New York vs. Philadelphia

THE WORLD SERIES 2009

Let me get my prediction out of the way. To put it simply, it's more than just cute to say it's the "champs" versus the "bums." It's also practical. The Yankees have no idea what they're in for. Phillies in 5.

If you're a typical pinstripe-toting Yankee super-fan who feels your favorite team's history of success - much of which happened when your grandparents were children - justifies you strutting around arrogantly like you yourself actually played a part in winning those championships, and you find yourself laughing at my prediction, just keep reading! I'm gonna have plenty more for you to laugh at. It's not hard making idiots laugh.

Ok, that's as evil as I'm going to get actually (no its not), despite having involuntarily stumbled upon this heaping pile of journalistic gar-baaah-ge - http://www.newyorkpost.com/p/news/local/the_frillies_are_coming_to_town_mnrbqD4sqsEKH10TfB3k6H

. And trust me, after reading it, you'll realize that I use the adjective "journalistic" very, very loosely. If you didn't read it/don't feel like reading, let me summarize it for you in one concise and accurate thought: "utter dogshit." There you have it. That best describes the article.

For the hell of it though, let's dissect this abortion of an article from this abortion of a newspaper (The New York Post is like the Mets of New York newspapers - even shittier and even more unjustifiably ignorant and elitist than it's bigger brother). First, let's address the headline, particularly the bottom right portion that says "Victorino a slugger? Right!" Now, it's one thing to essentially/sarcastically say another team's standout players "suck" - which we all do, and just because they're on the other team -but seriously, we never really think these athletes actually suck...unless we're talking about A-Rod of course. I don't care how many times they show Kate Hudson smiling in the stands, after every Yankees win that man has one thing and one thing only on his mind, and that's fellating Derek Jeter in the clubhouse. Even Yankee fans know I'm right on this one. Remember when Posada hit that homer to tie the game 3 in Anaheim, and A-Rod burst out of the dugout to congratulate him, but not before getting two big palms-full of Derek Jeter's ass on his way up the steps? Yeah, you're shaking your head because you remember.... Wait, you don't? Oh, okay, then just go here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZfqjXcD7Dw - and skip to the 30 second mark. I apologize that the video starts off with some weird club music thing going on and that it features Spanish commentary, but the slow-mo makes this thing hilarious. A-Rod is STARING right at Jeter's behind and makes a bee-line for it. He's more locked in there than he is at the plate. God, what a homo A-Rod is ('Deej, you're getting WAY off track here...' Right, sorry.) Anyway, about Victorino. So it seems New Yorkers, or at least their genius writers at the Post, don't seem to think Shane-o can play. That's interesting. Ya know, I bet you I can find at least one person - one, fat, sloppy, fastball-hurling person- in New York who would disagree. After all, this IS the same Shane Victorino who hit a grand slam off Chicken Cheeseteak Sabathia (CC, get it?) in the post-season one year ago. What's the matter, New York, did you forget about that? Hmmmm? ('No, asshole. We didn't forget. But CC's a different pitcher now! A better pitcher!' Waaa!' Uh-huh, okay. Well he still looks like the same fat, sloppy mess to me). Clearly, this headline is a sign of the nonsense to come within the article itself... And regarding this premonition I say only come on New York!, say you're better, say you'll win, whatever, but don't take shots at Mr. Hawaii 5-OH!, especially when they make you look as stupid and ignorant as you claim Philly is, and especially when the center fielder in question is light years better than your center fielder (quick, fraudulent Yankee fans - particularly the girls -how long did it take you to think of who your own center fielder is? 5 seconds? 10? You thought Bernie Williams first, didnt you? Don't lie to me....It's Melky Cabrera, people. And he stinks. He's neither flyin' nor Hawaiian).

Moving on, the (rancid) meat of article quotes several Yankee fans who spew out the recycled, hackneyed Philly-bashing garbage we've been hearing for decades. How is it that despite being so close to us, so many Noo Yawkuhs still don't seem to know what a hoagie is? And why is it that they all love to talk about how gross cheesesteaks are, but every time I go to a Phillies/Mets game, the only times I don't hear the bitter Mets fans whining about injuries is when they're all smashing their 4th place faces into a fuckin' cheesesteak? ('Ok, well Mets and Yankees fans are a different breed! We're better!' That's cute. But no you're not. You've all put yourselves on an artificial pedastal, like the sports world owes you something just because you're from New York, or more accurately for many of you, from some dirty part of North Jersey while claiming to be from New York, cuz that makes you look cool....).

But it doesn't end there. There's also all the typical stuff about Philly fans throwing beer (or fists) at opposing team's fans all the time, which all the distinguished gentlemen from the Bronx apparently feel is just uncivilized and "classless." (Insert scoffing noise here). Hey, we can't all be sophisticated and reverant enough to wear Roger Clemens jerseys, then go home and beat our wives because she doesn't think 'The Godfather' is the best movie ever made (See? I can stereotype, too!). Don't get me wrong, throwing booze and knocking people out at sports games is a practice that even I - one of the most avid and diehard Philly sports fans alive today - would never condone (at least not anymore!) as it's simply not worth the wasted energy, and it's certainly never worth the wasted beer. But here's the thing, out of all the Philly sports games I've been to in my life (way too many to number), very, very rarely has there been a time when an opposing team's fan has gotten anything worse than routine heckling at a game unless he's drunk and brings it on himself. I mean, if you go to an Eagles game with your shiny new Tony Romo jersey on and start spouting off about how much McNabb sucks, what the fuck do you think is gonna happen? You think you're gonna get a handshake and have us tell you you're right? Such is the height of ignorance. As far as I'm concerned, d-bags like that deserve to get their asses kicked. The point is this: the apparent classless behavior of Philly sports fans that people - typically naive New Yorkers - love to rag on is often times - not always, but often - simply the warranted response to obnoxious visitors who, if nothing else, are ruining the game for everyone else. If you think all this is fabricated and that I'm spinning all of this to make Philly seems nicer than it really is, let me ask you something: have you ever worked for the Eagles on game day?...I didn't think so. I have, so I know what it's like more than you do. And lastly, regarding fan conduct during games, I have spoken many a time with proud Yankee fans who triumphantly tell tales of setting children's Boston Red Sox caps on FIRE in the stands during a game at Yankee stadium. Now, while that's actually kinda hilarious, it's also a lot worse than throwing beer on someone, no? I mean, one of those courses of action a) makes a kid cry, b) permanently ruins an article of clothing, and c) presents the possibility of burning someone/something, while other course of action a) gets you wet. You tell me who's worse, fuckin' hypocrites ('Ok, that's only one instance you've heard about.' Yeah, well, in all likelihood, same goes for you regarding our fans, so suck it).

To keep with the theme of classlessness, allow me now to address something outside the realm of the public, printed word, and instead focus on the exclusively electronic word intended for an equally exclusive audience. In other words, this is where I'm gonna start firing back at all the fuckin' Yankee fan facebook friends of mine. You know who you are. If you have ever posted, or even so much as thought of something like this - "Hey Philly, now you have to beat a REAL team from a REAL city to win a World Series" - then I'm talking to you. And you, people, are acting pathetic, and I've already spent some time laughing mockingly at you. Allow me to explain... Last year we beat the Rays in swift fashion to win the World Series. But apparently they weren't a real team, huh? Well, New York, maybe you shouldn't have let them steam-roll you in the regular season then, huh? I mean, if they're not a real team and if Tampa is not a real city, shouldn't you have finished better than them in the regular season instead of letting them bitch-slap you around your own division? The point is - don't fuckin' tell me about beating a real team from a real city, when last year you yourselves couldn't even get past them to make the playoffs. It's not our fault they won the pennant - it's YOURS. They just happened to be in our way. Don't make the mistake of thinking we didn't want the Yankees or Red Sox last year, either. We would have loved it. And I'm not gonna sit here and say I guarantee we would have won against New York or Boston, but still, don't blame us for beating who happened to show up. At least this year you did something about that, so I'll give you credit for that. But only that.

I realize that the style of this little blog response of mine brings with it the risk of making me look like a Philly fan laden with this "New York inferiority complex" I keep hearing so much about, and I'm sure that's how many/all Yankee fans who read this will interpret it. All I can say to them is that this has nothing to do with me. Rather, I just felt it was time for people to fire back at you at your incessantly uneducated and annoying insults, not to mention latent insecurity this year ('Insecurity? Us? Are you joking? No, I'm not joking). Never before (save for possibly the 2000 Mets series) have I seen so many bitter and insulting Yankee-related comments towards their World Series opponents. Now some may argue that the geographical proximity of this year's opponent just makes it more fun, but I suggest otherwise. I think that since we're so close geographically, it scares Yankee fans to death of what they'll hear if and when they lose. Seriously, how much Yankee trash-talk do you remember hearing, and how many caustic and derisive articles do you remember reading heading into the 2001 showdown with Arizona? Or the 2003 affair with the Marlins? Little to none, right? Right. Well, that's because Florida and Arizona aren't exactly close to the big apple, and so Yankee fans feel safe. Good thing, too, cuz they got spanked in both of those series, but that's neither here nor there. But, just as in 2000, here in 2009 someone right next door is threatening to unseat them from the artificial throne they placed themselves on, and they respond the only way they know how - by putting down the other team, and in this case, their city, all in an effort to comfort themselves. There's no respect here. There's no sportsmanship coming from up north. Just bitterness. Just thinly veiled insecurity. Just all the things they accuse Philly of being. Just a sense of mocking they feel is their duty as New York Yankee fans. And in this I see very high comedy. And I laugh as I look down upon you from the championshiop throne that this team and this city earned the right on which to place itself one year ago tomorrow (10/27).

Regarding the games themselves, and now it's time for some actual baseball talk, here's how I see things shaking out:

- Game 1: Both starting pitchers have been sensational, but call me crazy, I like Cliff Lee here, if for no other reason than the Phils got to Sabathia last year, and so there's no reason to think we can't do it again. Plus, with the way Howard is swinging the bat, he and Utley are gonna make someone sitting in that hitter's paradise of a right field a lot of ebay money by providing them so many World Series home run balls to sell.

- Game 2: Im guessing Hamels will start, and I'm guessing he'll give up some more homers. Too tough to think you can sweep in New York. Yankees will take this one.

- Games 3, 4, and 5: Phillies just don't lose at home. In fact, we're good anywhere. We're the first team in Major League history to win 16 of 20 post season games. How's that for analysis? And when it's over, you're gonna see Chase Utley holding up the MVP trophy.

Alright, so there's my response. Bring it on, bombers. We've been waiting for you. And we're foaming at the mouth. Taking 2 out of 3 from you in your own house earlier this year wasn't enough for anybody. We want more. And we're gonna fucking take it. We're gonna keep our real title as world's best, and we're gonna steal your fake self-proclaimed title as world's best as well. And I, for one, can't wait. Not even Jay-Z and his new vomit-inducing NY anthem about how pretty the lights are and how he made Yankee hats famous can help you.

Thanks for dropping in folks. Til next time, let's play ball,

DJ

Some notes on football. Sorry, ladies.

I. THE NFL AFTER WEEK 2: BALANCE IS NOT ALWAYS THE BEST THING

Like most professional sports in America, for several years the National Football League has been striving for parity, which is to say, balanced competition between teams. This is done by tinkering with contract policies, salary caps, and all the other financial minutae about which I happily lack a firm understanding. Suffice it to say that by hook or by ladder (get it?), the NFL wants all its games/teams to be consistently competitive, thus leaving the door equally open for teams/markets of all sizes, from Dallas down to Jacksonville, to win a championship. And judging from what I saw in 2008 (more on that in just a moment), and what I've seen so far in 2009, I dare say the NFL has pretty much gotten its wish. We still have a few dominant teams and our bottom-feeders, sure, but generally, the league has become more balanced. This is a good thing, right?... I used to think so, but too often these days I find myself wondering if this balance has come about at the expense of quality football. In other words, it seems there is a ton of mediocrity in the NFL, and I'm not so sure that's a good thing, even if it is more balanced.

Consider the evidence. In 2008, the NFC's representative in the Super Bowl came down to a contest between a team that finished 9-7 in a piss poor division (The Arizona Cardinals from the NFC West), and a 9-6-1 team who tied the freakin' Bengals and only made the playoffs because of a fluke miracle upset by the Raiders in the final week of the season (The Philadelphia Eagles). I'm a die hard Eagles fan, and so it's tough to admit, but neither of these teams were all that good in 2008. Arizona beat up on weak competition, still merely limped into the playoffs, and rode one player (Fitzgerald) to a conference title, and the Eagles, well, the Eagles took advantage of an inexperienced Vikings team and the suddenly befuddled New York Giants after losing their star receiver, Plaxico Burress, to get to the conference title game. Neither team really consistently exhibited good, sound, quality football last season. So while that conference title game was back and forth, high scoring, competitive, and mostly entertaining, it kinda looked pathetic next to the Cowboys/Giants/Redskins/49ers games of the late 80's and early 90's. Either the '08 Cards or '08 Eagles would have gotten absolutely ass-raped against any of these erstwhile powerhouses. It just makes me think that, generally, teams are able to win/compete these days despite putting a sub-par product out on the field. And that doesn't make me happy.

And look at what we have this year. Looking around the entire league, how many teams would you consider to be "scary," as in "I really don't want my team to have to face that team." I count three, and only three: the Baltimore Ravens, the New York Giants, and the New Orleans Saints. That's it. Two teams with no-doubt-about-it awesome defenses (despite each looking somewhat vulnerable in week 2), and one with an equally terrifying offense. Everyone else? - ehh, bring it on. The Patriots are exponentially softer than they were a few years ago, same goes for Indy, the Steelers don't score enough points and I've yet to figure out how that fucking team has won twice in the past four years, Dallas chokes, Philly chokes, Favre sucks, the Pack just got humbled at home by the friggin' Bungles, Panthers stink, the Falcons aren't there yet, the Cardinals are overrated, so are the Chargers, the Dolphins were a flash in the pan, yadda yadda yadda... Nobody's really that good. So what we're left with is a bunch of tight-fisted affairs that are not that exciting because, to quote legendary dodgeball coach and five-time ADAA all-star Patches O'Houlihan, "It's like watchin' a bunch of retards trying to fuck a door knob out there!"

I find myself longing for the old days when you had nearly indestructible teams regularly stomping the competition, which inevitably made it even more gratifying when they were taken out. To use my favorite team as an example again, I bet everyone who's been watching Philly football for the last 15 years or more remembers with much more delight the game where we stuffed Emmitt Smith and the mighty Cowboys on 4th and 1 TWICE to secure the victory than they do our playoff win over Minnesota last year. I bet the regular season game when we beat Dallas by picking off Aikman in the end zone and watching as Troy Vincent ran it all the way back to the house resonates with you more warmly than when we smacked around the G-men in the playoffs last year. And this is regular season vs. playoffs I'm talkin 'bout here! It should be the other way around. But it isn't! And you know why? - because when we beat Dallas, we were knocking off the best. That was David vs Goliath stuff. We had to be awesome, almost perfect to win those games, and so when it happened, it was genuinely unbelieveable. It's more memorable that way. I think a league dynamic like that is more fun; when you have a healthy crop of awesome teams, and then everyone striving to be this year's Cinderella so to take a run at the big boys. It's better than watching the 7-8 Chargers play for their division's championship (insert dry-heaving sound here) like they did in 2008. Uuuugh.

If you still don't believe me, go to a bar that shows every game next Sunday, and watch as much as you can without getting bored/sick (not counting your home team's game, of course). You won't last long. If you come across Miami, Washington, St Louis, Seattle, Carolina, Tampa Bay, Chicago, Detroit, Oakland, Kansas City, Denver, Tennessee, Jacksonville, Cleveland, or Cincinnatti, you'll likely quickly opt to go outside and watch the grass grow instead, because its just as exciting. And often times, the teams I left out can be boring as shit, too.

The NFL needs to be more like Major League Baseball. The big leagues are so great because we have villains like the Red Sox and Yankees - the indestructible empires that always pose a major threat. That's why its always such a big deal when they get beaten. (Quick side note: The Mets should be like this also with all the money they throw around. However, this is not the case. To Mets fans, this is because they are so riddled with injuries. To everyone else with half a brain, it's because of injuries and because they suck big floppy donkey dick. Ok, back to football). The NFL on the other hand, though clinging to the Patriots and Steelers I guess, doesn't have that. The NFL has like 29 Seattle Mariners, and 3 Detroit Tigers teams. Overwhelmingly homogenous and mediocre, with a few barely superior exceptions. Bleh.

One last note: The wildcat offense is fucking stupid. Period.

Alright, this one was short and sweet. More to come soon.

DJ

Bambi vs Michael Myers, The Case of the Fourth Toe, and the Show You Need to Watch

Hello everybody, and welcome back. I'm in a good mood today, which is always nice, but it's especially fitting today seeing as it has been maybe a little too long since I blogged about things that are a bit more...ummm, light, tame, flippant, easy, etc. ('You're so proud of yourself for using the word 'flippant' aren't you...' Maybe a little. It's a solid SAT word after all). So with that in mind, I'm 'bout to get seriously unserious with you. And off we go...

I. THE FUNNIEST SHOW NOBODY IS WATCHING

Like many people, when I'm exhausted after a long day of work followed by a few hours of pseudo meat-headism at the gym, sometimes there's nothing I want to do more than sit my tired ass on the couch and laugh at stupid shit on television. This time of year, however, when all the quality weekly sitcoms and such are still on hiatus and the major networks are just content to churn out regurgitated reality shows (There were TWO reality shows this summer featuring Terrell Owens! In one of them he was the ripped obnoxious guy. In the other he was the ripped obnoxious guy), the pickins' are slim for a guy without any premium channels. I mean, there's only so much "Baseball Tonight" you can watch before you start hearing Tim Kurkjian's nasally wine and seeing Peter Gammons' teeth - it looks like a small bomb went off underneath someone's yellow, wooden deck inside his mouth, I swear - in your sleep. So, naturally, I quite often turn to the OnDemand menu. And recently, I uncovered an absolute gem.

The show is called "Tosh.O," and it can be found by selecting TV Entertainment - Comedy Central - Tosh.O. Basically, it's kinda like that show on "E!" called "The Soup" (formerly "Talk Soup" for those of us who still remember Greg Kinnear's humble beginnings), except that it deals exclusively with internet videos, typically popular YouTube videos and such. Also, the host of the show, Daniel Tosh (hence the show's goofy name), is a hell of a lot funnier than anyone I've ever seen on the "E!" channel. He's quick, sarcastic, clever, etc. - all the things you would typically want and expect from a stand-up comedian, which is exactly what Mr. Tosh is when he's not hosting the show. But more than anything else, he makes the show great because he's fearless when it comes to pushing the envelope. He's not scared or hesitant to go after anyone or anything at all, which endears him to me in much the same fashion as Trey Parker and Matt Stone (creators of "South Park"). Everything and everyone is fair game for parody/mocking, just like in South Park, and I like that. For example, he just recently showed a clip of a girl skate-boarding down a hill, only to eventually lose her footing and suffer a wicked face-plant on the asphalt below. After the clip finished and the audience went "Ooohhhhh!," he stood there with a big old smile on his face and said, "Awww, don't worry. You can still make a name for yourself and have a busted face. Just ask Julia Stiles." As the crowd reacted to that, he just smiled in a way that suggested "That's right, I did just say that." And again, I'm grateful for this.

Some other examples quickly before I move on:

- "You career is in worse shape than Kelly Clarkson's ass."

- (While showing picture of man passed out drunk, apparently spooning with a horse) "Well, looks like Sarah Jessica Parker is cheating on Matthew Broderick again." (Crowd roars)... "What, its because she looks like a HORSE!"

- (following video of dolphin coming up out of a pool and trying to hump its trainer) "Afterwards, the dolphin tossed the man's seafood salad....More like hepatitis C-world (get it?)."

- "If I hear that Jamie Foxx song, 'Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-a-alcohol' one more time, I'm going to intentionally drive my car into an elementary school."

This is all tip-of-the-iceberg stuff though, folks. I won't give more examples because the humor really does come more from his snappy delivery than anything else, and unfortuantely, I cannot duplicate that here. Still, the show just keeps getting better and better. But, if you want to check it out, I suggest doing it now as there are only a few limited-time episodes available, and it'll be a little while before the show returns to air (it just finished its first run of 10 episodes). And if I haven't sold you yet, let me share with you some other bits to be seen on the show: Asians doing Christopher Walken impressions, white girls doing Bill Cosby impressions, rating videos/pictures to determine if they're gay, viewers sending in both "clip of the week" and "prank of the week" videos (which are particularly hilarious), short comedy videos sent in by celebrities like David Koechner, Tommy Chong, Jack McBrayer (Kenneth the page from 30 Rock), Harland Williams, and others, and much, much more. Here's a link to the website. Waste no more time, people! It's worth it: http://www.comedycentral.com/tosh.0/

II. THE POOR, POOR NEXT TO LAST TOE

During a fantastically lazy day this past weekend that involved little more than waking, peeing, eating, laying down, reading a book, and drinking sangria - a phenomenal agenda in my opinion - I found myself at one point - while laying on a couch reading - noticing a dull, repetitive, swishing noise. I didn't even realize I was the cause of it at the time. So, curious, I stopped reading for a second, brought the book down just under my nose so I could peer over top of it with the sneaky, squinting, and furtive eyes of a detective and still catch the pleasant scent of the freshly printed pages in my nostrils, and I saw that my feet were rubbing against each other. "Oh, how 'bout that! My feet are making that noise!," I thought to myself with a smile and a quick snort.

Now, rapt in the newfound wonder that were my own two feet, I began to think about your typical foot/toe conversations. ('Okay, this is ridiculous. But since you were drinking sangria, I'll let it slide.' Thank you). For example, whenever on the subject of feet, everyone always seems to ask, "Is your second toe longer than your big toe?" It's a fair and somewhat interesting questions I guess, and one to which I'm always happy to answer "same exact size..." But, whenever someone admits that yes, the second toe is longer, that's always followed by two things: 1) that person removing his or her footwear to show you, and 2) someone asking "Isn't there a name for that?" First, it's called Morton's Toe, and yes, it bothers me that I don't know who Morton is or was, nor do I know just how freakishly gigantic his second toe must have been to warrant such entitlement. Honestly, I don't think it's fair that just because he had such a big...('You're about to digress. Focus.' Right, sorry)... Then, when this person's bare foot is exposed, if the conversation continues, it will do so via the following remarks, which again, are two-fold: 1) "Can you move your middle toe by itself?," and 2) "Oh my God, look how small your pinky toe is!"...

Never - EVER - does anyone make any kind of mention whatsoever of the second smallest toe. It never happens. And I guess it's understandable. I mean, if you had to lose a toe, that would probably be the one you'd pick by process of elimination. Consider this: You'd want the little guy to remain if not for the cuteness factor than at least to serve as a balancing bookend, albeit a small one, to your foot. You're not hackin' off the big guy for similar reasons and because I'm guessing it would hurt the most. The second toe isn't coming off either because, if it's longer than the big toe, then it's an excellent conversation piece, and even if it isn't the longest, it still feels like second in command of the metatarsal army, or the metatarmy ('Just checking. You just made up the word metatarmy, right?' Right), and you never want to sacrifice such a high ranking officer when there are clearly less important, grunt toes to be had (aka "foot" soldiers! Ha! Puns are fun!). So you're down to two remaining toes - the middle toe and the next to smallest toe. I say you're always going to keep the middle toe in tact because of the remaining two toes, it's the bigger one, and for some reason I bet people would instinctively equate that to being more important. Also, if you chop off the middle toe, your foot suddenly looks a lot like a pair of tongs, whereas if you chop off the next to smallest toe, you just look like you lost a toe, no big deal. See? You know I'm right, you're always going with the next to smallest toe if you have to lose one, despite what you've seen in "The Big Lebowski."

A few more points here to emphasize our unfortunate but inevitable ignorance of the next to smallest toe. To me, it sucks that it's the only one without a fuckin' name. You got the big toe, morton's toe, middle toe, and pinky toe. What the hell do you call the fourth one - fourth toe? That's lame. There's nothing! I've had to write "next to smallest toe" or "second smallest toe" quite a few times in this blog already, and it has seriously saddened me each time. It deserves a fuckin name just like the rest of them, and I suggest "ring toe." It makes sense because if you were to equate your toes and fingers, the big toe would go with the thumb, pointer finger to the morton, middle to middle, pinky to pinky, and ring to ring. So there you have it, "ring toe." I like it.

Moving on to my final, tragic point on the subject, remember that little game your mom used to play with your feet when you were a small child? You know, the one that starts with "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home..." etc? Yeah, continue that in your head and see what happens to the poor little old ring toe. I'll wait.....................Right?!? "This little piggy got none!" That's what happens to it! The other toes either go to market, stay home and chill, eat some fuckin roast beef, or at least cry so about it so it's doing something. But the ring toe? Nope. Nothing. Just hangs out, doesn't get any food, and doesn't do anything about it. That's bullshit. And I'm about to fix it with my own version of the song, keeping the same order starting with big toe and working our way down. It goes like this:

"The big toe piggy went to market. The morton toe piggy stayed home. The middle toe piggy went to the fridge where he was planning to eat all the roast beef without sharing, but the ring toe piggy was on to the middle toe piggy's game, so he stabbed and murdered the middle toe piggy, ate all the roast beef, and then had sex with all the other piggies' mothers, and he forced the pinky toe piggy to watch."

There, much better I think. I feel better, anyway. Thanks for sitting through that. Moving on.

III. LONELINESS: THE DISNEY APPROACH VS. THE GRUESOME APPROACH

The range of shows/movies to which I'm drawn is almost boundless. As long as it's not a gawwwwd-awful teeny-bopper movie like "Hanna Montana" or an infidelity-laced psychological torture flick that makes me despise all women for months like "Unfaithful," chances are at some point or another I'll sit through it. Hell, I once watched "Starship Troopers," "The First Wives Club," and "Lilo and Stitch" all within a 36 hour period, with probably an episode or two of "Everybody Loves Raymond" in between ('You sure you like girls?...' Yes. Maybe. I think...). And so, it should really come as no surprise that I recently pondered the common themes present in some classic, animated children's movies as well as in some gruesome, cover-your-eyes adult thrillers. And the resulting thoughts I found interesting enough to share...

Actually, there's really only one theme I'm going to be dealing with: loss of a mother (I would have specified this idea in the title of this little section of the blog, but I thought it sounded too creepy...). While it's not quite as prevalent anymore I don't think, I always found it curious how some of Walt Disney's classics like "Dumbo" and "Bambi" wasted no time in presenting the protagonist with the most trying of circumstances: finding happiness/purpose/direction at a very young age without the benefit of a mother. They even go so far as to shoot Bambi's mother in the first, what, two fuckin' minutes of that movie? ('Before you go any further - you're a mama's boy, aren't you...' Absolutely). Well, however long it takes, I say that's pretty fucked up. And actually, that's not the example that resonates most with me at all. No no, the one that made me want to kill myself as a small child was "The Land Before Time," when the innocent little brontosaurus Littlefoot loses his mama - which is bad enough! - then thinks he found her again when he sees a large shadow on the side of a rock, but ultimately realizes as he runs over to the rock as the shadow gets smaller and smaller that it's only his own... Ya know, I don't remember a whole lot from 1988, but I remember that scene, and I remember thinking to myself, "Ok, well, clearly mom's gonna die soon. Time to game plan. I hate my life." Worse, after Littlefoot's mom dies, he's left with nothing, save for the companionship of a bitchy little female triceratops named Ducky and a hapless pteradactyl who can't fly named Petrie. So then I thought to myself, "Alright, so after mom dies I'll have two friends. One will have cooties, and the other will be retarded. Time to game plan..."

But I'm getting way off point already. I mean, I do see the idea here. It's good to let kids see their favorite characters learning on their own, making friends, becoming independent, growing up happy, etc. and realizing that they could never cling to their mothers all the time. I'm not sure they had to have the mothers die, but still, I get it, I think.....(MINI SPOILERS COMING) but then I started watching the show "Dexter," and I saw Rob Zombie's sort-of re-creation of "Halloween 2." And the resulting irony I found morbidly hilarious. As you may have guessed, in both of these examples, the main character loses his mother as a small child, and consequently loses. his. fucking. mind. So much so that they both - Dexter Morgan and Michael Myers - become serial killers who, in one way or another, mask their identities. Michael Myers does so by sporting the classic white face mask, and Dexter spends most of his days admittedly pretending to be a normal, law-abiding citizen - not to mention employee of the Miami police force.

Of course, in both of these cases, it's not quite as cut and dry as mom's death = lifelong rampage. There are more involved backstories and such. As it turns out, Dexter is just helplessly obsessed with blood, and his mom's death via chainsaw - which took place right in front of him, and is an awesome way to kill someone - while significant, certanly isn't the only factor in determining who he grew up to be. Also, Dexter abides by a code whereby he only kills those who deserve to die, so for all his homicidal proclivities, he does still have a sense of civility/chivalry about him. And in Michael Myers' case, he was a fuckin' nutcase even before his mom died, as evidenced by the fact that he absolutely butchered all his family members (plus, he fuckin' de-STROYS his one sister's boyfriend with an aluminum bat - awesome) as a kid except for his mother and his baby sister. Still, in this latest installment of the slasher franchise, we come to discover that all this time, it's been delusional visions of Michael's mother that compels him to return home and murder his remaining sister...

Still, I think the dichotomy between what we're shown as children and what we see as adults regarding what happens to people/characters when their mothers are taken from them is still pretty valid/thick, and as I mentioned before, hilarious. It almost makes the kids' movies, though well-intentioned, seem naive, doesn't it? Like the filmmakers, in their respectable effort to teach kids a valuable lesson about life, think that the prospect of killing off the mama is a tame enough medium for kids to handle? I mean, didn't they realize that this idea could seriously psychologically crush a kid? I don't know, it just seems weird to me; as if they're saying, "Hey kids, if mom dies, don't worry! You can just forget about/let it go when you make friends with a rabbit or a skunk or a tricertatops or other elephants!" Because to me, the more accurate thought here is also the more terrifying one that you see in Dexter and Michael Myers; as if the filmmakes are saying, "You wanna know how fucked up you can get if you have to deal with mom dying? Take a look at this shit." Just seems funny to me. Seriously funny. And clearly the folks over at Disney should get on the ball and make amends for these egregious errors of the past, and they should do so by presenting children with the consequences that are only as truthful and brutal as the idea of losing your mother in the first place, and make an animated movie featuring the classic characters involving someone losing a parent, then dealing with it by slaughtering all the others. I suggest Donald Duck play the bloodthirsty psychopath, stalking his victims in the dark while quietly whistling the melody to the famous "M-I-C....K-E-Y M- O U - S E" song. Tell me that wouldn't be creepy and awesome.... Just a thought.

Alrighty then. Nuffsynuff for now. Thanks for droppin' in. Until next time, go hug your mother.

DJ

For Matters of the Heart, Consult Batman

Earlier this year, just before the flowers bloomed and birds chirped, while the weather was still just cold and stinging enough to be symbolic, my romantic relationship withered and croaked ('This is how you're starting your blog? Ummm, yup). That... was not a fun day. In fact, it hasn't been a fun six months. But, not to worry, I'm not here today to vent my pent up frustrations or talk about how much the whole situation sucked; that would, in my estimation, make for an almost unfathomably lame and unentertaining read. No no, instead, it's just that over the past half calendar year I've unwittingly become more than just passingly familiar with a peculiarly haunting conundrum: how best to move forward/objectively accept the notion that there really are "other fish in the sea" at a time when I couldn't help but view everything with bitterly subjective eyes, and it's lead to some interesting thoughts. To give you a better idea, during those first few post-relationship months of March and April, I spent such a great deal of quality Deej-time with this very problem that if it somehow were able to personify itself and become a woman, we would have been having regular sex, she'd be calling me twice a day, and we probably would have had the "So what do you think about anal?" conversation... Kidding. No I'm not. But you get the idea. This concern was incessant; it was always with me. It went to bed with me, it stared back at me in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I could taste it in my morning coffee, it sent me a bunch of "lil' green patch" plants on facebook, the whole bit. It just wouldn't leave, and so I did not know what to do because I could not seem to formulate any consistently workable and soothing answers.

Naturally, at numerous points along the way, I thought maybe I'd find these answers - or at least the seeds of them - in the counsel of family and friends. And in bizarre way, I did, but not so much in what their messages were but more in how they said them, or their wording ('Leave it to you to discern deep meaning from diction.' But of course, would you expect anything less from me?). To illustrate, when I would confide in people, I would - with remarkable frequency - get responses that sounded something like this: "You shouldn't be like this. You're 26. You're young. You should be happy. You should be having fun." Of course, these serious conversations would typically be lengthy and cluttered with confusing and sad detail, but there's no need to share all that. What's important/relevant here are the main ideas/summaries, which I just paraphrased. And they are good messages. They're valid. They're probably correct.....But they fuckin' bothered me. The wording bothered me. Particularly, that one redundant phrase - "should be"- ate at me because it sets a ridiculous/idealistic benchmark. If everything was "as it should be," then there would be zero problems, and when it comes to dating/relationships/finding someone to care about, stumbling upon an absolute eutopia just isn't in the fucking cards. It's unrealistic. It's impossible. It doesn't work that way. And if you disagree with me and think that your relationship is seriously "perfect," then you're either high or you're Angelina Jolie...


And so it was, for a while, the messages and bits of advice I received from others, while genuinely appreciated as I was feeling atypically vulnerable, ultimately pissed me off moreso than they aided me. Shit, I get mad enough as it is whenever I can't figure out a friggin' sudoku puzzle, so when all this was happening and I felt I was drifting farther and farther away from a comfortable solution to legitimately difficult problem instead of progressing toward one, my frustration became quite amplified - internally, at least. Ironically, this filled my mind to such an extent that I could have sworn my temples continually and visibly pounded outward so to make extra physical space in my head for all of the bullshit minutae floating around in there. But that's when it happened. Right as I was almost at the psychological breaking point, I had something that's not nearly dramatic enough to be considered an epiphany, but was still a pretty helpful realization nonetheless. I don't know the word for it, so I'll make one up by employing one of my favorite rules of the Spanish language: epiphanita. Yes, a tiny epiphany, an epiphanita ('Wow, you're such a homosexualita.' Yeah, well, what can ya do...). And the fact that it happened at this point I dont' feel is very shocking, for I'd be willing to bet that, just as people have been known to sometimes summon extraordinary amounts of strength in moments of extraordinary peril, your mind forces itself to operate on a higher plane of reason right when it seems you're about to lose it completely. In other words, desperation, while certainly unenviable, is a powerful condition.


But I digress. What I realized was, of course, something almost ridiculously simple, but that's also not surprising considering my annoying tendency to immediately overcomplicate things. Specifically, it dawned on me that instead of ignoring the idea of an idealistic new relationship since its unattainable, I should embrace the very unattainability of it. In other words, maybe the best way to deal with demons is to have them on display, to wear them externally, etc. instead of trying to mask them in the blind hope that they'll go away when I find something ideal/perfect, because there's no way that could ever happen. I mean, the possibility of going down this unfortunate road (some people call it "heart break") is a terrifying one, but I learned that often times, the best (and often only) way of overcoming fears is to confront them, to immerse yourself in them, to almost wear them ('I smell a nerdy allusion coming...' That's right you do!...) And it is in THIS concept that we can learn a little sumptin' sumptin' from none other than Batman! That's right, the dark knight himself employed this very principle in a way. He overcame his fear of bats by surrounding himself with them. He became simultaneously fear-less and fear-some by simply dealing with his shit head-on, despite how agonizing the prospect initially seemed.


This isn't to say that Bruce Wayne and I are exactly similar here; he has the additional motive of wanting to learn how to strike fear into the hearts/souls of Gotham evildoers, whereas I just want to make sure that I have nothing to hide, and that there's nothing I can't handle, especially considering that statistically speaking, I probably will have to suffer heart break again at some point... And also, Batman is awesome, and so any real-life applications his character represents are certainly worth my time to consider. Maybe I should give myself a tangible reminder of this whole idea by wearing a big black cape everywhere I go from now on. That would be practical, I'd be making a fashion statement, and in case I get drunk and fall asleep outside, I'll always have a blanket. It makes sense, right? No? Okay fine...


It's ironic too, isn't it? - that I remind myself to embrace the reality of everything I had been trying to ignore/rid myself of by thinking of a sort-of escapist, comic book superhero ('Wait, you do know that..." Yes, I know, Batman's not REALLY a superhero because he has no super powers. Shut up)? But whatever, it seems to be working for me. Hell, maybe that irony is actually why it's working for me; I know that escapism/ignorance, while enticing, is not the answer, but perhaps plucking one of escapist fiction's foremost icons and for use in representing a more real, mature answer allowed me to more comfortably and calmly accept what I had to do. Does that makes sense? I honestly don't even know; I'm just firing away very stream-of-consciousness style right now...

Don't get me wrong, I don't outwardly publicize all that's bothering me all the time, especially when it comes to new women in my life (and there IS one of those, as a matter of fact), because that would be psychotic, and it would have caused her to run for the hills. Plus, acting psychotic is a woman's job, right? Right ('Typical..' Yes, but true!). But still, could you imagine a first date like that - "So, I thought we could try so-and-so restaurant. By the way I got my heart broken earlier and I'm terrified and I hope that never happens down the road with me and you, but I felt like I should mention it right now at the start..." Yikes. That's not what I mean by wearing my problems outwardly. I just mean that I won't hide it. I will talk about it if it comes up. I will not bottle it up or shy away from it. I'll prepare myself for its recurrence if I ever get to that stage of a relationship again. Because there is no such thing as eutopia. Everyone has a past. Everyone has baggage, even guys. And sometimes, ours can weigh just as much your run-of-the-mill crazy and irrational woman's, and any guy who denies that I say is a damn coward. In situations like these, you can either be tough and durable like Batman, or dishonest, deceitful, cowardly, indecisive, etc. like, ummmmm, Brett Favre. Ha! And personally, I'd rather be Batman with his square jaw than Brett Favre with his stupid grey beard, wouldn't you?...


In summation, banking on the ideal is a fool's errand, so I say be proud of your scars. Showcase them. Talk about them if questioned/warranted, even if it feels awkward. It's better to be honest. You'll feel better/purged in the long run, I can almost guarantee that. I'm glad I learned that. I'm a better person for admitting that it still hurts. It doesn't matter that it's been half a year. If it still hurts, it still hurts. That's the reality. Its better that I admit it, and its better that people can know if they want. It's weird how it all works out that way. It's weird how what would typically be touchy issues/conversational no-no's aren't really that bad once you let them out of your mouth. It's comforting, and it goes a long way towards not only moving on yourself, but letting someone else in as well as it makes it easier for he/she to really "get to know you," as they say. If I'm not doing a good enough job being clear here, allow me to put it to ya this way: I still miss Alexis every single day, and I still really wish that everything worked out differently. Yet, all that being said, I can't really think of anything I want to do right now more than finish this sentence so I can go be with Jenn....And on that note...



Thanks for droppin' in. 'Til next time playaz,



DJ

Yankee Brutal Dandies

These days, I feel the word "genius" gets thrown about with far too much regularity - so much so that the word seems to have lost a significant amount of prestige. You know, kinda like the words "hero," "miracle," "incredible," and others. Maybe I just watch too much sports - a forum wherein exaggerated usage of these words is about as prominent and ludicrous as Chris Berman's combover - but I really feel like members of the broadcast media/journalists need to take it down a notch in this regard. I mean, while they're entertaining and all, LeBron James is not a legitimate hero, Santonio Holmes' Super Bowl catch was not really miraculous, and Donovan McNabb's resemblance to a horse is not...okay, that might actually be incredible ('I thought you loved that guy?' I do, and unconditionally so. But he is nonetheless just as much of a horse-face as Sarah Jessica Parker).

But I digress already. This post isn't even about sports. I only mention this misuse of vocabulary because I want to make it clear that when I use the word "genius" again three sentences from now, I want the word to carry the supreme weight it deserves, which is to say "of exceptional intellect, especially as shown in creative and original work," and nothing short of that... I went to the movies again recently. I saw "Ingluorious Basterds." Quentin Tarantino is a genius. With this movie, not only does he simply rectify the clusterfuck of wrongdoings that his previous effort,"Grindhouse," proved to be, but he reminds the movie-going universe that he is one of the most (if not THE most) uniquely gifted minds Hollywood has to offer as he showcases his style that is a deliciously irreverent as the spelling of the movie title itself. If that sounds more like an over-the-top, ringing endorsement moreso than a premise to a movie review, that's because it was supposed to. And when it comes to all things Tarantino, "over-the-top" is only apropos...

And while a good deal of "Basterds" does indeed feature a brand of violence that zips beyond gratuitous and stops somewhere around voracious - watching a Nazi get literally clobbered to death by a "basterd" wielding a Louisville Sluuger and witnessing a gunfight in which the two primary assailants shoot directly at each other's testicles are just two examples - this movie actually proves to be much more substantive, immersive, and intelligent than it's marketing campaing/previews let on. In fact, the most intriguing scenes are the several lengthy ones that feature very little violence (and sometimes none at all), but instead focus simply on the quick, sharp dialogue between a just a few characters or the provocative monologue of one. Tarantino's writing in these scenes is masterful as he consistenly toys with his audience, always dropping apparent hints as to how the conversation will end / how the scene will resolve itself or play out only to suddenly and shockingly change direction several times - an impressive feat that many times left me leaning forward in my seat, hands clasped as if I were praying over my mouth, blissfully ignorant of the annoying fucking teenagers with their cell phones incessantly jibba-jabberin' about their favorite Jonas Brothers songs and other miscellaneous gay things teens talk about in movies seated two rows in front of me, helplessly anticipant of the scene's outcome. In other words, the most memorable quality of "Basterds" is not the "naaat-zee" ass-kicking, but much moreso the nearly tangible tension that is created via the rhetoric of the characters - typically the Nazis.

As the fantastically dispicable Nazi Colonel Hans Landa (or "the jew hunter" as the basterds and others refer to him), Christopher Waltz turns in a remarkable performance as he constantly tinkers with the strings of his puppets - the audience members, the very epitome of the aforementioned thick tension prevalent throughout the movie. One particular scene finds a poor, terrified Jewish woman at a fancy lunch with several prominent members of Hitler's Third Reich (terrified because they don't realize she's Jewish), the very context immediately providing a wonderful discomfort palpable enough to make you squirm in your seat, and you're led to think the scene just might thankfully end without further worry when in stomps Colonel Landa, accompanied by a particularly fascinating and ominous bit of soundtrack (another of Tarantino's quirky talents), and brandishing the shit-eating smile as big and proud and identifiable as the swastikas on his uniform, and no less awful either. The Jewish woman recognizes him as the same son-of-a-bitch who butchered her entire family four years earlier at the dairy farm where they were hiding, but who inexplicably allowed her to escape. So when the rest of the lunch company goes his separate way, leaving just Landa and the Jew sitting at the table, he staring at her with ostensible but transparent pleasantry and delight and she staring back, desperate to hide her anger and terror, you can't help but actually feel the hairs on your neck stand up and perhaps even say "Ooooooh shit" to yourself (as I did) before either of them even utters a single word.

But that is merely the set-up. This is merely Tarantino setting the stage. He's only begun to, ummmm, well let me just say it like it is, he's only just begun to fuck with you, for what follows is a lengthy conversation - dominated by Landa as the Jew stays frightened and nervously reticent - in which you can't help but wait for the bomb to drop, for Landa to call her out on who she is, to perhaps even whip out a gun and shoot her more quickly than he can change his demeanor, which is pretty sudden in its own right. But he doesn't! As they sit there and eat their strudel dessert - he chewing and talking simultaneously in a such a way that makes you hate him even more - he simply probes her for information about who she is and how she came to arrive at this prestigious lunch. He even suggest a glass of milk for her at one point, at which point you can't help but say "Ooooh shit" to yourself again as you're intentionally led to believe this to be sign that he recognizes her from the dairy farm earlier, but he never capitalizes. As ruthless and cunning and downright smart as he is, he never goes after her. But the entire time you can't help but prepare yourself for it. As the scene concludes with Landa walking out, I could almost hear Tarantino laughing at me. And I was grateful for it.

Not to be overshadowed, however, Brad Pitt's turn as the "naaaat-zee" killin', scalp collectin', basterd-in-chief with a comically appropriate Tennessee drawl Lt. Aldo Raine is equally appealing, albeit in a far different manner. The antithesis (and appropriately so) of Colonel Landa, Raine has no time for dramatic build-up, intense interrogation, or any kind of extended conversation for that matter. His character, complete with an underbite that gives him a bit more of a bad-ass style square jaw, is direct and to the point. This, however, does not mean he is not intelligent or witty. With a troupe of vicious and bloodthirsty soldiers at his command, he knows how to get what he wants, and quick. Where Landa will slowly draw what he wants from you using his powers of obersvation and detection, Aldo Raine will simply offer you an ultimatum, and if you do not comply, either he or one of the basterds will, to pay homage to another Tarantino masterpiece, get medeival on y'ass.

This resulting dichotomy between Col. Landa and Lt. Raine yields two effects I found particularly intriguing. First, since the two rarely share the screen at the same time, any time Raine appears seems like a breath of fresh air, or a break from the teeth-chattering Landa scenes. As a pleasant result, Raine's violently efficient and superbly irreverant demeanor seems like a refreshment, and his/the basterds violent methods almost seem funny. Thus, and here comes that phrase again, the "over the top" / cartoonishly graphic violence seems even more fun and exciting than it would have otherwise been - cathartic even, for after Landa winds you up so tight, here come the Basterds to release your angst by either beating the shit out or scaring the wits out of some bad guys. Awesome. That's the best word for it - awesome. Not incredible, not miraculous, not heroic, just awesome...

The second effect, and perhaps even the more gratifying one, comes at the movie's climax when you finally get to see Landa and Raine staring each other down, man to man, face to face, nazi to basterd, eye of the observer to eye fixed with a cross-hairs. For the majority of the scene (SORT OF SPOILERS COMING!) it seems Landa has the upper hand, but when the tables turn and Landa reveals himself as the disloyal jackass that he is, the resulting sense of satisfaction is quite exciting. The man of stature, a pillar of the Nazi regime, a man of supposed steadfast character sitting directly across from the stone-cold, homicidal yankee with all the etiquette and social graces of a guinea pig, has the chance to swiftly prove his dominance, to prove his intellect is a greater weapon than any other man's artillery. But instead, he succumbs to his own greedy wishes, thereby serving as a sterling example of just how hollow, selfish, and ultimately vulnerable the Nazis truly were. How satisfying. I loved it.

While Pitt and Waltz were the foremost representations of their respective parties, Tarantino supplements each of them with a formidable cast of characters, each of whom drive the prominent points home in typical, thankfully exaggerated Tarantino fashion. Eli Roth as "The Bear Jew" and Louisville Slugger wielding basterd is entertaining in his pseudo-insanity when it comes to pummelling nazis (as is Til Schweiger as the slightly more insane basterd Hugo Stiglitz), and Martin Wuttke's version of an obnoxiously loud and red-faced cry-baby Adolf Hitler makes it very easy to look pitifully upon him and the rest of his own group of legitimate bastards in the movie.

Finally, to cap it all off, and staying true to form, Tarantino punctuates the movie with a fantastic soundtrack (which made me personally wonder, "Where the fuck does he find this cool music all the time?") and some fun little voice-over cameos from Tarantino regulars Samuel L Jackson and Harvey Keitel, and some of those nifty little freeze-frames he likes to employ when introducing a character (For example, when we meet Hugo Stiglitz, we see him standing atop a cliff holding an machine gun. Suddenly the camera stops, and next to the character in gigantic bold letters the name "HUGO STIGLITZ" appears as a quick, rough string of three electric guitar chords helps introduce him in kick-ass fashion). Nothing like adding a little touch to an already near-flawless work...

Clearly, as implied in the beginning, this has turned out to be much more of an endorsement than a review, but for good reason. This IS the best movie of the summer. It's worth every dollar spent and every second of its two hour and forty minute run-time. This is a must see. Everyone who sees it will likely - if they don't already - refer to it as a miraculous work and will Quentin Tarantino as an incredible film maker, a hero of the film industry, and a real genius....('Didn't you say something about overusing vocabulary words too much..?' Shut up, it's warranted).

Grade: A

Thanks for droppin' in. 'Til next time ya basterds,

DJ

Vengeance, Philosophy, and Football...

Hello again everybody. It's been a little while since I word-raped Harry Potter in my last blog, but - save for the every day stuff like contemplating what chairs would look like if our knees bent the other way - there has not been too much on my mind since. Then, just like that - skidoosh! - a whole bunch of shit started happening that caused the sarcastic whirlwind that is my psyche to start whipping around, and so here I am again, ready to inform, entertain, offend, and stir up whatever other thoughts and feelings you get while reading this shit. Alright, let's get it on...

I. STARTING OFF WITH SOMETHING HEAVY

I find it keenly intriguing/curious that perhaps the best way to tell that someone really cares about you is if he or she can shatter your heart and soul with what he or she says. In this sense, closeness and vulnerability become almost synonymous. Not a ground-breaking revelation I realize, just an interesting thought. Maybe this is why they say it's good to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer; because this way, theoretically, you can crush your enemies without ever having to touch them. Can you think of a more empowering feeling than that? I can't. So, for those of you burgeoning psychopaths out there who just now immediately thought of that one awful person on your hit list who makes your goosebumped skin crawl and your blood sizzle, perhaps this idea will inspire you to settle for the consolatory satisfaction that will come when you rip out his or her figurative heart instead of the handcuffs and lifetime jail sentence that would come if you ripped out his or her physical, blood-pumping one. And hey, if you manage to psychologically damage this person enough to the point where he or she commits suicide, well then consider it a bonus, then give me a call and we'll go pour his or her actual blood into crystal chalices as we toast his or her swift demise, not to mention your freedom. ('You REALLY gotta stop watching 'Dexter' and 'TrueBlood.' Ok, maybe you're right... but the main idea here before the gruesome stuff is still a fascinating one!...And a valid one, too!)

('Ummmmm, asshole, wouldn't keeping your enemies closer also result in them being close to you, and therefore having the ability to rip YOUR heart out?" Ummm, no. Not at all, but nice try. Allow me to explain). The only way to keep those whom you truly detest close to you, or to even draw them to you in the first place, is to put on a front around them, or a facade that masks your general distaste (think any boss : underappreciated worker still desperate for a promotion type relationship ever). Doing this not only reels in your prey, but it also keeps them at more than arm's length ('Sooo, like an arm plus a hand holding a kitchen knife's length?' Yes. Precisely. And quite appropriately) from ever really knowing the real you. And as you've probably guessed, if they don't really know you, they can't really hurt you. All of the sudden, advantage (quick, point to yourself with your thumbs..) this guy! The only real problem with all of this is that acting fake/putting up a front/whatever you want to call it just kinda sucks. Everyone hates fake people - even other fake people. But if vengeance/humbling someone in a supremely devastating manner is appealing to you - and let's be honest, it's an appealing concept to all of us because we're human - then, well, sacrifices need to be made, and nobody ever made an omelette without breaking a few eggs, as they say. Just be sure to leave that omelette sit out a while before serving it because vengeance...(wait for it...) is a dish best served cold! ('Reeeally?' I'm sorry, that was weak I know... 'I still just can't believe you started this paragraph with a parentheses.' Me neither. It's a flawed paragraph all over the place. Let's ust move on....)

II. VICK HATERS = TERRORISTS

Alright, so being an avid Philadelphia Eagles fan as well as just a stubborn and verbose human being, there's just no way I can write a blog without addressing the Michael Vick situation. Here's the point - if you seriously think that Michael Vick has no business playing in the NFL, so much so that you'd be willing to sell your tickets and/or outright boycott Philadelphia Eagles games (or all NFL games for that matter) because of it, then I feel nothing but pity, shame, and disgust for you. Why? - because you're a fucking moron. That's why. ('Oh, so now since he's playing for your team you're okay with what he did?' Is that what I said? No. Stop making bitter assumptions).

I'm going to put it as simply as I can. If you don't believe in giving Michael Vick a "second chance" as I've been hearing it phrased so frequently as of late, then what you're really saying is that you don't believe in possibility of his rehabilitation. And if you're shunning the concept of rehabilitation, then you're essentially condemning one of the cornerstones of our legal/justice/prison system. And if you condemn justice, you condemn the American way. This makes you a terrorist. ('Well that's an incredibly juvenile explanation.' Yeah, well, no more juvenile than your immature and naive take on things).

For those of you (and there are many I'm sure, and I hate you all) who still see things the other way, let me ask you a few questions: Is it wrong to EVER let a person who was convicted of raping another human being out of prison? Should he have to stay there forever, with no exceptions? And if he is released, is it wrong to let him try to contribute to society by re-establishing himself in the trade in which he's trained and proven? Getting more specific/relevant now - if you hate Michael Vick so much, do you also hate all of China since they eat dogs? (Don't try and tell me they don't). Do you detest everyone in those countries in which cock-fighting (chickens, not penises) is an accepted and popular custom/activity? Or do you, the animal loving saint that you are, really only care about the animals that are domesticated, or more bluntly, the ones you think are "cute"? (Don't answer that one even in your head, we all know the answer). Do you ever hold conversations/debates about animal rights during a steak dinner? I bet you do, you fucking hypocrite.

(Fun little side story so you can get an extreme/exaggerated example of the types of mindless people I'm talking about: I once heard someone, an ostensible animal rights uber-zealot, say that she stood for the rights of ALL animals. She said this as she was stirring the shrimp cooking in her frying pan. When I called this, ummm, ironic situation into question, she said that it was okay because....drum-roll please...."shrimp aren't REAL animals." I then stood there for a while with a look on my face that said only, "What the fuck are they then - fungi?".... Yes, folks, these people exist. Alright, getting back on track now...)

Ya know, Michael Vick spent his best athletic years in a cell for engaging himself in an institution - an admittedly disgusting one - that was and probably still is an unfortunate blemish on the face of southern culture, yet was and is part of the culture nonetheless. In other words, he honestly probably didn't even know any better. And while this unfortunate naivete certainly does not excuse his actions, I think it does make them at least a tad more potentially forgiveable. And he paid for it with three years of his life, losing hundreds of millions of dollars in salary and potential endorsement deals during the time. That's a hell of a financial and psychological debt that he has paid, people. Still, now that he's out and working in Philadelphia, he's already begun to collaborate with the Humane Society. So he's doing what he can. When he's not dealing with his bankruptcy issues, he's doing the job to which he has been properly trained as a professional in an effort to put his life back together, and he's doing what he must to ensure nobody else endures the misfortune that he did for the same stupid reasons. Can you really ask for more than that? If so, what the hell will it take for you? If your answer is "there's nothing he can do in my mind," then, yeah, you're an ignorant fuck, and I hope someone sicks a rabid pit bull on you....

Maybe when this all eventually blows over (I'm guessing by November) and I'm at an Eagles tailgate party with the erstwhile protestors and boycotters all dressed in their green and silver best, we can switch our attention to all the rapists/sexual assaulters (Roethlisberger), murderers (Ray Lewis), and drug addicts (everyone else) rampant in the NFL. But only when we finish with this dog thing, because that's way, WAY more important....right?


III. THE BRAVID FRASELHOFF HYBRID MAN

If you watch any television at all, chances are that you've come across the new commercial campaign for "The Golden Corral" restaurant chain. If you haven't - well, even if you have - check out this link real quick, and be sure to take particular note of the customer sitting down at the booth placing the order: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaAIbXEmLFc . I apologize that the quality is kinda weak and apparently someone has been playing around with the footage in the video in a feeble effort to make it funny, but as long as you got a good look at the customer, I don't care. My point is this: that guy looks like an EXACT physical combination of Brendan Fraser and David Hasslehoff. He has Fraser's eyes and goofy facial expressions (like when he smirks and says "big problem..." while looking at the camera), but he has the Hoff's ('Baywatch' years particularly) hair and overall structure.

It's amazing how quickly this idea shot into my head the very first time I saw the commercial. Usually you can look at someone on tv or in person and say, "Wow, that person really resembles (fill in name)!" I've never (until now) seen it happen where you can look at a person once and immediately determine that they look not just a little bit like two different people, but that they look exactly like the hypothetical lovechild of the two references in mind. I actually managed to blow my own mind with this one....Go ahead. Watch the video again. It's astounding. And try not to laugh next time you see the commercial...

IV. ISOLATION = REVELATION??

Lots of guys often say that they do their best thinking while sitting on the toilet. I realize that many times this is probably said in jest because it's a solid default joke that probably averages a 50-55% rate of return on laughter/polite giggling, but still, it wouldn't be said quite so often if there wasn't at least an inkling of truth to it. This occurred to me earlier today (8/25/09) as I was enjoying the euphoric sorcery that is french vanilla coffee after a long 40 or so hours of working and selling while sitting in a eerily quiet Dunkin' Donuts in the heart of the city that everyone knows of, but nobody ever really ever feels compelled to visit - Rochester, NY. And actually, the thinking-while-on-the-toilet thing is not the first idea that occurred to me. Instead, my initial thought was really more of a realization; I knew that because I was alone, and because there was essentially nothing of remote interest within a 20 mile radius of me, that I was inevitably a mere moment or two away from engaging in some deep, contemplative thought. With nobody to talk to and nothing to do but drink my coffee, my mind was going to start racing and there was nothing I could do about it. I didn't mind. In fact, I've come to enjoy those quiet moments a bit. I just found the apparent direct correlation between isolation and profound thought interesting.

For a considerable amount of time - say, half an extra large cup's worth (I would provide an actual time period here, but when I say there was nothing around me, I mean seriously nothing, and that includes the ticking of a clock) - my mind didn't stray too far from that very idea. Specifically, I began to wonder if this is an innate and involuntary reaction to being alone - not just thinking, but thinking deeply/philosophically/contemplatively. More interestingly, I began to wonder if this could be a decent litmus test judge someone's intelligence and/or intuition...Wait, let me word that thought in the same manner in which it occurred to me... More interestingly, I began to wonder if this would be a fun way of seeing if someone is retarded. ('Real nice, asshole. Thought you actually were on to something provocative here, but nooooo! - just another premise for making fun of people.' Can't it be both?). Seriously, consider that for a moment. Imagine if you locked someone - he or she knowing full well that this was solely a test and that he or she was not being abducted or imprisoned or anything like that, for such a context would cause him or her to think mainly of means of escape/survival, and that's not what we're after - for five hours in a room completely empty except for one folding chair. Bare walls. No windows. No nothing. Just empty. Then, after the five hours expired, you entered the room and asked the person point blank, "Giving as much detail as possible, what did you think about these last five hours?" If the person genuinely responds with "Seriously, nothing," "Just how bored I was," or something similar, I dare say that person would be retarded, or at least on par with Forrest Gump... I guess essentially my question is this: is it possible for a person of normal/respectable intellect to be alone for an extended period of time without having his or her mind pry into itself and eventually conjuring up some legitimately profound thoughts? I'm not sure, but I don't think so. I can't imagine being alone for a long time and not thinking heavily upon something, and I think that if you can pull off thinking of nothing, then really your mind is empty. And if your mind is empty, you're a fuckin' retard in my book.

If that last paragaph seemed a bit loaded/convoluted, etc. (and I admit it even seemed so while writing it), maybe I can better express my thoughts with a more readily identifiable example. Alright, here goes: you know who's definitely not retarded: Raymond Stantz of the Ghostbusters (played by Dan Aykroyd). You know how I know? - because when Peter Venkman told him to empty his head and think of nothing or else his thoughts would materialize and come to destroy them all, Ray could not help but immediately think of something. The fact that he thought of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man is irrelevant. The point is that when faced with a situation whereby only an empty mind would yield success, he failed. And I would hope that all of you would fail if placed in a similar situation. ('Are you implying that the other three Ghostbusters are all retarded then since they didn't think of anything in that scene?' No, just the black guy...Kidding. No, I'm just saying that Ray thought of something first) Hopefully this makes my idea a little clearer.

But wait, there's more. I realize that there is such a thing as "intelligent conversation," whereby the kinds of conjured profound thoughts I've been talking about can develop from actually holding a substantial dialogue with another person or more other people. In other words, I'm not saying that truly deep thought is exclusive to being alone, just that it's more likely. I say that because when you're with other people, you can choose to alter the trajectory of a conversation. When shit gets too heavy, you can change the subject to something lighter if you want, and the dialogue will then shift your mind's focus in a new direction. When you're alone, you really can't do that. When your mind is on a roll, you're pretty much helpless to stop it. Some kind of tangible distraction is needed. And with nothing and nobody in that Dunkin' Donuts, I had no such distractions, and so naturally, the deeper I plunged...

But now that you obviously know WHY my mind was wandering, I'll stop explaining it. Instead, I'll just share the chain reaction of thoughts upon which I dwelled for anywhere between one sip's worth and the remaining half-cup's worth of french vanilla coffee:

- I wonder if it's possible not to think deeply when you're alone.
- If you can manage not to do this, or to actually think of nothing at all, I wonder if that means that you're stupid/retarded, because it seems inevitable/involuntary to me.
- If all that is true, I wonder if the reverse is also true: if your isolation typically leads to mind-blowing or ground-breaking revelations, then that means you're either a genius or at least a fantastic philosopher/sage.
- I would like it if both extremes were true, because I like it when things work out neatly or formulaically...which makes me wonder yet again why I don't like math/algebra because working things out formulaically is what they're all about.
- Maybe I like when things work out formulaically because there is a sense of safety or security in that concept. "Knowing things will all work out in the end" has gotta be one of the most comforting phrases in the world, doesn't it?
- I'm intriguing myself. I should blog about this when I get back to my hotel. I hope all this doesn't seemed forced/contrived when I write about it because I don't want all 9 people who read it to be unentertained...haha, I'm gonna write that down.
- I wonder if people like Socrates and Plato and shit spent most of their lives alone, and that's why they had such involved ideas about life. Wasn't it Plato who explained shit using "the allegory of the cave"? If it wasn't him, it was someone else who typically gets lumped into that great philosopher discussion I think... Either way, I wonder if the idea of a "cave" seemed appropriate because he kinda lived in a proverbial one where he did all his thinking.
- It was funny in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" when Ted (Keanu Reeves), consistently failing to understand how Socrates spelled his name/is pronounced, says to Bill, who is holding an encyclopedia, "Look up Socrates (pronounced correctly). He's listed under socrates (pronounced 's-oh-cr-ates')."
- But that idea seems unlikely, because it just seem irrational that someone could possibly derive thoughts about life without ever really experiencing it, and that would be the case if they were alone all the time.
- Maybe they did get out and about, get drunk, have sex, bet heavy on the Lakers, and do whatever else normal people did in ancient Greece, but they were just a bit more naturally discerning or curious, and so whenever they happened to be alone, they found themselves thinking longer and harder about what they witnessed than anyone else.
- Maybe they did this when they were on the crapper because that's where you're typically by yourself the most, and maybe that's where that saying really started...
- I'm surprised I do as much of this deep thought stuff as I do because I crap, at most, three times a week.
- I like irony.

There were other, smaller thoughts sprinkled in there too, but I was focusing on the main chain of linking isolation to thought to shitting... ('Well Deej, thanks for wasting my time with your bullshit. Can we get back to fun stuff now?' Ummm, yeah. You got it. Enough is enough. On to something else)...

V. A QUICK THOUGHT

Everyone can look sexier with sunglasses on. And it has nothing to do with the sunglasses themselves. It has everything to do with not giving anything away with your eyes. As gay as that sounds, its true. Sunglasses can more than adequately hide the emotions that your eyes can easily give away. (Another movie example: You think James Cameron made Arnold Schwarzenegger wear sunglasses in Terminator 2 for his fuckin' health? No. He did so because not being able to see anything in Aaaahnold's eyes made it impossible to see even subtle emotional cues he otherwise may have mistakenly been exhibiting- which is clearly not something you want when portraying a robot). And not being able to read what someone's feeling/thinking makes them more mysterious. And mysterious = intriguing. And intriguing = sexy. ('Wait, are you suggesting that Arnold Schwarzenegger as a homicidal robot is sexy?' Are you suggesting that it isn't?).

VI. TEN BOLD NFL PREDICTIONS

I love the fact that football is back. Everything about it is exciting. The game itself is a fantastic one, and for many reasons. But the reason I enjoy the most is that because moreso than any other major sport in America, football requires every element of a team to fire on all cylinders to be successful. In other words, if an offensive scheme breaks down in the NBA, it's okay if you live in Cleveland or Los Angeles because LeBron or Kobe can just single-handedly take on an entire team. In baseball, a team may put up one run in a game, but it still may win if the pitcher is lights out that night. In hockey, all you need is a hot goalie (just ask anyone on the New Jersey Devils in the mid-late '90's). But in football, though there are some exceptions, said exceptions occur much more infrequently than in the other three sports. Rarely can a running back dominate a game unless his blockers are also playing well. A quarterback will have a hard time taking over if his receivers can't get separation. Defensive ends can typically only wreak havoc if someone else is getting double-teamed. I could go on and on, but you should have the idea by now. Football is an incredibly demanding game of dependance/reliance. If there's one weak link, the entire chain is useless. I think many people - "experts," "pundits," and "analysts" chief among them (Mark Schlereth and Merrill Hoge, I'm lookin' at you) - often forget this. And that's why to them (and to some of you), my predictions here might seem...ummmm....brazen. Every team has exposable weaknesses. I just happen to think some of them are more likely to be exploited than others. With that general idea in mind, here are 10 things that will/will not happen during the 2009 NFL season:

10. The Atlanta Falcons will not make the playoffs - Everyone seems way too high on this team, and I don't really know why. Matt Ryan had a great rookie campaign last year, sure. But since when is one year good enough to galvanize anyone/bank on them as a sure thing? He has sophomore slump written all over him, especially considering there's no guarantee that Roddy White wasn't a flash in the pan last season, and now that he has a new, gigantic contract, he isn't putting up the same effort/numbers as last year. No way. Also, thinking that the addition of an old Tony Gonzalez is the missing piece needed for a Super Bowl run is ridiculous. They'll get bottled up, Michael Turner is going to get overused/run into the ground, and New Orleans and Carolina are going to pounce on them.

9. The fine folks of Chicago will realize that their wish for a franchise QB has still not been fulfilled - Let's make one thing abundantly clear - and I'll do so by unnecessarily punctuating what should be one sentence with periods after each word - Jay. Cutler. Stinks. ('You know he made the Pro Bowl right?' You know the Pro Bowl rosters are bullshit almost every year, right?). This guy had a three game lead in the worst division in football last year with three games to play, and he lost them ALL! And in those games - the most meaningful ones of his career considering he's yet to even make the playoffs - he threw a total of two touchdowns. TWO! He threw 23 td's in the other 13 games last season, but during those biggies at the end....two. Oh, and four interceptions during that time as well. Way to go Bears - you gave away awesome draft picks for an overrated cry-baby with no significant wins under his belt.

8. The Dallas Cowboys will finish 4th in the NFC East - This might not seem quite as "bold" a prediction as the others when considering how superior their in-division competition in New York and Philadelphia is going to be, but I'm saying the Cowgirls are going to fall flat on their stupid faces. I say they finish two full games behind the boringly mediocre Redskins. Their coach is - to use one of Philly's favorite colloquialisms - a bum, Romo is as bad as Cutler down the stretch, their best receiving threat is gone, and their defense is receiving a mini-renovation. All this, and they don't have a single solid draft choice to showcase this year. They better hope Marion Barber and Felix Jones can carry them. But I don't. They're fucked. New York and Philly are gonna smack them around like the little faggoty bitches they are, so thats four losses right there. After that, I say they lose at least five more.

7. The Seattle Seahawks will win the NFC West - If you don't believe in the Super Bowl hangover (that awful curse whereby the previous year's runner-up inevitably stinks the following season), I don't know what to tell you. It's legit. This century alone, it's happened to Philly, Seattle, Oakland, Carolina, St Louis, and probably someone else I'm forgetting. And it'll happen to the Cardinals, too. The Cards might be more fortuante than the other runners-up in the win-loss columns because the NFC West is so bad, but their hangover coupled with the Rams putridity and the 49ers lack of legit QB (who will not have unsigned rookie receiver Michael Crabtree at his disposal) will pave the way for a ressurgence in Seattle. No reason to think Hasselbeck can't come back strong, they added a quality possession receiver in TJ Houshmanzadeh (Howshmazode! Championship!), the RB tandem of Julius Jones and newly acquired Edgerrin James - who showed surprising vitality during the Cards playoff run last year - is nothing to sneeze at, and maybe a young energetic coach like Jim Mora (the sniveling little cocksucker that he is) at the helm might just provide them the shot of adrenaline they didn't get with a tired Mike Holmgren.

6. The Houston Texans will make the playoffs - We've been waiting for this team to come around for a long time. I say this is the year. They're average everywhere except receiver, where Andre Johnson alone makes them way above average, but the rest of their division I think is going down the tubes. Jacksonville is a non-factor as far as I'm concerned. Kerry Collins had a nice little swan song last year, but they're nuts in Tennessee if they think he can duplicate that season he had in 2008. He'll choke, and Vince Young is not lighting anyone's world on fire either. They're in trouble there, I'm tellin' ya. And Indy lost Tony Dungy and Marvin Harrison in the off-season, which are both huge losses. Houston has always played Indy tough, and this year more than ever before, there is a chink in that armor, and the Texans are finally going to get past them.

5. Matt Cassell will not make a damn bit of difference in KC - I don't think he's a bad player, but he's certainly no savior. He did a good job last year filling in for Tom Brady, but here's the truth: Cassell benefited much more from being on the Patriots than the Patriots did from having Cassell. In other words, that team made him look better than he is. Remember AJ Feeley on that tough 2002 Eagles team? He looked awesome, and some wanted him to start the playoffs over McNabb. Then what happened? - the nincompoops in Miami started to salivate over Feeley, signed him in the off-season, and the next year Feeley stunk up the joint because he didn't have good players all around him like he did in Philly. He was released and eventually made his way back to Philly's bench, where he remains. The same is going to happen to Cassell. He's going to take a fucking beating in Kansas City, and everyone there will be scratching their heads by week 3....I'm now done my thoughts on this matter, though I'm still smiling very widely because I got to use the word nincompoop.

4. The Green Bay Packers will win the NFC North - This team was not nearly as bad as their 6-10 record made them look. Of the 10 games they lost, SIX of them were by margins of four points or less, and two of those were overtime games. This tells me that Green Bay was at least in most of their games. They could have won most of these. They were only a play or two away from winning most of them. So, at least in theory, they were about six or seven plays away from a winning record; certainly could have been worse. Also, you're crazy if you think Aaron Rodgers isn't the real deal. He'll take that team to the next level this year, the Pack will capitalize on their division rivals' AWFUL off-season decisions, and they'll take the division with 11 wins or so.

3. The Philadelphia Eagles will win the NFC East, and it will have absolutely nothing to do with Michael Vick - Barring injury to McNabb, Vick isn't going to play all that much. People are (understandably) very caught up in this whole ordeal just because it's Michael Vick, but make no mistake- he's just going to be the backup QB. He might come in on a handful of plays during the season to serve as a diversion or to line up at receiver maybe, but we're talking a maximum of 10 or so plays over the course of a whole season; plays that will likely not directly effect the Eagles' placement in the standings. They'd win the division without him. He's just a nice bonus and a fantastic backup quarterback to have just in case. That's how Andy Reid thinks. He places a substantial amount of stock in backups, and justifiably so considering how often people get hurt these days. To Andy, Michael Vick is an insurance policy. And he'll treat him as such.

2. The Minnesota Vikings will really regret adding Brett Favre - Best case scenario - Favre plays the entire season and gets you lots and lots of attention. But he's giving you one year at most. Certainly no more than that. And he's not taking you to the Super Bowl. Let me rephrase that - there's no fucking way in hell the Vikings have a chance to win the Super Bowl. Brett Favre just isn't good enough to expect that. Remember last year when he threw just as many interceptions as touchdowns (22)? And of his touchdowns, remember how many were bullshit heaves down the field (can't get a stat on that, but there were a handful)? Remember when he and the Jets had a stranglehold on the AFC East and choked it away to the fucking upstart Dolphins? Favre sucks. He's been sorely overrated since 2000. Realistically speaking, he's probably not going to make it through the year - the Packers get to try to break him in half TWICE, and I won't be surprised if they succeed - and even if he does, he doesn't bring all that much to the table anymore. On top of that, you've stunted the development of this team on this one-year wasted rental, pissing off the QB's you already had in the process. I know Jackson and Rosenfels aren't Super Bowl caliber either, but that doesn't make Favre a better choice. So stupid. SO stupid.

1. The Baltimore Ravens will win the Super Bowl - Alright, listen. It just wouldn't be fun to pick the Steelers or Patriots. You already know what I think of Indy, and everyone else in the AFC West is mediocre at best, including San Diego. Plus, I think the Steel City may finally take a step back. They can't win that division every year, right? So I like Baltimore. After New England, Pittsurgh, and I guess Indy, they're the consensus best team in the AFC anyway, right?... Also, Flacco showed lots of promise last year, and a sophomore slump isn't as much of a concern because he's simply not asked to do as much as someone like Matt Ryan in Atlanta. The Baltimore defense always gives him awesome field position - if they don't score touchdowns themselves - and so Flacco has only to quitely manage his team, not lead it. That's Ray Lewis's job. And he's good at it. The whole team is good. They're solid all over, and they're fuckin' scary too. Nobody likes playing this team. They CAN beat anyone. And I think this season, they will. Specifically, I think they're going to punish Tom Brady's face in the AFC Championship game, and they're going to humble McNabb and the Eagles in the Super Bowl ('Had to sneak a little Philly bias in there, didn't you...' Yer damn right. Go birds!)

Alright, that's all for now. Thanks for dropping by. 'Til next time,

DJ