Aaaaaaaaaaaand We're Back!

You missed me a lot. We both know this.

It's been about a friggin' year since I hopped on here and shared some of thoughts on things, so I figured now's as good a time as any to unload a little bit. So with that in mind, let's just get to it, shall we?

I. MODERN FITNESS "CLASSES" ARE FUCKING STUPID.

It must be getting tougher for commercial gym chains like LA Fitness or Bally's or whoever to compete and/or differentially market themselves from the more convenient fads like P90x and such these days because it seems like every five minutes they're offering some newfangled, would-be trendy exercise program like "Zumba" or "Aqua Fit" or "Pole-Dancing" (note: I do NOT have a problem with this one) or, and this one is just hilarious, "Latin Heat!" - which I can only assume involves little more than putting a Jennifer Lopez playlist on shuffle and shaking your ass (aka "booty-quake", which is a term I just learned and thoroughly enjoy) in front of a mirror while holding maracas and/or plates of nachos... If I'm wrong, it ain't by much.

The only problem with these programs - well, save for the atrocious names/titles themselves - is that they don't do a g'damn thing for ya. Do you know how I know this? It's because I look into the rooms where said classes are being held, and all I see are orbicular, gelatinous heaps of desperate humanity gracelessly thrashing about. It's sad too because the only thing in those rooms thicker than the thighs is the collective naivete. In fact, I'm setting the over/under at three months..... which is the amount of time I'm giving myself before I barge in one of these shams and start dragging these helpless rotundos out of the room, slapping them, pointing my finger in their face so close that their eyes go crossed trying to look at it, and telling them "Listen, if you want to get in shape and lose weight, moderate your diet and get. on. the. fucking. treadmill. No amount of 'urban aqua salsa spin hip-hop pilate aerobic basics' is going to do anything for you!" Let me know if you got the over or under and I'll let you know in early June if you were correct.

But while we're still on the subject, for a while I found myself wondering how they (whoever "they" may be) continue to conjure these fraudulent exercise programs, but I think I've figured it out. Clearly they just take three six-sided dice with different exercise terms on the faces, roll them, and mash together the three words that come up. Yes, that's how it's done, I'm convinced.
The level of legitimacy/rationality in this naming process seems to match that of the programs themselves, so it all makes sense. See, I know everything ('Yes, I believe you think you do...' Yes, that's correct).

Fortunately, however, charades such as these aren't without their sense of entertainment. And by that I mean that I've found it to be remarkably fun to make a game out of this dice idea (plus it serves as a rather convenient avenue through which I can channel my frustration and turn it into laughter, which is always nice to be able to do). The game is simple; you don't even really need dice. Just think of three different words you often see/hear in the gym and arrange them in such a way that a creates a funny hypothetical fitness class name. I'll start you off with some examples, and then you should think of your own and post them in the comment section... Some of my favorites so far are "Urban Salsa Weight-Training," (what would you even DO?!? Ha!), "Circuit Pole-Dance Kickboxing," "Heavy Aquatic Belly Dancing," "Spinning Hip-Hop Yoga", "and "Zumba Zumba Weights." Go ahead and try it out...Ri-diiiii-culous how much fun it is.

II. A QUESTION THAT PLAGUED MY MIND FOR SOME TIME

What would a sequel to "Air Force One" be called? Would they just suck it up and call it "Air Force One Two"? That would be silly. Or would they go with the more aesthetically pleasing but completely illogical "Air Force Two"? (Illogical because it would presumably still take place on Air Force One).

I eventually contented myself with concluding that they would probably just commit movie suicide by completely ditching the number "2" and just adding a colon/cheesy tag-line. We've seen this before with abhorrent sequels like "XXX: State of the Union", "Hellraiser: Bloodline", "Highlander: Endgame," "Terminator: Salvation" and "Rambo: Stallone's Bulge"..... I'm kidding, I've never heard of that Hellraiser movie either (Zing!).

Anyway, for the Air Force One sequel, I bet they'd center the cheesy tag-line around the air/sky/weather and come up with something like "Air Force One: Twilight Terrorism" or "Air Force One: A New Evil Dawns" or the like. Of course, if they sought my counsel, I would suggest they make the wise choice and go with "Air Force One: Seriously, Get Off My Fucking Plane".... By the way, this becomes a lot funnier when you say these movie titles out loud in that stern, movie-previews-guy voice.

And that about wraps up my thoughts on Air Force One and it's hypothetical follow-up. I feel better.

III. A SMALL NUGGET OF IRONY

I recently heard someone say that we (meaning all of humanity I assume) need to settle our differences so that we can unite to make a difference.

Think about that for a few seconds. I'd have probably changed the wording up a little bit. The way this is worded makes me feel like I'm about to have a nose-bleed.

IV. WHY BLUETOOTH AND CENTER CITY DON'T MIX

The reason is simple: because when you're walking around my neighborhood at night (a nice neighborhood, but really not far from rape-ville...you know what I mean), you can't tell who's on their bluetooth and who is a fucking psychopath talking to himself (which I've seen with striking frequency).

Let me paint a picture for you. It's downtown Philly. It's winter. It's after midnight. You're walking home from the gay bar, errr, from the bar. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn around to see that it's a large person wearing a large coat, hat, and gloves. You hear the person speaking, saying things like "I gotta do this. I got this. I got this!" What does your brain say to you at that moment?

I'll tell you what it says. It says, "This is probably just a man walking home and talking on his bluetooth. But, then again, we're not far from rape-ville. Maybe the clothes have nothing to do with the weather. Maybe he doesn't want to be seen and/or leave fingerprints. Maybe there is no bluetooth. Maybe, just maybe, I'm about to shiv'd in the neck." Then, immediately after that, your brain diverts all its power to send emergency messages to your ass muscles, ordering them to clench so you don't instantly shit your pants at the thought that just occurred to you. And as everyone knows, you can't clench your ass while walking....so you STOP. Then your brain says, "You're stopping? Really? When Shivvy Magoo looms a mere six steps behind you?" Then, after you take one final second to feel like a shmuck for stopping, your brains once again diverts its power to the legs, instructing them to pick up the pace, nay, RUN! the rest of the way home with zero regard for anyone's safety. So that's what you do. You run, and since it's winter, you slip on the ice and fall on your ass so many times that you start to laugh at the irony of the situation - even though you're escaping rape-ville, your ass is still taking a pounding (Again, zing!).

Finally, once you get home safely, you stop and think for a moment. You think to yourself, "I bet that was probably just a normal guy. He was probably talking to someone on his bluetooth about something he had to do. He probably was wearing those clothes because, well duh! Come on! It's freezing out there! He probably didn't want to kill and/or rape me." Then you feel comfortable. Then you go about your business for a while. Then, much later, the ultimate ironic thought pops into your brain when you realize that this normal guy on his bluetooth probably thinks YOU'RE the psychopath. I mean, who the hell goes from a normal walking pace to a dead stop to a full sprint in a five-second span?

And THAT, my friends, is why bluetooth technology and downtown Philly don't mix.

V. QUICK HITTERS

- Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I'm going to say it again regardless. There should be a "Wack-A-Mole" style game in which you have to use the hammer to hit little avocado shaped creatures, and it should be called "Guac-A-Mole." Genius, I know. Plus, when you get a high-score it could spit out coupons to a local produce shop instead of tickets you need six million of to redeem for vastly overpriced stuffed animals. And as I learned the hard way, mashed-up stuffed animals don't taste nearly as good on nachos as avocados do.

- My least favorite part of every football game is the opening drive because that's when you are introduced to every player on both sides of the ball by way of pre-recorded video. I don't mind this idea, I just hate what is routinely said during these little intros. In other words, I don't understand why so many players have to tell you where they went to college by specifying that it is the only college with that particular name. You know what I mean? For example, "Jerricho Cotchery - THE!....North Carolina State University." I hate that shit. It doesn't add any prestige to your alma mater by proclaiming that it is the only one with that name. In the future, please just say "NC State" instead of being a complete douchebag. Is that too much to ask?

It is funny, however, to consider the alternative. Like if I played in the NFL and said, "DJ Mazzola, A!...Saint Joseph's University. As in one of MANY!....Saint Joseph's Universities. but I went to THE!....one in Philadelphia, PA."

- People, if you have a personal problem with features/layout/aesthetic of facebook, please don't let your chosen (and only) course of action be to post a status update that starts with "Dear facebook,..." then explains your concern, then ends with "Sincerely, (your name)." It's not funny. It's nooooooooot funny. And nobody gives a shit, especially Mark Zuckerberg. Stop.

Alright, that'll do it for now. 'Til next time, stay away from those bullshit gym classes.

DJ

Jack and Red Wine are Like Brain Laxatives

Dudes, bitches - I'm sorry. I've been busy. But just because I haven't written anything of substantial length doesn't mean I haven't been devoting substantial thought to some important shit. And yes, by "important shit" I indeed mean "fun things that don't really matter at all."

In fact, it's been quite the opposite. Over the past few months I've actually been making quite sufficient use of my Blackberry's "Memo Pad" feature - jotting down and amending different thoughts at the moment they enter what I typically refer to as "saracastic whirwind" - my mind. Unfortuantely, this often seems to happen as I'm driving, and so I've tended to endanger the lives of innocent automobile travelers by typing on my smartphone as I drive 90 in the left lane. But hey, if ultimately two or three people get a laugh because of it, then I say it's worth a little harmless vehicular manslaughter, don't you? ('Did you say harmless vehicular mans...' Yes, I did, and I realize the contradiction of terms. Leave me alone)....Alright, nice to see that my internal demon critic remembered to show up today too. And with that said, seems like we're ready to conclude the intro and get rolling. This is going to be a long one folks, so either strap in (strap on too if you're into that and my blog makes you horny) and grab the beverage (or lubricant) of your choice and settle in for a while, or make up your mind now to break it up into pieces and read in intervals. Either way, don't bother telling me it's too long. I don't care. Ok off we go:

I. THE TECHNOLOGICAL HYPOCRISY OF WORKING-CLASS, MIDDLE-AGED AMERICANS

When I look at work e-mails, I am regularly bombarded with what looks the result of my Microsoft Outlook vomiting up it's Alpha-Bits. In other words, I'm witness to a virtual cornucopia of business acronyms like NDA, RFQ, TPA, DUI (kidding), PDF, and the like on a daily basis, all of which are requested, of course, ASAP. And if they're not, then that means the email was just sent to me FYI.

What's funny to me is that the folks who use these abbreviations as elements of their typical communication are the same people who claim that teenagers communicating via text messages with acronyms like "ttyl," "tmi," "lol," "brb," "lmao," and the lesser-known "omgiltisote" ("Oh my God I love Twilight I'm soooo on team Edward") are directly responsible for the deterioration of the English language. To that I say fooey and p'shaw! While I agree that these modern pop-culture abbreviations are exceedingly lame, they're essentially used - at least theoretically - for the same purposes as the professional ones: to save time and space. And there's nothing wrong with that. With that in mind, parents, baby-boomers, old fogeys (couldn't wait to use that word!) who don't understand it - stop complaining. You do it too, just in a far different context. Plus, without unnecessary abbreviations, we would be left without some fantastic one-liner movie jokes like this one from "Forgetting Sarah Marshall":

- "You need to get over her. You need to put your P in someon's V."

- "No. I need to B my L on someone's T's."

See what I mean? Case closed. So text and abbreviate away, ye juvenile gay-vampire-loving children!

II. NEW YORK SPORTS TALK RADIO - HILARIOUS

I enjoy listening to the local sports pundits from different cities offer their "objective" thoughts on their teams and such as I'm driving for work through their domain. And while I must painfully admit that Boston seems to have the best, most articulate, and most intellectual talk-show hosts I've been fortunate enough to experience, I have to say that the New York guys are the funniest. I can't remember the exact number on the dial or the call letters right now, so I can't tell you to tune in, but they're not hard to find...

First off, the callers are hysterical. It's like the radio station seeks out everyone who didn't quite make the "Jersey Shore" final cut and asks them their thoughts on the Yankees. You know how when you hear someone on the radio, you think you can tell from their voice what they generally look like? Yeah, I like to think I'm pretty good at that. Therefore, I believe I can somewhat adequately deduce that everyone who participates in sports talk radio in New York currently has a wife beater adorning their woefully unchiseled body, and they're cradling their Boost Mobile phone while they apply an extra half bottle of gel to their stalactite-like hair that's just going to have a backwards Yankee hat (the kind where the emblem is made up of sequins) applied to it anyway. And when they finish their call in to the station, they're not even going to listen to the broadcasters' responses. Instead they'll run to the nearest mirror to make sure their skin is orange enough today... Now, I realize they can't all actually look like this, but that's what they sound like - "Ayy, how come the Yanks haven't re-signed Jet-ah yet? I figyah he's good for anoth-ah 15 yea-ahs and will bat at least .600 until he's fifty-fou-ah, so why not re-sign the guyyyyyeeee? Tell ya what, if they don't, me and my guys are gonna staaum the Yankee front office." That's right folks. You heard it here. ('Why do you always have to rip the Yankees? Is it cuz they beat you last year?' No, fucker. This has not been an indictment of the team. Pay attention).

But perhaps what's funnier than anything else is that they'll spend a good several segments - say, two and a half hours, talking about everything from Rivera's 9th inning ERA and Nick Swisher's OBP to A-Rod's magazine covers and Derek Jeter's favorite restaurants, but just as the show is minutes from going off the air, they'll say "We'll come back with some closing remarks after this....Oh, and the Mets stuff too." Ha! They give the poor little old Mets approximately three minutes of their time. And, to this Phillies fan, there's not many things more satisfying than that.

III. A QUICK NOTE FROM THE HIGHWAY

I drove past a Buick LeSabre. Then I laughed because it made me wonder if once there was a car model invented by a normal, dorky white dude called the "Sabre," then DeCharles Stevenson's parents got a job at Buick and were charged with inventing new model names...or LaMarcus Aldridge's parents, or DeJuan Blair's, or DeMarcus Ware's.... Haha. Come on, that's funny.

Side note: I was gonna put Delroy Lindo in there - ya know, the black detective from every movie ever? - but he gets a pass because it doesn't quite fit the scheme, and because he's Delroy Lindo (which is to say, awesome).

IV. A FEW MORE QUICK HITTERS BEFORE I MOVE ON

- I absolutely hate the phrase "come with" as in "We're gonna go grab a banana smoothie. Ya wanna come with?" First off, ending sentences with prepositions annoys me in... (Stole that joke idea from "30 Rock" and I'm proud of it!). But seriously, that phrase needs to be banished. Is it THAT much of an inconvenience to tack on "us" or "me" or "we" - whichever is appropriate - to the end of that sentence? "We're gonna go grab a banana smoothie. Ya wanna come with us?" See how easy that was? Is that too much to fucking ask?

- I was watching something with Spanish subtitles for a while. Then, after it ended and I went about my business, I didn't realize that my brain was still in "try to really understand Spanish" mode. Thus, when one of the first words I heard in conversation a few minutes later was "mosquito," I legitimately thought that meant a very small place designed for Muslim worship.

- When flying into a major city, during the initial descent as I look out the window, it ALWAYS seems like SO many people own swimming pools.

V. FEAR OF LOUD AND SMELLY PUBLIC POOPING = WARM, DIRTY SEATS

Let's face it guys (and probably girls), nobody really likes to poop in a public restroom. Not really. But as we all know, sometimes, when ya gotta go, ya gotta go, and you just have to deal with it.

When said situations arise, I'm willing to bet that most guys do the same thing - when they enter the bathroom, especially if there's a handful of people walking around in there, you walk allllll the way down to the last possible stall against the wall, don't you? Don't lie to me, yes you do. Why? That's easy - because you feel this most adequately removes you from the rest of the crowd. You feel that if you fart really loud or something, there's a chance nobody else will hear it or know that it was you if you're down at the end. Also, you just convince yourself that being all the way at the end is the closest thing to matching the comforts of pooping alone and in private. Finally, you convince yourself that all of these toilets are probably dirty, and your best chances of finding a clean atmosphere reside in the lonely stall all the way at the end; at a far enough distance that nobody would dare think to venture such a distance just to poop....

There's just one problem, and I've already mentioned it.... EVERYONE ELSE THINKS LIKE YOU. When you go to the last stall, guess what - you're in the most popular one, motherfucker! Ha! Be honest, when you get there, you're routinely disappointed by the wet toilet paper clinging to the inside of the bowl, or the inexplicably large quantity of shredded toilet paper strewn about the floor right where your feet will have to go, or the dingleberries resting just behind the back of the seat, or the unflushed poop, or the overall stench, or something like that, right? Right. We all know I'm right. And again, that's because nobody likes to poop to the audible and olfactory displeasure of strangers, so everyone goes way to the end, thinking they're outsmarting the other, pooping masses.

You think the seat is that warm because it's hot in there? Think again. It's because there's been a consistent barrage of bursting fat assholes on that very same seat throughout the day.

There IS, however, an easy solution to this, and it's a simple one....Are you ready?.....SHIT IN THE FIRST STALL! That's right, the one right next to the urinals, the one that makes you feel almost like you're on top of the guys who just need to take a quick, innocent, odor-less little pee. Trust me on this. Nobody ever thinks to go in the first stall unless its an emergency and is the only one left available. I'll personally guarantee you it's the cleanest one, too. Because nobody wants to be loud. Nobody wants to think that all the other guys in the bathroom are standing around washing their hands saying to each other, "Hey, nice to meet you. Say, how about the guy in the first stall shitting his brains out! God, that's gross! He's gross! Let's make fun of him and laugh together!" and then they slap hands. Because that's what you think everyone else is doing... Relax; they're not. Just reconcile with yourself the fact that bathrooms are gross to begin with, and if you're lucky enough to get a clean stall, you should consider yourself just that - lucky. It results in a far better overall experience, trust me.

Plus, this way you never have to run into the conundrum that presents itself when you walk all the way to the end, then suddenly stop and think "Uuuuuuuh-oh, the handicapped stall looks clean and relatively unused, but I'm not handicapped. Is this okay? Is anyone gonna get mad?" You don't want that. You just wanna sit, split (your butt-cheeks, that is), wipe, and go. Take the first stall. You'll think of me fondly while you're wiping your butt-hole.

Finally, as a quite side note to the subject - why, exactly, are handicapped stalls THAT big? I understand that there needs to be room for either a wheelchair or an accompanying person to help, etc., but are all these handicapped people and their potential aides planning on parking their car next to the toilet? Do handicapped poopers prefer to celebrate a successful bowel movement with a game of twister on the floor? Seriously, there's WAY too much room in there. You could live in that thing.

VI. DR. DAGO'S "IF YOU THINK YOU'RE TOO FAT, YOU DEFINITELY ARE" TIP OF THE WEEK

If you're fat, you probably like to snack. For some of you this means pretzels, for others Doritos or Fritos or the like, and for the saddest among you this means multiple, multi-decker sandwiches. For the latter group, I'm sorry, you're fucking helpless. But for the rest of you, a tip:

Buy some fuckin' grapes. They come in enormous quantities, they're juicy and delicious, and you can satisfy your oral fixation and need to constantly put something in your face by eating a million of them with minimal detriment to your shape. Other fruits are good too, but grapes afford you the ability to eat for a long period of time. Apples, oranges, etc., in addition to being too much work, offer you a handful of large bites and then it's over and you're still hungry. With grapes, you can go on and on and on. So go buy like four bags' worth. I prefer the red, seedless kind. You'll thank me for this, too.

VII. A NOT TOO DISTANT TIME AGO IN A CITY NOT SO FAR AWAY...

Allow me to be crystal clear - LeBron James is a fucking loser. Period. And his first name sounds like it could be a Buick model... (LeBron? LeSabre? No? 'Eeeeeh, not your best effort.' Agreed, let's move on).

First, let me get the nickname stuff out of the way. The newfound "super-trio" of Miami Heat players Chris Bosh, Dwyane Wade (Oh yes, that IS how he spells his first name), and LeBron James has already been assigned with a host of potential nicknames, chief among them "Miami Thrice," "Three Kings," and just the aforementioned plain-old "Super-trio." These are all stupid. First, "Miami Thrice" I think just sounds too cheesy. I don't have much else to offer there, I just hate it. Second, you can't go with "Three Kings" because Chris Bosh is a gangly pussy. "Two Kings and a Fucking Doofus" would work better.

Still, if they're looking for a nickname, they should capitalize on the notion that the events leading up this - from their casual agreement to unite while competing in Beijing to their contracts expiring at the same time - was a "perfect" storm of sorts. Combine that with their new jersey numbers ( Bosh -1, Wade -3, LeBron - 6), and you can call them "The Perfect 10." All it requires is simple 'rithmatic to figure that one out. I'm really clever, I know.

Anyway, more on LeBron. To steal a thought or two from ESPN's resident goofball and pop-culture enthusiast Bill Simmons, I've begun to turn the corner on this deal in that I've started to enjoy that it happened; not because I like the players or how they went about making this happen, but because I'm starting to revel in the idea of having a collaborative super-villain in the NBA for whom I can passionately pray for serious physical injury and continual, epic failure. Hating Kobe is just getting too old, and his dig on Shaq ("I got one more than Shaq") followed by his cocky smile after the Lakers won again kinda made me like him a little (That being said, he's still a dirty, deplorable rapist).

On the other hand now, we have LeBron. I used to love this guy. The people's champ. The savior of the poor, championship-less, unappealing little city of Cleveland. There was no doubt, LeBron was the solution. LeBron would come through eventually. LeBron would resurrect that city's collective sports psyche....But, to steal a line from Keyser Soze, just like that (poof)....he's gone.

You know who LeBron is? He's Anakin Skywalker ('You're not really gonna draw an analogy to Star Wars, are you? I mean first Batman, and all this constant Transformers stuff, and now Star Wars?!? That's right, bitch!). Seriously, consider the astounding similarities.... Everyone - EVERYONE - thought that LeBron would eventually get a ring in Cleveland, thus in essence, bringing balance to the force. The dark Lakers and evil Celtics were winning too much, but the chosen one would bring balance, or so it was foretold and prophesied.

Yet, try and try as young James might, he could not elevate himself to the status of champion at his young age, which is to say, become a jedi immediately like the courageous Mace Windu (Kobe) or older, wiser Yoda (Tim Duncan). So what started to happen? LeBron started to complain. I don't have enough players! This isn't fair! Waaaah! Bitterness began to envelop the young King-to-be, and by the time the Olympics came and he tasted the sweet nectar of victory, his dark destiny became frighteningly clear.

From there, all it took was a dinner with Pat Riley (The Emperor...Seriously, look how Pat Riley sits in his chair when they show him - deviously, with his fingers interlocking, kinda like Mr. Burns....Evil) to convince him that all he needs to do is bow down to him and come with him to the Miami Heat alongside Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh (Boba Fett and a Storm Trooper), and his lustful need for a championship (transition to "the daaaaaark side...") would finally come to fruition ("....would be com-PLEEETE.") And so it is, ladies and gentlemen. LeBron James - your real life Darth Vader. I hate him, but I love to do so, as we do with all great villains. That's why this move both sucks and is kinda cool. It gives us a villain, but a villain we can be passionate about ('You just ended that sentence with a preposition...' Fuck, you're right!).

All we gotta do now is find who's going to rise up and assume the role of Luke Skywalker, take the fight to Darth Vader, and eventually force LeBron to throw Pat Riley down into a really long, seemingly bottomless pit while electricity shoots out of his fingers. I suggest Evan Turner of the mighty 76ers, haha.

Either way, Shaq is the Rancor.

Alright, I got lots and lots more actually, but I gotta think that's enough for now. I think I'm satisfied with my return effort here. Let me know your thoughts. Got a better nickname for the Heat? Better method for comfortably pooping in public? Just wanna tell me that you never missed me anyway because my blogs are obnoxious, rambling, and generally unentertaining? It's all good. Hope to hear from you.

'Til next time texters, guidos, poopers, fatties, and basketball/Star Wars aficionados,

Dago out.

Dago Awards: The Best/Worst of 2009, and Other Miscellany

Ya know, there are many times when I look back at the events of yesteryear ('I hate that word.' Me too, let me fix it...) Ya know, there are many times when I look back on the events of the past ('better'), and for one reason or another, I have trouble remembering in what year certains things happened. For example, I often can't remember in what year I went to what bar for someone's birthday party, I can't remember the year in which a particular movie was released or a given sports team won a championship (other than 2008 of course. Go Phils), etc. You get the idea. So with that in mind, I thought it might be fun to highlight some of the more notable events, achievements, topics of dago-discussion, and the like from 2009 and brand them unto my memory by immortalizing them with a list of arbitrary awards - awards for which I may use conclusive terminology like "most", "definitive," and other words that signify the result of judicious deliberation, but about which I've really not thought about at all. In other words, this is going to be very stream-of-consciousness and poorly thought out, which I think will lead to more fun and comedic award categories and such. Let's find out, shall we?...


I. THE KELLY CLARKSON AWARD FOR "BIGGEST GUILTY PLEASURE SONG" 2009 - "PARTY IN THE USA" by Miley Cyrus


Go ahead, pretend you don't leave this song on every time you hear it in your car. I used to deny it to, but there's no use. Once you get past the awful lyrics ("Nodding my head like yeeeah! Shaking my hips like yeeeah!" So young, but oh so profound you are Miley!), which may take a while, you'll give in. I think I first realized this on New Year's eve. It's 11:59pm, I'm obviously already feeling comfortably numb ('Pink Floyd!' Relax, it's just a cool phrase) at a bar with a pretty decent crowd, and we're all watching the tv screens and counting down as the ball drops. Inattentive in my considerably intoxicated condition, I lost interest around 7! or 6! or so, stopped counting, and started chugging my drink. But then, when the 2010 logo lit up and everyone started cheering, the dj at this particular bar ('Isn't this your cue to make a lame joke about how your name is also DJ?' No, I haaaaaaaaaate that) decided to buck tradition and abandon "Auld Lang Syne" in favor of, of course, "Party in the USA." The moment I recognized the song, with neither the capacity nor intention for restraint, I slammed my drink down on the table and started dancing like....well, like a drunk white guy - which is to say, enthusiastically, albeit spastically and in a manner that puts those in my immediate surroundings in mortal danger.


I think it was about halfway through the song when I stopped - sluggish and breathless from all the food and drink I had just rammed into my face - and thought to myself, "Oh my God, I just got excited for a fuckin' Miley Cyrus song. What the hell is wrong with me?!?" Now, I was in the immediate vicinity of a couple legitimately homosexual guys, so I realized that the completely rational possibility exists that I got some of their gay on me when I shook their hands earlier that night ('Are you fucking kidding me? What - diseases are contagious, aren't they? haha, kidding). But I don't think that explains it. I just think this song, no matter who you are and what music you like, is a perfect guilty pleasure. There's no rhyme or reason as to why some songs fit this mold, they just do. Typically, they're bad songs that you ('Do you mean the royal you?' Yes, thank you) find strangely catchy and infectious, and I can't imagine "Party in the USA" not striking everyone as exactly that.


Two final notes before moving on: some other notable guilty pleasures are "Miss Independent" by Kelly "I've turned into a fucking moo-cow" Clarkson, "Crazy in Love" by Beyonce, "Just Like a Pill" AND "So What" by Pink, and "Hot and Cold" by Katy Perry. If I left any out, lemme know!.... And secondly, my forthcoming award descriptions will not be as long as this one, so no worries....


II. THE HERMIONE GRANGER AWARD FOR "NEWCOMER OF THE YEAR ONTO THE 'NEEDS TO GET IT FROM DJ' LIST" 2009 - TAYLOR SWIFT


No no no, you belong with me, Taylor....(Get it?)


And she's, what, 19? Day-amn, that almost makes wanting to nail her feel wrong. Awesome, but still wrong. Still, if I got Taylor all to myself for the night, the sex would be.....wait for it....you know it's coming....swift (ba-dum, cha!)





III. COREY HAIM AWARD FOR "UNDERACHIEVER OF YEA...NAY, CENTURY!" - JOSH DUHAMEL


Why? Because Fergie's face becomes more grotesquely contorted and mushed and awful and gross and disgusting and gross by the minute. And I'm sorry guys, no ass in the universe can completely make up for that mug. Uck....Yes, u-c-k, uck.


It's such a shame too, for he's one of the better looking dudes in Hollywood these days, and he was in "Transformers" for Christ's sake! He's so close to being completely awesome! But no, he had to go get himself love-drunk of her fuckin' lady humps. So sad....Not to mention that he's in some new chick flick with the celestially beautiful and virtually flawless Kristen Bell (aka "Sarah Marshall"), with whom he would have made a fine real-life partner, and to whom the tabloids and Perez Hiltons and of the world could lovingly and conveniently refer to as "DuhaBell." That would have been better. And they would have gotten married on top of a mountain, and they're children would have formed a family band that toured the countryside, and the Black Eyed Peas wouldn't have been invited! ('To be clear, that last little rant was from Anchorman, right? Right).


IV. THE JAMEER NELSON AWARD FOR "ATHLETE WHO DJ THANKS GOD FOR" 2009- TRACY PORTER (CB, New Orleans Saints)



Because he's the guy that picked off Brett Favre. Die, Brett Favre. Die slowly. But die.








V. THE RODNEY KING AWARD FOR "WORD, PHRASE, OR OTHER VERBAL INSTITUTION THAT HAS BEEN BEATEN VERY BADLY AND NOW JUST REALLY, REALLY NEEDS TO GO AWAY" 2009 - THE INCORRECT USE OF THE WORD "RANDOM"


As far as I'm concerned, this word has been raped. And not like your harmless, every day, friendly, just-sayin'-hey rape (Harmless? You're an asshole! Yup. But rape jokes are funny). I'm talkin' like angry, dirty, back alley, I'm-also-gonna-steal-your-ipod-when-I'm-done rape. Folks, "unexpected" and "random" are two very different words with two very different meanings. For example, hypothetically, if you're sitting around talking about/listing your favorite movies, and someone says "I really like 'The Cowboy Way' with Keifer Sutherland and Woody Harrelson," that's not random. It's unexpected, and in this particular case maybe a bit ridiculous as well. But there was obviously a deliberate selection process involved there with a specific goal in mind - naming a favorite movie. That's not random. Random would be the following:


Person a: "Name any movie ever."
Person b: "'The Cowboy Way' with Keifer Sutherland and Woody Harrelson."


Get it? There's no selection process, no process of elimination, no nothing. Just a blind selection. Ponder this example, learn from it, and please, apply what you learn to your normal conversational speech, and let's try to restore "random" to its rightful place as a respectable player in the English language.


Previous words, phrases, or socially accepted verbal institutions that have needed to go away include: "You go girl," "Is that your final answer?," "Buuuuuurn!," "Catch you on the flip side," "E.V.O.O.," and "psyche!"


Did I miss any? Let me know.


VI. THE BRETT FAVRE "YOU'RE THE WORST EVER. FUCK YOU. MAKE UP YOUR MIND" AWARD 2009 - JAY LENO



Quick, somebody name something worthwhile that Jay Leno brings to the table!...I'll wait.... Ok who are we kidding, we could be here for months before we get an answer, and even then it would be forced. Why? - because Jay Leno is a fat, talentless hack who had to rely on Hugh Gran'ts libido and other people's misspelled newspaper headlines to appear hip and funny for the past decade. And now he's gone and wiped the funniest man in late night from the schedule. Fuck you, Jay Leno.


That about sums up my thoughts on Jay. But before I go further, on a brighter note, don't you think it would be funny if SNL ('You still watch SNL? Yeah, ya know what, I do. Andy Samberg, Kristin Wiig, and Seth Meyers are legitimately funny sometimes, so suck it) did a skit that featured Jay Leno and Brett Favre trying to order food at a restaurant?:



Jay: "I might just get an appetizer. I want to be done before it gets late."


Brett: "I want the filet. I love the filet with all my heart (starts to well up). I'd do anything for the filet..but...but I...but I just don't know if I can handle it anymore. Either my body or my mind. I might need to put on my Wranglers and think about this while sitting on the flatbed of my truck with my dog."


Jay: "Maybe you can just get the filet as an appetizer. I mean, there's nothing wrong with doing the exact same thing, just at an earlier time and telling everyone it's something new."



Brett: "You're right. I do want the filet. But I don't want to eat it here anymore. I want to eat at a whole new table with all new waiters and bus boys. But only after I tell our waiter here that I'm not going to eat at all."



I'll stop there, but you get the idea. That could be funny I think...But still, fuck Jay Leno.


Alright, that's enough for now. More awards to come if I ever think of any. Otherwise, I'll be back soon. 'Til next time.


DJ

I. THE MOST ANNOYING THING IN THE WORLD


If Iwere temporarily all-powerful and could instantly fix/eliminate but one major problem in this modern world wrrrrrrrrought ('Why all the extra r's?' I feel the word "wrought" packs a bit more of a punch if it sounds like you're grumbling when you say it, or if you trill the r's like in Spanish. Try it, you'll see) with impending global catastrophe in which we all live, it would not be world hunger, it would not be homelessness/poverty, it would not be crime, it would not be racism/prejudice/stereotyping, it would not be the sickening lack of Vince Lombardi trophies in Philadelphia, it wouldn't be drug addiction, it wouldn't terrorism, it wouldn't be general ignorance, it wouldn't even be the Jonas Brothers. No no, instead, I'd devote my attention to a much more irritating and unacceptable concern...


... Don't you hate it when you try to fill up your gas tank and the little latch that allows you to lock the pump handle in place is broken, thereby crushing your wish to either sit in the car while the gas pumps because it's cold outside or go inside the station itself to buy a cup of coffee and a scratch-off instant lottery game? Isn't having to stand there and manually squeeze the pump routinely the worst minute to minute-and-a-half of your day? You know it is, don't lie. The only thing that even comes close if when the latch is not broken, you set it all up, you go inside and buy your coffee and lotto ticket figuring that by the time you return to your car you will have a full tank of gas, then you find that for some reason, the gas stopped pumping about three seconds after you left it. That sucks a fat one as well. But still, you can always just set it up again, then sit in the nice warm car with your nice hot (or iced) coffee, so this situation doesn't make my blood boil quite as much as the goddamn broken latch - by far Earth's most pressing concern. In fact, this pisses me off so much that whenever I come across it, I feel more than just mildly compelled to spray down the whole station with gasoline and drop a lit match on it. The only reason I don't is because I don't want to lose the attached Dunkin' Donuts or A-Plus or Hess Express or whatever it is attached to it that gives me my huge french vanilla coffee. That's reasonable, right? ('Jackass, if you DID drop that lit match, you'd end up killing yourself too, did you ever think of that?' Nah-ah, cuz I'd do it drive-by style like black people like to do in movies and by movies I mean real life.... So there.).



II. MOVIE QUOTE/DIALOGUE OF THE DAY


From "Me, Myself, and Irene":


Hank: "So what's your tale, mother goose? Where ya from?"
Irene: "Oh, all over really."
Hank: "Mmmm - omnipresence. I like that in a woman."

III. PHALLIC IRONY!

Ya know what's funny? - the fact that birth control pills come in a package shaped like a clam. That's just....I don't know, that's just funny to me.


IV. FUN WORD COMBO

Taking two words - typically an adjective and the noun it's describing - and making them into one bigger, often funnier word has become a preferred custom of mine over the past few years. I do it a lot...Like, a lot alot. It's a fun game. And I thought that it would make a fun, quick little blog item earlier today when I was talking to my special lady friend. At one point during the conversation, she let loose a laugh that was very high-pitched and also sounded kinda retarded, ya know, like a retard. So naturally, I looked at her and said, "You sound like a three year old retard.... Wait....Yup, you're a threetard." We then laughed again, but this time, thankfully, we both sounded like like normal adults.



V. WAIT, MY NETWORK IS 3G?!? THAT'S AWESOME!....RIGHT?


As if Luke Wilson wasn't lame enough already - 'The rest of the cast of Old School is making funny movies, but I'm gonna make cell phone commercials!' - I can't sit down to watch tv anymore without having to endure him and his goofy square jaw and the rest of his I-look-like-a-middle-aged-and-stupider-looking-Zach-Braff face blab on and on about the wonders of having the world's largest 3G network at his disposal. Let me ask everyone something...


...What the fuck does "3G" even mean? Huh? What does that do for me exactly? I want some fucking explanations. I realize that it's an established (and apparently successful) marketing technique to throw a vague, poorly explained quality/feature of a given product into said product's commercials and imply that said quality/feature is what makes said product superior and/or needed ('You said 'said' too much just now.' Yeah, I know). I understand that this method probably works because the majority of humanity will listen to what they hear and believe what they're told because they're sheep (By the way, I will write a book, it will be called "People are Sheep".... and you will buy it.... Baaaaa.), but that's not enough for me this time. In past instances I haven't really given a shit - I don't care what chemical it is in 'Lectric Shave' that makes the hairs on my face stand up or why the fact that Denorex tingles while Head and Shoulders does not means that Denorex works better - but I've been so indundated with advertising of 3G networks and such that I just can't handle it anymore. Somebody fucking tell me. Now.


But ya know the only thing that pisses me off more than this? - the fact that one of the cell phone companies (I don't remember which) - is now hawking the nation's first 4G network!... And all I can think is - is it really that simple? Is that what all the middle-aged executives talk about when they're sitting around the large oak conference room table with the speakerphone that looks like like a spiderweb in the middle? I bet it is. It's amazing that people like that who probably make millions earn their riches (clearly I'm using the term "earn" loosely) by conducting a meeting that most likely goes like this:


Douchebag Exec A: "Alright, here's the dilemma. AT&T has gotten Zach Braff to advertise the hell out of their 3G network coverage. I need ideas.



Douchebag Exec B: "Actually that's Luke Wilson."



Douchebag A: "Whatever....Thoughts?"


(5 minutes of silence)


Douchebag Exec C: "...I got it! They're saying that their 3G network is best. Why don't we... and I know this sounds crazy, but follow me here... say that we have a FOUR G network?!?! (Sticking his arms out, moving fingers on both hands back and forth in a wafting motion as if to say 'Come here.') Ehh? Eeehhh? Not bad, right?"


Douchebag A: "Genius! Done! I want commercials to air tomorrow, and next week, let's figure out what we're going to tell people 4G could actually mean."


Yeah, that's probably how all those meetings go down. The DirecTV commercials also did a great job of parodying this phenomenon. You know those commercials - "But we don't broadcast in a million 80p, do we?..." Those commercials. I actually used to sit in on meetings just like this -complete with the huge table, comfy chairs, and fantastic views of the city -during my time at a certain science museum in Philadelphia, so I can legitimately attest to the overwhelmingly and comically superficial intelligence of these meetings. Nothing of note is ever actually said or done. It's hilarious.


But still, seriously, someone fucking tell me what 3G is and what it does.

DJ

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