The Smart Centipede

Saving Blackhawk Tears of the Private Aliens Independence Down Sun Day Ryan

2011-06-27T00:38:00.001-04:00

As TNT has made it impossible for me to catch up on Falling Skies, I felt a need to get my alien fix in this evening. My X-Box is capable of streaming movies, so I decided to check what Zune had to offer.

My movie buddy/brother Tommy and I saw previews last year for Battle: L.A. and were intrigued. It looked like a pretty decent action movie, and Hell, it couldn't be any worse than Skyline. Unfortunately, Tommy got ill, and was in the hospital for a few months, which means we missed our window to see it in theaters (I didn't want to go without him).

Tommy is out now, and I remember him telling me to see it whenever I get the chance and not wait for him, so I did.

The people who derided this movie clearly did not know what type of movie they were going to see. Anyone looking for another Platoon was sorely disappointed. If you went in expecting Ridley Scott's Alien, you left scratching your head. Those anticipating the next Star Wars went back to their basements unfulfilled.

But if you went in knowing this would be a Xenophobic blow 'em up explosion fest could not have gotten a better bang for their buck! This movie was like a mix up of several entertaining movies into one package. There was a little Private Ryan (platoon sent on long shot rescue mission behind enemy lines led by aging veteran who fears his service has taken too great a toll), a little Tears of the Sun (half of the squad gives their lives to save civilian refugees), a little Blackhawk Down (the agonizing horror of trying to travel through a live combat zone), a little Aliens (ragged platoon of hard asses reduced to helpless survivors) and a little Independence Day (aliens invade with superior technology without a peaceful pretense). It had action, explosions, alien ships, street to street combat, heroic sacrifice, character development (although not as much as there could have been).

I thought this movie was very entertaining. It wouldn't win any awards, but if you were expecting it to, you need to rethink your approach to understanding movies. Not every movie needs to be the Godfather. Sometimes they need to be a fun romp through cinematic chaos, like Battle: L.A. is.

Green Lantern Lights Up The Screen

2011-06-19T11:56:00.000-04:00

Ryan Reynolds as Hal Jordan

This is the movie I have been waiting 30+ years to see. Not to say it was the best movie I have ever seen; it wasn't. But with Green Lantern being my favorite solo comic hero of all time (with Colossus being my favorite team player) I have longed to see him brought to life on the silver screen.

The story was a fairly obvious origin piece. In that comic movies never stick strictly to their source (Sin City excluded) certain elements were changed to make the story appealing to a wider audience. Hector Hammond (Peter Saarsgard) is one of Hal Jordan's earliest villains, if not his first (because would the Puppet Master really have held up in this day and age?) and his origins are tweaked to connect him more directly to the movie's larger antagonist, Parallax (a far more modern addition to the GL mythos). None of the changes to the details were offensive enough to this aficionado, helping to create a tighter story.

Reynolds does an OK turn as Hal Jordan, cocky womanizing test pilot with a soft spot for his boss, Carol Ferris (Blake Lively). He has the confidence, but to me, Hal has never been the jokester that Reynolds is known to be. After hearing so many rumors of Reynolds playing the Flash (one would assume the Wally West incarnation) and after seeing him play the ultimate loudmouth Deadpool, I was not completely sold on his Hal Jordan. Lively is indeed lively as Carol, going from no nonsense business woman to high flying test pilot to tender love interest with no jarring transition. It will be interesting to see if they follow her transformation into Star Sapphire in any of the subsequent sequels to see how Lively handles becoming a villain. Saarsgard's Hammond is forgettable, and we never quite get the connection between he and Hal other than they are rivals for Carol's affection, apparently.

But the strongest performance is turned in by Mark Strong. His Sinestro is the perfect blend of confidence, leadership, and disdain for weakness that we would have expected. Stick around through the first part of the credits for the (hopeful) promise of a sequel that may surpass it's predecessor.

The CGI was a little bit clunky at times, especially when it had anything to do with flying, specifically landing. But the construct effects were spectacular, with some wide variety shown during Hal's hilariously brief training session. The set pieces were well realized, with some definite nods to the comic sources including the monuments to fallen Lanterns. There are Easter Eggs galore in the gatherings of Lanterns (beyond the obvious Kilowog and Tomar-Re), as I recognized no fewer than a dozen characters; Stel, Salaak, Boodikka, Bzzd, Medphyll, K'ryssma and several others whose names I may have never known.

The movie was a little slow at times, but by and large it delivered an entertaining experience. I am hoping for a sequel, as there were areas that could be improved and openings for some of the more interesting concepts to carry over from the comics (the other Lantern Corps, Manhunters, etc.)

Not the best movie I have ever seen, and not the best Green Lantern movie possible. I was actually more impressed with Green Lantern: First Flight, the animated feature that came out last year. But a somewhat solid offering.

For those wondering: there are no mentions whatsoever (that I could detect) of any other DC Comics property (no mentions of Metropolis, Gotham or Thymescria). So no hints as to the proposed Justice League feature.

Top Ten Bad Things About the World Ending on May 21, 2011 as 6 PM Strikes Each Part of the World

2011-05-21T00:01:00.000-04:00

World ends before "End of the World" parties really have a chance to get wild;

We will miss Justin Timberlake hosting SNL tonight;

Everything else Ashley Judd would have done will go undone;

Bruno Mars never fulfills father's dream of seeing his son get a college degree, will instead die in Snuggie watching MTV;

Many of Arnold Schwarzenegger's love children still undiscovered;

Ashton Kutcher never given chance to show how good an actor Charlie Sheen truly was;

Jon Cusack, Mayans completely full of shit;

Lyrics to theme song of Tony Award Winning "Annie" changed to "The sun will come out, tomorrow, but none of us will be alive to see it... we'll be gone...";

New York, New York outlived by Madison, Wisconsin;

We never got to see Ke$ha's inevitable slide into STD-riddled coked-out thirties;

See also: Top Ten GOOD Things About the World Ending on May 21, 2011 as 6 PM Strikes Each Part of the World

Top Ten Good Things About the World Ending on May 21, 2011 as 6 PM Strikes Each Part of the World

2011-05-21T00:00:00.000-04:00

We don't have to hear from Ke$ha anymore;

Speedy reunion with Randy "Macho-Man" Savage;

Ashley Judd is taken from us in a state of unblemished perfection;

We get to see France surrender one final time before we go;

Kirstie Alley can die claiming she is just as good at something athletic as Hines Ward;

Chicago Cubs were finally going to win the big one this year;

Donald Trump gets to fire entire world;

All doubts about whether or not Seal Team 6 killed Osama bin Laden put to rest;

Michael Moore's proposed expose on himself remains unfinished;

Won't have to listen to schmucks claiming they know when the world is going to end;

See also: Top Ten BAD Things About the World Ending on May 21, 2011 as 6 PM Strikes Each Part of The World

Epic Fail

2010-11-21T00:18:00.001-05:00

I went to Chili's for dinner tonight before hitting the movies with Tommy and his friend Maureen. I ordered the crispy chicken tacos, with Texas cheese fries as an appetizer. My brother got the skillet queso, which is basically chips with a spicy beef and cheese dipping sauce. The waitress took a long time getting our food out, and when mine came, the order was wrong. It took them a few minutes and an argument between two waiters to get my order right. It also took a while for the waitress to get us our check, and though we had requested separate checks, it was combined.

The food was okay, but something didn't sit right with me (probably that skillet queso), and as I got home, I had a pretty disagreeable stomach, so I had to spend some time indisposed, if you catch my drift.

Sorry to paint that picture for you, but it's important for you to know exactly how uncomfortable that series of events was for me, so you will truly understand when I say that having my order messed up and getting the shits from it was a PLEASANT EXPERIENCE compared to sitting through the awful, awful mess known as SKYLINE.

This movie contained every sci-fi hackneyed cliche ever written. Lead actor who is a regular guy just trying to get by? Check. Lead actress who is a saint and is willing to stand by her man through thick and thin? Supporting actor with buddy comedy chemistry? Check. Supporting actress cast-iron bitch? Check. Unexplained Earth-shaking arrival of mysterious aliens? Check. Early death of leery, creepy comic relief? Check. Small dog used to gain sympathy of audience? Check. Frightened old man as comedy tool? Check. Creepy tentacled aliens with mind control abilities culling humanity like dust-busters? Check. Pre-requisite explosion shot, followed by pre-requisite smoked filled shot of alien ship surviving the blast? Check. Frantic chase scene with last minute escapes and dodges? Check. Shock death of supporting actor with missed-by-a-hair rescue attempt by main character, complete with slow motion close-up of dying supporting actor? Check. Timely arrival of older character with important information and or equipment? Check. Late arrival of military, which proceeds to fail in initial attempts to defeat aliens? Check. Gotcha scene of imminent rescue thwarted by last minute mishap? Check. Older character sacrificing self to save others with a witty one-liner? Check. Repeated last second saves by incoming attack? Check.

I hate that this movie was even made. Donald Faison should be ashamed of himself, and his agent should be fired. You were on Scrubs, for Christ's sake! This was like watching Michael Jordan play baseball. It felt like two kids were playing with their toys in their backyard. It was like playing a video game with no instruction manual and you can't control the character. The majority of the movie takes place in Donald Faison's living room, and in a movie with a limited location, it has to be character driven. I've met more lovable characters picking up trash for community service. The dialogue sounds like it was clipped from a dozen other sci-fi movies.

The alien design is a mish-mosh of other movie designs, and the plot was razor thin. The alien ships are vacuuming up anyone who stared at their human bug-light. If humans managed to stay out of the path of the Dyson Ball from outer space, there were alien helicopters that, although they could fly, eviscerate people in a flash, and couldn't be destroyed, could be thwarted by a set of blinds. The aliens themselves are indestructible, surviving being driven into by a speeding SUV and crushed, except for the part when our hero punches one to death. But why were the aliens here? Well, from what I could gather, they are here to eat our brains, which, for whatever reason glow when they are extracted from our heads.

This movie is like if Independence Day and Cloverfield were in an incestuous relationship and huffing paint and this movie is the bastard love child that they went ahead and bashed in the skull with a tack hammer. If presented with the option of having my balls gnawed off by a ravenous wolverine or having to sit through this movie again, well, it'd be a tough call, because frankly, I don't see much of a distinction between the two.

Someone get Donald Faison some work, PLEASE.

The Walking Dead

2010-11-05T10:39:00.000-04:00

AMC captures my inner feelings about work

I was just treated to watching the pilot for AMC's The Walking Dead. Delightful! The only problem I have is that as a comic geek, I have heard things about the comic source material that is spoiling what promises to be some of the more shocking moments of the series. But the initial entry was very entertaining. It looks like Sunday is appointment TV once again!

Almost Famous

2010-10-31T14:33:00.000-04:00

Go to Google. Type in "Colonel's Original Recipe Revealed."

Smart Centipede's expose is the first link that appears. Now click images. Of the first three images, read from left to right, the main graphic for the story is the first graphic. My picture is third. The iconic Colonel Sanders graphic is 7th.

Booyah!

Waiting Room Blues

2010-10-26T08:20:00.000-04:00

The Waiting Really is the Hardest Part

Hanging at Brown's in Patchogue. This is day 2 (non-consecutive) of the great Jeep saga of 2010. My girl Emily began groaning a few weeks ago. A little sound that seems to sound like a power steering issue, although the sound is emanating from the other side of the engine (I know my engines). It is definitely something that has to do with the belts, not necessarily the belt itself, but one of the pulleys driven by it, certainly.

I learned almost everything I know about engines from my Dad. He had converted our two-bay garage into an auto shop and used to work on people's cars. It's something I always wish I had helped him more with. It wasn't for lack of opportunity; he always asked me if I wanted to help him, and I did, sometimes. I know how to change my own oil, I've changed out power steering pumps, water pumps, belts, hoses, changed batteries, spark plugs, carburetors, and even changed out my brake lines with the help of my dad's brother, my uncle Bill.

So I'm not the average schmuck. I've had to, by economical necessity, had to do many of my own repairs on my vehicles. But Emily is the first vehicle I've ever had that was like new when I got her, and she's been good to me, so when it comes to noises like this, I'm gonna take her to the pros, even for just preventative maintenance.

The problem being, it's not always a guarantee that the service be fast (or even at all). I first brought this problem to Brown's on Friday. I had made an 8:30 appointment, and we were there at 8:20. I dropped my girl off and had my partner in crime Tommy drive us to the ~~Super Deli~~ Pot Belly Deli for breakfast. There was an early indication that the day would not meet expectations.

They messed up our breakfasts, which put him in a less than sunny mood. Late with the sausage, his English muffin was under done, my hash browns were practically raw. Sub-par effort at best.

We went home and I spent the larger part of my day off playing X-Box (I know, shocker). As the day wore on, I waited to hear from Brown's, and didn't. By about 2, I was getting a little annoyed. I gave them a call, and left a message (the fact that I couldn't even get customer service was not a happy thing). I received a call at 3:30 that Emily had not, in fact, even been looked at, that the technicians were all wrapped up with other vehicles.

I went and got my girl, along with a promise that I would be absolutely first in line when I brought her back on Tuesday (which is what I am doing here now). In the mean time, I had to drive her to my niece's soccer game (they lost) Party City for my niece and nephew's Halloween costume shopping (holy crowded, Batman!) Panera for dinner (crowded too) and then to my nephew's football game (they lost). What a day for disappointment.

I have the opposite expectations for today. The techs will be able to quickly diagnose Emily's ailment, fix it rapidly, and have me on my way in no time. I am sure of it.

Right?

Open Letter To Fox

2010-10-24T12:54:00.001-04:00

Dear Sirs,

Your greed disgusts me. I knew all along that you don't REALLY care about the little guy, you only care about the millions and billions in revenue that your advertisers pay you, so I know it will cause you to lose no sleep knowing that I am absolutely disgusted by your bullying tactics. Knowing that the tools at Cablevision will be hiking up our rates anyway (you greedy corporate types love to raise rates, don't you?) you've simply given them an excuse, a scapegoat for why they are wringing more from us. You don't care that they are getting more from us, you just want your share, like a maggot sucking bile from an infected wound.

It is my intention to begin a different type of boycott of FOX; a COMMERCIAL boycott. When you and Cablevision set aside your petty pissing contest and finally get FOX programming back on the air, I will have already contacted every one of my friends, family, co-workers, associates, and my readers, and ask that they join my commercial boycott. What those joining my boycott will do is this: we will enjoy your programming, because that's not really what you care about. We'll watch shows like Glee, and The Simpsons, Fringe, and the NFL on Fox. And then, just as you go to commercial, we will change the channel. We will intentionally and blatantly refuse to acknowledge any messages from your sponsors. Those with DVR capabilities will fast-forward through your advertiser's commercials. Those that don't will simply mute their television and look away. We'll hold great gatherings in the round, using a large projection TV and a homemade HDTV antenna, to watch Fox HD for free, and turn away to party during commercials. No one who spends money on Fox ad space will get their message heard by any of my followers. And the best part? I ask for no money, and people love things they can do for free, especially when it screws greedy corporate fat cats like yourself.

I invite you to visit my WEBSITE . It's bare bones right now, as I have just started. But I am eager to see how many followers I can attract. It may never reach the kind of resistance needed to get you to acre, It may fail miserably, who knows. But I am eager to try. Come and watch the faces of those you abuse gather and grow in number. Maybe I'll even be able to afford BOYCOTTFOXCOMMERCIALS.COM (EVERY iteration of boycottfoxcommercials is available, and for cheap, too!)

Maybe one day, when I get enough followers, and someone wants to donate enough money to the cause, I'll purchase some commercial time on Fox and do a commercial extolling your greed. And I'm betting if I pay enough, you'll air it, because your network is nothing but a soulless corporate whore.

Tired of being used as leverage,

Kenn Beck

R.I.P. Tom Bosley, 1927–2010

2010-10-20T06:59:00.001-04:00

The Big Quiz Thing: Tom Bosley, 1927–2010

A fitting tribute to Tom Bosley, brought to you by the Guru of Pop Culture Trivia, Noah Tarnow of the Big Quiz Thing.

Noah said it better than I ever could have. Go easy, Poppa Cunningham.

Fox Vs. Cablevision

2010-10-17T21:42:00.000-04:00

Get it worked out before the World Series, or I'm gonna fuck shit up.

10 10 10

2010-10-10T10:10:00.007-04:00

Today is 10/10/10 (as I'm sure has been crammed down your throat by media everywhere).

Two Years, two months, and two days from now, it will be 12/12/12, as I'm sure you can figure out (and yes, I KNOW that next year features 11/11/11, but that's not germane to the point I am making, so don't bother mentioning it). That will likely be the last time most of us will see that phenomenon. You'll need to wait until January 1st, 2101 to see it again. For perspective, any ten year olds reading this will be 101 when it happens.

Enjoy it while you can folks!

Blog-a-palooza

2010-10-08T19:38:00.001-04:00

Readers,

For the time being, some of the blog entries here at Smart Centipede may become unavailable for reading (specifically, those having to do with work). The exciting part of that news is that I will very soon be launching a new blog that will focus solely on the trials and tribulations of doing what I do for a living. In the meantime, I invite you to keep your eyes on this and a few other choice blogs that have kept me entertained:

Kimberly Spice's 100 Cups of Coffee: one woman's search for a Prince by dating a bevy of frogs...
Girlbomb's Girlbomb: Explode Your Mind!
Angry Grrl's The Thing Being: A fledgling blog that is gong to be huge, so get in on the ground floor and say you were there from the beginning!
My very own Smart Centipede: Sports Edition: If it's not there, then it's not sporting news... that I care about.
And brand new addition The Window Lean: Your source for music to contemplate (ritual suicide) by.

What's A Soul Going For Now A Days, Anyway?

2010-09-22T19:48:00.004-04:00

(images used without permission.)

I ask because I am currently selling mine for around $30K a year plus benefits, and I want to make sure I'm getting a good rate.

Is it wrong that whenever I get home from work that the only thing I want to do is strike people repeatedly in the face with a tack hammer until their cake hole stops moving? I feel like my entire day is spent wondering how I could possibly gone so wrong to end up in such a soul sucking position in life. The company I work for continually and repeatedly does the wrong thing on every level you could imagine. Every one I speak to tells me a different way to do my job, and many of them don't know how to do their job effectively. Whenever I feel like I am not qualified for my job, I am assured that I am doing well, yet every time I do feel like I've done my job well I get informed that it's not good enough.

I get told that whatever I thought I knew is apparently now wrong. When I complete my tasks quickly and efficiently, I get told that I'm not doing enough. When I take my time, I get told that I'm not doing my job right. I'm told that I need to curb myself, to suppress the thoughts and feelings that I have, while all around me, others complain freely and frequently. I get told I need to not care about my job so much, while all around me apathy and laziness run amok. I get told that I need to be more of a team player, while all around me, priorities are skewed. I get told to stop complaining, while all around me, discord and dissent hum like tracer bullets through the air. I get told I need to be cheerier, while all around me, threats of transfer, demotion, and termination waft like smoke, hanging over my shoulders like a shroud.

It's impossible to get straight answers, fast answers, or correct answers. I get ignored by our HR department when I have a good question, and answered when I ask what I perceive to be a silly question. When they DO contact me with answers to my silly questions, it's some of the dumbest illogic I've ever seen (like them telling me we are open on Christmas Day when clearly, we are not). I'm constantly told one thing, and then hit with another. I can not bring myself to trust anyone, because no matter what I'm told, it ends up being steamrolled under by a new truth the minute it's decided the old truth is no longer convenient. When I do decide to do something selfless, I don't complain about the pain it may cause, because I did it to myself for what I thought was a good cause. But when I DO complain about tasks that cause me pain, I get told I'm "selective" about what hurts.

Pain doesn't matter. Organization does not matter. Keeping a schedule does not matter. My opinion does not matter. My effort does not matter. My spirit does not matter. My complaints do not matter. My plans do not matter. My well being does not matter. My sanity does not matter. My comfort does not matter. All that matters is that I do what I'm told, when I'm told, and shut the hell up about it.

The only thing keeping me in the soul crushing vice of bitterness and hatred I am in right now is that I might not find another job. Not that I am unemployable; I feel like my employer would be foolish to get rid of me, and I hear it to be true from many sources. But people way more qualified than me are still looking for work. I have considered going back to being a custodian. Let me reiterate that; I hate my job SO much that I have considered, seriously and often, going back to a job where cleaning up puke with sawdust is a possible- and PROBABLE- task. If my back weren't in such a state of constant pain, I would likely have applied for that and any number of other physically demanding jobs already.

But I can't. My physical skills are hindered. My design skills are outdated. My phone skills are a matter for psychologists far wiser than anyone I work with to debate. And my people skills have been crushed to a fine talc by the oppressive weight of the hypocrisy of it all. So here I lie, trapped like a bug in sap.

I am waiting for a spark. For a thin glimmer of hope. I am one fat hypnotherapist away from being Peter Gibbons. I am one unscrupulous diagnosis from being Joe Banks.

With that, I leave you with Joe Banks as he leaves his own situation, in one of my favorite moments in movie history, and a moment I hope I can soon resonate with:

Joe quits

Know The Score

2010-08-20T21:54:00.004-04:00

Life can be pretty tough. It’s difficult to know who you can trust. Ever since the first time someone told a lie (Psst! Hey, Eve, I bet you could eat this and the big guy wouldn’t even notice, and it’d probably be good in a pie) we’ve struggled with the balance between telling the truth and the fact that our taxes are just too high. Even those traditionally held in the highest moral esteem (the clergy) have been lying for generations (or paying altar boys in Snickers bars to lie for them). And the ones whom we count on to enforce the laws that keep us honest are held in the lowest moral esteem (politicians).

I propose the following: every person is to be fitted with a holographic projector attached to their forehead. Compact and light weight, constructed of the cutting edge in space-age composites, this holographic projector would be powered by a combination of green power sources, such as body heat, motion, and solar energy. It would be free to have installed and free to have repaired. This holographic projector would have one purpose and one purpose only; displaying your humanity score.

Your Humanity Score would be computed automatically, displaying how much of a saint or a prick you really are. Good deeds would increase your score, bad deeds would diminish it. Real time results would flash over the score, like in a video game; get a cat out of a tree, and a (+1) would float up from your projector, and be added to your score, accompanied by a pleasant little “DING!” Steal a lollipop from a baby? A glowing red (-5) would jump out along with a diabolical crash of piano keys.

Sort of like a karmic credit score. It would sure make things a lot easier.

Picture it: You wake up in the morning, and catch the subway to work. You’re standing in the middle when you see a guy nod a greeting to you. He seems pretty friendly, but his score shows a -450. He’s looking to take your wallet, so you move to a different part of the subway.

You get to work and your secretary hands you a report. The glowing +5 over her head means that the TPS Report you’ve been avoiding all week is finished.

You head to the bar after work and see a beautiful blonde smiling at you. She seems interested in you, but her -100 tells you she’s just interested in your bank account. You choose the girl next door with the glowing 300 over her noggin.

The score should dictate status in society. You can cut in line over people with a lower score, because you’re legitimately better than they are! Elections would be a snap. People with higher numbers would be rewarded for their good deeds.

There would have to be some sort of sliding system, though. People who donate things other people gave them to charity solely because they can use it as a tax write-off can’t get as many points as someone who works a double shift to put their kid through college. Likewise, I’d hate to see equal punishment for a serial rapist and a naughty lil’ minx who’s just thinking about what she’d like to do to you when she gets you between the sheets. Maybe the minor, good natured offenses can be in bright orange?

But I’m sure that someone somewhere would find a way to mess with it. I suppose the first people to hack it would figure a way to reverse the scoring system, and give themselves plusses for negative deeds. They’d then sell the hacking service to the wealthiest people, increasing their own scores along the way.

Man, evil pricks screw everything up. I give up. I’ll be at the bar, looking for a red-head with blinking bright orange -1’s over her head whenever she smiles and looks at me.

Note To Self

2010-07-18T06:34:00.002-04:00

Write up a bunch of events that happened this year, except change the dates to make it look like I predicted them.

Hat Trick

2010-06-08T20:13:00.002-04:00

O.K., so anyone who knows me well knows about my long standing love affair with my second home. Southampton College, by and large, is responsible for me being the man I am today (the good parts, not the bitter, broken man working for the bank has made me). During my coaching days, I was given a truckload of free clothes as part of the uniform, many items of which I still wear proudly to this day.

The one thing Southampton College Athletics ever failed to provide me with was a hat that didn't look like something made in the back room of a t-shirt shop by some minimum wage slug with cheetos dust permanently caked under his fingernails. The one hat they did give me was one of those adjustable ones with the buckle and strap. Not even a snap adjuster. This was more like the type of hat a weekend tourist might buy whilst shopping the better stores in town. It was not an athlete's hat.

Unacceptable. As my head is rather large, I have a hard time finding fitted caps that fit. I had long detested the adjustable snap caps, and I liked the buckle adjustables even less. I made it my mission to find a hat that was not only comfortable, but was something I could wear while coaching and not have it appear out of place.

Walking into Lids in Smithaven Mall was like climbing down into the Well of Souls to find the Ark of the Covenant. Or, more accurately, it was like going into that room with all the Holy Grails scattered about. There were hundreds of hats, but none of them looked fit, and none of them were proper for my team needs.

Then I found it.

Penn State's simple S logo could easily be a stand-in for the lack of a proper Southampton logo. The color was a PERFECT match for our school colors, Blue and White (it was missing the Yellow, but I wasn't complaining). It was a Flex-fit™, which, for the uninitiated, means it had an elastic band in the edge. It could STRETCH! Perfect for my oversized noggin. It was relatively cheap, although I would have paid a bundle for it.

That hat has been in my possession for the better part of a decade. It was stretched just right to fit. I wore it not only while coaching, but also while playing. I bought the hat washing frame to keep it in shape. I wore it everywhere it was appropriate, and a few places it wasn't. I even slept in it a couple of times (well, passed out, more appropriately). That hat accompanied me overseas! It has seen more countries than many of my relatives!

It is not in the best of shape. It is permanently stained from all the sweat it has strained through it over the years. It has a tiny frayed spot on the right side of the brim from me taking it off and putting it on so many times, as well as tugging on the brim to adjust it during games. It has a dark smear under the brim that for the life of me I have no idea what it is, it may be pine tar, it may be tobacco, it may be a beetle, and it won't ever come out. But GODS how I love that hat.

Did I mention I was fond of the hat?

It has been missing for weeks. I have been despondent. I have been forced to wear my not quite right fitting red MD hat (Mudd Devils, my former team). I have torn my entire room and jeep apart looking for it. I have searched the entire house. Nothing.

Until today.

It was sitting on the floor, next to the couch, between the couch and the fax machine desk, on top of an old glass chess board. It looked as if it had been sitting there in plain sight the whole time. Which isn't possible, considering that I have looked everywhere for it.

I think it is more likely that whomever took the hat (at this point, I've narrowed the suspects down to the President of BP, the North Koreans, or Benito Mussolini) crept in the house while I slept and slid it down along side the couch. Or a dimensional vortex had opened up and sucked my hat in, and the subsequent return vortex redeposited it weeks later once the alien scientists on the other end were done studying it. Or it became detached from the time stream, and reappeared just this morning.

All that matters is, I have my baby back.

Rejoice, world!

Keep Yer Fucking Kid Gloves

2010-06-04T20:33:00.001-04:00

Why is it that no one can fathom the fact that just because I am an emotional guy doesn't mean I am fragile?

I am not a China fucking doll. I am 6'2" tall when my spine is adjusted, topping 250 lbs., and I can punch (and have punched) a hole through a wall if I need to. I am capable of deep, seething anger. I am also capable of deep, unconditional love. Emotions aren't a trip wire, they don't rule my life. I'm not a fucking Vulcan, I'm not a fucking robot. I don't need anti-depressants, I don't need counseling, I don't need fucking pity.

I need to feel, and I'm doing that just fine, thank you. I am a grown man. I know there are those who see me still as a confused kid. They see me get emotional, they see me on the verge of tears, they see me trembling with anger, and they think the emotions control me, that I am still a little boy. They have not the first fucking clue what is going on in my head.

People accuse me of enjoying being miserable. I denied that for a long time. But the truth of the matter is, I DO enjoy being miserable, if the alternative is sitting in a bland little box feeling nothing.

A person very special to me invited me over one night to watch Vanilla Sky. Weird fucking movie. But Jason Lee had it spot on.

"You can do whatever you want with your life, but one day you'll know what love truly is. It's the sour and the sweet. And I know sour, which allows me to appreciate the sweet. Because without the bitter, baby, the sweet ain't as sweet."

It's like Butters from South Park (of all fucking people) said:

"Well yeah, and I'm sad, but at the same time I'm really happy that something could make me feel that sad. It's like, it makes me feel alive, you know? It makes me feel human. And the only way I could feel this sad now is if I felt somethin' really good before. So I have to take the bad with the good, so I guess what I'm feelin' is like a, beautiful sadness."

I just want to be happy for a while. Can't I be happy, and deal with sad when it's sad's turn at the podium?

Maybe We Can Date For A Bit First?

2010-05-28T22:57:00.004-04:00

OK, so I am a firm believer that good deeds get rewarded. Maybe not right away, but somewhere down the line, it gets back to you, or as an intelligent co-worker who only occasionally says the silliest things once said, "it gets paid in reverse, you know, the opposite of paid forward?" Some may pronounce that "paid back," but I digress.

I pulled into work and emerged from my jeep, locking the doors and heading towards the building. A derelict looking dude walking in the opposite direction says "hey," to me, so I look over.

"You got a quarter?" he asked.

Now, I've heard this scam a thousand times if I've heard it once. 'I'm short on gas, and I don't get paid until tomorrow,' they say, or 'I haven't eaten in two days,' or 'I'm trying to get home to see my kid.' This guy was likely just seeing if he could get lucky by hitting random saps with a simple question.

I turned and went back to my jeep. Sensing my intentions, the man shifted gears. "I'm just trying to get seventy five cents, I've been up and down this street all morning, I just need a break." I reached into the large travel mug I keep in the cup holder and grabbed for whatever change my hand found. I came out with $1.25 in quarters and a few pennies. I'm not gonna miss it. If it makes someone else's day, might as well, right?

"Here you go," I say, handing him all the change. The pleasant surprise on his face was classic.

"Thanks," he said smiling.

"Have a good day," I say, locking my jeep again.

"You have a better one," he countered.

"Thanks," I answer, turning to walk back to the bank.

"Hey, are you married?" he asks.

"Nope," I reply.

His face loses some of it's glee. Clearly he was hoping for a yes. "Got a girlfriend?"

"Nope," I reply.

Again, you could see this man was confounded a bit. "Well," he finally said after a second or two of contemplation, "I hope you meet one tonight that blows the shit out of you."

So I got THAT going for me. The homeless grifter of Blue Point is praying for my (oral) sex life. What else could a man need to succeed in the world?

Lost Without You

2010-05-23T22:50:00.002-04:00

After six long years, the journey is over.

I remember the first time I saw Lost. I was living at Southampton College, working as an Administrator on Call while working in the Alumni office. As a rabid Alias fan, I would turn on ABC at 8:50 P.M. every Wednesday as I was finishing up what I was doing to be sure that I caught the very beginning of the episode. I had heard about Lost, but hadn't watched it. One night, while in my tiny concrete apartment, I actually sat down and watched the last 10 minutes of the show that had led into Alias. I saw a bunch of people settling down on the beach, resigning themselves to the fact that they were stuck on an island. The music was pretty good, which drew me in immediately. What happened next drew me in further.

The music began to falter. It skipped a few times and then went silent. And Jorge Garcia took off his headphones and set the down next to him. And it hit me how very isolated the writers were making the characters. Not even their SOUNDTRACK was safe.

I was hooked, though I didn't immediately begin watching. I knew it had to be done right.

My sister actually watched the first two seasons before I did via DVD. She told me that the show was great, and that was all the catalyst I needed. I rented the first two seasons and watched quickly enough to catch up in time for the premier of Season 3.

The rest was history. Even though Season 3 was not nearly as successful as the first two (in my mind) I still enjoyed it immensely. The show picked up steam again at the end of Season 3 with the revelation of the flash forwards. Even though season 5 had it's wandering moments, it still held me enthralled.

And now it's over. Season 6 answered a few questions, but left many more unanswered. I am a little melancholy at the moment. I know I'll see Matthew Fox again, but he won't be Jack. We will see Evangeline Lilly again, but Kate is gone. Locke is dead, and Terry O'Quinn just isn't the same. Hurley, Sawyer, Sun, Jin... these characters I have come to be emotionally invested in are gone now. It's as if they've boarded another flight, one that won't ever return. I feel like I've just ended a six year relationship with someone I care for very dearly.

I've been lucky enough to get a second chance with someone I cared for very deeply. It didn't end much better than the first time, but every moment with them was cherished. I know I will watch Lost again, from start to finish, and I will make sure I enjoy every moment of it. I thank the creators, even though I personally think they're a bit jerky, for creating this wonderful world that has so enthralled me.

Namaste.

Huh?

2010-05-20T12:46:00.002-04:00

OK, so I am enjoying a lil' sun on my lunchbreak, down by my usual relaxation spot.

The guy in the jeep next to me is sleeping. And by sleeping, I don't mean reclined in his seat trying to catch a cat nap. I'm talking full on in the back seat, nasty feet hanging out the window, covered with a blanket, snoring, tossing and turning sleep.

Blanket? It's like 140 degrees out here!

Unfortunately, he woke up and took off before I could get a picture of said nasty feet for you fine folks to gawk at.

OK, so it lasted 17 days.

2010-04-06T13:37:00.003-04:00

And by IT, I mean THIS.

Spring is upon us. It's beautiful, it's warm, and LOST is almost over. What the hell am I going to do with my life once it doesn't have LOST to kick it around?!?

I'm hoping we'll have nice weather for extended periods of time this spring. We need to get our roof fixed. I lost 9 years of school art work to a leaky ceiling. Devastating loss. As a temporary solution, we have a blue tarp over most of our house. Which is fine, except people keep mistaking us for an IHOP. No, we have no griddle cakes.

Attempting once again to get the blog running on a somewhat regular basis.

Smart Centipede Presents: Out Of Genre Sequels

2010-01-17T09:17:00.003-05:00

There has, to my knowledge, been very few examples of a movie series that has switched genres successfully. Alien was a top notch horror movie, and anyone who tells you that Aliens was anything but an action film is deluding themselves. Star Trek: The Motion Picture was a heavily intellectual Sci-Fi movie, while Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan was much more action oriented. First Blood was a tense drama, while Rambo: First Blood Part II was another slam bang action movie. Halloween was a classic horror movie, while Halloween 3, Season of the Witch was a tragic (if unintentional) comedy.

Presented for your consideration, the following are trailer descriptions for the first big wave of genre crossing Hollywood movie sequels.

=====

The year is 2018. The Earth is in trouble. Humanity finds itself on the brink of extinction, having turned their once green planet into a barren, desolate wasteland. The last remnants of civilization are scattered. Among the ruins and decaying survivors, one young girl rises in search of her destiny.

We see her sifting through some rubble of an old house for supplies when a group of ten scavengers surprise her. She looks around for a way out, but the only unattended door leads to the basement. She edges towards it.

"No way out there, girlie," one of her would be assailants chuckles.

"Who said I was looking for a way out?" she asks, smiling. She draws in a breath and lets out a scream, turning the knob. The door opens, and on the other side is complete darkness. From the blackness, we see a single giant eye glaring menacingly, unblinkingly. The screen cuts to black and there is a bloodcurtling roar, followed by the screams of the scavengers being torn apart.

Monsters, Inc. 2: The Path of Boo

=====

We see the crowd at an NFL game. The New Orleans Saints hold a narrow lead against the Washington Redskins with only seconds left on the clock. "That wife you got owe us a lot of money when she die," a gravely cajun voice says off camera.

The screen cuts to a dark room, with a ring of several gangsters standing in a circle around a seated man wearing a Saints t-shirt. "We can't just let that debt go uncollected," the gravel voice gangster says as the camera orbits around the ring of thugs.

The screen cuts back to the game, with the Redskins breaking their offensive huddle and approaching the line of scrimmage. "The money got to come from somewhere."

Cut back to the dark room. "So you gonna help us out. You gonna make sure that your team don't win on Sunday."

Cut to the game, and the Redskins quarterback calls an audible at the line, pointing to the defensive formation. "We got a lot of money on the Saints to lose, son."

Cut to the dark room. "And they gonna lose. Because it would be a shame to see something happen to that lovely momma of yours."

Cut to the game, with the Redskins running back rushing to the right, and the Saints linebacker barreling towards him. "She old. She could be home one day, and hit her head in the tub and drown."

Cut back to the darkened room. "You wouldn't want your momma to drown, now, would you, Bobby?"

Cut to the game, as the linebacker and running back approach each other in slow motion at the goal line. Just before they collide the screen goes black. A wavering, elderly female voice mutters "you... you is de Devil..."

Waterboy II: Sudden Death

=====

As the camera comes up, we see the back of an older man listening to a transcription over an earbud. Suddenly, a woman enters the office. "Dr. Laughlin," she says insistently, "there are some men here to see you."

As the man turns, we see military officers entering the room. "Dr. David Laughlin?" one of the officers asks.

"That's right," he says, removing the earbud from his ear. (played by Bob Balaban)

"We're going to need you to come with us."

Cut to a white room with the camera behind a man sitting at a table. He is bound, and has obviously been heavily sedated. Behind the mirrored glass, Dr. Laughlin is briefed by the officer in charge. "We found him in Wyoming. He insisted on seeing Dr. Claude Lacombe."

"Claude Lacombe is dead," Laughlin replies. "He died shortly after... my God..." he says, looking at the sedated man.

He rushes into the room, despite the cautions from the technicians around him, and grabs the man by the arms. "Roy? What happened to you? We never received contact after-"

"I escaped," the sedated man says, though we still don't see who it is. "I don't know how I got back here. But I need to warn you. Warn them."

"Who, Roy? Who do you have to warn?"

We see Richard Dreyfuss, as he looked 30 years ago. "Everybody."

Screen cuts to a small farm house. As the camera's depth of focus changes, we hear Laughlin's voice ask "Are they coming back, Roy?" The camera's focus finishes on a mailbox with the name Guiler on it. The house, now blurry in the background, lights up with a blinding white light, and the screen cuts to black as we hear Roy's voice say "They never left."

Close Encounters: The Invasion

=====

There are infinite possibilities.

Joker (Matthew Modine) and Animal Mother (Adam Baldwin) in a 1980's Meatballs-style teen camp romp called "Full Metal Jacket Too!"

Cameron Poe (Nicholas Cage) is brought in by Marshall Vince Larkin (Jon Cusack) to track Garland Greene (Steve Buscemi) across a 21 state killing spree in "Con Air: The Greene Pasture."

Brian Johnson (Anthony Michael Hall) must track down who killed his former detention mate John Bender (Judd Nelson) in "Breakfast Club II: Deadly Reunion" (spoiler: it was Carl).

We need to get on this, people.

Mirror Day

2010-01-02T21:10:00.002-05:00

Happy Mirror Day!

Today is 01022010 (01/02/2010). A mirroring like this won't happen again until 11/02/2011, and then again on 12/02/2021. After that, we'd have to wait until 10/21/2101. The last mirroring took place on 10/02/2001.

And none of this matters. I'm just bored.

The New Year

2010-01-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

In 2010, I am going to attempt to be more attentive to my creative side. This means more painting, more drawing, more writing, and yes, gentle reader, more blogging. We'll see how long THIS lasts.

An Open Letter To Alan Moore

2009-10-24T17:48:00.001-04:00

"I was noticing that DC seems to have based one of its latest crossovers [Blackest Night] in Green Lantern based on a couple of eight-page stories that I did 25 or 30 years ago. I would have thought that would seem kind of desperate and humiliating, When I have said in interviews that it doesn’t look like the American comic book industry has had an idea of its own in the past 20 or 30 years, I was just being mean. I didn’t expect the companies concerned to more or less say, 'Yeah, he’s right. Let’s see if we can find another one of his stories from 30 years ago to turn into some spectacular saga.' It’s tragic." - Alan Moore, on DC's Blackest Night

I have always been a big fan of yours. I feel the way you changed the landscape of comics was a monumental step towards giving the medium the credibility and gravitas that has made it so successful. I respect your opinions about people carrying on your work, not caring for their making sequels and adaptations of stories best left untouched.

It is with the utmost respect that I must say, Alan, you really are a crusty, grumpy old bollocks.

Give us a break, man. You are a genius, your writing is some of the best ever produced in (and out of) the medium. Your eight page stories were more entertaining than most of the 22 page stories coming out at the same time, and they STILL stand the test against most everything else written since. But you can't do a fantastic story that prophesies the end of the entire shared universe that people talk about decades later and NOT expect DC to eventually go there. This is demonstrating that you, in an eight page comic book back-up story, have pretty much shaped the destiny of an entire comics universe. Yet you have naught but vitriol to offer.

For God's sake, man, are you THAT incapable of taking a compliment?

We get it: most people writing comics today aren't as creative as you were, and continue to be. But to put an idea out about how the future of a comic cosmos will eventually be snuffed out and not expect future writers to take that idea and expand on it... I guess, because Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet, that all other tragic romances are rubbish, because they're just repeating the same theme?

What's contributed to a common continuity can, AND SHOULD, be expanded on, if the story is compelling enough. It's the Catch-22 of being a genius, Alan; your work is accepted as the definitive piece of fiction, and others are going to expand upon that. For you to be so blind as to scold DC for expanding on your plot point, either you misunderstand the impact that your simple eight page tales had on the comics community, or you don't understand the importance of a shared universe.

I continue to admire the unadulterated genius of what you've gifted to the literary community, and thank you for all that you have brought forth and shared.

Kenn Beck

I Am So Depressed...

2009-10-13T21:27:00.003-04:00

True story.

I am parked down by the beach today, eating my lunch. I am backed into a spot, facing East, and a red corvette convertible is parked on my passenger side, facing west. The driver of that Vette and I both have our windows down. He appears to be a shaven headed, stocky, middle aged man in his mid to late 30s (no, it was not a mirror). I hear him speaking very loudly on his cell phone, and, while not actively listening, it's sorta impossible for me to not overhear some of what's being said.

He first makes mention about how it's nice to help people heal and all, but his talents could be used elsewhere. He then tells the being on the other line, "I mean, what kind of healer are you gonna go with, I bring a sense of humor to the party."

The use of the phrase "healer" strikes me as unconventional, so I assume he is a practitioner of alternative medicine, like acupuncture, or massage therapy, or tantric sex therapist. He then explains how a healer with his skills is in demand, and that he can find a place in another group no problem. I take it to mean he's having difficulty wherever he practices medicine, and is looking to shift to another office.

I hear mention of what sounds like his group's "rate schedule" conflicting with his, and I take this to mean that he doesn't think they charge clients enough for his services, or certainly aren't compensating him to the level that he desires. He goes on to tell the other party that he knows of several groups that are seeking his skills, and he's due to make a decision sometime soon.

He begins to discuss the make-up of the organization he's currently working with, and bemoans the fact that they seem to be highly disorganized, and again makes mention of their schedule being a mess, especially with their rates (except it almost sounded like 'raids'). He then goes on to tell the listener that he's one of the best there is, and his group knows it, but he's done messing around with them. He's gotten offers, apparently, from groups with cool names like Axiom, all of whom recognize his superior skills and would be very pleased to have a healer like him working with them.

By now I have created an image in my head of this healer next to me, striding confidently into a medical convention, representatives of other firms flocking around him with offer sheets, sort of like a baseball free agent, and I am starting to question my view of the medical field. Could it really be like this, with doctors trying to shift offices, threatening his medical group with his departure? This guy was obviously a rock star of the medical world, and I felt a bit of admiration for a doctor who had that kind of confidence and success, sitting right next to little old me, sharing this small stretch of peace and quiet.

But something's not right. The pieces aren't fitting, and I don't know why. Something isn't kosher in this image.

Then he says something that punches the first shaft of daylight through the dark night of illusion. "Everyone says I'm so good that I should be on a 1st server."

Huh? Server? "Did he mean 'be a 1st responder'?" I wonder to myself. Maybe it wasn't alternative medicine. I listen further, hearing him again name guilds that he might be heading-

Wait a minute. Did he just say joining a guild? That'd definitely be alternative medicine, then, but-

He then mentions their rate schedule, except this time, I hear it as "raid schedule." Which is, of course, the way he said it the first time, because this jag-off isn't a doctor, he's talking about his role as a healer on World of Warcraft.

As I sit trying to keep my jaw from hanging open like one of the undead, Captain Personality shifts topics. The girl on the other end of the line is, to him, "a real doll." He says that soon, she'll find herself on the East Coast, and when she gets here, she'll want to check out the Long Island beaches, and he'll be here to show her around. He tells her she's not like the other chicks from the server who call him all the time and say "oooh, you're the best" (which this schmuck actually says in a sing-song girly voice). She's more down to Earth, and he can't wait to hang out with her.

I have been waiting 6 HOURS to get home and post this. I feel like I'm looking at the back of a Highlights for Kids magazine, looking at the "what's wrong with this picture?" page that has already been filled in.

A.) Captain Cheese Dick is so impressed with his abilities as a healer in a fucking MMORPG that he's threatening to take his services to another group.
B.) There are other groups in that MMORPG that are actively recruiting him.
C.) He thinks anyone is going to believe that chicks are calling him and saying "you're the best" based on his video game prowess.
D.) He thinks anyone is going to believe that chicks are calling him.
E.) He's telling a chick he's actually speaking to about the other chicks who call him.
F.) He is so in love with himself that he is singing his own praises to a girl he has never met before, and expects that there will be muchas smoochas when she finds herself on the East Coast.
G.) He is taking the time to engage in a phone conversation with someone he has never met before over his prowess at a video game.
H.) OH MY GOD THIS FUCKING LOSER DRIVES A CORVETTE.

Even losers are more successful than me.

Fuck. My. Life.

Things and Stuff

2009-10-07T22:53:00.003-04:00

So life has been pretty tumultuous for yours truly as of late.

Here's the ketchup:

2004:
June: My beloved Southampton College announces it is closing it's doors, beginning my slow downward spiral.
July: I get laid off from my design job after training three news designers because the company is, and I quote, "overstaffed."
Aug: My mother loses her last tenuous grip on what's right and wrong.
Oct: My grandfather dies.
Oct: Best friend's bro gets into motorcycle accident from which he has yet to fully recover.

2005:
May: My last game as a softball coach, the best job I have ever had.
Aug: Southampton College closes, ending my association with the College and the athletic department after 12 long and wonderful years.
Aug: I become unemployed for the second time in two years.
Oct: The Chicago White Sox win the World Series!

2006:
Feb: The Steelers win the Super Bowl!
Apr: I begin working for Nike.
July: I very quickly stop working for Nike.
July: I begin working for the bank.
Sept: My softball team DangerZone wins it's fifth and final league championship.
Oct: My father dies.
Nov: I am diagnosed with a disease generally found in canines.
Dec: I go out on medical disability due to stress and exhaustion.
Dec: Three days after I return, my brother's car is flipped by a brainless truck driver who missed his exit.
Dec: THREE DAYS AFTER THAT, a truck runs a red light trying to get into WalMart, gets hit by a car, and then smashes into my car. It is an accident the effects of which I feel to this day. My brother was in that car, too.

2007:
Jan: I officially begin my physical therapy. I will end up missing four months of work, and it will be another 8 months in the tenth ring of Hell- er, the Riverhead branch of the bank- before I can work full time again.
Mar: An old crush from school reconnects via mail and email.
June: She comes to visit. We begin dating four days after she arrives. The catch? She is from Denmark.
July: She leaves after almost two months, overstaying her original plan by a full month.
Nov: A steroid/cortisone injection brings me the first true pain relief I have known since 2006.
Dec: Christmas brings my Danish girlfriend back to the states for another three wonderful weeks.
Dec: I begin to work full time at the Blue Point branch of the bank.

2008:
Mar: The bank changes ownership, name, and sanity. The company that acquired us treats us like one of Lenny's pets in Grapes of Wrath, not knowing what to do with us and hurting us in it's attempts to figure out how to run a bank.
Apr: My cousin Randy passes away, the first of 22 cousins on my father's side to die.
May: I take my first international journey to the Netherlands, Denmark, and Germany.
July: I have LASIK surgery, eliminating my 24 year dependence on corrective lenses.
July: The pain begins to resurface in my back.
July: My girlfriend, having applied to enter our country legally, is denied. Millions of rotten illegal bastards have far better luck.
Aug: Her spirit crushed, my girlfriend decides to abandon her dream of coming to America, and our relationship ends as a result.
Sep: I meet another wonderful beautiful girl online, and we begin dating shortly afterwards.
Oct: My new girlfriend reveals she is very likely moving back to California after this school year.
Nov: One year to the day after my first injection, I receive another, giving me temporary relief from my pain again.
Nov: My new girlfriend and I break up.
Dec: Christmas is not fun.

2009:
Feb: The Steelers in the Super Bowl! Again!
Apr: My ex-girlfriend and I get back together.
May: I take my first cruise, which is actually the first extended vacation my siblings and I have taken together in our adult lives.
July: My ex-ex-girlfriend and I break up again.
Sep: My lawyer reveals that the original offer from the guiltiest party in my lawsuit was never committed to on paper, and they fired the lawyer that made the offer.
Oct: My siblings and I have the first real falling out in our adult lives, over a video posted on Facebook and it's effects on those in our friends lists. It's a miserable time to be me.

OK, so now you can see what's gone on. And now you can see why I am desperately in need of a win. I've done a pretty decent job (in my own estimation) of helping people and trying to make the lives of others better in whatever way I could. Now, it's time for Karma to roll up and give me a nice big kiss.

I'm waiting.

Be Aware...

2009-06-21T12:19:00.001-04:00

Change is coming...

The Next Big Thing...

2009-03-28T08:47:00.001-04:00

You need to watch this. Some good stuff coming out of Scurlbomb Enterprises.

Who Watches The Watchmen?

2009-03-07T10:11:00.001-05:00

I was in sixth grade when Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' masterpiece began hitting the shelves, but I didn't read the entire series until it was fully collected in trade paperback form a year later. Since that first moment when I saw Rorschach fighting for survival in prison, I have been waiting for this movie. 22 years later, I have been rewarded for my patience.

I am grateful that all previous iterations failed to get made, because I feel that they would have fallen far short of what this movie needed to be. The movie landscape needed movies like X2 and Batman Begins to ready the movie going public for the exploits of the Watchmen (a team name never actually used in the comic).

Hailed as a groundbreaking social deconstruction of the comic book super hero, the four color iteration of the Watchmen was revolutionary and one of the most relevant and important comics ever released. A simple murder mystery that transforms into a globally impactful suspense thriller, Watchmen showed that comic books were indeed not just for kids anymore. Those looking for that type of impact from the movie will be disappointed.

The average movie goer with no knowledge of the comic book roots might find this movie a little confusing and very long. Flashbacks in a movie can be confusing enough, but when the flashbacks are history changing events, like America winning Vietnam and Nixon being elected for a third (and eventually fourth) term, it can leave viewers feeling like they are missing the joke. But they should still be entertained by the mix of mystery, action, violence, drama, and intelligence that the story conveys.

Rabid fanboys will be screaming over the altered ending, but rabid fanboys scream about every movie that doesn't follow their favorite comics panel for panel. These are the same people that complained because Hugh Jackman is far taller than 5'1, as if Wolverine's HEIGHT is what defined him. The ending actually wraps things a little tighter, keeps the story a little more self-contained, and is, in my opinion, an alteration worthy of comparison to writer Alan Moore's own brilliant conclusion.

The character interaction is stupendous. From the aloof detachment of Billy Crudup's Dr. Manhattan to the maniacal determination of Jackie Earle Haley's Rorschach, most of the actors captured the true essence of the characters they were portraying. Only Matthew Goode's Ozymandius fell short, seeming more like a cunning business man overdosed on Prozac rather than the charismatic pinnacle of human intelligence and physical development that Adrian Veidt should have been.

Of particular interest was Patrick Wilson's portrayal of gadget based hero Nite Owl, who transforms from a scared retired crimebuster into the confident man of action he once was.

The nostalgic soundtrack combines with the impressive original score to perfectly accentuate the breath-taking visuals, crafting a world that matches the tone of Moore's dystopian landscape.

For the true comic book fan who knows that not every panel can make it to the big screen and that even the best stories can be enhanced without destroying them, this movie is 22 years of anticipation made worth while. Who watches the Watchmen? I do, and proudly.

Oh my God, they killed Twitter!

2009-01-20T17:52:00.003-05:00

You Bastards!

But seriously, folks, what form of electronic communication is still functioning at 100% today? With everyone in the Northern Western Hemisphere in a country with drinkable water and no Prime Ministers was trying to tune into the inauguration today, and this reporter was no exception. (Yeah, I called myself a reporter, deal with it.)

But even Twitter cannot handle the overload a full 5 and a half hours later AFTER the actual inauguration. I guess everyone in America is trying to post their thoughts, attempting to be the one voice of history.

History will remember none of us. But we will remember it.

I felt a real sense of optimism and pride wash over me today, pride that we've seemingly overcome one of the stupidest, most petty boundaries in the history of the world. Optimism that this guy can actually deliver on half of what he has promised. And I like the fact that he didn't say everything is rosy. He knows what we all know: the US is in the shitter right now, and it's gonna take some hefty plunging to unstop the drain and get things flowing again. Roll up your sleeves, America. We only have four years to make sure this looks like it was the best idea we've ever had.

A Humbling Experience...

2008-11-28T22:20:00.002-05:00

I went down to the beach today on my lunch break. I often enjoy taking in the view as a way to relieve the stress my job causes. As I chewed my cold Philly Cheesesteak and thought about how dirty my jeep was and how much my lower back was hurting, I saw a young man walk past my jeep and stop at the guard rail.

He was dressed in a fatigue cap, green Marine Corps T-shirt, fatigue pants, and combat boots. He stood at the rail for a moment, as if admiring the view, and nodded briefly. Then he turned around and walked back towards the parking lot.

Odd, I thought to myself, that he had only spent a moment enjoying the view. Why come down at all if you're only going to look for a few seconds?

My question was answered when this young Marine walked BACK past my jeep towards the beach again, this time carrying a large bundle and a helmet. He set the bundle down and unwrapped it, revealing a suit of combat armor. He dressed himself in this cumbersome armor, donned his helmet, and took a run down the beach, through the small stream that divided one half of the beach from the other, down a ways, and back again. When he got about 300 feet from the parking lot, he stopped, and did sit ups, crunches, bicycles, and push ups.

He then grabbed a log that was laying in the reeds, and dropped it in the sand. He walked another 50 feet closer, and placed a piece of driftwood in the sand. He did this again with a clump of seaweed 50 feet later, and another piece of wood 50 feet after that.

Then he went back 50 past the log and laid on his back. After a few seconds of laying there, this Marine sprung to his feet, sprinted to the log, and dove for cover. He took something out of his gear, slapped it, and placed it on the ground. Then he got up and sprinted to the driftwood, and repeated the maneuver. He then went to the seaweed, and the other piece of wood, each time taking an item from his gear and slapping it before dropping it into the sand.

After the last item was placed, he got up, brushed himself off, collected the items, and went back to the start. He did this about a dozen or so times, sometimes belly crawling from the log to the other locations, sometimes sprinting.

After this impressive display of endurance and stamina, he dropped to his knees in front of the log and pressed it into the air over his head several times. Then he hefted it back into the reeds, collected his gear, and began trekking back towards the parking lot.

I got out of my jeep. I felt compelled to say something to him.

"Excuse me," I said, stepping towards the guard rail.

"Yes sir?" he said, as if I wasn't the one who should be calling him sir.

"I hate to bother you," I said, "but my name is Kenn Beck."

"Mike Coble," he said, shaking my hand. His grip was strong and confident. (The spelling of his last name is conjecture on my part.)

"Mike, I just wanted to say 'Thank you.' "

I was trying to think of the best way to explain why I was thanking him when he simply said "You're welcome." You see, this guy knew exactly why I was thanking him.

"I saw you doing the drills, and I was impressed," I said.

"Yeah," Mike said, "It's tough, they just cleared me to do PT (physical training) so I wanted to get my butt back in gear."

"Oh?" I said.

"Yeah," he said, pointing down to his left leg. "I was in Iraq and my Humvee blew up. Busted up my leg pretty good."

"Wow," was all I could muster. "Are they sending you back?"

"Yes," he replied, "They're doing a redeployment to Iraq. Iraq was easy, we got lucky over there," he said. "They're redeploying us to get our gear. I don't know if I'm going back for that one, but they're pulling all our gear and troops over to Afghanistan. It's like the Wild West over there."

"What did you say your name was?" I asked him.

"Mike Coble," he replied.

I shook his hand. "Be safe, Mike, and thank you again."

He smiled and said "you're welcome" again.

I got back in my jeep. Suddenly, my job wasn't so stressful. Suddenly, my cold Philly Cheesesteak was a banquet compared to the rations this guy lives off of when in the field. My jeep was dirty; his ride BLEW UP BENEATH HIM. I don't like doing my physical therapy exercises because my back is sore; this kid is SPRINTING THE BEACH IN FULL COMBAT ARMOR TO REHAB HIS LEG WHICH WAS BUSTED UP IN AN EXPLOSION.

I started my jeep, full of a bizarre mix of shame and pride. I am shamed by the fact that I have never done as much for my country or fellow man in 34 years as Mike Coble has done, and if this guy is over 25, I'd be surprised. And I am proud that I had the chance to meet and thank a guy like Mike Coble, who stands up for his beliefs, and has the courage to fight for those who are unable, and in some cases, unwilling to fight for themselves.

Please keep Mike Coble in your thoughts, and hope he and his brave fellows make it back safely to the U.S.

Playlist for a Break-Up

2008-11-21T17:56:00.002-05:00

Everything Changes - Staind
Who Wants To Live Forever - Queen
Goodbye - Hootie & The Blowfish
And So It Goes - Billy Joel
At This Moment - Billy Vera & The Beaters
Tonight I Wanna Cry - Keith Urban
Goodbye My Lover - James Blunt
She's Out Of My Life - Michael Jackson
Cryin' - Joe Satriani
I'll Be Over You - Toto
You'll Think Of Me - Keith Urban
Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.
Where'd You Go? - Mighty Mighty Bosstones
No Easy Way Out - Robert Tepper
Everybody's Fool - Evanescence
Should've Listened - Nickleback
End It On This - No Doubt
Party Like A Rockstar - JTX
Cold Shower Tuesdays - Bowling For Soup
I Miss You - Blink 182
Life After Lisa - Bowling For Soup
Don't Look Back In Anger - Oasis
Walk On - U2

2nd Life Becomes Just As Sucky As Real Life; 3rd Life Launched

2008-11-15T11:02:00.004-05:00

Apparently, even the worlds we create for ourselves are pathetic and filled with losers.

A UK couple is getting a divorce after a five year relationship because the husband, Dave Pollard, was caught cheating on his wife, Amy Taylor, in the virtual environment known as Second Life. It's true: check here if you don't believe me (though clicking the link only proves how untrusting you are, you faithless bastards).

Apparently, the 40 year old man was caught cyber-cuddling on a virtual couch with an American user he had known for a few weeks, and when he was confronted by his real wife, he told her he didn't love her any more and their marriage was over. Apparently Pollard, waste of both real and virtual flesh, had previously been caught eCopulating (or is it iCopulating? I can never keep those prefixes straight) with a virtual prostitute, and was already on thin ice with his wife. He plans on marrying his American Digital Sweetheart soon, both in game and in "rl."

My brother cracked a classic joke about the situation, saying "your character cheated on my character in World of Warcraft!" which was only made funnier by the fact that this woman then revealed that she had already found a new love on- you guessed it- WORLD OF WARCRAFT.

I would instruct these sad sack mother fuckers to get a life, except they already have TWO of them and they can't manage to not fuck either of them up. This Pollard guy already has a tough enough deck stacked against him being disabled. He finally finds someone who loves him, finds a woman willing to marry him TWICE (they married in 2nd Life before they actually tied the knot for real shortly afterwards) and he needs MORE? I hope he meets his new virtual fiancee and finds out his name is Chad, a 36 year old software designer from Paramus, NJ.

Other incidents of the virtual world having a profound effect on the analog world include a British truck driver killing his ex-wife over her Facebook status, a Delaware woman plotting to kidnap her Second Life boyfriend in real life, a Japanese woman virtually assassinating her ex-cyber-husband's character, and a 21 year old man on methamphetamines being stabbed to death by a Hell's Angel at an X-BOX 360 Rock Band party during a performance of the Rolling Stone's "Gimme Shelter." (O.K., so maybe I made one of those up. Would have been funnier if it was "Under My Thumb," but that ain't quite RB material, now is it?)

Jeezus H. Christmas, people, is this what we're destined for? This creaky old great grand daddy of the Matrix, in which people can float around and interact with people across the world, so full of hope and promise... and we can't even get along in there.

We need Virtual Counseling. I wonder what the doctor from Brain Age 2 is doing right now?

New Content...

2008-09-26T12:21:00.003-04:00

Over at the sister blog. Get your sports here! (errr, I mean, there...)

Grossest thing ever...

2008-09-26T11:40:00.003-04:00

I'm trying to do a post for the Sports Blog, and I needed my terminology to sound accurate, so I did some research. I almost can't finish...

DO NOT READ BEFORE EATING...

I WARNED YOU!

Nov. 22, 2007 - (CNN) -- It may not be the most appetizing reading before a hearty holiday meal, but the New England Journal of Medicine is devoting part of its Thanksgiving issue to a giant hairball -- and not the feline kind.

Doctors say this hairball removed from a woman's stomach weighed 10 pounds.

The prestigious journal details the case of a previously healthy 18-year-old woman who consulted a team of gastrointestinal specialists.

She complained of a five-month history of pain and swelling in her abdomen, vomiting after eating and a 40-pound weight loss.

After a scan of the woman's abdomen showed a large mass, doctors lowered a scope through her esophagus.

It revealed "a large bezoar occluding nearly the entire stomach," wrote Drs. Ronald M. Levy and Srinadh Komanduri, gastroenterologists at Rush University Medical Center in Chicago, Illinois.

For the uninitiated, a bezoar is a ball of swallowed foreign material.

"On questioning, the patient stated that she had had a habit of eating her hair for many years -- a condition called trichophagia," they wrote.

"It seemed like she'd been doing this for several years," Levy told CNN.

The woman underwent surgery to remove the mass of black, curly hair, which weighed 10 pounds and measured 15 inches by 7 inches by 7 inches, the doctors said.

Five days later, she was eating normally and was sent home.

A year later, the pain and vomiting were gone, the patient had regained 20 pounds "and reports that she has stopped eating her hair."

Reached at his home in Chicago, Levy said he had no idea whether the journal's timing of the publication on Thanksgiving was intentional.

Either way, he said, it would not affect the gastroenterologists' holiday dinner plans -- "We don't get fazed by much."

Peace Train, Love Train Collide; Hundreds Feared Dead

2008-08-11T09:20:00.009-04:00

TASHKENT, UZBEKISTAN - Tragedy struck in the early hours of August 11, when two trains collided on the Trans-Asian Railway System. The eastbound Love Train was believed to be headed for China when it encountered a rail defect at 3:49 a.m. local time, causing the engine to jump the track to the left, directly onto the neighboring railway. The jump caused 17 of the train's passenger cars to also leave the track and pile up, and it is unknown how many casualties were caused by the initial crash.

Mere seconds later, the westbound Peace Train came gliding, its conductor unable to brake the train before the collision. The engine struck the Love Train wreckage, lifting up into the air and causing the passenger cars to slam into the other train at an estimated 195 Kilometers per hour.

Of the 936 combined passengers, only 17 have been confirmed as survivors. So far, 716 bodies have been recovered, though rescue workers are pessimistic about the chances of finding more survivors amidst the burning twisted wreckage.

"It was horrible," said Primad Patel, 42, a passenger aboard the Love Train who sustained a broken wrist, severe lacerations on his legs, and second degree burns to his legs and chest. "We departed from Egypt, and had just left our stop in Russia. Everyone had joined hands, when suddenly there was a horrific screeching noise, and then everything was flipping over. The car I was in had ended up atop the wreckage of another car, facing sideways, so I was able to see down the track through a shattered window. Out of the edge of darkness, there rode the Peace Train. It was horrible... simply horrible," Patel said, before breaking down into racking sobs.

"I cannot believe this," cried Chezmal Bhanti, brother of Senval Phanti, 21, a passenger aboard the Love Train who was headed to China to attend the closing ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing. "I told him 'please don't miss this train at the station, 'cause if you miss it, I feel sorry, sorry for you'. Oh, how could I have been so foolish?"

The Peace Train sustained more damage, experts are saying, as they struck a stationary object, whereas the Love Train was able to come to a slower, if still catastrophic, stop. All 17 of the survivors were aboard the Love Train.

"It is a dark day," Turpan Stationmaster X'ing Fong Xiu said. "The passengers got their bags together, went and brought their friends too, and jumped aboard the Peace Train. Little did they know they would never see their loved ones again."

"It will haunt my dreams forever," said Chad Durtz, 51, a tourist who was headed East on the Love Train. "I managed to crawl out of the wreckage, but we could see it getting closer. The Peace Train was sounding louder, and then it plowed through the Love Train. My wife... oh God, Esther..."

"This is a horrible tragedy," O'Jays lead singer Eddie Levert was quoted as saying. "We feel that in light of this catastrophe, people all over the world should join hands. Actually, maybe that's not such a good idea, as that's what started this in the first place."

Cat Stevens could not be reached for comment.

Real Life Sucks...

2008-08-10T13:02:00.002-04:00

Once again, my blog has fallen into a state of disrepair. Sorry about the lull (if there's anyone here who actually still reads this).

The Olympics are in full swing, and already someone is dead. A random Chinese asshole stabbed someone just because they were related to a US Coach. I am still in awe that in this day and age, we're allowing the Olympics to take place in a backwards cesspool of inhumanity like China.

I would whole heartedly applaud the USOC if they decided to pull every American athlete from the games and get them out of that used rubber that is the People's Republic of China.

Hey, funny story, a woman sold her house and spent the proceeds to get her dead dog cloned. Turns out she was recognized in her story in the newspaper as someone who abducted, tied up, and repeatedly raped a man almost 20 years ago. Small world, eh?

But enough comedy. Bernie Mac is gone, my friends. Died as a result of complications of pneumonia, from what I'm told. Who would have thought that the first cast member of Ocean's 11 to die WOULDN'T be Carl Reiner? He was a gifted actor, who had a special brand of class to him, and he will be sorely missed. Go easy, Bobby Bolivia.

Speaking of dead celebrities gone before their time, I saw The Dark Knight again, and I have to tell you that Heath Ledger was, at the time of his death, a flat out stone cold fucking genius. His portrayal of the Clown Prince of Crime was amazing. How amazing? He was, far and away, the greatest actor in a movie that had Morgan Freeman and Michael-God-damned-Cain in it. I give it 4.9 stars out of a possible 5, only because Christian Bale's Bat Voice has gone around the bend from intimidating to comedic. He was reminiscent of Will Ferrell's Jacob Silge from Weekend Update (VOICE IMODULATION, TINA!)

Like I've never seen before...

2008-07-12T17:25:00.004-04:00

For the first time in a quarter of a century, I can see without the use of corrective lenses! My LASIK went off without a hitch, and you'll be able to see pictures of the procedure coming soon to this page!

Take a good look, folks...

2008-07-11T10:42:00.002-04:00

See you on the other side...

So Wait, Lying Is Wrong?

2008-07-08T22:30:00.002-04:00

It cracks me the fuck up to see people complaining that Barack Obama might be flip flopping on certain issues like the plan to pull troops out of Iraq and such. I'm sorry, when did it become unusual for a Presidential candidate to change his mind?

George Bush has turned this country into a near-apocalyptic wasteland the likes Mel Gibson has never seen. Gas is $4.50 a gallon, people are losing their homes, disease is running rampant, and the skies are raining acid from all the pollution we're putting in the air. Pretty sure THAT wasn't in the campaign speech in 2000.

"If elected, I promise to sucker our country into a prolonged ground war with shifting objectives that will prevent any clear cut victory. I promise to let oil rich countries hold our people hostage, wringing every cent out of their pockets. I'm going to let illegal immigrants get more rights than the citizens that came here legally, or those that have lived here since birth. I promise to let corporate executives get richer off their pensions that are hewn from the sweat of the employees that will be ruined when that corporate executive dumps his stock and sends his company down the shit hole. Oh, and you'll get a nice fat tax rebate check."

Fuck it. Obama needed to say he's going to yank troops out in a day to get the nomination and then say it'll take some time? At this point I will take the devil I don't know, as opposed to the Devil that I know is currently fucking my country up.

A Good Weekend for Hollywood

2008-06-30T20:27:00.002-04:00

So my brother and I did the double dip this weekend, seeing two movies in two days (celebrating the fact that I'm not working on Saturday for the first time in a LONG time) the movies we went to see were both decent flicks designed for totally polar opposite audiences, and they both hit the mark as far as entertainment goes.

Saturday's feature was Wanted, a loose comic book adaptation about a work-a-day cubicle drone who gets recruited into an elite order of assassins/weavers known as the Fraternity. Don't get your hopes up, kids, there is no Bluto in this frat. James McAvoy plays Wesley Gibson, the aforementioned drone, who suffers from stress attacks, taking prescription drugs to control them. They are about the only thing in his life that he controls. His harpy girlfriend is cheating on him with his best friend, his disgusting boss will only get off his back long enough to fetch another donut, and his apartment is a shit hole that people drop their trash in front of. One day, Wesley meets the enigmatic Fox, played by Angelina Jolie, who informs him that his father was one of the world's greatest assassins, and that he was killed yesterday by a man who is about to shoot at him from across the supermarket. Guns blazing, the two escape the market and get into an insane high speed chase, kicking off the transformation of Wesley from helpless tool to awe-inspiring weapon. The moment Wesley snaps and leaves his job is reminiscent of such great office exits like Office Space's Peter Gibbons and Joe Vs. The Volcano's Joe Banks. "Who is the man?" Wesley Gibson, that's who. Lies, car chases, gun battles, hot women and exploding rats; this flick has it all.

Sunday my brother suggested we check out WALL-E. I'm not one to drink the Pixar Kool Aid, but I was highly entertained by other Pixar entries like Monsters Inc and The Incredibles, so I gave it a shot. WALL-E was a piece of cinematic genius, as far as I'm concerned. The first 20 minutes of the movie paint such a perfect picture of a dystopian Earth abandoned by those who have destroyed it. WALL-E is the ultimate survivor, the sole remaining active robot tasked with cleaning up the trash ridden Earth. His treads are wearing out? He grabs the treads off another deactivated WALL-E unit. His eye gets smashed? He replaces it from his collection of spare parts. Along with his sidekick cockroach, he toils thanklessly at his given task. When EVE (a probe from humanity's space-borne descendants) lands on Earth in search of biological life, WALL-E welcomes her with open arms, eventually winning the heart of the all-business probe. When WALL-E shows the object of his affection a plant he has discovered, she seals it inside and deactivates, leaving a concerned WALL-E alone to try and take care of her inert form. When her ship returns to bring her back, WALL-E stows away, eventually finding the Axiom, the ship that took humanity to the stars 700 years ago to wait for their trash ridden planet to be cleaned for them. A good love story with a deep political message and a plethora of laugh out loud moments.

Summer is off to a great start. Iron Man, Hulk, Wanted, WALL-E, and I am eagerly anticipating Hancock and the Dark Knight.

At Last...

2008-06-06T18:43:00.002-04:00

Good bye Hillary!

Now we can get back to planning the television movie of Barack Obama's ascension, starring Tim Meadows!

Now, we'll yield the comment space to Tommy, who will likely offend every woman and democrat out there with his opinion on Hillary.

The Old Rules No Longer Apply...

2008-05-28T19:44:00.002-04:00

It's amazing, really. Past Me always said I wasn't going to be like my mom and dad. Past Me said I was always going to be cool, I was always going to like the things I liked as a kid. Past Me always said I wasn't ever going to turn into one of those bitter old people that shakes his fist and yells at kids to get the Hell off of my lawn. If I couldn't avoid it totally, I would keep it at bay for as long as possible.

Past Me never really realized that I was, in fact, born one of those old people, and that I was never cool to begin with.

I was playing Rainbow Six Vegas 2 the other night, feeling cool to be an adult playing video games (and well, mind you). Old people didn't play video games. I'm knee deep in Tangos, patrolling the outskirts of the Villa, fighting for my life, when I realize I am the last man standing. Being that I joined the hunt a little late, I hadn't racked up too many kills, and I was lurking around an outer door, knowing there were some bogeys just around the corner. I lob a grenade, and it happens to catch the edge of the doorway, bounce backwards, and blow me apart, ending the mission in failure.

"Nice move, pops," some whiny little pimple face grunts, and suddenly, I am staring at the load screen you only see when your session is over. The little ass clown punted me from his session, as if I was some noob who didn't know his ass from his X-Box.

I drew in a deep breath of surprise and then proceeded to issue a litany of profanity directed at the little prig who could no longer hear me.

Little prick.

Then it occurs to me that there are no more adults like when I was a kid. I fully expected at some point to retire my childhood and be forced to like boxing, fishing, and the Wall Street Journal. I figured that all my old memories of movies would be stripped of their color, and television "shows" would suddenly become "programs". I expected that I would develop a taste for blue work shirts and ill fitting dark blue denim jeans. I figured I'd grow fond of those trucker caps with the foam front and the cheesy messages on them. I simply assumed that I would instinctively grow fond of the grass outside my house, and despise the neighborhood kids who happened to let their ball bounce on it. I dreaded the day when I would stop understanding not only video games, but computers, DVD players, and CD changers as well.

Someday, my kids will swear they aren't going to be like their old man. They'll be embarrassed that their dad remembers the days when you couldn't shuffle your iPod playlists within themselves, when you had to wait a week to download new songs for Rock Band, when your computers were so large they couldn't fit in your front pocket. And on the days when they feel like connecting with their dear old dad, they'll invite me to play one of their video games, and shake their heads in pity when I keep having to ask which of the seventeen buttons fires the freeze ray.

And I WILL yell at kids to get the Hell off my lawn, but only because I no longer understand the games they play, and they laugh when I try to understand them.

Achtung, Babies!

2008-05-16T17:17:00.005-04:00

I have finally visited one of my many homelands. My father's side of the family is half German, and today, my honey bunny took me to Deutschland for some shopping! At the advice of Nille's sister Lise, we went to Hansen's Brauerei in Flensburg, which is just across the border. I ate a real German delicacy; Hamburger and French Fries! Unfortunately, there were three kinds of sauce on the burger, and you all know how much I dislike flavor. But the beer was ver güt! (or whatever.)

Here I am drinking beer at a real German brewery. It made me nostalgic for my first beer, taken in at the tender age of four. My brother in law Teddy tasked me to take a photo of me drinking from a classic beer stein... this, sadly, is as close as it comes. It is surprisingly hard to find a genuine old-timey beer stein to drink out of. So an oversized mug had to do.

This one is for Tommy: The name on the sign translates to "Brother Beck"! It is a clothing line, which is ironic, seeing as how he barely wears clothes as it is. :) There are walking streets in Germany as well as Denmark, areas were people can walk without fear of being run down by a passing car. It is sort of like the Mall, with no ceilings or moody goth kids. It's like walking through Great Adventure without the rides or the $65 admission ticket.

The obligatory touristy church shot.

The harborside in Fleinsburg.

You know what zat means:

Das BOOOOOOOOOT!

A grim harbinger of the future...

2008-05-15T12:15:00.003-04:00

Stare in Wide Eyed Horror and LAMENT!

Hello, and Welcome to Denmark...

2008-05-11T17:35:00.002-04:00

This is post number two on my international journey. I have been in Denmark for 4 days. It has been a great trip so far.

I went to a Danish Wedding last night, and it was an interesting experience. Pernille's best friend Lone married her sweetheart Lars, and I got to be there. There are a number of traditions that are not present in American weddings.

The bride and groom must be the first ones to sit at the table. They must also be the first ones on the dance floor.

The traditional tapping of the glasses to incite bride/groom smooches was given a new twist. The Toastmaster provided all the guests with tiny wooden hammers that were used to tap on the metal plates on the table.

The Groom must leave the room at LEAST once a night, whether he needs to or not. At that time, every man in the room can get up and kiss the bride. The same tradition applies to the bride leaving the room, in which case the groom gets kisses from all of the women (and, in this case, at least one man, Lars' brother Kim, who smeared lipstick on his mouth and left a large amount of it on his brother's face).

The bride still throws her bouquet, but rather than any sort of garter ceremony for the men, instead, the groom's friends grab him and hold him in the air while someone cuts his socks and tie.

The men in the room cannot remove their jackets until the groom does. The same goes for their ties. A particularly sadistic groom could make for a hot evening.

The bride and groom must dance the traditional wedding waltz before 12 midnight. The entire party surrounds them, closing in until they have no room left to dance. The whole thing had a very "Shirley Jackson's Lottery" feeling to it. Bad fortune follows those new couples foolish enough to skip the waltz.

The reception is the most formal part of the entire event. While it isn't out of place to dress formally for the church, it is more important to have on your best for the reception. Pernille looked absolutely gorgeous in her gown (pictures to come) but then again, she would look absolutely gorgeous in nothing but a burlap sack.

The family and friends of the couple write songs based on popular melodies, changing the words to reflect the couple's lifen and relationship. These songs are delivered throughout the night by special delivery, which is staff members of the reception hall being heralded by the musician.

The party tends to run later. MUCH later.

There is a musician at the wedding rather than an obnoxiously loud and invasive DJ. The guy we had was GREAT. It was like having Victor Borge trapped in John Cho's body.

Though not a tradition, another nice touch was that the bride and groom stood at the head of the table and introduced every guest at the party. Being that there were 30 people at the reception, it was far easier to do than it would be at a typical American wedding. But it was a very nice touch, making the thing that much more personal.

Tomorrow we are going with Lars and Lone to a strange and enchanted place called LegoLand. Hopefully I'll make it through customs.

Skål!

My Blog has gone crazy from the spray...

2008-05-08T05:51:00.002-04:00

So I figured I'd make a post from the Airport in Amsterdam, and when I opened my blog, the top sign in options are in Dutch! Anyway, this officially marks the first INTERNATIONAL post of the Smart Centipede. Look for further correspondences in the coming two weeks as we explore Denmark and Germany!

"The Truth Is...

2008-05-03T00:33:00.003-04:00

... I am Iron Man."

And I am impressed. I have never been a tremendous fan of Iron Man, especially now that Marvel used him to kill Captain America, but this movie was the best Marvel Comic movie since X2. And stay through the credits to see an uncredited cameo that could turn 2011 into a VERY good year... I managed to stay away from the internet hype and thusly had no idea it was coming, and quite frankly, I am glad I didn't know in advance.

Deep Shame...

2008-04-28T09:46:00.004-04:00

Greetings, Loyal Reader.

I offer my heartfelt apology that this space has remained empty for so long. Much has happened in my life, and the world, since our last update.

In my life:

I have been promoted at work.

My bank has been successfully swallowed up by a major corporation.

I am planning a two week trip to Denmark to see my girlfriend Pernille and accompany her to the wedding of her best friend, Lone, which happens in less than two weeks.

I dug out my old Sega Genesis and eBay-ed a copy of Shadowrun, the classic RPG that no-one liked except for me.

I have purchased a laptop.

I have purchased Rainbow Six Las Vegas 2, which has consumed a large part of my free time.

My cousin, Randelle Celeste Rutkowski Parker, passed away on April 16th after a long battle with cancer. She is the first of my 21 cousins on my father's side to pass away, and she was far too young to have left her husband and children behind.

We also lost my brother-in-law's grandfather, Paul Utz. Paul is, without doubt or question, the best man I know. He was a soldier in WWII, and he and his wife Kay were madly in love right up until his death. He died suddenly, and the world has suffered a loss for it.

In the world:

The NY Giants won the Superbowl, making my prediction come mostly true (only wrong about the final score).

The Italian Parliament was dismissed.

Roger Clemens proved he is a liar, a cheater, an adulterer, AND an asshole. With a little help from Andy Pettitte and Mindy McCready, of course. Debbie, if you're reading this, my brother is a pitcher, and he's single...

Another school shooting, this time 6 dead and 18 wounded at Northern Illinois University.

They declared adventurer Steve Fossett dead.

They finally found a way to get rid of Fidel Castro; shove his brother into power.

World War III almost broke out when Pakistan shut down You Tube for two hours; record enlistment at Military Recruitment stations reported in those two hours.

Kosovo became it's own country. Good for them. The Beach Boys announced they would remake Kokomo ala Elton John's Candle in the Wind.

Padre Pio makes an Obi Wan Kenobi-like return (well, except he's just been exhumed and is lying under glass, not walking around as a hologram. But you have to agree the resemblance is uncanny).

Brett Farve retired. Again.

Vietnam bans Hamsters. Seriously.

They filled the Internet. SERIOUSLY.

David Patterson replaces Elliot Spitzer amid prostitution scandal. He then admits that he and his wife both had extra marital affairs. Free love, baby!

The dollar reached a new low. So did Brittany Spears.

Oil reached a record high. Like, seventy times.

Earth Hour: March 29th, many major cities turned out their lights from 8 pm to 9 pm. Many people in those cities STILL could not bear to be parted with their internet, thus dooming humanity to a long, slow, roasting death.

Human/Bovine embryo created, lives for three days; Satan, in a weird Don McLean parallel, is indeed "laughing with delight."

The Olympic torch is assaulted amid protests concerning human rights in China. Free Tibet? I thought that meant the house wasn't taking their rake at Caesar's...

Wesley Snipes jailed for tax evasion. He will have to spend the next three years in a country club, just like Tiger Woods.

I will attempt to be more diligent in posting. My trip to Denmark begins on May 7th, marking my first international correspondence.

I guess it's not ALWAYS time to make the donuts...

2008-01-29T19:36:00.001-05:00

OK, so being that my brother and I usually only spend time together during the week at dinner time, and given the fact that we are both fat bastards, our trips to the center of the fast food universe (a.k.a. Shirley, NY) are often followed up by my brother looking to score some Baskin Robbins mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Regardless of the temperature outside. It's ten degrees below zero? Let's get ice cream. Penguins just moved into the neighborhood? Let's get ice cream. Oxygen is spontaneously solidifying? Let's get ice cream.

So of course, I agree. Not for myself, mind you. I rarely touch the stuff when it's cold outside. But this Baskin Robbins is fused to the inside of a Dunkin Donuts like Kuato in Total Recall. So I like to grab a dozen donuts to snack on for the next few days/minutes. But the problem therein lies with the hour at which we arrive at the establishment. There is no such thing as fresh donuts at 7:45 PM. All the best ones are long gone.

Usually, my discussion with the clerk is such:

"I'd like a dozen donuts."

-mumbling and shuffling as the clerk constructs a box like David Copperfield, followed by a blank, acknowledgementless stare to indicate they are ready to take my order-

"I'd like two cinnamon... [looking around to see what they have left] no powdered, eh? Hmm... okay... I'll take two chocolate frosted... no, the ones without the dirt... okay... two pineapple filled... one sour cream and chives... a leak and potato cruller... one of the broccoli... one of those barbecued pork bear claws... one shaving cream eclair... how many does that leave?"

-Another mindless stare into the abyss of their wasted lives- "One."

"Okay... I guess... hmm... ah, just give me a plain."

Smart Centipede: Good For You.

2008-01-22T19:43:00.000-05:00

Warning: consult a physician before using Smart Centipede. Results may vary. You should not handle Smart Centipede if you are pregnant, or may become pregnant. In certain cases liver damage may result. Other side effects may include baldness, dizziness, headache, mild incontinence, hives, genital scabbing, fever, double vision, anal warts, dropsy, vertigo and anterograde amnesia. Smart Centipede is not for everyone. Children under the age of 4 should not take Smart Centipede. Tell a doctor if you are on Alpha blockers or other medicine for chest pain, as Smart Centipede may interfere with your ability to keep a straight face. If you experience an erection lasting longer than four hours, consult your wife and her know it all girlfriends. Smart Centipede is available by prescription only. Do not operate heavy machinery while using Smart Centipede. Best if taken with food.

Smart Centipede. When you're ready to laugh.

Wow.

2008-01-22T19:11:00.000-05:00

Heath Ledger, dead at 28. That sucks. He was a pretty decent actor, and he made the girls gooey in the groin. Another Hollywood star shows how fragile and tenuous life is.

Go easy, Heath.

What the HELL I've been doing the past four weeks

2008-01-20T11:34:00.000-05:00

Nille and I at my Aunt Alice's house for a sing along the weekend before Christmas. My family used to go to these constantly when me, my siblings, and my cousins were kids, which is the reason I first got drunk at age 12. Haven't been in a while. Fun.

"...and the moon shall be as blood..." the beginning of the end? Taken from CR 111 on Christmas Eve, on my way to enjoy Christmas Eve dinner at Al and Eleanor Hobbs' house (Nille's host parents)

Dakota and Jagger eagerly await raiding the living room and claiming their lucre.

Dakota reveling in her gift from Uncles; an electric guitar. It was later eclipsed by a Nintedo Wii, also from Uncles, but has gotten it's fair share of use. Look for her debut album sometime in 2014.

Jagger as Michael Jordan. Don't know what prompted this trend.

Ted got plates for his new Jeep that summed him up perfectly. 2175 is the length (in miles) of the Appalachian Trail, which he hiked. I couldn't DRIVE that far without needing some sort of hospital stay.

Carole got plates for HER new Jeep that summed her up perfectly as well.

Nille and I enjoying Christmas at my sister's house (despite the look on my face)

Christmas Night: Playing Kings (Clockwise from closest to me: Neighbor Rob, Ted, Neighbor Chris, The Big Guy, Cousin Beth)

Kings continued: (Rob, Tommy, Cousin Beth, Carole, Cousin Cathy)

Yet More Kings: (Carole, Cousin Cathy, Neighbor Ginny, Nille)

Tim, who feels a pathological need to call SOMEONE Mr. Beck at any given party, plays table Hockey against my cousin Jen

Nille and I at Ginny and Chris' house for New Years

The Boys in Charge

Ted and Jagger. Ted's glasses are prescription.

Military Experiment #1 gone wrong. I was stricken with a sudden case of gigantism. My brother looked on in horror as I was driven to blow a giant noise maker with my nose.

Military Experiment #2 gone wrong.

Proof that mental patients CAN play Guitar Hero III.

Bill and Janice treated us to a lovely dinner at City Crab the night before Nille had to go home. Despite the rumors and tabloid reports, none of us did, in fact, get crabs.

Posting Other People's Creativity... because I have none of my own at the moment...

2008-01-20T08:43:00.000-05:00

glumbert - The Office Space Thriller

The Secret Revealed:

2007-12-20T00:47:00.001-05:00

My girlfriend Nille is back in the USA for almost four weeks! HOOHAH!

She flew in yesterday, and today was my niece's birthday, so we kept it a surprise (for which my sister gave me a good natured shot in the arm). Now the surprise has been done, so the veil of secrecy can be lifted!

Pictures of her current stay to be posted when they happen.

And ::GULP:: I MAY be taking a trip to Denmark in May, money and time allowing, for a wedding (not ours (sorry, Carole (and Stacey (and Nille, for that matter!))))

Wow.

2007-12-14T21:52:00.000-05:00

Go see it.

Will Smith turns in a brilliant performance as Robert Neville, a virologist who is the last survivor of a plague that has wiped out New York City, possibly the world. The plague was the result of what was thought to be a cure for cancer, which went sour with disastrous results. 90% of the World's population were killed by the plague, and 1% were immune. The remaining 9% were transformed into something akin to a vampire. As a result, Robert is alone for three years with no human contact, his only companion a loyal German Shepherd named Sam. His days are spent patroling the city, block by block, hunting down nests of infected that he can capture and take back to his lab to try and cure, hunting deer in his purloined 2007 Mustang, driving golf balls off the wing of a stealth fighter aboard the Intrepid, and farming. His nights are spend huddled in a bathtub behind iron window shades, curled up with Sam and his machine gun. (this movie is a video-game waiting to be made. Picture Grand Theft Auto with vampires.) As the isolation and desperation begin to take it's toll on his mind, he inches ever closer to discovering a cure. When he meets two other non-infected people, his world is thrown into chaos...

I won't even front on this one. I cried. Go see it, and if you know me at all, you'll know exactly when I cried.

This movie showed that Will Smith can carry an entire movie, if he wants to. This was his Cast Away. I have tremendous respect for what he can bring to a role when he's not busy clowning.

The movie has received some negative reviews, and I'm not going to say it was perfect. But if you can watch a movie and enjoy it based solely on the character, this one will be a winner for you.

Sitcom Cancelled?

2007-12-13T21:17:00.001-05:00

That's right, folks... as of December 31, I am no longer employed by the Riverhead Branch of South Spoon Bank. I have landed another job at the Blue Point Branch. So I am finally escaping the shanty town that Riverhead has become for some more elegant surroundings. Hopefully this will spark some creativity for this, my poor stagnant blog.

I've got a secret...

2007-12-13T21:15:00.000-05:00

and I can't tell until next week. But it is very exciting, and must REMAIN a secret until next week, so no public guessing or reveals if you're reading this and you know. But it'll be some good stuff.

Go Away... 'batin'!

2007-12-02T23:13:00.000-05:00

OK, so I'm in the middle of saving the universe in Mass Effect, and I've gotta tell ya, this game is sweet. 9.7 out of 10. Only minus: lack of any kind of ship to ship combat.

And avoid taking elevators whenever possible. (Play it. You'll see.)

More coming soon, I promise.

In the meantime, enjoy the new posts on the Smart Centipede Sports Edition, located in the links section on this very blog!

Ah, sweet nostalgia...

2007-11-16T21:08:00.000-05:00

Eagerly awaiting the arrival of Mass Effect for the X-Box 360, I remembered a game that all the demos for ME have reminded me of: Starflight.

I don't even remember how I ended up with this game. I assume I got it from a store, but for the life of me, I can't tell you which one, when, where, or what made me pick it up. Maybe a friend loaned it to me, and I forgot to return it? Who knows (and the statute of limitations has run out on claiming it back, dudes). This game is everything today's standard video game addict hates. It doesn't have a first person shooter element, there isn't massive mega weapons, the enemies don't rip off your limbs when they beat you.

Trust me when I tell you that this ad makes the game seem WAAAAAAY more exciting to the ordinary gamer than it would be. Rather than exploring a deserted space station with a freeze grenade gun hunting evil slime covered aliens lurking around every conrer waiting to gnaw your face off, this game has grander, yet simpler goals. The ultimate goal is to save the universe from the Uhlek, an evil alien race who are destroying systems by making their suns flare up and destroy planets. The more general goal of the game is to explore planets, mine them for precious minerals and exotic life forms, and then sell what you take in to buy upgrades for your starship. There are other races out there, but it is almost entirely up to you whether or not you fight them (in some rare cases, conflict is unavoidable). You converse with other races, you mine for Endurium, you recommend suitable planets for your race to colonize. You visit 200 systems, and can explore 700 worlds. With the online guides you can download, you could probably beat the game in one sitting, or if you just methodically explore every system, you could be entertained for months.

This game ate up a bunch of my time back in the late 80s early 90s. And in seeing similar elements in the Mass Effect demos, it made me nostalgic for this old classic. I managed to dig out my old Genesis, and pop this cart in. It still works. And once again, I'm lost among the stars, searching for new worlds to colonize, and barring that, plunder. Once again, I'm 15, and the world is a little brighter than it was just a few days ago.

Top of the Line iMac: $2800
X-Box 360: $450
Blowing dust out of an 8-bit cartridge and having to tape cables together to play an old classic: PRICELESS.

Ho... ly... SHIT.

2007-11-14T20:25:00.000-05:00

OK, so this morning at about 9 a.m., I am on my way from the living room to my bedroom. We have a baby gate up in the living room end of the hallway to keep our beagle, Snoopy, from getting into the rest of the house. The latch tends to be a pain in the butt to get open, so, being a rather tall drink of water, I usually step over it rather than fiddle with the latch.

I did so, bringing my left leg over the gate, and then shifting my weight to my left foot to bring my right leg over. Well, never again. One of my legs weighs roughly 45 pounds, and I can get them moving pretty quick when I'm not crippled by pain (which I wasn't to start this morning). Now, picture if you will, said beefy leg bent at a roughly 60˚ angle, to tuck the calf behind the thigh and get it over the gate. Now, picture the knee of said bent leg coming squarely into contact with the metal corner bead of two perdendicular walls at high velocity. I hate to ask you to picture that, especially when had I been running a video camera, I'd have an example so you didn't need to picture it.

Needless to say, it hurt. I resisted screaming out in pain, instead taking in a huge gasp of air, and limping quickly towards my bedroom as the searing, roaring, horrific pain settled in. As I reached my room, things began to gray out. I collapsed backwards, putting a small dent in the sheetrock on the hallway with some part of my body. I spent the next minute or so in a semi-conscious state, unable to breathe correctly, feeling as if I had no control of my body beyond feebly twitching. My skin erupted in heat, and I felt like my entire body was being given a mild electric current.

Finally, I was able to focus my vision, and the tingling lessened. Eventually, I felt able to stand again, so I did. I walked back towards the living room, and checked the spot on the wall where my knee hit. Some of the spackle had cracked and fallen off, but the bead wasn't dented. Suddenly, the world began to gray out again, and I tried to get back to my room. I made it about half way down the hall, and felt the irresistable urge to sit again. I tried to, and I must have gotten close, because my ass doesn't hurt anywhere near as much as my left shoulder, neck, and head. Oddly enough, I remember only the loud thud of me hitting the carpet. I don't remember feeling it, I don't remember seeing the world swing wildly in front of my eyes, I don't remember the sensation of falling.

When I came to, I felt a cool clammy sweat on my forehead and face. I dared not rise again, lying instead on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. After a few minutes, I raised my right leg, and there was a purple spot the size of a quarter on my leg, right at the edge of the kneecap. It felt softer than the edge of a kneecap should. I lay there for a few more minutes, listening to the sounds of the TV in my room, but not really hearing them. I felt woozy, even laying down. I felt like I had been snowed upon. My entire body was heavy and cold. I heard a rising hiss, thinking it was static on the TV, and only after it nearly subsided did I realize it was the sound of the blood returning to my head echoed in my eardrums.

Eventually, I felt somewhat stable, and I rose shakily to my feet. I hobbled as quickly as I could to my room, and got to the bed before the feelings of imminent unconsciousness could take me a third time. I looked at the clock next to my bed; 9:34.

This happened to me once before; while driving an old Plymouth Fury, my toes slipped off the brakes and I ended up smacking the very bottom of my shin HARD against the edge of the pedal. Luckily, I was only doing about 10 MPH at the time, and when I woke from my semi-conscious stupor, the car was stalled on the side of the road. Both times, I was aware of something happening to me, I could feel my chest hitching for breath, I could feel myself twitching, trying to move, unable to do anything but shudder. I don't think it was a seizure (I've seen them, they are horrible), but that's the closest I can come to describing it. My reaction, resisting a scream and instead drawing in copious amounts of oxygen, must have gotten me into a hyperventilation state, and eventually led to my brain shutting down.

My knee is still aching, but nowhere near as bad as it was this morning. It's just pretty scary what the body will do when presented with an overload of pain and oxygen.

The lesson: let the dog run wild in the house.

The funniest 15 seconds you'll ever see...

2007-11-10T22:29:00.000-05:00

I hurt from this.

Funny for so many reasons.

Halleluj.... halleloo... hajle... HOORAY!

2007-11-07T20:55:00.000-05:00

I am celebrating today, November 7, 2007, as one of my greatest days of 2007 (right next to June 9 (kys kys)). Today I went to the doctor for the latest attempt at fixing my back, and it seems to have worked, for the time being. It was a steroid/cortisone shot, which means I can't play professional baseball unless I get my memory wiped, and I don't have Bonds' number to find out how he did it. But that's a small price to pay for being able stand for more than 20 seconds without needing percocet. The MLB will have to settle for my witty candor on the Smart Centipede: Sports Edition as my contribution to the athletic landscape.

The doctor says if this shot doesn't help me for an extended period of time, they are going to try an experimental process on me involving injections of sugar. I assured her I tried that orally, and it did nothing to help my back problems (and may have, in fact, enhanced them). But apparently, injections of sugar can cause scar tissue, which can, in some cases, actually help prevent inflammation. It's like putting rubber cement on two moving parts, except you can't rub it really had to make fake boogers afterwards. And that rubber cement being something that most people actually go to doctors to have removed.

But as I continually told my acupuncturist, "I'd let midgets light me on fire if it helped get rid of this pain." So if this injection doesn't last, I'm game for a little Sucrose Syringe Party. I'm just relieved to be pain free (in my back, anyway, which, now that it's quiet, has revealed a dull ache in my neck that's probably a direct result of my constant hunching due to back pain) for a night.

CHEERS!

Dog Bitten

2007-11-01T14:45:00.000-04:00

Duane "Dog" Chapman, professional Bounty Hunter, has been sanctioned by the network for using the word "Nigger" in a taped phone conversation with his son regarding his son's black girlfriend.

Good. I was kinda hoping he'd meet his demise down in Mexico, where he had been arrested for Bounty Hunting, which is illegal there, as it should be here, instead of being legal in 49 states. (How is it that Kentucky, of all places, serves as the shining example of reason here?)

What fucking era do you think you live in, Duane? This is not 1885. You are a former criminal, and now you traffick in catching people who jump bail. Hungry Hungry Hippocrit. You want to catch criminals? Join the fucking police. Oh, yeah, you CAN'T because you were a criminal once yourself. Asshole. Take a can of bear mace and spray yourself in the eyes, you pathetic douche bag.

It's shit heads like this guy, self appointed guardians of justice, that fuck this country up further than it already is. Bounty Hunter, eh? Yeah, I thought Boba Fett was pretty cool, too. But I grew up. So now, the former criminal/vacuum salesman, who roughs people up on national TV for money, is revealed to be racist? What a surprise. How about making a living doing something other than kicking people's ass? Doubt you could handle it, "Bra." You're a fucking retard, and a racist.

Intolerant asshole.

New Development:

2007-11-01T12:16:00.000-04:00

Seeing as how one of the most frequent topics of my rants is professional sports, I have decided to branch out: There's a new blog in town. The Smart Centipede: Sports Edition!

In it, you'll find all my sports posts from the past year, as well as any future sports posts my mind may conjure up. Soon, the front page will be changed to reflect multiple choices in your blog enjoyment. Links back to the main blog will be available in the links section of BOTH blogs.

Enjoy!

The (not so) Long Wait Is Over!

2007-10-29T16:03:00.000-04:00

The Boston Red Sox charged the mound yesterday, screaming, shouting, throwing their gloves in the air. Champaigne was wheeled into the locker room, Theo Epstein hugged John Henry, and fans all over Boston let out a great cry of joy, as long time Red Sox radio announcer Joe Castiglione delivered the good news:

"Celebrate, Boston; A-Rod has opted out of his Yankee contract!"

Minutes later, the team managed to compose themselves, and continue playing in Game 4 of the 2007 World Series, which they won, sweeping the Cinderella story Colorado Rockies, who upon making it to the World Series for the first time in their 15 year history, transformed into so much pumpkin.

After the game, players were jubilant. "Yeah, we never gave up hope, we always believed he would opt out of his contract and become a free-agent," first baseman/circus strongman Kevin Youkilis said between swigs of champaigne. "It's a long schedule, and we just kept trying, going out on the field and playing the game, and waiting to hear the news that greedy asshole number one, [Yankees owner Goerge Steinbrenner] is losing the services of greedy ass-hole number two [former Yankee thirdbaseman Alex Rodriguez. Our patience and hard work finally paid off. We did this for the fans in Boston, who deserve this. No other town has such great fans who love their team and hate A-Rod and the Yankees."

The sweep of the Colorado Rockies makes it eight straight World Series games that the Red Sox have won. Their last loss came in October of 1986, when they lost game 7 of the World Series to the New York Mets, the same year an 11 year old Alex Rodriguez opted out of his paperboy route with the Westminster Daily Dispatch to sign a three year deal to deliver copies of the Dade County Register for 15¢ an hour more.

"It's simply amazing, what these guys have accomplished," Manager Terry Francona said yesterday to reporters. "Four years ago, the curse was still alive and well, A-Rod was still with the Rangers, and the Yankees were still a pack of douche bags. Now, we've broken the curse to win two of the past four World Series, A-Rod has come and gone, and the Yankees are still a pack of douche bags."

David "Big Papi" Ortiz, Red Sox first baseman/designated hitter/pimp daddy, was overjoyed. "As a fellow Dominican, I am bery bery happy that Alex Rodriguez has opted out of his Yankee contract. We hope to have him play for our team, but as long as he's not playing for the Yankees, that is bery bery good."

"I'd love to have him join our team," Red Sox left fielder/Mrs. Butterworth stunt double Manny Ramirez said, smiling as players dumped beer over his already disgustingly crusted hair. "I love it even more that he is not playing with the Yankees no more."

The Colorado Rockies, however, were inconsolable. "It's hard," Rockies left fielder Matt Holliday said, shaking his head. "We had such a good run through the playoffs, seemed like nothing could stop us... then you get an eight day layoff and BAM! A-Rod makes his decision. I just find it hard to take this as good news, especially since we never really play the Yankees. I mean, the closest we came to this kind of joy was when we found out Bonds wasn't coming back to the Giants, but let's face it, he's just about washed up, and the Giants are doormats anyway."

"Watching a hated rival team lose their best player because of greed is one of the greatest thrills in sports," Rockies first baseman Todd Helton said, "and I just hope that this team will work hard next year so that we can enjoy the kind of spiteful glee that the Red Sox are enjoying right now."

Comedy Central

2007-10-28T13:12:00.000-04:00

A TV Guide style "Jeers" to Comedy Central for their showing of Shaun of the Dead last night from 1 to sometime after 3:30.

I had heard great things about this movie, and I am happy to report that it was worth the praise. Funny stuff. Simon Pegg and Nick Frost were brilliant. There were excellent performances by Penelope Wilton and Bill Nighy as Pegg's mom and step dad, and the rest of the cast gave it the very dark humor that has gained this movie a huge cult following.

My jeers is to the fact that this movie (99 minute run time) took nearly three hours to view, because every five minutes, Comedy Central bent over like the corporate whore they are to give advertising time to ExtenZe Male Enhancement Tablets and Girls Gone Wild videos. Seriously, there were scenes, individual scenes, interrupted TWICE by commercial breaks.

How are you supposed to get involved in a movie when everytime you begin to make a connection with one of the characters, you have to pause and hear some over sexed cock wipe talking about how much larger his "certain part of the body" is? They won't even say Penis. Even the "doctor" who appears in these commercials says "that certain part of the male body". I'm watching a movie in which one of the main characters asks "can I get any of you cunts a drink?" and then I have some decrepit doctor in my face every five minutes afraid to say schlong?

I almost stopped watching it, because if I had to hear that dim bitch say "male enhancement? You mean, bigger muscles?" I was going to put my fist through some drywall. And Girls Gone Wild... seriously, folks, just get some actual honest-to-goodness porn. This soft core shit doesn't mean you're any "cleaner" or "more wholesome" than anyone else; you're still flogging dolphin to naked people on video, it just doesn't involve penetration (from what I have heard; I would never watch such wanton debauchery). What, because these are actual girls from the public instead of porn starlets, you think you actually have any more chance of banging them? Wipe the cheetos from your Babylon 5 t-shirt, recycle those Mr. Pibb cans and use the nickels to get a clue. These women don't have sex with guys that buy the videos they are featured in. I know, believe me. They told me during the orgy.

Prediction:

2007-10-26T10:05:00.000-04:00

Today will be a dramatic day filled with epic changes.

Tune in later to see if I was right.

so weak... must... drink... clear liquids...

2007-10-22T22:13:00.001-04:00

So, the people at Medical Arts Radiology have me scheduled for a CT Myelogram tomorrow. What this means is I am going to have a needle filled with something call packopaque injected into my spine, and then be thrown into a cat scan so they can see what is going on with my back.

I'm told the injection is supremely painful. I hate that. But I also hate being in constant pain and not able to function like a normal human being. They told me for the two days preceeding the test, I am unable to take painkillers. So I have been sans my little helpers since Saturday night. I hate that MORE.

But you know what REALLY sucks right now? They have me on a clear liquids only diet since last night. I have had nothing but water for the past 24 hours. As a fat guy, this is a supreme crisis.

I'm fucking starving right now! I stuck a clean spoon into a gallon of ice cream, pulled it out slowly so there was no ice cream on it, and then licked it, just for some flavor. This is killing me.

I mean, what's the worst that could happen if I should eat? I get sick tomorrow when they inject me with their magical potion? If I knew that was the ONLY bad thing that could happen, I'd pig out right now, and just bring a mop and bucket with me tomorrow.

Being a fat guy means eating CONSTANTLY. This is a bad, bad time, folks. The only time I've EVER gone more than 24 hours without food was the two times I had to have SURGERY because of food obstructions in my esophagus (copiuos alcohol + chewy prime rib x chunk feeder = obstruction).

They told me I couldn't drive myself home from this CT myelogram. But from what I understand, there is no painkiller or anything like that involved with the procedure, just an extremely thick needle jabbed into a place where needles really fucking hurt. If they're telling me that the reason I'm dragging my brother with me to drive me home is that I'll be in such pain that I can't drive, well, then, a.) they haven't been riding shotgun with me lately, and b.) if they think I'm not stopping for a fucking bacon cheeseburger on the way home, then they don't know shit.

Writers Wanted

2007-10-21T12:46:00.000-04:00

As those who read this site may know, I am an amateur writer. I write for a comic fan fic website, ALTMARVEL.NET, and as the years have passed, I have grown as a writer because of it. But a writer not improving is a writer stagnating. Two years ago, some of the writers of that site and other fan fic sites and I came up with a writing exercise designed to improve our dialogue, interaction, improvisation and role playing.

We created a town. Cougar Ridge, Colorado.

We then populated this town using fictional characters of our own creation, created through use of LiveJournal and some random internet photos. We kept our true identities a secret, and a narrator posted a main post daily (which then devolved to weekly before the exercise ended). We would reply, in character, to not only the main post, but the responses of our fellow writers. We would build on the sub polts introduced by others, and introduce our own sub plots. The result was a two month span of character development, dramatic story telling, intrigue, and murder. It was deemed a success by all involved, and only lost steam due to inconvenient scheduling (the Christmas break took what little momentum the project had gained in its first month, and it never quite recovered).

Once we all agreed the project had reached a logical conclusion, we revealed our characters, and laughed at how wrong we were in our suppositions. We then went our seperate ways, leaving the town behind. For the next two years, we discussed starting a similar project, but the particulars could never be fully ironed out. Well, recently, a few of the key players got together and decided it was time to return to the Ridge.

Cougar Ridge, Season 2 begins tomorrow. And it's open to the public. There are rules, which you'll find in the first post, but they are simple. And this is a great chance to stretch your writing legs and imagination. Here, you CAN be a fireman, or an astronaut, or a psychopath. You can be a man, a woman, young, old, gay, straight, democrat, republican, nice, mean, sexy, dirty, Jewish, Christian, Mormon, Muslim... anything goes (except the Irish). Just kidding.

You don't need to have participated in the first season. You don't even need to read it. It might help clarify a few odd mentions that will spring up once in a blue moon, and will help you identify the writers of some returning characters, but it is not necessary to enjoy the game. You can have one character, or you can have more (three is the limit, but even that is not concrete if you can write enough). You can be whatever you want to be.

You can control your corner of the world, turn it into someplace to escape.

Come. The Ridge awaits.

Baseball Fever... Innoculate Against It!

2007-10-21T10:16:00.000-04:00

The World Series is almost upon us. Well, it has been for a few days, but Boston just won't lay down already. Here's a recap of the League Championship Serieseses...es.

NLCS:

Arizona Diamondbacks (90-72, NL WEST) vs. Colorado Rockies (90-73, NL WILDCARD)

JUGGERNAUT GROWS COMPLACENT WAITING FOR NEXT VICTIM - The Colorado Rockies, awaiting the winner of the ALCS, sat idly for yet another day, waiting to find out where they are going for their first two World Series victories.

"Jeez," Rockies leftfielder and probable NL MVP Matt Holliday said, decked out in his black road uniform, playing Go Fish with Rockies middle reliever Matt Herges and Dinger, the Rockies purple dinosaur mascot. "you'd think they could just wrap it up already."

Secondbaseman Kaz Matsui agreed. "If the Indians really wanted to win, they should have just won game one," he said, stifling a yawn as he sat on his packed suitcase. "I mean, why all the drama? If you lose game one, you might as well just go home."

"I'm sooooo bored," closer Manny Corpas cried out, slumping back in the bullpen, pouring a jar of mustard on the front of his jersey. "I just wanna go play!"

Manager Clint Hurdle urged caution to his players. "You have to be careful," he warned, moisturizing the spot on his finger where his World Series ring will rest. "There's a danger of getting complacent, and we might need 13 or 14 innings before we win game one of the World Series. We have to find something for these kids to do. Players get bored, they lose concentration, and all of a sudden, you're looking at some sort of bizarre non-sweep situation." He shuddered as he wiped the extra lotion from his hand with his Official "Colorado Rockies 2007 World Series Champions "There's Only One "Rocktober" " " towel.

RELIEVER JOSE VALVERDE RAMPAGES - The Arizona Diamondbacks were swept by the Colorado Rockies, losing all four games by an average of 2.5 runs per game, prompting an angered Jose Valverde to break into a military base and steal an experimental formula. Drinking the liquid, officially known as Project X54T99J-332NB-1, street name "The REALLY Clear," Valverde grew mammoth in size and developed special glands in his throat which produce chemicals that, upon being belched into the air, combust.

"TAVERAS!" he screamed in a Rodan-like screech, laying waste to the historic Heritage Square. Diamondbacks veteran Randy Johnson was injured when the twenty-story tall reliever first drank the liquid, smashing through the wall of the Diamondbacks club house when players were there to clean out their lockers for the off-season. Centerfielder Chris B. Young was scorched by Valverde's chemical exhalations, prompting Leftfielder/verbal-diarrhea-sufferer Eric Byrnes to rechristen him "Cris-py Young."

"It's horrible," shortstop Stephen Drew cried, watching in fear as Valverde picked up a school bus full of children and threw it at Chase Ballpark. "At least my brother J.D. is still playing."

General Abernathy of the United States Army has outlined a plan for taking down the colossal closer, but states that the Army's policy of not operating on home soil has hindered them thus far. New York Yankees leftfielder Hideki "Godzilla" Matsui has been approached as a special advisor.

ALCS:

Boston Red Sox (96 - 66, AL EAST) vs. Cleveland Indians (96 - 66, AL CENTRAL)

QUEST FOR FREE BOOZE DRIVES SOX - Unwilling to surrender the free champagne that goes to the winner of the ALCS, the Red Sox staged a dramatic trouncing of the Cleveland Indians Saturday night, winning Game 6 of the ALCS 12-2 and forcing a deciding Game 7.

"The boys just crave that sweet, sweet bubbly," Red Sox manager Terry Francona said in a press conference last night. "David Ortiz has the shakes something awful."

Kevin Youkilis was seen staring longingly at the bottles of champagne as they sat in the commisary of Boston's historic Fenway Park. "Man, that would be so sweet going down," he said. "Just the feeling of the bubbles, tickling the roof of your mouth, that sweet pucker of the grapes twitching your cheeks, the crackling fire in your gut as the alcohol enters your system... bliss."

"Winning the ALCS and getting to the World Series would be nice," back-up catcher Doug Mirabelli said, "especially coming back in dramatic fashion like this. But only the nectar of Dionysis will chase away the spiders that are trying to get at me from inside my locker."

Many Red Sox players are detoxing, and in desperate need of alcohol, which they have been denied since sweeping the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim California USA Earth in the ALDS. Pictures of the Indians enjoying champagne from their 1995 and 1997 trips to the World Series hang on the bulletin boards, serving as inspiration for the Red Sox.

"No way they're getting that Korbel," centerfielder Coco Crisp said, licking his lips. "That booze is ours."

INDIANS ON VERGE OF CINEMATIC COLLAPSE - The Cleveland Indians announced some last minute additions to their playoff roster, shocking the baseball world yesterday. Charlie Sheen, Corbin Bernsen, David Keith and Dennis Haysbert were added, taking the place of Rafael Perez, Josh Barfield, Kelly Shoppach, and Trot Nixon.

"We were up three games to one," Indians ~~General Manager Mark Shapiro... Shapeero... Shapeyero... Shaporo...~~ owner Larry Dolan said yesterday at a press conference. "Now, we're facing game seven? What was I supposed to do?"

Sheen, known to Cleveland fans for his role as Indians reliever Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn in Major League and Major League 2, was shocked at the announcement. "I tried to tell them I can't really pitch, that it was all camera tricks, but they didn't seem to hear me. They just handed me a pair of black horn rimmed glasses and begged me to go save their season."

Corbin Bernsen, who played thirdbaseman Roger Dorn in both Major League movies, was equally shocked by the anouncement. "I've played a few Rock & Jock softball games, but not recently," Bernsen announced.

"Dorn won't be starting," Dolan announced, "but we know his love-hate relationship with Rick Vaughn will be just the thing to spark some late dramatics. And Pedro Cerrano [actor Dennis Haysbert] will give some pop to our lineup that has been missing, especially when he comes up in the bottom of the eighth with runners on and the game on the line." When asked about the addition of David Keith, who played catcher Jack Parkman in the second movie and was actually an antagonist in the film, Dolan was quick to reply. "Parkman was the better catcher, we all know that. Rube Baker was the young gullible farm boy who found his grit, but we don't have that much time. We need Parkman's veteran experience now."

In addition to the players, James Gammon and Tom Berringer were brought in to manage the team for the remainder of the playoffs. "We have to win," Dolan said, "to spite the Vegas showgirl turned gold digging evil widow that owns the team!"

Wesley Snipes was busy preparing to suit up for the Cleveland Cavaliers, and could not be reached for comment.

Six Word Stories Revolutionize Publishing Industry

2007-10-20T16:54:00.000-04:00

Found through Blogging Against Stupidity, a blog that has unfortunately been inactive for almost a year.

WIRED did a piece in November of last year about six word stories. The sample given was one of the greatest examples of how powerful words and the imagination can be;

"For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn."

It tells such a sad story, and lets your mind race to fill in the blanks.

One example of how the brain can, and in some places, still is, being used.

Read the article. It's got some pretty entertaining lines from some gifted writers, including a decent number of comic book scribes.

My contribution, the story of my first girlfriend;

"I loved her; so did she."

Good Stuff...

2007-10-19T19:30:00.001-04:00

Courtesy of Glumbert.com

glumbert - Sexual Consent

The New Page...

2007-10-19T10:05:00.000-04:00

We're in the big leagues now!

Go to www.smartcentipede.com or click here to see the new front page, and kindly update your bookmarks and links. This page will change, and you don't want all my hard work to go to waste, do ya?

Well, DO YA?!?

Look for other updates in the near future.

Last Rat Pack Member Dies: Brat Pack Next

2007-10-18T22:26:00.001-04:00

Joey Bishop, the last survivor of the Rat Pack, died yesterday at the age of 89. The self proclaimed "Mouse of the Rat Pack," Bishop was the least famous of the Rat Pack, which consisted of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Peter Lawford, and always considered himself to be somewhat of a junior member of the informal group.

So now, the Rat Pack is gone. Now it's time for the Brat Pack to go. We handicap the odds of each member of the Brat Pack being the first to go:

Emilio Estevez - Some would have argued that Estevez was already dead, his career having vanished before the national eye, before he won critical acclaim for his work on 2006's "Bobby," a fictional account surrounding the factual event of Robert Kennedy's death. He's looking plump, and hadn't seen the limelight since getting a blade through the eyes in the original Mission: Impossible. He should have been killed for making such dreck as Freejack, Another Stakeout, and Men at Work, but he's also made some quality films like Young Guns. He's a lead role type, and has evolved into a more intellectual player in the film industry. His death would have no descernable impact on the film industry, therefore, he'll last.ODDS: 75-1

Anthony Michael Hall - The geekiest of the Pack when he burst onto the scene, he has taken the reigns and become the leading man that no one thought he could become. The meek, scrawny dork who played "Farmer Ted" in Sixteen Candles, Hall now plays Johnny Smith in USA's "The Dead Zone," one of the highest rated shows in cable history. He has overcome some addictions and dark personal demons since his teen years and proven he has the dramatic chops to star in any genre. Losing him would be a real shame. But death plays no favorites, especially when it comes to SNL cast members. ODDS: 60-1

Rob Lowe - The handsome ladies man of the Pack, this teenage heart throb made the ladies swoon (and the guys, if you've seen the Paris menage-a-trois tape) and showed that he also had a sense of humor. His battle with alcohol and sex addiction made him a joke in the public eye, but he later made a resurgence, gaining critical acclaim for his role on The West Wing. He's proven time and again that his sense of humor doesn't clash with his dramatic skills. He's settling down into a nice TV niche later in his career, and has recently joined the cast of Brothers and Sisters. His death would be unexpected, yet some how sensical.ODDS: 5-2

Andrew McCarthy - It takes a lot to survive being Patrick Dempsey's "Mini-me." If you go by looks alone, he's the odds on favorite. He looks like he just rolled from a dumpster. He's always been the annoying one of the Brat Pack guys. The "pretty" one of the guys, he rapidly became just an annoying cliche. His last role of any notoriety was in Mulholland Falls, which means he hasn't mattered since 1994. And that's only a few years after making Weekend at Bernie's II, which is one of the worst ideas ever vomited forth fromt he human mind. His death would actually put him back in the spotlight, which he'd probably be wise to consider.ODDS: 8-1

Demi Moore - Her death would have the largest impact on the cinema scene. Who doesn't know her? Doing everything from Beavis and Butthead to Nathaniel Hawthorne, we've seen her tits (most notably in Striptease) and we've seen her wits (most recently in Mr. Brooks) and her death would be headline news around the world. Does anyone want to see Ashton Kutcher on camera anymore, though? He's stupid enough to film an episode of Punk'd at her funeral. And no one wants to see Rumer at all. The only good thing about her death is she would finally be free of her shame for taking part in Nothing But Trouble, winner of Smart Centipede's "What The-?" (What The Fuck Were They Thinking?) Award, given to the film with the biggest celebrity cast considered to be a total and utter flop.ODDS: 40-1

Judd Nelson - The oldest of the Brat Pack, Nelson hasn't really mattered since New Jack City. He made a mini come back with "Suddenly Susan" on TV, but this edgy rebel has failed to make a significant contribution to outweigh his shameful blight. His only lead role of signifigance was as a cartoon Autobot, for Chrissake. I mean, c'mon, Judd... STEEL?!? What, did you lose a bet? I can just imagine what it was like that day at the Judd household: "Y'know, I'm looking for a project that's a guaranteed flop. How about we make a low budget movie about an obscure comic book character with that basketball player who starred in Kazaam?" His latest project is called Netherbeast Incorporated, about an office full of Vampires. As Jimmy Doohan said in Star Trek II: "Sir, he's dead already." ODDS: 7-4

Molly Ringwald - Seen most recently singing the National Anthem at a Detroit Tigers game. No, really. She looks so... normal. She looks like my cousin. She doesn't look like a celebrity. She certainly doesn't look like a celebrity who will be dying any time soon. Her last notable performance was a cameo in a movie that makes fun of her (Not Another Teen Movie). I see Molly as the LAST of the Brat Pack, the one who lives to give the interviews when each of the other ones dies. She'll outlive them all, I tell ya, and never make another blip on the movie radar. She'll be the answer to many pop culture trivia questions, and have token appearances and cameos in television well into her sixties.ODDS: 150-1

Ally Sheedy - She's my dark horse pick. She always seems so somber, so fretful, so dark. Her last role of consequence was Teresa Luna, in John Candy's "Only The Lonely," which won Smart Centipede's "Where The-?" (Where The Fuck Did THAT Come From?) Award for most unexpected pyrotechnic scene in a romantic comedy. The only one who's best work came BEFORE Breakfast Club (Wargames was pure genius, dammit!) She went on to "film" Maid in Manhattan and Short Circuit 2: Electric Bugaloo.ODDS: 15-1

Honorary Mention: Mare Winningham - Not even identified as a Brat Packer in many sources, Mare is the Joey Bishop of the Brat Pack. She's the one that people will lose bar bets on, staunchly defending that she wasn't part of the Brat Pack, and many of them will have to be told who she is, and even then she will be mistaken for an elderly Leah Thompson ala "Back To The Future." ODDS: 100000-1

UPDATE

2007-10-14T14:17:00.000-04:00

Mood: Cautiously Pessimistic

Book: Mysteries of the Unexplained

Flash Rogue: Professor Zoom

Ice Cream: Wendy's Twisted Chocolate Frosty with M&M's

Song: Con te Partiro, as sung by Kenny McCormick

Force of Nature: Gravity, baby!

Aching Joint: T7 Vertebrae

Calendar: The Narcoleptic Puppy Lovers 1995 Edition

The New Look SC!

2007-10-07T23:58:00.000-04:00

The new look is due in part to my always inspirational girlfriend, Nille, who wanted me to help design her new website. Now, my HTML skills are downright pathetic, and don't go much farther than colored backgrounds with simple imagery, as you can see by my Fantasy Baseball site. But boy, do I have some fun with photoshop. Once I manage to track down the elements within the template I use for Blogspot, I can make things look pretty OK. But if I had to write the site from scratch, it'd look like a third grader with a Lite Brite. My code skills are hopelessly bad (as evidenced by the fact I had to go back to an old post to remember how to post a simple link, and had to go back and fix the Fantasy Baseball link once I was done).

It took me the better part of a night just to get the header the way I wanted it. So enjoy.

I SAID ENJOY...

MLB Playoff Buzz (sorry, Yankees)

2007-10-07T14:42:00.000-04:00

The baseball playoffs are in full swing! As we rapidly approach the long, cold, pointless winter of our discontent, the Smart Centipede takes a look at what's happening in the first round of the MLB playoffs.

American League - Division Series

Boston Red Sox (96 - 66, AL EAST) vs. Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (94 - 68, AL WEST)

SHOCK THE MONKEY - The Boston Red Sox swept the Angels in three games this week. The Angels have had little success since winning their first World Series in 2002, when they defeated Barry Bonds and the San Francisco Giants in seven games. Known simply as the Anaheim Angels at the time, the franchise changed their name to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim in an attempt to get some of the nearby L.A. fan base to root for them. Odd, considering that before being known as the Anaheim Angels, they were known as the California Angels. Maybe they should change their name to the "West of the Mississippi Angels," so they can tap the maximum fan base possible. Plus, their target demographic would finally be equal in size to Vladmir "Nose to Toes" Guerrero's strike zone. Their mascot, the pestilential "Rally Monkey," reminds us that, while their offense could "outbreak" at any moment, their playoff chances goes up in smoke quicker than an African mercenary camp riddled with mutaba.

RAMIREZ' HAIR GETS 2 YEAR DEAL - Boston left fielder, Manny Ramirez has struggled since coming back from a leg injury, but he has hit a resurgence at just the right time. Los Angeles/Anaheim/Greater Southern California area pitchers have avoided David "Big Poppi" Ortiz, who has been walked more than a chihuahua with a spastic colon, and with no one else in the line up capable of providing protection, the strategy has worked. But Ramirez made the tactic back fire in game two, hitting a walk-off homerun. Ramirez, injured for a portion of the season, said he still isn't 100%, but added "“But I guess when you don’t feel good and you still get hits, that’s when you know you are a bad man.” He then took a hit of "breath-gas," and left to force humans to mine gold in the Rocky Mountains for his Psychlo commander Terl. His hair declined to comment about the contract -ahem- extension.

_____

Cleveland Indians (96 - 66, AL CENTRAL) vs. New York Yankees (94 - 68, AL WILDCARD)

THE NINTH PLAGUE OF ROCKY COLAVITO - The Indians may be the team of destiny this year, as they appeared to have divine intervention save them in game two. With the Yankees up 1-0 in the eighth inning, and rookie phenom/intergalactic mob boss Joba Chamberlain on the mound, a swarm of insects descended on Jacobs Field, creating an obvious distraction for the Yankees reliever, who threw two wild pitches and walked a couple of batters, allowing a run in a game which the Indians went on to win 2-1 in extra innings, taking a 2-0 lead in the series. Kenny Lofton, a one time Yankee (and three-time Indian) is looking to take it to his former club, and has hit an insane .714 with 4 RBI for his former-former club. Teammate Jhonny Peralta is still tied for the league lead in misspelled first names with San Diego reliever Cla Meredith.

STEINBRENNER FIRES TORRE, LEVELS ORPHANAGE - Already on the hot seat for not winning the division for the first time in a decade, manager Joe Torre may be out after this season if the Yankees don't turn it around. "I want another World Series Ring NOW!" George Steinbrenner cried, "And I don't care how I get it!" Third-baseman/origami-man Alex Rodrigez has continued his annual ritual of struggling like a choking infant in the post season, a fact made more mystifying by his MVP caliber performance in the regular season. Rodriguez led the team and the majors with 54 HR and 156 RBI this season, before transforming into a newborn possum once arriving in Cleveland for the ALDS, covered in amniotic funk, his eyes not yet fully formed and striken with weakness that prohibits him from even feeding himself. Rodriguez is expected to opt-out of his record breaking quarter-of-a-billion-dollar 10 year contract this off-season, believing he can make more money in the free-agent market. He seeks a deal that may include part ownership of whatever team he plays for. The odds on favorite to land him are the newly re-christened "Alex Rodriguez Presents The Los Angeles, California Angels of Anaheim, California, USA, Now Featuring Alex Rodriguez."

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National League - Division Series

Arizona Diamondbacks (90-62, NL WEST) vs. Chicago Cubs (85-77, NL CENTRAL)

THE CURSE OF NOTHING IN PARTICULAR - The cursed Cubbies lost in unusual fashion this week, getting swept by the Arizona Diamondbacks in a disappointing series that featured no controvesial fan interference, gypsy curses, player scandals, or other curiosities that usually give false hope to devoted North side fans. Chicago manager Lou Pinella's removal of staff ace Carlos Zambrano can be cited as a questionable move, but beyond that, the Cubs failed to provide fans a single excuse for why their favorite team lost beyond simply not being good enough to win. "I don't know how to explain this," said long time Cubs fan Becky Nellis, "normally, there's a goat, or an unruly fan, or hailstones the size of Sammy Sosa's misshapen head that cause our team to miss out on the World Series. There's none of that excitement, none of that mystery. What can I tell my friends, who are White Sox fans, other than 'yeah, we just sucked this year'? How will I explain away the team's inadequacies without curses, bad calls, or acts of God?"

DESERT DROUGHT MAY BE OVER - The Diamondbacks are headed to the NLCS for the first time since they won the 2001 World Series as under dogs to the New York Yankees, a drought of six agonizing years. Many fans have theories why the Diamondbacks have been so unfortunate in recent years, ranging from poor managerial decisions to the curse of Buck Showalter, but the fact remains; the epic futility of the Diamondbacks struggles to bring fans a second world series title may be over. "I was born a Diamondbacks fan, and it has been a long hard road," said 5 year old Tyler Gonzo Fletcher, a resident of Phoenix Arizona, whos middle name was given to him to honor Luis Gonzalez, who delivered the last hit in the D-backs 2001 World Series win. The Diamondbacks fans have tried many ways to break the jinx that has troubled their team, such as burning Tony Womack cards. Womack, who only had 2 hits in 13 at bats in the 2002 playoffs, is regarded as somewhat of a scape goat for the latest playoff failure since the glory days of 2001. "This may be the year we finally win another one," Fletcher said. "The long wait may be over!"

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Philadelphia Phillies (89-73, NL EAST) vs. Colorado Rockies (90-73, NL WILDCARD)

WE ARE THE CHAMPI oh, it's over... - The Philadephia Philles were shocked to learn yesterday that they had been eliminated from the 2007 playoffs, losing in three games to the Colorado Rockies. "Wait, what?!?" Shortstop Jimmy Rollins said, looking around in disbelief. "When the Hell did that happen?" The Phillies, coming fresh off their first NL East Division Title in 14 years, were elated to have made the playoffs after the New York Mets historic collapse saw them drop a seemingly insurmountable 7 game lead with 17 to play. The Phillies grabbed the lead with two days left in the season, and won the division on the last day, defeating the Washington Nationals 6-1. "We're done?" Phillies slugger Ryan Howard said, looking around quizzically. "But, I didn't even unpack my bats! How the heck are we already done?" Many Phillies players apparently didn't know they were in the midst of a best of five series against the Colorado Rockies, as many were still busy celebrating their dramatic history making run at the playoffs.

ROCKY MOUNTAIN HUH? - The Colorado Rockies stunned the baseball world, and themselves, by sweeping the Philadelphia Phillies in the first round of the 2007 playoffs to advance to their first ever NLCS. "Wait, what?!?" catcher Yorvit Torrealba said, looking around incredulously. "We won? Dude, sweet!" Rockies pitcher Jeff Francis was elated to hear the news. "So the first round you just have to win three games? Cool!" Byung Hung Kim, who nearly cost the Diamondbacks their only Championship in 2001, sat in the center of the Rockies club house, telling tall tales of the mythical place known as The World Series. "It can't be true!" left fielder Matt Holliday said, his eyes wide in fascination, as Kim described a series of seven games so important that they all were scheduled for prime time national television. "So people outside of Colorado would be able to see us?" shortstop Troy Tulowitzki asked, "honest?" Kim continued to regail the Rockies with stories about a time when AL and NL teams would only meet in the world series, who stared starry-eyed, gasping with wonder.

A new pet peeve...

2007-10-03T18:10:00.001-04:00

I've long hated when people interrupt you in mid sentence. It's just downright rude, and because I don't do it, more and more I find myself not contributing to conversations.

Well, today I met someone with Sudden Interruption Syndrome. One of the new girls at work. I was in mid sentence, talking about the training program for the bank, when she launched into her statement on the subject. I stopped speaking and paid her her due attention. A few seconds later, she interrupted my next words with some of her own, and once again, I stopped speaking, listening to her. But the third time, I made a split second decision; I would continue to speak and see how long she would go on.

LITERALLY nine seconds went by with the both of us speaking at the same time, AND SHE DIDN'T GET THE HINT. Do you know how hard it is to continue speaking for nine seconds when someone is interrupting you mid sentence? I eventually had to give up, and finally, I just stopped trying to speak to her.

Stop Dragon My Heart Around...

2007-09-30T21:36:00.000-04:00

Dragon Wars - a.k.a. D-Wars (the D stands for assinine!)

I know there are Koreans out there who are defending this movie as the best thing to come out of Korea in a long time, and the number one grossing movie in Korea. Personally, I don't think that's something to be proud of.

This movie was simply awful. I tried to give it a decent chance. I swear. But the acting was painful to watch. Jason Behr looks like a poor man's Milo Ventimiglia. A VERY poor man. I'd rather watch Hayden Christensen read Mad Libs for 90 minutes. And he was one of the better ones. None of them, not a one, could muster any sort of sympathy, pathos, feeling from me. The CGI might be the best ever from Korea, but I've had more fun watching cut scenes in video games.

The plot was confusing. I know there were two dragons, one good, one evil. They were trying to get the Yu-Gi-Oh, or something like that, to turn into a real dragon and get to heaven (why an evil dragon wants to go to heaven is something for future generations to discuss). But assuming the good one got up there the first time, what happens to the bad one? It seemed to me like the good one wasn't about to jump in back in 1507 to fight the bad one, so if the sacrifice had worked, and the good dragon got to Heaven, what happens to the bad one? I guess it's tough luck, humans, try your best to invent the gigantic mongoose before Imoogi-Vader eats you all.

The D in the abbreviated title stands for Deux Ex Machina. As in, man, things are stuck, so let's kick the pinball machine and get the film going again.

Oh yeah, that reminds me of the old stranger I met who happened to give me an invulnerability necklace... oh yeah, that old guy just showed up to give us a ride... oh yeah, my television camera man friend has an internet scanning program that can find every 19 year old woman named Sarah with a dragon tattoo in the LA area... oh yeah, the random guy who just walked over to my desk just happened to have seen the exact woman I am looking for, saving me from visiting 2700 girls before a giant snake thing turns the LA Zoo into a buffet... oh yeah, I happen to have a professor friend who can make you remember your past lives...

The script on this thing was, I am convinced, written by a pair of eight-year-olds who happened to tip over their toy box one day.

Kid 1: "My guy is a ninja warrior who was trained by a master with magical powers who flies."

Kid 2: "Oh yeah? Well, my guy is a bad guy with a sword that grows when he wants it to, like on Thundercats. And he has an army of armored ninjas."

Kid 1: "Oh yeah? Well, my guys have cannons on the walls of their fortress, and they can blow up your guys from a mile away."

Kid 2: "Well, my guys have dragons that can fly. And other dragons that have rocket launchers on their backs."

Kid 1: "Nu-uh!"

Kid 2: "Uh-huh!"

Kid 1: "Well, there's a big dragon that lives in the water that will help my guys."

Kid 2: "Yeah, but my dragon got there first, and ate your ninja."

Kid 1: "No, because he jumped to his death and got reborn 500 years later as that guy from Heroes. And he has a magic necklace that makes him bulletproof, and the army helps him."

Kid 2: "That's cheating!"

It was worth spending the 10 bucks on, because I'll always know how bad a movie this is. If I hadn't, I'd have always wondered if it had any merit. I paid the 10 bucks to find out it DIDN'T.

Jose Reyes Seeks Playoffs, Courage

2007-09-29T23:17:00.000-04:00

The New York Mets game against the Florida Marlins was interrupted today when Mets shortstop Jose Reyes and Marlins catcher Miguel Olivo tusseled on field in the bottom of the fifth inning. Olivo was upset that his shortstop, Hanley Ramirez, had been struck by a pitch in the fourth that umpires ruled to be a foul ball, not a hit-by-pitch.

When relief pitcher Harvey Garcia threw a retaliation pitch behind Mets second basemen Luis Castillo, Garcia was warned, and went on to walk the batter. Miguel Olivo then went to the mound when his manager came out for a pitching change. Reyes, standing on third after the attempted beaning, apparently got into a verbal altercation with Olivo, although both men insisted the other provoked the confrontation. Reyes stated he thought Olivo was joking and said "you want to fight me?" When Reyes allegedly answered "yes," Olivo charged, heading straight towards Reyes.

Mets Third Base coach, Sandy Alomar Sr., saw Olivo charging, and stepped in front of his player, seeking to halt a physical confrontation before it began. Reyes, currently leading the majors with 78 stolen bases and considered one of the keys to the Mets future hopes at a Championship, reacted as any six year old girl would react in this situation; he grabbed his coach by the shirt and hid behind him, holding his coach at arms length and pointing him at the charging catcher.

As Olivo attacked, Reyes allowed his elderly base coach to take a shot to the head meant for him, and then, after several players got between them, proceeded to "attempt" to get to Olivo. His attempts waned rather quickly when he was embraced by Marlins third baseman Miguel Cabrera, giving up his "struggle" after only a few moments. Olivo, meanwhile, needed several players to restrain him.

Olivo was ejected for fighting, Reyes remained in the game. After several minutes, the game resumed, and Mets pitcher John Maine managed to get past the side show to pitch seven and a third innings of no hit ball before finally giving up an infield single to Olivo's replacement. The Mets won the game, 13-0, and regained their first place tie with Philadelphia with one game to go.

Reyes had originally intended spending the off-season working out, but his new itinerary now includes a trip to Emerald City, where he hopes the strange and powerful Wizard of Oz can give him some courage. Also included in the trip plan are teammates Lastings Milledge, who is seeking a brain, and Paul LoDuca, who creaks when he walks like a shambling tin golem.

"Oil can," LoDuca was quoted as saying through a rusted jaw.

Ready... Set...

2007-09-29T21:22:00.000-04:00

GO!

Here are my thoughts on the wide and vaired state of the world since my last steady stream of posting. If you are offended easily, smile and walk away. I'm angry, I'm in pain, I'm tired, and I don't give a rat's ass who doesn't like me.

Michael Vick? You're a fucking animal. You're not sorry you were torturing, fighting and ultimately killing dogs; you're sorry you got CAUGHT torturing, fighting and ultimately killing dogs. That's the "culture" of the South? Y'know, seems to me that the culture of The South used to be to hang boys like you from the nearest tree instead of paying them millions of dollars to throw a football (poorly, at that). I think it was a pretty good idea that they stopped that tradition. Maybe now you'll decide that the life of an innocent creature is more important that the fucking boner you get seeing blood spilled. The only reason I don't want to see you stripped down to your ashy ass, have your fingers duct taped into fists, slathered in country gravy, and be put in a pit with 15 hungry dogs is that I don't want to see 15 dogs being kept hungry. I hope you get gang raped in the prison shower, asshole. Hopefully his cellmate will drown him in the fucking toilet for "lack of performance."

Fidel Castro? Fucking die already. Your own people want you dead. No one wants you alive. Everyone is happy you are sick and dying. So just kick off already. You are a relic and an antiquated concept whose time has come and passed. You suck. Dude, people get on planks from the outhouse and swim across a fucking ocean just for a chance to not sleep where you live. Your shit canal is as inflammed as your ego, and it's time for you to take the dirt nap. No one loves you Fidel, they only love that you're not currently shooting them.

George Bush? You too, dickhead. You are the presidential equivalent of that video of the monkey sticking his finger up his own ass and passing out after sniffing it. You are the perfect example of the idiot American. You are the answer to the question of what would have happened had your one-term-serving asshole Dad had been shot and Dan Quayle been given the keys to the U.S. car. Get the fucking troops out of the Middle Fucking East and settle down to your post-presidential life of Mad-Libs and chocolate milk and just get the fuck off my White House lawn. You stole the fucking election, you stole our fucking country, you stole eight years of my fucking life worrying about if my niece and nephew would have a country to grow up in. I can't believe you haven't been fucking assassinated yet. Actually, it makes perfect sense; the government only allows Presidents to be assassinated if they have the power to make the world a better place, like Lincoln and JFK, and you have about as much power as the glow in the dark magnet that my cesspool cleaners gave us after our last septic clog. You remind me of the smell of that day too. You are a joke, the punch line to a long line of Leaders-of-the-Free-World, the shit-stain on the couch of U.S. Government.

Mark Ecko? You are a huge piece of retarded shit. Like, tremendous. Like, hangover-black, stinking like Taco Bell, holy-Christ-that-burns shit with extra corn. The game of professional baseball has been around for 130+ years. You are not the one who needs to make it all better. You coughed up $752,467 so you can let "the public" decide the fate of the Barry Bonds record breaking homerun ball. I guarantee you that that poll was rigged so Ecko can pretend he cares about the impact of steroids on baseball, or ANYTHING about baseball itself, other than how many fans are wearing his sweatshirts. Awww, Mr. Sewing-my-little-outfits-so-I-can-be-a-rich-guy doesn't like that Bonds might have taken steroids? He didn't even care enough to make a stand HIMSELF, he just stands like the dim-witted blonde cock-tease at a high school party enjoying the attention, says "we'll let the internet decide". Since when has the public ever known what's best for itself, and since when is the internet considered a reliable voice for the public? I only wish I had had the time to sit there and click "Shoot it into space" 7,000,000 times so that this whiny douche had to spend more money getting the ball into orbit. Hey, Marky, while you're letting the internet decide how to spend your money, I think I'll start MarkEckoshouldgivemeallhismoneyandshoveawholecookedturkeyuphissprungass.com and let the world decide if it's a good idea. Of course, only people with the right IP address (MINE) will be allowed to vote, you faux-democracy supporting dickhead.

Illegal Immigrants? Don't go home, whatever you do. Going home would be too good for you. Burn in fucking Hell, that's what I'd prefer. You like my country? COME HERE LEGALLY. Don't sneak in on the back of a fucking truck, hide like a rat in the fucking sewers, and then dare to bitch that I won't cash your fucking third party check without checking for proper identification. If I suspect you are illegal, guess what? I INTENTIONALLY make your transaction more difficult. Why make your life easier because you hopped the fence to get in when my ancestors had to come in legally? I have lived in this country for 33 fucking years, and you already have more money than I do, don't pay taxes, take MY taxes for your fucking welfare, which you don't deserve and yet somehow qualify for even though you make more money than I do, and get all snippy when I don't speak your fucking language. FUCK YOU. You want me to speak Spanish? "Chingas tu madre, puto." What's that? You've gone through the correct legal channels to get to my country, and are eager to work and pay taxes and live like an American? Welcome, my tan skinned brothers and sisters! Your friend, who is a "temporary visitor" for the ninth year in a row who cannot be BOTHERED to better himself enough to learn how to speak the language of the country he is squatting in? "Te voy a culear con odio hasta que te salga espuma de las tapas, maricon."

O.J. Simpson... brother, are you fucking kidding me? You are by far the densest asshole I have ever admired. Your football talents were amazing, I loved you in the Naked Gun: Police Squad trilogy, and I eagerly anticipate watching you weep openly in court when you lose what's left of your freedom after pulling the greatest escape from Justice in recent history. You stupid asshole. I understand that when you find a quarter in the street you have to give it to the Goldman's, and that sucks, man. But what kind of moron do you have to be, knowing that 90% of Americans already think you're a murderer walking free thanks to your "What-if" confession book, to even so much as jaywalk, let alone commit armed robbery? You dumb mother fucker. See ya, juice. Johnny Cochraine is looking down, shaking his head, chuckling "if the asshole won't learn, he's gonna have to burn."

Demi Moore's daughter/son Rumer? The blonde thing doesn't help. You still look like a freak.

Old people? Fuck you. We're not in "your day." In the present, we have things that you don't understand, we have things that you could have never dreamt of. GET OVER YOURSELF. The fact that you were alive before the internet doesn't mean that it is worthless. Things change. Stop complaining, stop using your age as an excuse to be rude to people. Be grateful that we don't live in a world where we slaughter old people because they can no longer produce.

Everyone on the road who drives like you're on your own private autobahn? FUCK YOU TWICE. If I'm in the left hand lane doing sixty in a fifty five, and you come up behind me flashing your lights, the next six seconds will be spent deciding whether I should slow down or throw a fucking tack hammer through your windshield. Regardless, the last thing I will do is get out of your way. Oh, and stop running red lights. TRUST me, you're NOT as important as you think you are, and if you think you're going to be five minutes late, LEAVE FIVE MINUTES EARLY, YOU GIANT DOUCHE BAG. Stop endangering my life, and the lives of those around me, because you like to go fast. If I have the chance, I will attempt to cause you to have an accident. I will bounce a ball in the road if I hear you speeding near my house just to make you think a child may run out after it. I will throw sticks in the road that, if driven over at high speeds, will bounce up and hit your wheel wells, and if you stop to yell at me, I will throw dog shit at your miserable heads. Stop reading while you drive. Stop using your cell phone while you drive. Stop diapering your children while you drive. Stop being an asshole while you drive, or just drive into a fucking bridge and get it over with. Speaking of which, STOP SLOWING DOWN TO RUBBERNECK AT AN ACCIDENT. You are a reviled asshole who gets a boner over someone else's misfortune, and I swear to God, if it wasn't for fear of incarceration, I would run you the fuck off the road INTO the bridge, so people could stop and look at you and gawk. Think about people stopping to watch you sitting on the side of the road holding a blood soaked rag to your forehead. And if you said "that'd be okay, because they are concerned," FUCK YOU, YOU LYING ASSHOLE.

Thanks! Have a good day!

Chirp.... chirp.... chirp chirp.....

2007-08-22T20:03:00.002-04:00

Okay, gang, you caught me. It's been nearly a full month since my last post, and even more since my last meaningful post.

The Centipede has stumbled.

So let's try to get the lethargy rolling with a little free association.

What's going on lately?

Well, my girlfriend, the lovely and amazingly effervescent Pernille (du er dejlig, my love) showed me a video of a pair of youths who engaged in a rather bizarre past time; these unswallowed loads, after bringing their car up to high speeds on a long straight stretch of road, REMOVED THE STEERING WHEEL. The video, created by the passenger who also was primarily responsible for the actual removal of the bolts, shows cars on the side of the road, traffic coming from the other direction, the speedometer, any number of which should have been indication enough that removing the only means of controlling the vehicle was not a smart move. The video was put on line, and justice was watching. After a number of viewers saw the dipshit duo, they alerted the authorities, and the fools in question are now facing years in prison. The only way things could have been sweeter is if I could have been there to throw a 2 x 4 into the road just before they passed me, jarring the wheels, and sending them careening at high speeds off the road and into a light pole. Watch the video HERE.

Speaking of my girlfriend... (kys kys)... Pernille and I went to High School together. She was the exchange student, I was the wanna be jock nerd. I'd like to say we dated, or even saw each other outside of homeroom, but it just didn't happen like that. But the friendship we developed led to letter exchanges for a few years. She lived her life in Denmark, I lived a Rod Serling-esque existence on Long Island. Fast forward to March, 2007, and she finds an old letter of mine. She re-reads it, and wonders what happened to the fat kid she used to know. She writes me, and I get the letter a few weeks later. We begin to chat over email, then over MSN messenger, and then over Skype. She comes to the U.S. for one of her once-every-few-years visits, and this time, we meet up. And after fifteen years, she is still as beautiful as I remembered her being. It doesn't take long before we are dating, and now, even though she's over seas back in Denmark, she's looking for a way to come back for good (any immigration attorneys looking for a perfect success story, take note.)

In other news, my back is STILL in a great deal of pain from my accident. I am consulting with a spinal surgeon tomorrow. I may have to have a cyst removed, I may have to have vertibrae fused, I may have to be exiled to the moon. We'll just have to wait and see. Also, my court case against the douche who ran the light is about to go to trial, I've been advised.

I'm working part time at the Riverhead Main Street branch of a bank (let's call it Southern Star Bank, a division of Fiscal United). It's like a UPN sitcom. There's the big, tough talkin' gold tooth wearin' black woman who don't take no guff from nobody... the sassy short black girl with the innocent smile and the guilty hands... the intelligent and organized Latino military woman with the witty comebacks... the tall italian video game addict with the frat boy party life... the fresh faced short black man with the voice of gold... the clueless manager... the assistant manager who beats people with her shoe... the Peruvian firecracker who loves to party... the fat white guy who loses his temper... oh, wait, that's ME!

So yeah, things are pretty fucked up as usual.

More later.

Sorry about the absence...

2007-07-25T23:48:00.001-04:00

I have been absorbed with my new girlfriend for the past seven weeks. She has gone back to Denmark for the near future, so when I come up from the bottom of the bottle of scotch, I'll be back to posting regularly.

What the fuck?

2007-07-04T01:02:00.000-04:00

I went to see Transformers tonight with my girlfriend Pernille and my brother Tommy, and I have to tell you, the movie was pretty darned good. Not awesome, but better than most dreck out there now a days, and certainly better than Spider Man 3.

But the biggest eye opener of the whole night was something that doesn't even have a name (officially, anyway).

Imagine if you will; a hand held video camera is recording a going away party for "Robert." The videographer is getting everyone's comments on how much Robert will be missed, how much he means to them, and the party seems to be going pretty well. This goes on for about a full minute and just when you're wondering if there is a point coming from all this, the lights suddenly go out, and there is a horrific sound of... something wicked. The party goers rush to the roof top, where they witness a tremendous fireball rise up in the middle of NYC, which casts off smaller fireballs that crash around them as they scatter. A street level shot shows more devastation, and as you're left mouth agape wondering what the hoary hell you're watching, a large chunk of debris smashes into the side of a building and comes to a grinding halt. As it comes to a rest we see it is the head of the Statue of Liberty. The screen then tells us that it is a J.J. Abrams (Lost, Alias, Star Trek XI) production, and it is due to be released 1/18/08.

That's it. No title. No Hollywood film quality. Just rough home video of NYC getting gutted by a very large fireball.

Holy Shit.

I think my racing mind actually prevented me from truly enjoying the Transformers Movie. The project is being called alternatively Cloverfield, JJ Abrams Monster Movie, and JJ Abrams Untitled Project. All I know is I can't wait for 2008 already. Truly, J.J., you've shown us that less is more when it comes to trailers.

And while I know Zack Snyder is heading it, and J.J. Abrams won't be involved, the first thing I thought of when I saw that fireball was the end of Chapter 11 in The Watchmen. Wouldn't THAT be neat?

More PC Bullshit That Will One Day End The World...

2007-06-23T12:06:00.000-04:00

My sister teaches High School Math. I will not name the district, because I have no doubt that if word ever got back to them that my sister had made this public, they would no doubt make her life more of a Dantean Hell than it is already. My sister, one of the last great teachers who actually cares about not only her students but the integrity of the educational system, insists that students have the right to pass or fail at their choice. If a student does the work, studies hard, and applies themselves, they will learn enough to pass. If they don't pay attention, slack off, or are outright assholes who REFUSE to do the necessary things, well, as she says, "they have the right to fail."

There was a student, let's call him "Tim", for anonymity's sake, who comes a from an academically successful family. His father is a dentist or a doctor, or something like that, and his older brothers are intelligent and successful. Tim, for lack of a better word, is a fuck stick. Useless sack of flesh who isn't qualified to salt french fries, who will end up with a good job regardless because of Daddy's connections, most likely. Tim does not want to work hard enough to succeed. Tim failed many, many tests, getting grades as low as a 4. I shit you not. Well, my sister, still wanting this child to have the chance to succeed, gave him some points for a few of his tests to bring his grade up to the point where if he STARTED studying and applying himself, he'd still have a shot at graduating. She didn't pass him outright, but if she had given him the grade he earned, he would have had no shot whatsoever. (Where were teachers like that when I was a kid?) So, did Tim accept this gift with the necessary humility and determination to do the right thing and buckle down? Well, let's just say "no fucking way." Tim failed his final, and as a result, had not earned the necessary grades to graduate. I won't say he failed, because the saga does not end as predicted.

The administration, who cares more about how many students GRADUATE rather than how many actualy pass the classes, put tremendous pressure on my sister to give this little jizz stain a passing grade REGARDLESS of his results, so they could crow mightily about how all their students are smart and all their students graduate! My sister held on to her morals and ethics, and refused to give him a grade other than the one he had earned. The administration went over her head, and gave Tim a new final exam, giving him a completely undeserved second chance to scrape by and squeak through the doors.

Guess what? The dumb fucker failed it again. You'd think taking a test twice he would have SOME sort of advantage, maybe the intelligence to study what was on the exam itself in a futile attempt to actually absorb some of the information. But maybe Tim isn't so stupid at that, because obviously, he must have KNOWN what was going to happen. That's right, even though this "student" failed the same math final TWICE... the administration simply let him graduate ANYWAY.

Three cheers for the academia! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, HOO THE FUCK ARE THESE ASSHOLES AND WHAT RIGHT DO THEY HAVE LETTING PEOPLE OUT INTO THE WORLD WITH NO REAL EDUCATION?!?!?!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Their job is to teach these fucking dim wit bastard mother fuckers, not just baby sit them for 12 years and then let them walk out with a diploma they didn't earn!

This nation is getting stupider and stupider, and no one seems to care! This is a fucking outrage, and it is disgusting that the ADMINISTRATORS of my sisters school, the ones who are supposed to help her make sure these kids are getting an education, instead attempt to annoy, intimidate, and cajole my sister into betraying her sense of honor, decency and truth and abandoning these kids to their wanton ignorance.

We have officially gone off the reservation, people. We're more worried about how failing will hurt a child's self esteem and dignity than we are about preparing the child for the real world. Thus the real world will be filled with more and more idiots, who will reproduce quicker because they're not smart enough to use birth control, and eventually, the world will be full of idiot assholes. (watch "Idiocracy," people. It's happening.)

So I give a nice hearty "FUCK YOU" to my sister's place of employment. You assholes are a shameful example of spineless, ballless, ethicless, ass-licking sycophants catering to the parents of these brainless fuckbags you let waltz out your doors every June. I hope every one of you catches a flesh eating virus in your genitals.

Assholes.

Clown-Americans Still Not Accepted

2007-06-08T16:44:00.001-04:00

Here at Smart Centipede, we are dedicated to expanding borders, enlightening our fellow man, and making the world a better place. It has recently come to our attention that there is a growing blight on society that needs to be addressed. There are some people who claim to suffer from a disorder known as Coulrophobia. This is, by definition, the fear of Clowns.

This has to stop, people. Clowns are people too. This mindless hatred and bigotry must be put to an end. Clown persecution must be eliminated.

Imagine, if you will, if I were to announce that I was suddenly afraid of Jews? Picture if you will: a crowded city street, and I suddenly break into hysterics at the sight of a Jew, weeping and hiding behind someone, screaming to "make the Jew go away." That didn't fly for Hitler, and rightly so. How much outrage would there be were I to suddenly be diagnosed with Mexicanophobia? What if I refused to help a customer because I was scared of African Americans? None of this would be viewed as socially acceptable. So why should Clowns be exposed to such vitriol, and unjustly scoffed and gawked at?

Clowns have been immigrating to America since the early 1800's. Their struggle to find employment, housing, and even social acceptance was titanic. It was a common sight in centennial America to see a Clown walk into an establishment and mocked by an ignorant public. In 1823, Dan Rice became the first Clown born in America. He rose to high social standing becoming friends with President Abraham Lincoln. He even ran for President in 1868, but the United States was not ready for Clown-equality. This fear and hatred of Clowns stems from a fundamental lack of understanding of Clown culture. In an attempt to clear some of the mystique, we present this brief overview of Clown culture.

Here we see a few members of a small Clown community. One of the village edlers, known in Clownese as a "Biggie Bobo," teaches young Clowns some traditional Clown construction techniques. Stilts being the prime export of Clownovia, these children are learning valuable skills that will help them later in live. Along with stilt construction, children also learn over-sized shoe making, squirting flower repair, and powder-puff maintenance. These essential skills are enhanced when the children enroll in one of the Vocational Schools that dot the landscape of Clownovia.

Here we see a newborn Clown. Will he find acceptance in this turbulent world, or will he be hated and feared like his bretheren? We can only hope he will find some semblence of a normal life here in the United States.

Some clowns are able to find acceptance, and even notoriety and fame. Ronald McDonald, spokesclown for the McDonalds franchise, was born Ronald "Sweet" Pickles as the only child of second generation Clown-Americans. Bouncing between odd-jobs for most of his twenties, he was working as a fry-cook for McDonalds (Clowns could often only find work "behind the scenes" where the public couldn't see them) and as the legend goes, on a slow day, he went out into the streets and danced to draw attention to the restaurant. The resultant influx of customers led the owners of the McDonalds franchise to rechristen him Ronald McDonald, and use Pickles as a spokesperson. The NAAClP (National Association for the Advancement of Clown People) later claimed McDonalds use of Pickles was a negative ethnic stereo-type, but Pickles refusal to testify at hearings would cripple their case. Many hard line Clown Rights advocates call Pickles an "Uncle Tutu," claiming that his pandering antics have set Clown Rights back decades, but many Clown-Americans see him as an inspiration for future generations.

"We face many obstacles in front of us," Gilbert "Hoopy Doopy" Duprey, President of the NAAClP, said from his office in Montgomery, Alabama. "Clown-Americans can do anything they want, anything they can dream of. A clown can become an actor, an astronaut, a professional athlete... who knows? Maybe someday soon America will be ready for a clown President!"

UPDATE

2007-06-03T03:46:00.000-04:00

Mood: I'm so tired my eye balls are vibrating, I swear...

Book: 52, Chapter One

Flash Rogue: Mirror Master

Ice Cream: Vanilla Bean

Song: Sleepwalk

Force of Nature: Weak Nuclear

Aching Joint: Left Knee

Calendar: Sports Illustrated Swimsuit 2003

Really, Cleveland? REALLY?

2007-05-29T22:25:00.000-04:00

Does Cleveland mind being considered a second-class city? Do they care? Are they even trying to be viewed as a major metropolis any more?

Look at the sidelines at a Laker game. There's Jack. The Knicks have a 13th man in Spike Lee. Who do the Cavaliers have at the Eastern Conference Finals as their heavy star power? Geraldo Rivera? Really, Cleveland? REALLY?

Bug Bites...

2007-05-28T20:54:00.000-04:00

I dragged my brother out to the theater to see Bug today, based largely on the fact that I am madly, desperately, truly, deeply, and psychotically in love with Ashley Judd. The movie was... man, I just don't know how to do this. This movie could have been fantastic, but I just don't get it. I UNDERSTAND it, don't get me wrong, but it just... I couldn't get behind it.

Ashley continues to be my Goddess, her performance was good. Even covered in bug bites, blood, sweat, gasoline, leaking snot from her nose and tears from her eyes, she is STILL the hottest thing this side of the sun. (By the way, Lions Gate Films, I greatly appreciate the full nudity. AWESOME.) Her character Agnes transforms from strong, independent yet desperately lonely woman grieving her lost child into a slapping, twitching, wailing mess, and back again (sort of) and I buy it.

Michael Shannon does a fair turn as Peter, the Gulf War vet who brings his knowledge and paranoia into her life, transforming a dingy motel room into a laboratory/saferoom. He is a creepy bastard, and hw sells the quirkiness. He should ace the role, as he perfomred in the play from which it was adapted.

Harry Connick Jr. is a Jerry, Agnes' ex-husband and a pretty sick puppy, and if anything, they didn't use him enough.

What failed me here is I don't know how to absorb what we see. I understand that we're never supposed to be sure if Peter and Agnes are infested. I understand that paranoia is a powerful weapon, and its effects can be devastating. But are they delusions, and if so, how does Agnes see and hear the lights and helicopters? If they aren't paranoid, why doesn't Jerry see them? Who was the doctor? If Peter's story is true, why did he come alone?

The movie had the potential to be great, but I think it missed the mark. Ashley's final breakdown in which she actually seems to embrace her horrific fate, is just a little too bizarre and comical for the tone that the movie seemed to be setting. Once the movie comes to cable, I will give it another watch, just to make sure I didn't miss any nuances that I should have caught.

Now, I know there are people who are going to insist that I just didn't get the movie, and that's why I didn't enjoy it. But believe me, I TRIED to enjoy it, simply because Ashley was in it. I found it impossible. The concept was a solid one, but the execution falls short.

Sorry, Ashley, Goddess of my world, but I just didn't get it.

The Colonel's "Original Recipe" Revealed

2007-05-18T23:26:00.001-04:00

After decades of secrecy, the long sought after "secret recipe" of Kentucky Fried Chicken founder Colonel Sanders has been liberated. Harland David Sanders, known by the loyal patrons of his chicken eatery as "The Colonel," (an honorary title which contradicts his army records which state that he never achieved a rank higher than private) died in 1980, losing a long battle with leukemia and hated rival/former underling Dave Thomas, who after running a number of KFC chains and inventing the paper chicken bucket, went on to found the Wendy's chain of restaurants. Both men are now dead, leaving only Bertrand "The Burger King" Kane as the sole survivor of the Trans-fat Trio still at large.

Following various health scares and numerous animal rights protests, undercover agents were sent to infiltrate the mysterious inner workings of the chicken enterprise. To date, several thousand individuals have been killed attempting to bring the secret recipe to light. On several occasions, people have claimed to have as many as eight of the "11 herbs and spices," but none ever lived to bring their findings to the public.

I am here today to share the horrific truth. I have no doubts that this will lead to my destruction, but it needs to be told.

The "Original Recipe" contains the following basic ingredients:

Sugar, Flour, Monosodium Glutamate (MSG), Salt

It also contains the "11 herbs and spices", which are, according to our research and classified documents liberated from several secluded "research" facilities, as follows:

1. Black Pepper. This is the most obvious of the spices, as it is clearly visible on the skin of the chicken.
2. Cassia. Miniscule traces of this Cinnamon-like spice are added to the mix in the last stages, enhancing the flavor and color of the skin.
3. Rosemary. This herb is a member of the mint family and is key in giving the chicken it's kick.
4. Black Cumin. A rounded taproot, this tastes like sweet chestnuts.
5. Star Anise. With the uprising of Avian Flu, the Star Anise was harvested to shortage for the Shikimic Acid it naturally produces, which is used in production of Tamiflu. Recently, alternative sources were discovered, and Star Anise is plentiful once again.
6. Mandrake Root. This root must, at the Colonel's insistance, be harvested by blind women, and one in every seven roots must be burnt in sacrifice to Odin.
7. Nickel. Classified as a spice by Colonel Sanders in April of 1973, nickel was introduced to the recipe for its ferromagnetic qualities, promoting bloodflow.
8. Rhinoceros Beetle Carapice. The Colonel's hope was that by ingesting the carapice of Rhinoceros Beetles, his patrons would gain proportionate strength, allowing them to kill off those not loyal to him.
9. Tears of Newborn Babies. Believed to be the first of the 11 herbs and spices to be added, Sanders had been in talks with several hospitals for secret placement of tear repositories, where doctors could store the initial tears of newborn infants.
10. 2-4 Diethyl-Propinmurinol. Recent studies by the FDA suggest this ingredient could be dangerous, but several key government officials have taken a sever interest in the studies, thereby ensuring their release will be delayed by decades.
11. Ragweed Pollen. Promotes stimulation of the salivary glands.

There you have it. The horrible truth. I may meet my end soon because of the knowledge I've shared with you here today, but they cannot hide it from us any longer. The world must know!

Well, I'm off to get one of those new Chicken and Biscuit bowls. Mmmmmmmmm.......

Gracious Host (of Hosts)

2007-05-16T15:14:00.000-04:00

Today I heard the churchbells in Riverhead ringing out God Bless America. Nice fr God to let the country into his home, even if the country won't let God into a lot of their places.

Spider-Man 3, Audience 0

2007-05-04T23:58:00.000-04:00

(Beware, Mateys! There be spoilers here!)

I hate to do this.

Really I do.

I LOVE the recent spate of comic movies that has come out in the past 8 years. Even though I have no love whatsoever for BLADE, it was the beginning of the recent flush of quality movies made from comic properties, and therefore, I love it anyway.

Which is why it pains me to say I didn't really care for Spider-Man 3.

I went 40 something miles to see this movie on opening night, because I was ready for it to rock. I dragged my brother out to see this tonight, rather than wait for a more convenient showing tomorrow. I was ready for this to be the highlight of May. This made my doctor's office visit seem pretty alright.

They tried to do WAAAAAAY too much. The movie was 2:20, it needed to be 1:50. The movie had three villains, it needed two. The movie had all the awkward hurdles facing the loving couple, it needed to build on what was established in the first two installments rather than completely ass-rape it and start from scratch.

The following is a list of problems I had with the flick, ranked in no descernable chronological or dramatic order.

1.) TOO MANY VILLAINS - The movie could have been exceptional with Harry fights Spidey and loses, Spidey fights Sandman and loses, Spidey and Harry fight Sandman and win the day. I could have lived with Spidey finds symbiote, Harry fights Spidey and loses, Symbiote fights Peter and loses, Spidey fights Venom and loses, Spidey and Harry fight Venom and win the day. But this movie had too much going on, so much so that even Sam Raimi didn't know what to do with all his characters. Spidey fought Harry, and won. They didn't want Harry to get in the way while Spidey was fighting Sandman, so they gave him amnesia. When they wanted to get into the part where Spidey rejects the symbiote and inadvertantly creates Venom, they stashed the Sandman away by knocking him into a river. It even happens during the climactic battle, when the villains that Spidey and Harry aren't focusing on are "busy" doing their taxes until they are needed to rejoin the fight. I half expected Dylan Baker to eat the symbiote sample and turn into the Lizard right there in the middle, just to get a little more heaped onto Spidey's plate.

2.) Harry's memory - As I stated, Harry was given amnesia as a way to keep him out of the way until they needed him. Even though this is a trite and overused concept in movies, television, any recordable media, etc., they did a good job with it, and when Harry's memory DID come back, we got to see what a creepy fuck James Franco can be (the smile in the cafe window was pure awesomeness). My problem with this is that Harry's memory comes back for no apparent reason other than it was convenient to the script. Again, they needed to rush things along because they had to shoehorn three villains in, so they couldn't spend too much time on it, but it would have been nice ot have a little more of a dramatic moment other than "oh, yeah, I remember now, I hate that dick Peter Parker!"

3.) Thomas Hayden Church has the face of a mackerel - It actually fit in with the classic Ditko look of the character, and was not my real issue with THC, but it is fun to say. My REAL issue with this is how easily the character was turned from sympathetic father to moronic lackey and back again, seemingly at the whim of the script rather than any real sense of character development. The scenes with him transforming into Sandman were far and away the best visual in the picture, and THC did a great job as the sad-sack-sillicate, and I genuinely cared about his character. It would have been nice to know how his daughter was sick, and how robbing banks would have cured her, but much of the story was lost to the cumbersome cast and need to balance screen time between 38 main characters. In the end he rides off into the sunset, and you can almost hear Kansas' "Dust in the Wind" playing in the background. It almost makes you forget that he basically forgot why he was embarking in a life of crime in the first place to play stooge to Venom.

4.) Bryce Dallas Howard as Gwen Stacy - TOTALLY unnecessary, because she only served to cause tension between Pete and MJ, which was in and of itself unnecessary. Oh, and she was just another thing for Eddie Brock to lose to Peter, which was ALSO forced, unnecessary, and boring. She did an okay job, but she felt forced in there because she was an established name in Spider-Man lore, and they needed to cram whatever they could in this installment. Her inclusion, among other things, serves to kill any belief on my part that they intend to do a fourth movie. They wanted to get everyone in this one, so they shoved her right in. I'm surprised they didn't throw in Felicia Hardy, Mac Gargan, Adrian Toomes, and Max Dillon, but then again, maybe they were all partying at the Constellation Restaurant, who knows.

5.) " 'Nuff said." - I now hate Stan Lee for doing these cameos. Each time I see him on screen it's like "OK, there, they got it out of the way." And it doesn't help that his dialogue sounds straight out of one of those "And Knowing Is Half The Battle" PSA's at the end of the G.I.JOE cartoons.

6.) Love on the Rocks... Ain't No Surprise... - At the end of Spider-Man 2 (the official best movie of the trilogy) we see that Mary Jane accepts Peter's role as Spider-Man, states that she wants to be with him, regardless. They even establish very early on that Peter is more caring and attentive than he was in the first two. Then they go and blow it all by putting them back on the rocks. I know that Kirsten Dunst is probably going through a phase where she wants to prove she has the acting chops to pull off true drama, but this movie needed Mary Jane to be more of a support character, not an obstacle. She could have been just as effective a damsel in distress without ripping Peter's heart out of his chest before hand. I was half hoping she'd get creamed by the falling dumptruck so Pete could get with Ursula Ditkovich, his awkward yet strangely attractive neighbor/devoted love slave. "Go make me some cookies!" CLASSIC. In the end, Peter and MJ end up in exactly the same place they were at the end of 2, and there is no development in their relationship. Even one of the central points of the movie, Peter's quest to propose to her, goes unfulfilled.

7.) Peter the Pimp - "This substance seems to amplify the traits of whatever it touches," Dylan Baker's Dr. Curt "Lizard-waiting-to-happen" Connors reported. So what traits does it amplify in Peter? Apparently his pimpness and false sense of cool. The scenes of him strutting his stuff were as ridiculous as they would be if you saw someone doing it in real life. I liked the whole shaggy hair, bags under the eyes, popped collar bad-ass Pete. I don't want to see the hero embarrassing himself. I wanted to see more of the DARK side of Peter; instead, we got the DORK side of Peter.

8.) Venom - AGAIN, if he was the only villain, this would have worked out okay. I didn't care for the visuals as much, but that may be because we were deluged with them for the past six months every time we turned on the TV (or went to Burger King). He didn't seem like Venom, he seemed like Venom's maladjusted twerpy brother. Part of what made Venom so imposing in comics was that he was bigger and badder than Peter. This looked more like Carnage, and maybe that's what they were going for. Topher Grace did fairly well as Eddie Brock, and his transformation from whiny dickweed to sadistic dickweed was fun to watch. But his inclusion in this movie felt like exactly what it was; fan-boy pandering. Were Sam Raimi to make a Spider-Man trilogy and then ride off into the sunset without including Venom, he would have found himself barraged by hatemail from greasy 20 somethings who like Venom because "he's cool and he kills stuff dead!" The same type of pimply dork who loves the Punisher, Wolverine, Deadpool, and Sabretooth, but can't wrap their heads around characters like Gravity, Spider-Man, Kitty Pryde and Jubilee. The same type of sweaty pricks who get offended when you mistake their Babylon Five costume for a Battlestar Galactica costume at the local comic-con, who don't understand that Venom goes against everything that made Spider-Man so successful in the first place. YES, Venom signaled a new ERA in Spider-Man, a darker turn in his history, but Sandman is ICONIC, and came from a time when Spidey was what he should be; a wise-cracking teen who just wants to pay the rent. These simpering mushheads don't understand that, they just want to see knives and teeth and blood and ick and ooze and witty catch phrases whilst the villains disembowel innocent bystanders. As much as I would have loved this movie to be Spidey vs. Sandman, if Venom HAD to be included, I would have preferred it to be Spidey vs. Venom with Sandman left out. On top of all of this, anyone who isn't a comic book reader (like my brother) has no idea what Venom is, why it duplicates Spidey's powers even when it is not on Spidey, why the Church bells and pipes affected it, or pretty much anything of interest that might assist you in understanding anything about the character. VERY inaccessible to outsiders.

9.) The Crying Game - People were laughing out loud when Peter and MJ both tried to supress their crying at Harry's dying moments. The jittering, twitching, cheekbone ruffling, trembling lip, jello face display. You'll know it when you see it. And it wasn't "man, that's funny" laugh out loud. It was the "man, I'm not really comfortable even watching this" laugh out loud.

10.) Iconic shots 101 - Spidey landing in front of the American flag. Peter and MJ holding Harry in the sunset. Spidey hanging upside down from the stage lights. UGH. Enough with the desktops, already.

11.) Sing it, sister - I understand Kirsten Dunst isn't a professional singer. But couldn't they have gotten someone who sounds like her in the slightest to do her vocals in the musical? I half expected her to stop singing and still hear the words coming from backstage. The one who sang for her in the end (if it wasn't her) would have done wonderfully, and if ti was the same woman, she changed her larynx midway through shooting, I'd swear it.

12.) Spidey, it's me, remember? - OK, I understand no actor wants to spend an entire movie behind a mask. But Harry and Eddie opening up their masks every time they wanted to speak to someone pretty much retarded. It worked for about two seconds during one of Topher Grace's lines, and Harry's big reveal, but come on. Why wear the mask if you have to keep taking it off to talk?

13.) Tricked ya, tricked ya, nonny-onny-icked ya! - This guy killed Ben Parker. No wait, it was THIS guy, the sensitive hard-luck man in the wrong place at the wrong time that we just introduced. Do you believe us? C'mon, believe us. HAH, fooled you right and proper! It WAS the first guy! This guy just knew him, and actually wasn't responsible at all! HAH! Don't you feel stupid! Maybe, if I have the attention span and intelligence of eye snot.

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Alright, what DID I like? Let's see.

Dark Peter. "Get me some milk." I half expected him to throw in "bitch" after that, but they had the good sense not to push the issue.

Eddie Brock. Just the right balance of swagger and stagger.

James Franco. He really showed how much of a prick he could be. His revenge scheme against Peter could have been a movie in and of itself.

Kirsten Dunst. Hot.

Pretty much every second Sandman was on the screen as Sandman, not so much as Flint Marko.

That Ursula Ditkovich chick. Mageina Tovah, is her name. Not that I'd kick the real her out of bed, but I actually find her more attractive with the goofy pigtails and awkwardness.

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So, the wrap up: I hope they don't make a fourth, because I'm sure that they would try to cram even more into it than this one. The Sinister Six would get six minutes each on screen, and do we need another hour and a quarter of MJ whining about how Peter isn't there for her? This movie itself should have been divided in two, so I'd rather they just walk away while they're ahead 2-1.

The Fantastic Four trailer looked REAL promising, though. June 15, baby!

Hancock's Death Fails To Rally Slumping Cardinals

2007-05-02T20:48:00.000-04:00

ST. LOUIS - Members of the Cardinal organization were rocked early Sunday by the news that Cardinals relief pitcher Josh Hancock was killed when his SUV slammed into the back of a stationary tow truck in the early hours of Sunday morning. Initial reports stated that Hancock was dead on impact, and later reports have come to light stating that Hancock may have been drinking earlier in the evening.

Hancock's death struck a sad chord with St. Louis fans, who remember the death of Darryl Kile in 2002. Kyle was discovered dead in his hotel room from a heart attack. Fans also remember that the Cardinals went on to win the NL Central, and defeat the reigning World Champion Arizona Diamondbacks in the NLDS before falling to San Francisco in the League Championship Series. Fans hoped that Hancock's death would rally the Cardinals, who are currently last in the NL Central, but the team has looked despondent and bewildered in their last three games.

Cardinal first baseman Albert Pujols, fighting off tears at his locker after the first game, explained how Hancock was like a brother to them, and that they wished could have reversed their fortunes before another teammate had to be taken from them. Pujols was so distracted by the events of the weekend that he actually walked to first base after being thrown only three balls by Milwaukee starter Jeff Suppan. Scott Rolen immediately hit into a double play, turning one of the few bright moments into a dark reminder of how poorly the team is playing.

Several other players made mistakes showing their lack of concentration. Right fielder Scott Spiezio dropped a flyball in the fifth inning of yesterday's game, second baseman Adam Kennedy and Pujols both had errors in Tuesday's contest, starting pitcher Braden Looper put both of his socks on his left foot, and Cardinals backup catcher Gary Bennett reported to work in the Miller Park's right field concession stand rather than appearing in the visiting team's dugout.

"Obviously, this loss has impacted every one of us in a different way," Cardinals manager Tony LaRussa said on Wednesday, drawing frowny faces on the desk inside the visiting manager's office in Miller Park. "Josh was a member of the family. We just have to carry on, and hopefully start winning some games before someone else has to die."

Cardinals General Manager Walt Jocketty was equally confident. "The boys will bring things together. Josh would have wanted them to win, despite their grief. I'm sure they wouldn't want to disappoint him. I mean, I'd hate for his death to have meant nothing."

Some Cardinal fans remain skeptical.

"Hancock, I'm sure he was a nice guy, but c'mon, he's a middle reliever," Darcy Kellogg, diehard Cardinals fan and Fantasy Baseball League Commissioner, said while tracking Hancock's stats. "His death doesn't make sense, from an inspirational point of view. Middle relievers don't generate any impactful stats unless you are in a league that uses holds, and those are few and far between. He's not someone famous enough to inspire. You want someone they can rally around? Throw [center fielder Jim] Edmonds under a bus. THAT'LL get them fired up."

Cardinals owner William O. DeWitt, Jr. was cryptically quoted as saying "Tough times call for drastic measures."

In a related story, George Steinbrenner has been overheard encouraging utilityman Miguel Cairo to undertake more dangerous hobbies, such as base jumping, crocodile wrestling, and juggling poisonous cone shells.

A-Rod: I've Pretty Much Mailed It In Until Now

2007-04-23T13:25:00.000-04:00

NEW YORK - Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez admitted yesterday that his efforts have been sub par since coming to play for New York. Acquired in a trade from the Texas Rangers for second baseman Alfonso Soriano and pitcher Joaquin Arias, Rodriguez has been the target of much derision among New York Yankee fans and baseball fans in general.

The highest paid player in baseball, the slacking Rodriguez, known to fans as A-Rod, signed a record breaking 10-year quarter of a billion dollar deal with the Texas Rangers in 2000, a contract that only the financially corpulent Yankees organization could dare take on. While his numbers have been some of the best in baseball, the fans have failed to embrace the slugger, especially after he, like the rest of his team, lost their stride in the 2004 playoffs, and suffered the worst collapse in professional sports history, losing the ALCS to hated rival Boston, despite having a commanding 3-0 lead in the series.

His poor playoff performance in both the 2005 and 2006 playoffs have likewise served to be the cause of much ire among New York faithful. In the past 12 post season games, Rodriguez has hit a pathetic 4-41 (.098) and has not had a single RBI in that span.

But this season, Rodriguez is tearing up the field like a man on a mission. "I may get up earlier than any other major league player," Rodriguez explained, "but once I got to the ballfield, it was all daydreamin' and wool gathering. I sometimes fell asleep in the dugout during those hot August games. But this year, I've decided to give the fans everything I've got. I've been playing at about 30, 35%. This year, I'm upping my output to 70% of my true potential."

The results are apparent: through 17 games, Rodriguez has clubbed 12 homeruns, driven in 31 RBI, and his batting average is a torrid .371. "I'm turning it up a notch. Back in my first full year in the majors, I played at about 80%, and hit 36 HR and drove in 123 RBI. I said to myself, 'Whoa, Alex, let's not get carried away.' So I dialed it down a bit, to about 60%. Next season, the numbers showed my decrease in effort, but then in my third year, my numbers crept up again. I actually had to slack off a bit more just to keep my power numbers down. I think by the last year in Seattle, I was playing at about 40%."

Despite his incredible regular season statistics and the fact that he owns several prestigious records and awards, Rodriguez was adamant about playoff time. "Hey, in the playoffs, everything changed. Everyone is more intense, and the mood just gets all icky. I felt really bad for the Red Sox in '03," Rodriguez said, crushing coal into diamonds outside his locker. "They always try so hard, and then [ALCS hero] Aaron Boone has to go and kick them when they're down. Not nice. You could just see the sadness in their eyes. So I decided to give them a little pep me up the next year. I told the guys to take it easy on them, let them get a little confidence, but they wouldn't hear of it. So I had to pull out all the stops. A couple of key errors later, and things were looking rosier for them. When I saw [ALCS Game 6 Red Sox pitcher Bronson] Arroyo trying to tag me, I figured I'd do something childish and immature, totally beneath a professional of my skill and stature, to light a fire under them. Well, lo and behold, they came back to win the series, and ended up winning the World Series that year! Good for them!"

But now Rodriguez says all bets are off. "We got off to a bit of a slow start, so I decided to pump up my game to a new level. I'm here to win, at least until the playoffs come around again." Rodriguez laid out a carefully composed schedule of hitting streaks, game winning dramatics, and inspirational rallies he has planned for the team. "It's so much more dramatic to come from behind, and let the Red Sox get ahead of us. Rest assured, when the chips are down, the Yankees will be there to stumble at the last minute, giving hope to some other AL team in the final days of the playoffs. I'm thinking Oakland needs a break this year," Rodriguez said. "All the criticisms, all the boos, all the death threats, they're worth it when you get to look across the field and see all the smiling happy faces of those other players."

"They're all very special little guys," Rodriguez said, clutching a handkerchief to his moistened eyes.

A Sense of History...

2007-04-20T18:43:00.000-04:00

Recent efforts have unearthed this photo, the earliest known relative in the Beck family tree. According to the legends, Kennisaw "Wide Jowels" Beck was a Civil War Profiteer who lost most of his family fortune gambling. Known for his inept card playing, he managed to make ends meet swindling widows out of their land.

It is known that the Beck family tree spreads it's roots farther back than this, however. This painting, found in the caves at Lascaux clearly depicts a native of astonishing girth complaining of lower back pain, a clear indication that this is an ancestor of mine.

Technical Foul...

2007-04-19T18:10:00.000-04:00

He Bangs, He Bangs... (oh, c'mon, you know you were thinking it)

"You had a hundred billion ways to have avoided today, but you decided to spill my blood," said Cho Seung-hui. "You forced me into a corner and you gave me only one option, but the decision was yours. Now you have blood on your hands that will never wash off."

Uhhhh... okay, dude, you lost me.

You felt alienated because you were made fun of? Because people mocked the way you speak? Because you didn't have money? Welcome to the club, dickweed. (I have had a girlfriend I wanted to kill, but that was while we were actually going out).

Just so all the aspiring School Shooters out there don't get the wrong message; this does not make you cool. This will not get your message across, unless your message is "I'm a maladjusted whiny douchebag who can't cope with my own shortcomings and have no sense of personal responsibility," in which case this will probably do the job nicely.

All this dumb bastard did was make himself even MORE reviled than he already was, and prove that the Manifesto-Writing class at Virginia Tech needs an over haul.

Congrats, dumbass, you're one of the most hated retards in America. I'm glad you're dead. Say hi to all the other little pissants in that same circle of Hell reserved for people who think they're more notorious than they actually are.

The High Holy Day...

2007-04-19T17:48:00.001-04:00

Rejoice, my fellow Juddites, it is the birthday of our Goddess, the perfect worshipfulness that is Ashley Judd.

In the spirit of such a joyous day, I present the following image of our perfection given human form. Enjoy!