Crank (and another Separated At Birth Candidate)!

Why is it everytime I see the coming attractions for the new movie, Crank, do I think of a certain someone who is pictured to the left and our most recent separated at birth candidate for Chicago Cubs pitcher, Kerry Wood?

Crank, the movie, starring this particular pilgrimage friend would probably go something like this:

A police officer is injected by a killer with a substance that will kill him unless he doesn't orgasm every 2 hours. The side effects of the drug are excessively dry lips and an itchiness in his upper quads. Our hero is on a quest to find the killer and deal out justice while stopping in strip clubs and massage parlors bi-hourly to get a chub on and a little happy ending in the process, just to stay alive!

The film features a bevy of porn stars in "legitimate" roles, each taking one for the team to keep our city's finest detective hot on the trail!

Mix that in with frequent trips to an Al-Qaeda owned 7-11 for replacement Chapstick and a feminazi owned blue jeans store (as the frequent thigh rubbing necessitates a need for new pants daily) and you've got explosive highjinks to keep even the comatose glue to their theatre seats.

Crank, the movie, coming to a theatre near you. Rated NC-17 for excessive thigh rubbing and lip licking action.

Well worth the $9 admission price.


I Have A Hot, Crazy, Big Breasted New Neighbor!

Then, why would you say that I'm a whole lot less than thrilled?

It might have something to do with the fact that his name is Bart and the reason he is topless is because he is so hot in this August weather.

I made the mistake of saying hello to him the other day. Then on Saturday, as I left Tay on the front porch to get some groceries at the store, I came back to find Bart "hitting on" my woman. I introduced myself and he was hesitant about telling me his name. When he finally relented, we made about 20 seconds of small talk and I wished him a fine day.I walked up on the porch and told Tay, "I'm gone for five minutes and you're cheating on me? Didn't your mom ever tell you that you don't date guys with bigger tits than yours?"

After Tay and I finished lunch, we're all cozy sitting on my couch enjoying the solitude when someone starts yelling through the screen door, about 10 feet from us. It scared the hell out of me. It was psychoboy. He blathered on about having problems with his DVD player and I, visibly annoyed, told him I didn't know anything about DVD systems and pretty much closed the door in his face.

What a fricking nutjob.

My life in NYC taught me two things:

Carry your wallet in your front pocket and don't be nice to crazy people or they will follow you around forever.

Postscript: It turns out the fair Irish lass Erie, knew all about Bart and failed to warn me. For that, I'll have to have Poppinfresh administer a spanking!


New Orleans: Dig A Hole (Moat) Already!

When you're a kid at the beach and you are constructing sand castles, every once in a while a wave may come in and fills your moat and knocks down a wall or two. It's usually no problem as walls can be fortified or a deeper or more complex moat can be constructed (assuming your castle is built above sea level) to rectify the situation. But if the waves start coming in and taking down the whole castle, it can be surmised that it's time to relocate your sand castle further away from the water. Seems rational doesn't it?

Then, why on God's green earth are we trying to resurrect a below sea level city after it has pretty much been destroyed by a hurricane? Doesn't it make more sense to relocate the city further north? People seem to forget that land mass geography changes all the time. Seashores lose inches of coastline every year. Underground plate movements also facilitate changes in geography. Can someone tell me why we spend billions of dollars fighting nature instead of accepting that sometimes it just doesn't make sense, especially in the case of New Orleans.

I'm not saying that we should abandon the city. Let's just move it upstream, above sea level and spend our money rebuilding in a location that doesn't require or heavily rely on levees to keep disaster at bay. Hell, it would make more sense to build New Orleans three miles out into the Gulf of Mexico, underwater (a la Atlantis), than to rebuild on the same site. It's not like we're trying to save the pyramids here. New Orleans doesn't have, what I consider, anything that can't be replaced. If I was a resident there, I wouldn't want to rebuild my house with the threat of a repeat disaster looming.

I also find it curious that N.O. mayor, C. Ray Nagin, had the gall to criticize New York City this past week for dragging their heels in World Trade Center site planning to rebuild on top of a "hole in the ground".

Apparently, Ray, thinks that something should have been built there already or at least started.

Ok, so maybe NYC is in a "planning gridlock" where several parties are warring about what what the best plan for the space should be. That's not an issue with good ol' Ray, who is intent on returning residents to New Orleans well before it's safe for them to do so.

And what's just around the corner? Hurricane Season!

Maybe if Ray quit being critical about everyone around him, the federal government and NYC officials, he would realize that his time would be best spent resolving New Orleans planning issues without rushing into retuning to the status quo.

New Orleans residents just gave him the thumbs up by re-electing him for another term. Let's hope that the faith they placed in his hands is justified. I remain very skeptical of his ability to do anything requiring an original thought. Granted, he doesn't have any power to relocate New Orleans but he has the power to make sure Louisianna's politicians consider all possibilities.

But Ray is sentimental, not rational. It sounds like the rest of New Orleans holds the same opinion. So, I guess we'll continue to sink billions into the Gulf of Mexico and wait for the next disaster that may come in only a few short months.


Hallelujiah! Another Move Complete!

Thank you, Jesus! I swear to God, I think I have maybe one more move left in me before someone's going to have to "dig a hole" and just cover me in dirt, if it goes beyond that.

The way I figure it, I have had 14 different addresses over my 40 year lifespan. And it's not like I grew up as an Army brat or anything. Twelve of those new addresses have occurred after the age of eighteen. I guess you can call me a nomad or a wanderer. I don't think that in any of the cases, I necessarily sought out a better place to live. Usually, it stemmed from needing to change locations for one reason or another.

Anyways, another move complete. I'm entirely ecstatic about the new place, two miles away from my employment and I halved the distance from my progeny. Sorry for a lot of radio silence in the month of August, I have been without internet service at home.

Resumption of blog craziness to continue in T minus 3 seconds...2...1...


Dave Kingman and Mark "I'm Not Interested in the Past" McGwire and their Hall of Fame Credentials

Mark McGwire faces Hall of Fame voters this coming year and many sportswriters have indicated that they will vote for him on the first ballot. Others believe that they cannot vote for him because they believe he used steroids (which, I think is pretty much a given). Some make a Kingman comparison in which McGwire is just a new steroid filled version of Dave Kingman.

Both were products of USC and converted pitchers.
As I look at the career stats, it's a compelling argument. Early in McGwire's career, he was a low batting average, high strikeout power hitter. If you translate out his early years to a full career, you pretty much mimic Kingman's numbers.
Then comes steroids and the largesse that follows. McGwire's deep flyballs become extra base hits and HRs and check swings and broken bat contact become bloop base hits. Thus batting average improves somewhat, but is probably impossible to exactly quantify.
The comparison of career numbers:
Kingman 6677 AB, 901R, 442 HR, 1210 RBI, 85 SB, .236BA, .478 SLG
McGwire 6187 AB, 1167R, 583 HR, 1414 RBI, 12 SB, .263BA, .588 SLG
Neither player was anything special in the field defensively. The question, then, is: how much does taking steroids add to the statistics?
I would argue that the statistics are pretty close as they are. Take out a 60, and 70 HR McGwire season fueled by steroids and the numbers are eerily close. Jose Canseco claimed that McGwire was using steroids for literally 5+ years, at least.
Now, I have nothing personal against McGwire. I liked him as a player but lost all respect for him with his tap dancing in congress. He should have owned up to the steroid use that is so apparent in his responses. I am of the belief that the steroid junkies should be passed over by the writers and left to the Hall of Fame members to decide their fate.
The only point I'd like to make is that, if McGwire gets into the Hall, Kingman should as well.


Calvin and Hobbes: Hands Down, Best Comic Ever!

If you were born after 1995 or were too young that year (or too old!) to enjoy a good comic, you missed the best comic ever printed in the daily newspaper.

I would even argue that it was better than anything that ever ran in comic books as well.

Calvin and Hobbes first appeared when I was 19, in 1985 and I immediately fell in love with it. Bill Watterson, creator of the strip, in my mind, created a timeless comic that is as poignant today as it was back in 1985.

Because it didn't necessarily specifically refer to world events like "Doonsbury" or "Bloom County", it can be read and enjoyed today with the same newness as if it appeared in today's daily paper.

I have included the Wiki-encyclopedia link in case you need a refresher course or want a quick background to Bluey's choice of best comic ever. Nothing comes close, not even "The Far Side".

I would have hated to be the tired spent up Dik Browne and Bill Keane's of the world, who were peddling sorry excuses for comics such as "Hagar The Horrible", "Beetle Bailey", "Nancy", "The Wizard of Id" and "Hi and Lois", "Family Circle" etc..etc.., when Calvin and Hobbes came on the scene. Watterson's comic was so far heads and shoulders above the "kids" comics it was embarassing. These other comics were so tired and old that they just ran retreads of the same bullshit every week.

"Kids, who left the cake out in the rain? (Sorry, I couldn't resist)
"Not Me""Not Me""Not Me" (as the "Not Me" ghost comes flying in the house).

That same comic continues to run in one form or another as Bill Keane's "Family Circle" continues to give me ass cancer everytime I accidently see it!

Calvin was an everyman, who anybody in the world could identify with. He wasn't good nor bad...he was human nature personified. His stuffed tiger, Hobbes, fueled his every adventure, real or imaginary and gave him an object in which he could project his hidden feelings to others and the world around him without fear of retribution, laughter or humiliation. The perfect imaginary friend to protect his own vulnerabilities.

People who know me, know that I'd probably never get a tattoo in my life. But if I was to do so, Calvin and Hobbes would be the statement I'd like to make to the world. Not dragons, barbed wire, Tay's name on my ass or "Mother".

It would be Calvin and Hobbes flying down a hill in a wagon or lying side by side in the grass or having a water balloon fight with Suzie Derkins (with Hobbes wearing his cool Jams!). Because, when it comes down to it, that's what life is about. No matter what we do, who we grow up to be, and how much money we make, it all comes down to the simple happinesses that we provide ourselves and others around us that will define our lives.

And that's why Calvin and Hobbes will always be the perfect comic for me.

"I wonder where we go when we die?" (Calvin).
"Pittsburgh?" (Hobbes).
"You mean if we're good or if we're bad?" (Calvin).


"Awww...Mom!...You're Running Your Fingers Through His Back Hair!!!"

I'm a pretty hairy guy. Maybe not as hairy as the gorilla to the right, but you get the picture.
A few years ago, I started Nairing my back in the summers to keep from getting locked up in a zoo. But, before I began this seasonal grooming ritual, I had a healthy back beard. My friends used to chide me about looking like an ape, but at the time, I just couldn't be bothered.
About 4 years ago, my buddy Meersky (who is a big proponent of "policing the area" or getting rid of unwanted hair) and I, were helping my other buddy, Irish's Mom move some furniture out of the house to the curb for trash pickup. Usually, in the summers, especially on hot days, I wear a tank top that is cut pretty thin and doesn't cover my shoulders or most of my back. On that particular day, I was wearing a skimpy tank top. After we were done, Irish's Mom was so thankful that she gave me a big hug. Irish was standing right behind me and shrieked in horror the title quote.
Of course, Meersky and I have gotten a lot of mileage out of that story and Irish's eye starts to twitch every time I wear a tank top and I get near his mother.
It happened again a few months ago but my back was smooth as a baby's bottom and Irish was nowhere to be seen. But, we told him anyway and it evoked pretty much the same cringing response.

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