Who You Gonna Call?

I don't want to spend much time writing or thinking about politics (cause me head hurt) but I saw this commercial on the New York Times website today and I started laughing.



I mean come on... if you're going to steal a premise for a commercial, should you really be stealing from the Ghostbusters?

If there's something strange, and it don't look good, I sure am not gonna call Hillary Clinton... Maybe John McCain cause he's got one foot in the grave as it is and might be able to reason with the ghouls.

Either that or impersonate Popeye and sneak away... not sure about that one.

Smoke Your Hat and Other Thoughts on Fake Days

I’m gonna cut right to the quick today (Yea… that’s right… the Quick…) and get down to business.

Today is a very special day for many reasons, mainly because it is not a real day. Here’s how I know.

Because if I got married today, we wouldn’t have another anniversary for four years (yes fellas that’s right. Get hitched today, because then she can’t yell at you for forgetting your anniversary… I do have a feeling though that she will expect one awesome present when the big day finally rolls around again… maybe get her an island?)

If I shot somebody today, I could never be prosecuted. (What?) (Exactly.)

Last night I had a long conversation with OFLJ about this concept and here is what I decided… last night. Since three years out of four today doesn’t exist, it is clearly the one day in the year when our parallel universe meshes with our own. So, any crime committed while in this parallel universe is not prosecutable in ours. (I really hope this is true or else this post is going to look really dumb… too late.)

“But Chip,” you say, “if I killed someone today, they would still be dead tomorrow.”

“False, young Pedro,” I say to you, “basically when someone dies on Feb. 29 they just have to sit out the rest of the day. It’s a lot like Groundhog day, except Bill Murray is a lot dumber (seriously I don’t care how many times I watched the same Jeopardy episode, I don’t think I could memorize the answer to every question to the point where I could answer before the question is asked. Shenanigans I say.)”

Why also is today important, other than it not being real and being the way to a perfect marriage? It was the birthday of my old fifth grade math teacher. (Lame, Chip… don’t reference people we don’t care about.) (Quiet you.) -> (That’s an Office reference (Returning in April)) (Thanks NBC for the cash… you better pay me unlike those fools over at Applebees.) (Go to Chili’s… better food… more Mexican…ish)

This guy was kind of strange, and would later coach me in Varsity basketball (that’s actually not a joke… I was on the varsity basketball team… in the same way that Puerto Rico is part of the United States. I was there but I wasn’t invited to participate… ever.)

He would sit me during practice (not a joke either) and once was responsible for my favorite quote of all time. The conversation we actually had follows.

Poor Innocent Chip- Coach, I was wondering if there’s any chance I could play on the JV instead of sitting on the Varsity?


Nobody Beats The Wiz- You know, I hadn’t thought of that.



PIC- I just want to play, Coach, and live, and dream... (whistful music plays)



NBTW- Well let me put that in my hat and smoke it.



Assistant Coach Present at this Meeting- Don’t you mean pipe?



NBTW- Don’t question me, I know what I meant.


So there ya go. If ever you think today is real, shave your head (ladies.) Then see if your hair is not back tomorrow. (This is a good idea.)

If you want to know what the meeting looked like:



Enjoy your fake day, I know I will... just don't kill anybody... cause that's really not a good idea

The views Chip has expressed in this blog are not real, and should not be taken as real... Other than the fact that when he was a child he lived in an orphanage where all they served was gruel and people sang constantly. That's why he ended up the way he is today. Imagine how messed up Annie probably is these days... You didn't think Amy Winehouse was her real name did you?

Deepest Thoughts

You know how every now and then you feel like things aren’t going your way? (You don’t???? Well they will… that’s not nice… I’m sorry I didn’t mean it…)

Well, yesterday in the New Yorker (I think I need to explain why I read the New Yorker. For my entire life the New Yorker has always seemed like an elite magazine. Something that smart people read so they could talk about smart things. Then as I got older and more cynical I believed the New Yorker was a pompous magazine that people carried around and read so they seemed smart. Now I’m just confused so I buy it for the cartoons and let it sit around the apartment so visiting dignitaries think I'm way smarter than I actually am.) there was a piece that put my entire life in perspective.

Here is a slightly dramatic excerpt about how things even out:

“Probably the perfect example of things evening out happened to me just last month. I was walking to the post office to mail a death threat. It was a beautiful day. I was happily singing away in my super-loud singing voice. I didn’t step on any chewing gum, like I usually do, and when I threw my gum down it didn’t stick to my fingertips. As I rounded the corner, there was a bum begging for change. I was feeling pretty good, so I gave him a five-dollar bill. At first I tried to make him do a little dance for the five dollars, but he wouldn’t do it, so I gave him the five dollars anyway.

Not long after that, I was reading the paper, and there was a picture of the bum. He had won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry! He had a little bigger nose and straighter teeth, but I’m pretty sure it was him. So, my five dollars had made him change his ways and become a chemistry guy.

A few days later, I was walking by the corner again, and there was the bum, back begging. So, things had evened out. He had gotten the Nobel Prize, but now he was a bum again. I asked him for the five dollars back, but he started saying weird stuff that I guess was chemistry formulas or something.

I told my friend Don the story, but he said it wasn’t an example of things evening out so much as just a stupid story. That’s interesting, Don, because you saying that evens out what I said to your mother that time.”

The piece was written by Jack Handey who I always believed was a fictional character on SNL. I’ve since learned he is actually a 60 year-old man from El Paso, Texas who worked for a variety of comedic ventures. I was going to post a clip from SNL but I can’t find one that works but instead I found this crazy box that you can post…. But I have no idea what it’s going to say so I don’t take any responsibility for anything that may offend (or I take all the responsibility and you can fight OFLJ about it… he will handle all blog related violence… I call him my little Moe Greene. (I gave you the link cause most people never know what I'm talking about.)

DeepThoughtsByJackHandey.com

Read the whole New Yorker piece here

A Picture Is Worth A Hundred Sandwishes

Signs around Brooklyn sometimes catch my eye... like the weird bar one that has things that were "overheard" last night. This one was a true mystery though.

My questions include, in a very particular order (that's an example of trying to be funny but instead being stupid... sorry.)

How did they spell delicious right?

What is that picture of in the top right? A sun?

Why are you saying hello to me? I don't like you... seriously leave me alone... I hate you.

What is that picture in the bottom left? I mean I know it's supposed to be a warm sandwish... but we all know what it really looks like.

How do you make a chicken? Gross. I have a feeling the health inspector is not going to like their whole chicken birthing process going on in the back.

Tune in tomorrow when I go in and order the sandwish.

Number One... Meet Number 2

I don’t know what it takes to get fired as a baseball manager, but I know some things that apparently won’t quite do it.

Coming into the National League and not understanding the double switch. (For those of you who read and don’t know baseball, basically the idea is you bring in a new pitcher and another player in the field. Then those two positions are switched in the batting order so that the new pitcher will bat later.)

Speaking country bumpkin gibberish that no one can understand.



Moving one of your top pitchers from the rotation to the bullpen back to the rotation, into a small condo in Center City, to Oklahoma, back to the rotation… all which is pretty much ignored because he smacked his wife and no one cares. (This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen. It seems that Philly fans have just decided to ignore Brett Myers because that eases the guilt about not being upset he smacked his wife. If we pretend he doesn’t exist it cleans the conscience. I’m not sure if that’s how it’s supposed to work.)

Taking way too much time planning a prank that may have wrecked the mental toughness of one of your youngest stars.



And most interestingly, taking your All-Star pitcher (Cole Hamels), who is only in his third year in the league, and choose not to make him your opening day starter, instead going with the guy who hit his wife.

Now I’m not a genius, but how dumb can that possibly be? Pitchers are notorious for being shaky people, who tweek out whenever things aren’t absolutely perfect, and now you’re going to mess with your top gun slingers psyche just to try to encourage Ike Turner's illegitimate brother?

I can’t think for a second how this could be a bad idea… not for a second.

Phillies new slogan -> First to Worst… Can You Feel It?

Would Being Strangled By Someone Who Used Kiehls Feel Better? and Other Stories About Muggsy Bogues

Muggsy Bogues is brilliant. In case you didn't know (which you shouldn't unless you work for a certain non terrestrial radio provider) is the color commentator for the Memphis Grizzlies.

Muggsy is famous for being very short (when do I get my cred yo?) and for starring in such hit features as Eddie and Space Jam (I'm not mocking Space Jam... everyone knows it's the greatest alien/basketball animated film, but not the greatest animated film, for we all know that is Rock-A-Doodle or All Dogs Go to Heaven... CHAHHHHHHLLLLIIIIIIEEEE). (What just happened?)

The point is, color commentators are usually former players who were always placed in that "he is well spoken" category, which everyone knows is just a way for sports casters to say they're shocked a (black) athlete can talk in coherent sentences.

Muggsy though, is not only a grammatical genius (tonight he actually said "that be what they need.) he has a high pitched voice as you would stereotype a short guy to have. In fact, I have Muggsy pegged in for my Joe Pesci replacement for my athlete driven Goodfellas remake vehicle. (Probably gonna make Philip Rivers Spider... Stop taunting fans you jackass.)

I've loved Muggsy for a long time (and not in that creepy Full Metal Jacket way... pervert) I just don't necesarily think he's qualified to be on the radio... then again that's probably why he's on in Memphis... doing basketball... for a team that's not the Memphis Tigers (I'm also uncomfortable around John Calipari... I guess it has to do with the two different times I met John Chaney. (Once at NikeTown which seems normal... and once at Neiman Marcus in the Kiehls section... I understand John... your secret is safe with me.) I'm guessing when he tried to strangle Calipari, Chaney's hands were silky smooth... They always say death comes with relief.)

What's the point?

At what point do we stop with this garbage about players being good at this commentary stuff just because they played the sport? There are only a handful who seem to do any research, and most just compare current players to people they played against because their lazy and it's easy. (Bill Walton I swear I never know who the hell you're talking about... even when you're talking about current players... THROW IT DOWN BIG FELLA.)

Until the day this change is made, I think we need to replace all the masters of elocution with the worst communicators in sport. Replace Troy Aikman with Fridge Perry (I EAT YOU JOE BUCK) replace anyone with Mark Spitz (dhf;djkag;dfasjka- actual quote). Not only would people tune in, but it's great to watch any play-by-play guy struggle with an illiterate cohost ("No Mark, that says Touchdowns, not cheesecake. Are you on crack?)

Program directors take note: Cris Collingsworth = boring... Cris Collingsworth trying to talk with his mouth guard in = RATINGS GOLD... or maybe stuff his mouth with Cheez Doodles... just like Stephen A.

Be Kind and Give It A Chance

It’s almost three days later, and I didn’t take notes… so it must be movie review time.

You know that feeling when you read a book, poem, Sanskrit, etc. and think it’s stupid, until someone later tells you, “The trees represented death,” and then it suddenly hits you that the movie really wasn’t that bad, you just didn’t get it. (What? Usually you still think it was dumb? Yea, I feel ya. Usually I would feel the exact same way.)

Well for me Be Kind Rewind was exactly that kind of movie. Sitting with Timtim and Sko as the only thing that stopped them from booing was the extra effort that they weren’t willing to commit, I actually enjoyed the film. (You are both dead to me.)

First, there were many priceless pieces, including Jack Black careening into a metal fence (Timtim was asleep at this point, thus losing all ability to judge the film), or several parts in the “sweded” movies Mos Def and Jack Black create. (Sweding basically means they make cheap 20 minute knock offs of major films including Ghostbusters and Rush Hour 2.)

Second, the film had a great heart. I’m a sucker for a feel good situation, it’s part of me being a cynical optimistic (I guess that’s better when I once filled out an application explaining why I was a introverted extrovert.) You liked the characters in the movie, you felt for them. As they blundered through every day life you wanted them to win, unless you were Sko. I think he wanted them to die.

Third, Be Kind had a point that didn’t try to change the world. It wasn’t Blood Diamond making me feel guilty, or Crash which required me to rethink every relationship I’ve ever had with someone of a different race. (Sko you need to apologize to Ping Ping. You know what you did.)

The point was that movies don’t matter in the long run. Whether a film had great acting or a great script was irrelevant. All that mattered was what you took away from it. If you watched Scarface and decided to dedicate your life to stopping cocaine imports it probably means something different to you than it does to every single rapper and tough guy college frat member. (Scarface sucked... I mean I guess cause he had a lot of money and shouted out catch phrases people were duped, but there is more than that to life. Just ask the Dell Dude. He knows.)

A films place in your memory is exactly where it should be, and that memory is all that matters. (I liked Pick of Destiny… seriously.)

What was most tragic about Be Kind Rewind was that no one told me what it meant till I read about it later at home. And for that reason it was dumb. But go see it.



This is the director's "sweded" trailer.

What Happened to Compassion?

This post is sadly not exactly a funny one, so if you’re looking for me screwing around, you might want to skip on to a different one.

Glad you be safe. everything is an event with you – Text from OFLJ

I know my diligent fan base has been upset because I haven’t had anything up in the last few days, and don’t worry stalker, it’s going to be ok. (Seriously, I keep getting calls from some 302 number that likes to hang up whenever I pick up, or leave me messages of my own voicemail recording. Now I know how Conan O’Brien felt when he had a stalker. Honored.)

This weekend I decided to go home because I’m slowly drifting towards madness, and I had the weekend off due to previous plans falling through. (By drifting I mean I’m already there, you guys all knew that though didn’t you.)

Thursday morning I wake up, with a halo hanging on my four post bed (Damn you Sugar Ray. I think that means something dirty, but I never knew, and now I’m too old to ask and I’m just forced to sing along with confidence, pretending like I know what is going on. Story of my life) and I decided to pick a random train home.

Right as Amtrak got me to Philadelphia, about twenty minutes from my final destination of Wilmington (home of the hit rapper Wil Ming Ton (that’s me)) I hear something odd and the train labors to a halt.

To me it sounded like we had hit a tree, as the reverberations reminded me of when a branch gets stuck under your tire, and keeps banging against the wheel well till you slow down and it emerges free, while just a teensy bit smaller.

As you can probably guess, it wasn’t a tree. According to the Daily News the next day, my train had been part of an apparent suicide, as an unknown person had apparently jumped in front of the lead car.

Now, death has always kind of shaken me. I remember coming back from the beach with Pops one time and watching a car get broadsided as it attempted to cross the road just a little too late right next to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. I watched, paralyzed, as Pops jumped out of the car and spent what seemed like 40 hours trying to resuscitate the driver as he hung out the window, to eventually be declared DOA after a trip to the hospital.

Now obviously a suicide is different than a vehicular death, especially in the mind of onlookers, as I learned while riding train 171. I was appalled to listen to people on the train, saying things like “If it had been me I would have been more thoughtful and just shot myself,” especially when we had no idea how the person our train had hit had ended up there.

During the one and a half hours we were stuck on a train in Northeast Philly I heard some of the most caustic and selfish comments I’ve ever been privy to. I’m not saying I’m always politically correct, because I know that’s not true, I was just shocked at the lack of respect for someone who had just died, whether or not that person did it by his or her own hands.

I’m sorry for being uber serious today, but this really pissed me off. Sure, people are weird around suicide, and I understand that, but I couldn’t believe we were watching crime scene photographers come and a body bag being taken away, while hateful people spewed about how this would inconvenience them making happy hour later.

I wish I had the poetic ability to sum this up in a way that makes it whimsical or deep, I just can’t. All I know is life is about perspective, and I was thankful for the moment I was gang planked across to the next train coming, and the women I sat next to, who had been waiting for 45 minutes said “It’s so sad, that was somebody’s child.”

Mystery Solved

Ever wonder what would happen if OFLJ decided to rap about his hidden love of the Detroit Lions? NO LONGER!



I'm just excited that today's number one rap song is by a guy named Flo Rida. How come it took the rap community thirty years to realize that Florida would make a kick ass rap name?

From now on my official rap name will be Wil Ming Ton. That sounds intriguingly Asian. Cause I get low low low low low low low. (Seriously, you have no idea... when I lay on the ground I'm crazy low... I wonder if that song is popular on submarines (really lame jokes today, sorry everyone.))

via Awful Announcing

Former Athletes Take Heed

So I would never stoop so low as to reuse a column I wrote in college on the blog.... Until I happened across this video. (and by video I mean radio commercial lamely tagged with pictures so it will apply to the YouTube generation.))



That brought me back to my intra-mural all-star days (insert whatever sound you associate with time travel here... just not Wayne's World's one... that's overused... be more creative... how about that old Timewarp Song? Yes... that will do.)

Intramural All-Star

It’s election night and excitement has reached a fever pitch, and not because Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore were going to make a sequel.

The excitement bred from a field just south of Biddle, where dew lavished the turf with a layer just thin enough to glisten off of the bold lights shining from above, while the mist hovered around the heads of each player, luminescent like a halo over each of the 14 heads about to do battle.

Shades of Howard Cosell.

Taking to the quasi-frozen tundra on this glorious night was team Click Clack against the Skulls.

Taking part in this game of intramural greatness I realized the different kinds of intramural players, and thought it was about time to write about them.

The Jackass- Most teams have at least one. These are the guys who maybe make one catch, but every time there is a penalty or a close call start acting like John McEnroe against Bjorn Borg. These guys feel that a referee being paid $10 an hour, should be held accountable for every minute of the game and that any disagreement is a sign of ineptitude.

The Pacifist- This guys pulls in a couple catches, but stays quiet and low to the ground. Sometimes he’ll make a big play, but for the most part his job is to not make mistakes. In my mind this guy is the 2006 Gary Payton of the flag football world. Except less old, and he never had those “great moments” that the Glove brought to the game in the mid-nineties.

The Talker- This guy believes he’s the leader of the team because he’s such a tremendous athlete, but the whole time runs around like an idiot, yelling and occasionally agreeing with the Jackass. This guy reminds me of every single stereotypical public high school gym teacher, which is ironic, because that’s probably where he’ll end up.

The Rage-a-holic- Some of you might remember the classic flip-out from Joe Miklulik this summer, the minor league head coach who went on a 20-minute tirade that will go down as one of the all-time greatest YouTube moments of all time. Anyway, the Rager puts this to shame. Every time he gets the ball he becomes a battering ram of despair, decimating all of those in his path like he’s one of those tree cutters in every single forest-based animated movie. Sadly this bull of a guy doesn’t realize that there are rules to this brilliant game, and his ’roid enhanced abolishment of the opposition will draw a flag pending on whether or not the ref is text messaging during the play.

The Speedster- This guy played some sport recently, and has better wheels than that handicapped kid from the Burger King commercials. Just give him the ball and watch him go. It’s tough to make a professional equivalent to this guy, but Allen Iverson comes to mind. Without the ’tats and the “we talking ’bout practice” attitude.

The Degenerate- This guy lives for flag football. On nights before games he follows a strict regiment of salad, pasta and The Virgin Suicides just so he hates men, and thus can’t like the guys on the other team. Then he turns on a tape he has of an old Discovery Channel film of pigs going at it, trying to force himself to be attracted to their skin, believing that this attraction will bring the pigskin to him on game night. This guy reminds me of Tony Stewart. Sure, you’re excited, and it’s fun, but it’s NASCAR. Let’s be serious…is it really worth killing a guy just because he passed you? The Degenerate says yes. Not only pass the guy, but rip off his genitalia so he can’t create more bastard children that might one day come back for revenge.

The Coach- No one invited this kid to play on the team, so he hooked up as the coach. He stands on the sidelines, yelling at the opponent, preaching to the refs and offering plays up for his players, who casually ignore him with a classic “we know we’re friends, but let’s be serious” look. Larry Brown coaching last years Knicks team has the closest affinity to The Coach. He knows what it’s like to feel uninvited, and then later be overruled by other people in the group. So that’s my list, but before you head off to that dodgeball game, where you plan on calling the ladies on the other side every four letter word that your mom suggested “you might not want to say honey,” think for a second. Which guy am I? I know, personally, I’ve got a little bit of every one of these, and that’s what makes intramurals the greatest rush you can possibly have. Enjoy the game, play your heart out, but shake hands at the end. Unless the guy was a Jackass. Then follow the Degenerate and grab the sheers. It’s cutting time.

Here are a few extras that did not fit in the original running of the article:

The No Show: This guy signs up for every single team he can, and then, as is implied, refuses to come to a single game. Citing too much homework or perhaps just too busy in general, this guy overcommits and then never comes through. In my mind he is the Larry Brown of intra-mural guys. Sure, you have big expectations, and maybe he won once, but that's just because he was there at the right time (cough Pistons), not necesarily because he did anything of any value.

The Chump: This guy does nothing all game, completely blanketed on offense, and then barely gets one step with his man defensively, but makes one play late in the game and reacts like he's Christian Laettner on the '92 Blue Devils. The good news is that this guy will flounder away the rest of his life in relatively obscurity, just like Laettner.

The original article is posted here.

There's A Right Way To Do Everything...

If you are ever invited to be on a talk show, especially one you know nothing about, this is how you should handle it. I've got my fingers crossed I get to give it a shot on Tyra Banks one day...

Third Eye Blind Hated This Movie

4. Features a highly paid actor (Diane Lane) to appear in about 12 seconds of the movie.

So, as you probably guessed, Jumper did all those things, but sadly the only emotion that it pulled from me was when my contacts dried and I forced myself to cry (yes I can do that, be jealous) just to rewet them. Then the stranger sitting next to me saw me crying and thought it was because of Rachel Bilson’s powerful acting and then he started crying, and sooner than later everyone else was balling their eyes out. (that didn’t happen, this is a terrible review.)

That being said there are reasons to check this thing out. People like The Fast and the Furious because we as a society like speed (not the drug Pete Rose, watch it with the jokes.) This movie had crazy speed (and might have been better on drugs) which should bring in a solid box office number.

Also Rachel Bilson is obviously an attractive young lady, but I’m starting to question the characters she picks in movies. I’ve only seen her in two, but in The Last Kiss she’s tries to break up Zach Braff and his preggers gf by having sex with him (classy stuff,) and in this one she sleeps with someone that is clearly a felon and that she thought was dead for 10 years because her bf at the time killed him just because he was back, stared at her while she worked for 45 minutes and took her to Rome, without asking any questions. Girl has no standards.

My suggestions, instead of going to see Jumper, you should literally jump into traffic, then jump out. Then back in, and then back out.

Then give me the money you would have spent and we’ll call it even.

Happy Birthday, Why Don't You Go to the Mall for Me

If you want to see OFLJ in action, check this out. You're welcome again ladies.

Slazenger Promotes Sushi Steak

This morning I turned on Sportscenter and found myself craving animal carcass. Not just any animal carcass, RAW animal carcass. Why you ask? Commercials.

A decent looking girl behind a counter at a golf course snack stand that looks like a butcher shop serves up blended raw meat in a :30 segment brought to you by Slazenger.

At some point a puma walks in the background and the ball bleeds, but I didn’t have a problem with any of that. In fact that's a normal day out on the 18 for me. Except they forgot the decapitated gopher, but that's a story for another day.

If you’re going to promote that a ball has “raw distance” I’m never going to impressed if some jacked guy can hit said ball far. I hope he can, he looks like he could bench press a Buick. (The version below is an older commercial for Raw, but it still has the same stupid premise, strong guys hit the ball far.)



I would have set the commercial up with some dweebish looking guy, maybe Richard from Beauty and the Geek? Then have him use the weakest swing imaginable, propelling the ball 350 yards. Tell me you wouldn’t buy that ball?


No seriously tell me, and I’ll come over there and …. Well you don’t want to know.

Oh you do want to know... damn you caught me... I'm all talk. Leave me alone.

Dave Matthews Said He Did It... Ask Him

Because I'm bored I decided to live blog the Clemens hearing. The following makes no sense, but are the general thoughts I had about the hearing... and I got bored a lot so my mind might have wandered... Here it goes.

Clemens is lying.

A moment of silence for Roger Clemens career at the beginning.

I’m enjoying the computer noises coming from the ESPN feed. It sounds like someone is playing solitaire… I hope they win.

Tom Davis’ assistant has shifty eyes. I think he might have taken HGH… ASK HIM.

Everyone is leaving for votes while this thing goes on…. I think everyone’s leaving so the public can remember what baseball attendance used to look like before drugs got involved.

Roger Clemens gives a moment for the passing of Sen. Lantos… Suck up.

Note: When saying “I’m a positive person,” don’t scream it in anger.

“I’ve tried to help anyone who crossed my path…” Weird thing to say. I’ve tried to kill anyone who crosses my path… paths shouldn’t be crossed.

Roger Clemens has realized the truth… he’s guilty.

He’s been blessed with a heart… lucky guy. I didn’t get one of those.

Steroids are not good for helping someone’s performance? Really? Huh… didn’t see that coming.

How do you prove a negative? This is deep testimony… Roger Clemens brought to you by Emerson.

Brian Girahd McNamee is shady looking dude. Smug emanates from his tie.

43 minutes in, and I’m not completely bored yet.

“I’m not proud for what I’ve done.” LAME. BE PROUD. Embrace the jackass you are.

His dad was a cop, and instilled in him that people make mistakes. Was his dad Mark Fuhrman?

GET YOUR FINGER OFF THE LENSE… GET YOUR FINGER OFF THE LENSE… PHEW. That was a close one.

Andy Petite is honest and decent. Thanks Brian, I’ll go to you from now on whenever I question someone’s character. How do you feel about Jesus. Please get back to me later. Thanks.

“… tell the truth to the best of my ability.” That is deep too. Does this mean that it might be beyond his ability to tell the truth? He is a chronic liar, he just admitted it.

His years as a NYC police officer taught him not to trust Roger Clemens. That’s a weird thing to take away from a job. My time in the NYPD taught me not to trust gerbils. Don’t ask... ok ask but I won’t tell.

“I lied to protect my friends, ballplayers… and myself, with whom I worked.”

McNamee is doing this for the kids… it’s for the kids.

Go Cummings Go Cummings Go.

Elijah also says this is for the kids… all the kids who are watching a hearing at 10:50 on a school day.

Cummings is not messing around. Grilling Roger.. THROW A BAT AT HIM ROCKET.

This hearing reminds me of Grand Central Station. People need to stop moving around.

I think Elijah should have started by asking for permission to treat Clemens like a hostile witness. I think detainees at Guantanamo are treated better then this (that is a lie.)

I don’t think Andy Petite said y’all as much as Cummings is quoting as having said. I think he’s making this whole thing up.

How great would it be if Clemens just broke down and said he did it after being grilled. He stood up pitching in the World Series, but he can’t handle questions.

“Andy and I’s friendship,” the American school system has failed you, Roger.

Add misremembers to the new awesome dictionary. Thanks Rog!

Hydroxycut=HGH according to Roger Clemens. But the commercials make it look so innocent.

Great camera work is now showing us a close up on the computer screen. I think the director of the Blair Witch Project is bringing us this shot.

Clemens is going to cry on TV… Who would watch a soap opera right now?

“I never worked out with Jason Grimsley.” How do you never work out with another pitcher on your team? Is that possible? Does everyone have their own gym in the locker-room?

Hearsay does not exist at baseball hearings. I want to know what Andy Petite’s wife’s dog remembers. Give us the TRUTH!

This is the strangest thing. Clemens refuses to insult Andy Petite and call him a liar, but he also doesn’t want Petite to be telling the truth. So he misremembers. GET A NEW WORD…. Enlighten us with your vocabumalary.

Rusty Hardin is going to cry now sitting behind Clemens. Sources say the Rocket passed gas… this story developing on the bottom line.

I don’t think anyone watching this can really believe Clemens. The guy is stuttering and stammering like he just got caught with his hand in the needle jar… and we all know that hurts.

OHHHH now the cameraman has moved so we can see Clemens and his wife in the same shot… artsy.

Mr. Cummings is done. ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR HIS BRUTAL ATTACK ON ROGER DOGER! You can collect your dignity at the door.

Tom Davis… you’re up!

His shady assistant now looks extremely confused… Where am I? Man this is some good acid.

Haha, while McNamee is talking the buzzer for a vote is going off and his lawyers are looking around like we’re under attack... “Why is no one running for the doors… if Osama comes in that door I’m outta here that’s all I’m gonna say.”

The wallpaper behind Davis looks like Zach Braff’s shirt in Garden State. I wish Tom Davis was wearing that shirt right now and all I could see was his head.

McNamee, “If you know my jargon, I did say that.” Brian has his own language? Kudos my friend. You should give your whole testimony in this fake language.

Clemens bled through his designer pants? I’m questioning that Roger Clemens wears designer pants.

“Congressman, when I’m on the mound I want an edge (Davis chuckles.)” Isn’t that admitting guilt? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING HE JUST SAID HE DID IT?!?!¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿??

I think this whole time “Can I Get A Witness" should be playing on a loop in the background.

This Jose Canseco Party must have been one heck of a shindig… can’t believe I didn’t get the invite.

Ohhhhh apparently it was a barbeque… I’m hungry for ribs. I like my steroids to come straight from the cow into which they were injected.

Uh oh, nobody but McNamee remembers Clemens being at the BBQ… Stupid Brian… is this really necessary? If you lied about this and Clemens gets away with this because you lied about this you’re an idiot.

I like that Roger Clemens was playing golf instead of going to party with his team. Classy guy that Clemens.

Someone needs to look up the transcript for McNamee’s description of the party. A woman in a pink bikini with board shorts chasing a child? This guy is either completely full of it, or has a vivid memory.

He pitched 7 innings the night before and then played a round of golf at 8 in the morning. Yea, a human’s body can stand that kind of strain…. HE IS THE TERMINATOR????

“I take vitamins every other day.” Does that seem weird to anyone else? Can Clemens not afford daily doses?

Alright, it’s 11:30 and I’m bored now… if anything else happens… well it won’t….

Why I Love The Drudge Report

Some people enjoy his breaking news, or his right wing positions. Me... Well I'm in it for the pictures.


For the full story

Great Premise... Not So Much On Execution

I like to imagine sitting in a writer's meeting, when someone pitches a great premise, and then everyone starts squealing like fifth grade girls who happened to be eating at Nobu (seriously give me my money Applebees or I'll promote every other restaurant in this fair land) the same day as Brangelinafordtomcatsteviewonder (that's a lot of people.) Sadly no one figures out how exactly to execute this premise, and comedy gold becomes really awkward... Exhibit A.



Go to Sizzler.

Let's Get Ready To Peck Each Other To Death... Lame

A lot has been made about Pedro Martinez being present at a cock fight in his home country, the Dominican Republic. Apparently, this is a problem because Americans don’t like seeing chickens killing other chickens violently. If Americans kill chickens violently it’s ok, but seeing other chickens do it just really freaks us out.

Personally, I’m not a huge fan of chicken fights, but there are other animals I do enjoy watching attack each other with an unnatural hatred. Like…


Porcupines.

Sure, they look all furry and cuddly, but when these beasts from the east get angry you know you’re gonna see a flurry of deadly needles hurdling your way. It’s just science. (Porcupines can fire they quills upwards of 400 miles per hour. (Prove me wrong.))


Seals

This is just hilarious. Seal fighting is basically a slap fight, which reminds most people of a cat fight, and guys seem to go bonkers for cat fights. I hate cat fights because cats are strange animals that are all to willing to turn on their owners. One second you think Priscilla II is gonna take Garfield to task and all of the sudden that two bit feline is clawing your eyes out while Garfield gets away with my lasagna. Don’t need em, don’t trust em.

Lobsters

Have you ever seen a lobster fight another lobster? Ever wonder why kids are so mesmerized by those tanks at that chain restaurant with lobster in the name (I can’t mention the exact name because of my affiliation with Applebee’s. Have you tried one of their delicious burgers today? WHAT? ARE YOU A HEATHEN?)

Anyways, when lobsters are caged for too long they begin to turn on each other, and then it’s on. Of course they move insanely slow and their claws are rubber banded together so the fight resembles geriatrics going at it after they’ve had their fill of a good old fashioned Salisbury steak smoothie…. Mmmmmmm.

Gophers

Do gophers do anything that isn’t amazing? They sing, they dance and they dig holes, my three favorite pastimes. Imagine a scenario where you’re a gopher, digging a hole and suddenly some jackass rams right into you, underground, digging his own hole. I imagine this is similar to a human being cut off on the BQE, and gopher has got to step up. Get in his grill. Give him the paw (this is very offensive to gophers.)

On a more serious note, gopher on gopher violence is the number one killer of gophers that involves other gophers. The number one killer of gophers is actually rogue lawnmowers, but we are far from solving that epidemic. If you know a gopher on the edge, please stop him or her before things get out of hand. We don’t want to lose another Jon Peters character if at all possible. I’m Harold Ramis and I approve this message.

Something For The Ladies

Don't say I don't do anything for you ladies.

I Have No Distinct Advantages

Yesterday while channeling my inner beast I happened to catch exactly four minutes of the World's Strongest Man competition. Why this show isn't broadcast at primetime on ABC is beyond me, but I'm sure commentary like this can't help:

"Well he has a distinct advantage because he's worked as a fireman."

In case you're curious, the event they are talking about is the fire truck pull... That's right... pulling a fire TRUCK.

On what planet would being a fireman at some point in your life give you an advantage when trying to pull a truck?

I would kind of get it if they said "Well he has a distinct advantage if something actually catches fire while he's pulling the truck," but they did not.

Maybe that's how they should change the event to make it more interesting to the fans. Set Max von Maxtermasterson at the starting line and place his house (you know it's mobile) at the other end and set that thing a blaze. Then make MvM book it with the truck to try to save his HGH stash and his Phil Collins vinyl collection.

So don't let him steal your heart away
No, don't let him steal your heart away
And don't pack my suitcase, I'll be back
And don't take my pictures off of the wall
Oh, did you hear me?
Don't let him change a thing 'cos I'll be back
And your house is on fire,
So you might want to move a lil' faster
Seriously your house is on fire
Run

If I Only Had A Hart

This recent story about a doofus who lied about getting a scholarship to play at Cal made me think about all the awesome things you could lie about, and get away with it.

I mean, when I used to tell people how I traveled with my college’s basketball team to Europe I used to joke that I played center. Some people said “wow” other people tried to punch me in the face. That just wasn’t necessary.

The point is, most people will never know if anything you say is true. You could say your dad was an astronaut, and most people wouldn’t take the time to look that one up. Who cares… unless you claim to be Buzz Aldrin’s spawn. Then I would know to stay away from you, cause there’s no way that guy has normal kids.

Honestly, I kind of feel bad for the kid, at least the way he started. Sure, he was an ass, and sure he shouldn’t have lied, but things clearly spiraled out of control. And let’s say you had told the initial lie, in his case that DI schools were recruiting him, when do you stop?

Personally, I probably wouldn’t have thrown a press conference, but I’ve always lacked that big picture.

We all make mistakes, and Kevin Hart will be living with this one at every job interview with a pay scale above McDonald’s for the rest of his life. I think that’s punishment enough. Everyone that has judged him and criticized him should keep in mind that they’ve probably told a few fibs, and while they might have been on a slightly smaller scale, it still wasn’t a good idea.

So Kevin Hart, you probably are a jackass, but for some reason I still feel bad for you. Everyone makes mistakes, and now yours is the lead on ESPN.

My advice: next time lie about your age, or that your father is an astronaut. Just stay away from Buzz Aldrin. That guy gives me the creeps.

Reason 4,000,306 to Hate Neil Young

"Canadian folk rock legend Neil Young said he has lost all hope that music can change the world."

Oh yea Neil?

LIAR



Pretend like that didn't fix Africa forever... JUST PRETEND

http://www.breitbart.com/article.php?id=080208160230.p2cyq6q1&show_article=1

Let's Get It Started... In Here?

In case you were wondering: How Do I Start Off The Biggest Sporting Event Of The Year? Well I have the answer for you.

This went up on the screen before the Superbowl started.



Nothing says let's have a gay and merry time like a detailed evactuation plan. I didn't catch what to do in my section, but I was sure glad I cared my TYCO Junior Batman Home Repel Kit.

At the end of the game it gave me a much slower decent then all the chuckleheads that tattooed 19-0 on their biceps.

I Feel Pretty

Sorry for scaring you

Not sure how many people caught this story, but Sam Cassell may or may not be upset about his contract. I wonder how much longer we as a civilization are going to keep trying to anger the aliens?

First, we only send them footage of Hitler (thanks Jody Foster), then we send Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum up there to bomb them (and annoy them with snarky remarks) as if they don’t have more ships, and now we’re leaving them on obscure basketball teams?


I’ve always been fascinated by aliens, but way more by predators. I mean, who are they? Don’t most predators hunt for food? So why wouldn’t you just always kill the fat people in the movie first (oh wait they already do for hilarity's sake?)? Is Jessica Simpson actually the predator in make up and Proactiv waiting till we all let down our guard to attack, eating careers at every stop (am I the only one sad about 98°? Seriously?)

One thing’s certain, I wouldn’t want to be at Sam’s contract negotiation.

Mister, Mister, get me out of here... or I will eat your face

The Magical Mystery Tour... Brought To You By Arizona

As many of you know, the Superbowl is a magically mysterious place. Where little Asian children are eaten by fat men in passing cars…

Kid before he's eaten

Seriously, Dude? You just ate a small Asian child. I have so many questions. How did you fit him in through the window without his small Asian family stopping you? And how did you digest him so fat... I mean fast?

It is also a place where men with signs fight each other to the death, or until Verizon Wireless buys Quiznos and they make a sandwich that can call other sandwiches in the same network while some jerk cook asks you if you can hear him now.

My gameday experience did have some highs, including my temperature (OH SHNAP that was witty) (… jerk roommate, in reference to the fever)

Went to an amazing party that featured Alicia Keys on the big screen, and yes she was falling in and out of something… like her clothes… (That just wasn't right… I’m gonna jump out a window now.)

I did have a strange moment though, when I realized there were only so many places you can have this exchange with a person:

A Person: You wanna free hot dog?
Me: Really, why?
A Person: Cause it’s free.
Me: Sure, I’ll eat it later (which turned out to be about 1 minute and 20 seconds.)

Where else would you accept that? (Everywhere?) Definitely not Tanzania. (Probably Tanzania.)

That led me thinking to a lot of other things I probably wouldn’t do in Tanzania, but this is neither the time nor the place.

Our seats were upper deck but the stadium had ridiculous sight lines. I could literally see Bill Belichicks ego go from Matthew McConaughey to Matthew Baldwin in one play. (If there’s not a Matthew Baldwin it’s only because the other Baldwins killed him out of shame… look for that in the New York Times… I dare you.)

I also enjoyed how cocky every fan there was. New England fans expected to win, while Giants fans are just cocky a**holes.

That gets to the important point though. When you go to the Superbowl there are seven questions you always get asked:

1. Where you stayin’?
2. How much for your tickets?
3. Aren’t ticket prices insane?
4. Liver for your ticket?
5. Would you do Jessica Simpson if it meant you couldn’t go to the Superbowl?
6. What you looking at?
7. Do you know that you are going to burn in a fiery pit for going to the Superbowl? Cause you are, and I’m here sent by God to tell you this. Because, while God has a very busy agenda on any given day, he thought it was important that I share this information with you right now. You’re going to hell… and I’m not… just letting you know.

There were probably a couple more but I don’t remember all of them. Mostly, people asked “What team you rooting for?”

Apparently no one told these people that you can go and watch a game and decide when you get there, (that’s called courage) which is exactly what I planned to do, so I would answer every person with “The winner.” DONE AND DONE.

So now as Giants fan I thought the game was incredible. While Brandon Jacobs played like… well Brandon Jacobs… the team reached somewhere deep into Eli’s magic jock strap and pulled it out (the real question is what happened to the rabbit he had down there?). Who cares about the game anyways?

On the way out THREE people offered me 20 bucks for my ticket stub. Let’s analyze this for a second. Some people were willing to pay THOUSANDS of dollars to go to this game, but Chubso Marx here thinks they’ll part with the only trinket you get out of the event other than a deflated seat cushion and Tom Petty’s mystical lighty stick, for twenty bucks?

So now that I’m a $20 richer Giants fan I can say that I had a great time in the greater Phoenix/Glendale/Scotsdale/Chipanddale area, and can’t wait to come back in another 10 years when the next game is played there. Or when I have to go looking for my dignity…

Everything Has A Beginning... Except Circles... And Plates

When you take 8 months off from doing anything, you’re probably going to be rusty.. unless it’s breathing.. then you’re probably dead. (That's for you Walt Disney)

So a lot of people (meaning six) have asked me how the Superbowl was so I decided it was time to start a blog. The idea, I would write at all times about my experiences with Superbowls. Sadly those experiences are fairly limited, but the blog thing seemed like fun. Or painful…. Don’t really know yet.

For that reason, and none whatsoever I’ve decided to start writing again. Please excuse:
Typos
Incorrect Grammar
Jibberish
Smudge Marks (I think that’s probably on your end anyway)
Poetry
Incandescent Light Bulbs
Random References
Ho Chi Min References
Bob Dylan’s lisp
Lame Jokes (See Above)
Lamer Jokes (Ibid)
Ibids

So I’ll post periodically, if someone else wants to post I don’t know if that’s possible… a little presumptuous on your part though. Jeez.