from Step-By-Step who I wanted to break over my knee. Or that Vietnamese basketball player in Hanging with Mr. Cooper who may or may not have been Rufio. Edit: On closer examination, he definitely was--Count it!.
OK, so maybe these shows were a little one dimensional, and relied a little too heavily on catch phrase spewing drones (Jaleel, I'm looking your way), but this was my fucking life, man. Watching Boy Meets World, who didn't think their life was going to turn out like this:
What, you didn't think you were going to marry that slightly chubby girl that you've grown up with and always loved? That you were going to spend every day of their entire life with the same 4 people? Or that there weren't Bulk and Skull wannabe's like Frankie Stechino and Joey the rat lurking around every corner of your high school? Obviously you did. You bought into it wholeheartedly, or else the gasps heard when Topanga broke up with Cory couldn't be so fucking audible:
I love this clip because I can imagine all the tweeny girls that were absoultely SHATTERED by this news. Regardless, the fact of the matter is that these shows meant something. Now ABC's showing "I made out with a Japanese Game Show host" or whatever the hell on Friday nights.
I guess I'm just slightly worried because these things were the foundations of our collective personalities in high school. Once events like the VMA's and TGIF start to collapse, how else are we supposed to relate to each other? Through compassion and actual intimate conversation? Unlikely. Maybe I can stay ahead of the curve and bone up on my Slamball knowledge so I can shoot the shit with some Gen Z'ers.
I don't know if you guys realized it, but the MTV video music awards were held last Sunday in what appeared to be the Manhattan Jewish Community Center's grand ballroom. No seriously, did anyone actually watch the VMA's? I couldn't believe how scaled down this year's version was. Gone are the heady days of Fred Durst/X-tina Aguilera duets, Eminem giving Triumph the Insult Comic Dog the Rock Bottom, and Marilyn Manson trotting around like an androgynous LeeLoo from the Fifth Element. Instead, we were treated with the friggin' JoBros channeling Hanson, a host who bore a disturbing similarity to Boy George, and a patently unfunny opener featuring Baby Mama Spears and Jonah Hill. Even the venue was subpar--falling somewhere in between the BET awards and the Glass Slipper's center stage.
My point is, it's really sad to see things that used to mean so much to you flounder. I don't know how much of this is due to the fact that I'm like 85% of an adult now and I can't appreciate MTV anymore, and how much of it is just lack of effort on their part. What is clear to me is that the VMA's just aren't appointment television anymore. Riddle me this: Outside of Britney being all coked up and doped up last year, when's the last time the VMA's left you with something to talk about the next day? I would go as far back as 1999 when Voletta Wallace accepted a posthumous award for the Notorious one, and yelled, "Big up to Brooklyn". There was nary a dry eye in the house.
I'm talking about moments like this one from the '97 VMA's:
To me, this is the VMA's at its apex. Every award ceremony should have a moment like this--an unforgettable, singular moment that must be seen live to be enjoyed completely. This performance was equal parts heartwarming tribute, perfect musical syzygy, and Puff Daddy dancing around like a cocky asshole.
This may be upsetting to some, but I've thought of a couple other cultural institutions from my childhood that have fallen by the wayside. It may be depressing to think about the decline of the formitive events of our adolescence, but gather 'round, pour a 40 on the curb for your homies, and let's try to remember the good times:
The NBA on NBC:
Who can forget waking up early on Sunday mornings to this music and scrambling downstairs to watch Greg Kite and his Orlando Magic take on the resurgent Mt. Mutombo and his Denver (Poop) Nuggets. I think several factors converged to make this the best basketball coverage of all time:
1. The theme song was perfect. You start off with the majestic horn section while the NBC logo is drawn on a technicolor etch-a-sketch. This leads directly to that funky guitar groove that I always tried to imitate, playing air slap-bass like I was Flea. Finally, that nice mellow background that corresponded with helicoptor shots of the arena. Simply a tour-de-force. We saw faint glimpses of a return when NBC dusted off John Tesh's Roundball Rock for their coverage of Olympic basketball, but this lasted mere weeks.
2. Production Values:
Cultural allusions to in an opening montage? Pretty sweet. The best we can do now is constant plugs on TNT for "the closer", and Charles Barkley saying, "You'se a knucklehead" every 5 minutes.
3. At this time, you had (arguably) the best team of all time (da Bulls), the best player of all time (Rodman), and the best coach of all time (the Zen Master) all under one roof. Being the somewhat savvy business people that they were, NBC scheduled most of their Sunday games to be Bulls vs. some iteration of the Knicks/Pacers/Suns. (I realize that the numbers are juiced because the Bulls were always in the playoffs, but the disparity existed nonetheless.) Now, I don't have the up to date statistics, but I want to say 97% of their games featured the Bulls and Jordan doing something sweet. Be it the flu game, the shrug, or doing shit like this:
Of course, you may say that basketball's back--that we're experiencing a renaissance of talent and offensive creativity that makes the game fun to watch again. And I agree with you. However, until we can reconcile the game with its rightful intro music, it'll never be the same.
TGIF:
I'll admit it--I didn't go out until Sophomore year of high school. Do you know why? Because on Friday nights, instead of trying to make a play on that cute adopted Filipino girl from school, I was too caught up in the travails of Carl Winslow and that darn, unpredictable Urkel Bot. To make a middle schooler ignore his primal urges to mate with one of his own--that's some pretty potent stuff.
At its pinnacle, TGIF boasted a lineup of Family Matters, Step-By-Step, Boy Meets World, AND Hanging with Mr. Cooper. Think of how many cultural icons were made during those 2 hours ever week. It's easy to cite Urkel and Pheeny and the other marquee names from those shows. But these casts also had surprising depth. Like Mark, that poindexter kid from Step-By-Step who I wanted to break over my knee. Or that Vietnamese basketball player in Hanging with Mr. Cooper who may or may not have been Rufio. Edit: On closer examination, he definitely was--Count it!.
OK, so maybe these shows were a little one dimensional, and relied a little too heavily on catch phrase spewing drones (Jaleel, I'm looking your way), but this was my fucking life, man. Watching Boy Meets World, who didn't think their life was going to turn out like this:
What, you didn't think you were going to marry that slightly chubby girl that you've grown up with and always loved? That you were going to spend every day of their entire life with the same 4 people? Or that there weren't Bulk and Skull wannabe's like Frankie Stechino and Joey the rat lurking around every corner of your high school? Obviously you did. You bought into it wholeheartedly, or else the gasps heard when Topanga broke up with Cory couldn't be so fucking audible:
I love this clip because I can imagine all the tweeny girls that were absoultely SHATTERED by this news. Regardless, the fact of the matter is that these shows meant something. Now ABC's showing "I made out with a Japanese Game Show host" or whatever the hell on Friday nights.
I guess I'm just slightly worried because these things were the foundations of our collective personalities in high school. Once events like the VMA's and TGIF start to collapse, how else are we supposed to relate to each other? Through compassion and actual intimate conversation? Unlikely. Maybe I can stay ahead of the curve and bone up on my Slamball knowledge so I can shoot the shit with some Gen Z'ers.
The Fetus Body
I can't overemphasize how much of a fego I become when talking about and researching the male physique. In the past 4 months that I've been graduated and unemployed I've legitimately googled "shaq with no shirt", "Corey Maggette Abs + hot tub", "Riggins arms", and "physical specimen." Am I proud of myself for desiring such objective celebrity fodder? No, but I'm really not ashamed either. It's not like I'm drooling over the same blue-eyed Aryan dudes that teens glue into their health class collages. I'm marveling at the robo like precision that comes with a man who has batman's armor for a stomach. I don't see the male body as an object of affection or sexual lust but rather as a tool or a weapon that has been crafted from some metallurgic mixing pot and covered in a guise of flesh. I find myself loving men for their bodies. I am genuinely interested in Andre Johnson because of his protruding bicep veins in the Madden 06 picture that flashes between the start screen and rushing attack play. I crave the ESPN article where Corey Maggette unveils his chiseled upper body while reclining in a spa. I watch the first day of the combine in hopes of seeing Calvin Johnson emerge from the isobaric chamber with nary a thread on. (SPOILER ALERT) This is why I'm really pissed off about the first episode of Entourage from season 5. After the flop of Mediin Vince has relegated himself to a simplistic life in Mexico fucking the shit out of super models and parading around on his jet ski. Pretty much par for the course for Vinny Vincent Chase. What really rubs me the wrong way is how much of a fetus body Vince has when he's hooking up with two voluptuous brunettes in the opening scenes of the new season. How can the man navigate two A+ hotrods built for speed when he's not even in good enough shape to drive for Joe Gibbs racing. His sludge rivals the Reptile fetus body from B-break 06 with a few more bushes and much less hisssss. If Vince really wants to bring entourage back to it's season 2 heyday then the man needs to take a lesson from the Will Smith school of hardknocks and get his pudgy ass on a stairmaster.
edit:forward all pix of shaq without a shirt on to chipperzap@yahoo.com
edit:forward all pix of shaq without a shirt on to chipperzap@yahoo.com
Monday, September 8, 2008
The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most
Outside of Rosario Dawson catching the game winner in San Diego, the biggest story coming out of week one has to be Tom Brady's season ending injury. While it doesn't rank up in the Joe Theissman/Two Girls-One Cup/Dustin Diamond's "Saved by the Smell" echelon of nasty moments, I'm sure that many in Patriot nation had the same visceral reactions. Unfortunately, the show must go on without Mr. Bundchen, and there is much debate about who should pilot the ship in his place. Noted consultant that I am, here are my suggestions to the Patriots for potential replacements. To find the proper surrogate Brady, I've taken into account proven quarterbacking ability, movie-star good looks, and marketability. Oh yeah, I've also given extra points for being African American, because I love the black quarterback (suck on that, Rush Limbaugh!). Here are my insidious six:
Eric Crouch:
Truthfully, I don't think that this guy ever got a fare shake in the NFL. I know that the Patriots employ more of a pro-style offense, but Crouch's versatility would shine through. Heisman Winner. 3000 yards passing and rushing in college. Jigga Man recorded a rush, pass, and reception touchdown all in the same game. Speaking of versatile, this nugget comes from his wikipedia: "Crouch likes to jet ski when he is not woodworking." WOW. This makes him like, what, a quintuple threat?? Bilicheck, put it under "advisement".
Daunte Culpepper:
So what if he's "retired"? Unless he dropped a few bills to call Ms. Cleo, there's no way he could have forseen this--the opportunity to reunite with "Straight Cash Homey" Moss. And if that Wranglers Jeans guy can retire and unretire during the offseason, why can't Duante do it within the same week? People forget how monsterous his 2004 season was (4700 yards passing, 39 TD's). Not me. I think I projected him to have 5300 yards and 65 Td's in 2005. But I've been known to get my "2005's" and "2008's" mixed up. It happens.
Michael Bishop:
I know, I know, yo might be asking yourself, "Didn't he already flame out with the Pat's?" Well let me answer your question with two questions of my own:
1. Do I look like I care...what people think?
2. Why are people still making mixtapes of this dood? Cuz he's that damn good, that's why. This guy was Vick before there was Vick. The issue with Bishop is that he's currently playing in the CFL--meaning that his main competition is a team named the Alouette's. What the hell is an alouette anyway? I'm thinking it's some weird symbol like this guy: "&" or this badboy "?!"
Edit: On closer investigation, turns out an alouette is a traditional french-canadian song about picking feathers off a bird. Umm...ok, Bishop, you're disqualified.
Jason Street:
Once touted as the best quarterback recruit ever for Notre Dame, 6 has hit some hard times recently...if by hard times, I mean probable quadriplegia. However, Street has been investigating some experimental shark stem-cell treatments in Mexico, and he has regained partial strength in his throwing hand. Ok, so he'll probably never walk again, but I'm going to put him on this list for a couple reasons. First, when asked if he thought that God loved football, Street responded, "I think that everybody loves football". I don't think a more marketable phrase has been uttered since "Impossible is Nothing" or " YOU Are the new prototype". Second, Street used to jackhammer this:
Between Lyla and Giselle I'd have to say: Push. But Street's as good a candidate as anyone, save for that whole walking under his own power thing.
Junior Floyd:
Blessed with a prototypical release and Tiger Beat good looks, Junior's been on the national radar since Pee Wee. He proved to us in "Little Giants" that he can win games with virtually no supporting cast, aside from that emaciated kid without the negligent father and the morbidly obese Chinese kickball player. I can't imagine what kind of pinball numbers Floyd would put up throwing to one of the Moss twins and Sex Welker.
Really the only question mark surrounding Junior is his relationship with Becky "Icebox" O'Shea. Let's face it--she's no Giselle. Her name is fucking "Icebox" for christ sakes. I'm thinking I'm thinking at this point, she probably weighs, what, like a deuce, maybe deuce and a half. Floyd and Icebox is just not a very marketable couple. However, depending on her conditioning, she could be a possible long-term replacement for Vince Wilfork in a possible package deal.
Which brings us to my early favorite.....
Drew BledSlow:
How would this be for poetic justice? Bledsoe gallops in on his white horse and saves the franchise that turned their back on him. As recently as three years ago, Bledsoe was showing us that he could still make all the throws. If by "all the throws" I mean "Pick Six's". Well at least he's got some wheels, right? Look at this run:
He goes for like 10 yards and picked up a first, that's pretty good. Too bad he also picked up some internal bleeding.
Bledsoe to Moss? In Madden 2001 this would have been a quantum dream team. The real question is which is going to be higher--Bledsoe's speed rating or the number of picks he throws. The early over/under on both is 36.
Eric Crouch:
Truthfully, I don't think that this guy ever got a fare shake in the NFL. I know that the Patriots employ more of a pro-style offense, but Crouch's versatility would shine through. Heisman Winner. 3000 yards passing and rushing in college. Jigga Man recorded a rush, pass, and reception touchdown all in the same game. Speaking of versatile, this nugget comes from his wikipedia: "Crouch likes to jet ski when he is not woodworking." WOW. This makes him like, what, a quintuple threat?? Bilicheck, put it under "advisement".
Daunte Culpepper:
So what if he's "retired"? Unless he dropped a few bills to call Ms. Cleo, there's no way he could have forseen this--the opportunity to reunite with "Straight Cash Homey" Moss. And if that Wranglers Jeans guy can retire and unretire during the offseason, why can't Duante do it within the same week? People forget how monsterous his 2004 season was (4700 yards passing, 39 TD's). Not me. I think I projected him to have 5300 yards and 65 Td's in 2005. But I've been known to get my "2005's" and "2008's" mixed up. It happens.
Michael Bishop:
I know, I know, yo might be asking yourself, "Didn't he already flame out with the Pat's?" Well let me answer your question with two questions of my own:
1. Do I look like I care...what people think?
2. Why are people still making mixtapes of this dood? Cuz he's that damn good, that's why. This guy was Vick before there was Vick. The issue with Bishop is that he's currently playing in the CFL--meaning that his main competition is a team named the Alouette's. What the hell is an alouette anyway? I'm thinking it's some weird symbol like this guy: "&" or this badboy "?!"
Edit: On closer investigation, turns out an alouette is a traditional french-canadian song about picking feathers off a bird. Umm...ok, Bishop, you're disqualified.
Jason Street:
Once touted as the best quarterback recruit ever for Notre Dame, 6 has hit some hard times recently...if by hard times, I mean probable quadriplegia. However, Street has been investigating some experimental shark stem-cell treatments in Mexico, and he has regained partial strength in his throwing hand. Ok, so he'll probably never walk again, but I'm going to put him on this list for a couple reasons. First, when asked if he thought that God loved football, Street responded, "I think that everybody loves football". I don't think a more marketable phrase has been uttered since "Impossible is Nothing" or " YOU Are the new prototype". Second, Street used to jackhammer this:
Between Lyla and Giselle I'd have to say: Push. But Street's as good a candidate as anyone, save for that whole walking under his own power thing.
Junior Floyd:
Blessed with a prototypical release and Tiger Beat good looks, Junior's been on the national radar since Pee Wee. He proved to us in "Little Giants" that he can win games with virtually no supporting cast, aside from that emaciated kid without the negligent father and the morbidly obese Chinese kickball player. I can't imagine what kind of pinball numbers Floyd would put up throwing to one of the Moss twins and Sex Welker.
Really the only question mark surrounding Junior is his relationship with Becky "Icebox" O'Shea. Let's face it--she's no Giselle. Her name is fucking "Icebox" for christ sakes. I'm thinking I'm thinking at this point, she probably weighs, what, like a deuce, maybe deuce and a half. Floyd and Icebox is just not a very marketable couple. However, depending on her conditioning, she could be a possible long-term replacement for Vince Wilfork in a possible package deal.
Which brings us to my early favorite.....
Drew BledSlow:
How would this be for poetic justice? Bledsoe gallops in on his white horse and saves the franchise that turned their back on him. As recently as three years ago, Bledsoe was showing us that he could still make all the throws. If by "all the throws" I mean "Pick Six's". Well at least he's got some wheels, right? Look at this run:
He goes for like 10 yards and picked up a first, that's pretty good. Too bad he also picked up some internal bleeding.
Bledsoe to Moss? In Madden 2001 this would have been a quantum dream team. The real question is which is going to be higher--Bledsoe's speed rating or the number of picks he throws. The early over/under on both is 36.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
No No No No No No No No Thunder
I liked the Seattle Supersonics. I liked Shawn Kemp and his egregious yelling and dunking and Gary Payton and his condomesque nickname. Their retro space needle-in-the-skyline jerseys always trumped the Nuggets Tetris version. With the addition of Kevin Durant and a bounty of other young stars, I thought this was a dangerous team built for the future even in the loaded western conference. Now everyone is familiar with evil mastermind Clay Bennett and his fall from grace with Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz when he prompted the relocation of the Sonics from Seattle to OK City. The villain has struck again with a blow that no casual sports fan can overlook. He's decided to go ahead and name the OK City squad the Thunder. I understand that most of these guys are under 25 but that's no reason to name them after a minor league baseball team. Before you bust out your old AC/DC albums (which Bennett has already done at the unfurling of the new name) and try to protect the new moniker let me propose a list of names that should be considered for the '11 season when Durant will have to decide between staying put or leaving for more aptly named pastures.
I've devised categories for the new names. There's the Starbucks Espresso in honor of the refined ex-owner, the Homer which represents names that apply to the OK City region, and the Randy Ratio bracket which are stupid names that I would probably give to my fantasy football team. Let the naming begin.
Starbucks Espresso
1. The Renaissance - Any time you can use a 300 year period to describe your team I say go for it. This sets the team up perfectly to acquire Leandro Barbosa in a few years, force the nickname Donatello on him, and let the double entendres abound.
2. The Aristocrats- Probably wouldn't be popular with the 10,000 farmers going to see games every night, but wouldn't Bob Saget telling raunchy jokes at half time be a nice upgrade from teenage hula hoopers?
3. The Suits- Clay really sticks it to the man, er I mean the people.
Homer
1.The Twisters- I don't know how this can't be the name of the team. They can actually represent their team name with a tangible mascot (I swear if they use the lightning bolt to represent the Thunder someone's gotta shit on their PR dept) and isn't Oklahoma renowned for their 'nados? Maybe they could promote the team with a Helen Hunt autograph day!
2. The Solar Energy- It's time to get back to the Sonics roots and go green baby. I like the possible matchup between them and the Suns for better celestial representative. The team was very close to being named the Energy anyways, at least this sends an ecological message too.
3. Wagonwheel- I think it sounds like a Frisbee team.
4. Hurricanes- There's already a precedent for intra sport team name similarities i.e. Giants and Cardinals.
Randy Ratio
1. X-Factor- Who wouldn't want to refer to their own teams players as the X-men? This would leave to cool giveaways and Durant would have an automatic trademark celebration.
2. Vengeance- Rub it in Tim McVeigh's face.
3. The High Fliers- It has an And1 feel that could attract mega athletes and dunkers leading to great youtube mixes. Everything I like.
4. KRUMP- It's time for clown dancing to emerge into the mainstream and for the hip hop culture to pervade the game again. Every game would seem like a prolonged half-time show.
So I don't really think any of these names are that cool except for X-Factor, but I do think that the NBA whiffed big time with the Thunder. We'll see in the next month if the jerseys materialize into something sleek and desirable or if the mascot just fades away like the poop cloud it's destined to look like.
I've devised categories for the new names. There's the Starbucks Espresso in honor of the refined ex-owner, the Homer which represents names that apply to the OK City region, and the Randy Ratio bracket which are stupid names that I would probably give to my fantasy football team. Let the naming begin.
Starbucks Espresso
1. The Renaissance - Any time you can use a 300 year period to describe your team I say go for it. This sets the team up perfectly to acquire Leandro Barbosa in a few years, force the nickname Donatello on him, and let the double entendres abound.
2. The Aristocrats- Probably wouldn't be popular with the 10,000 farmers going to see games every night, but wouldn't Bob Saget telling raunchy jokes at half time be a nice upgrade from teenage hula hoopers?
3. The Suits- Clay really sticks it to the man, er I mean the people.
Homer
1.The Twisters- I don't know how this can't be the name of the team. They can actually represent their team name with a tangible mascot (I swear if they use the lightning bolt to represent the Thunder someone's gotta shit on their PR dept) and isn't Oklahoma renowned for their 'nados? Maybe they could promote the team with a Helen Hunt autograph day!
2. The Solar Energy- It's time to get back to the Sonics roots and go green baby. I like the possible matchup between them and the Suns for better celestial representative. The team was very close to being named the Energy anyways, at least this sends an ecological message too.
3. Wagonwheel- I think it sounds like a Frisbee team.
4. Hurricanes- There's already a precedent for intra sport team name similarities i.e. Giants and Cardinals.
Randy Ratio
1. X-Factor- Who wouldn't want to refer to their own teams players as the X-men? This would leave to cool giveaways and Durant would have an automatic trademark celebration.
2. Vengeance- Rub it in Tim McVeigh's face.
3. The High Fliers- It has an And1 feel that could attract mega athletes and dunkers leading to great youtube mixes. Everything I like.
4. KRUMP- It's time for clown dancing to emerge into the mainstream and for the hip hop culture to pervade the game again. Every game would seem like a prolonged half-time show.
So I don't really think any of these names are that cool except for X-Factor, but I do think that the NBA whiffed big time with the Thunder. We'll see in the next month if the jerseys materialize into something sleek and desirable or if the mascot just fades away like the poop cloud it's destined to look like.
Ron Ron's New Haircut (No Jaegerbombs Involved)
I think Ron Artest's new hair is cool. I wish frisbee players could do things like this without it having to be an attempt at ironic humor.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Few, The Proud, The Fegos
Welcome to the Fegonomics Blog. Fegonomics is, of course, the study of fegos. My fellow posters and I will use our highly intuitive intuition and the most econometrical econometric methods to studiously study and examine the nature and existence of fegos.
What might a fego be you ask? Much like "what is punk rock" or "what is desire," everyone has their own answer. All are correct. Our goal in creating this blog is to help YOU discover for yourself. Enjoy.
What might a fego be you ask? Much like "what is punk rock" or "what is desire," everyone has their own answer. All are correct. Our goal in creating this blog is to help YOU discover for yourself. Enjoy.
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