- Sarah Palin is MILF-tastic. I could care less about her politics or shitting developmentally disabled babies out of her old dried-up uterus when she has that slutty soccer mom thing working for her.
- Foreign policy lessons for America from the Byzantine Empire. Very Art of War with guerrilla warfare sprinkles on top. I agree with most of these points, however, the United States has the tremendous advantage of geographic isolation which the Byzantine Empire did not. This means we can wage wars on six continents with a slim a chance of the conflicts spilling over into the Motherland. So unless we drop bombs on Canada or Mexico, I am guessing Americans will flourish historically a lot longer than the Byzantines.
- The more I see of Ice-T’s wife Coco, the happier with him as a person I become. Continue to Peel Their Caps Back, good sir.
Mark: Have you heard of Art Brut? Euro-Indie rock band. Not bad. That would also be a good name for your next child other than Spilly.
Me: Did you stay up for the game and watch the grand slam?
Mark: I did not. Although I was there for Tulo’s unassisted triple play and that was dope.
Me: This was … doper? More dope? Dopest?
- Ten things we do not understand about humans. I love how pubic hair made the list and I love even more that some scientist has studied pubic hair back to prehistory. For the record: we do not need explanations for why women prefer to go hairless.
- With the recent retirement of NHL star Jeremy Roenick, Greg Wyshynski compiled a list of his top ten pop culture moments on Yahoo! Sports. Of course the mention of him in the movie Swingers was high on the list (#2). In reference to Roenick being a video game hall of famer I could not agree more. He was without a doubt the most dominant players on NHL ’94. I averaged a hat trick with him each time I played as the Blackhawks.
- The thirty five worst celebrity tattoos. Fred Durst: thank you for confirming you are the biggest douchebag in a group douchebags. And Reggie Miller? Seriously?
Fatherhood has yet to provide me with any kind of spiritual awakening. After speaking to the other expectant fathers in my various babying classes, I was expecting angels to descend from heaven and play a harp rendition of “MMMBop” while I recognized the kinship of all living things when my son was born. Instead, I was relieved that the boy arrived with no serious health/birth defects and his mother did not go all 19th Century on me and bleed to death during childbirth and leave me and the boy to resent our stations in life and grow bitter over the years while tending to the family farm. It’s cool to have an entire life dependent on you. It’s also scary as hell. I think the true measure of whether or not I was a successful parent will come when it is time for me to go into a nursing home. If I did well? The boy will come visit me with his family on a semi-regular basis and take me out for a steak on occasion while tolerating my rants at the waitress for being too slow with the gravy. If I didn’t do well? I will suffer in a multi-level town house in Thornton and eat Alpo out of the can and call my son “a fucking pussy” when he makes his annual call to wish me a happy birthday. Right now the boy is much like a zombie army; singularly focused on food, growing at an exponential rate and adverse to any kind of a rest. I am debating the Boggins Window Crib to make nap time more interesting. Not sure if that will get me the steak dinner or the Alpo. Only time will tell.
- The world’s strongest vagina. It can lift 14 kilos? Whatever. I would like to see what it could do with ping pong balls. Seriously. I would really like to see that.
- A father and son that kill and bury hookers together stay together.
- I could not agree more, John Niven. Because you record some awesome shit like Dirty Diana you get a free pass of the kiddie-touchin’? Not on my watch you dead, twisted, clown-looking freak. It is not like you revolutionized industry and tried to get us to hate on some Jews. You fingered little boys in the ass and should be vilified accordingly; especially posthumously.
I am somewhat indifferent about MJ’s passing as the King of Pop has been dead to me since 1993. On one hand, I owned Thriller on vinyl and am able to sing most of its songs from memory. On the other hand, kiddie-touchin’? Dude was always weird. But I would have been weird, too, if I were raised by a devout Jehovah’s Witness that had a penchant for regular beatings and mental anguish. Still, weirdness and amazing talent should not give you a free pass on the kiddie-touchin’. The complete entertainment package that MJ was will be unmatched for years to come. The world is now left to ponder who the most talented Jackson alive is. Most will argue Janet, but I am calling Jermaine.
- Timberlake absolutely killed Saturday Night Live over the weekend. I am loving the Color Me Badd personas he and Samberg take on. Acid-washed jeans? Christ.
- The Denver Nuggets have been rolling through the first two rounds of the NBA playoffs. The main reason? Homegrown talent Chauncey Billups. I remember watching Chauncey eat my high school alive in the state basketball tournament back in ’94. If the Nugs win it all, there is no player more deserving of MVP honors.
- Rwanda, fifteen years after the genocide. The new government granted Get Out Of Jail Free Cards to most participants of the single largest mass murder in African history.
Last night, after a home-cooked Italian feast courtesy of my mother, we settled on my parent’s couch to catch the 2009 Grammy Awards. Some highlights:
- I now remember why I have not watched a Grammy Awards show since 2005. Its called Coldplay.
- Enough with the onstage collaborations. Seriously. I doubt anyone in America has been dripping in anticipation for a Paul McCartney and Foo Fighters jam session. There is a reason why two Beatles are dead; God does not want the surviving members to play their songs anymore.
- I cannot count how many times Dean Martin must have turned over in his grave after seeing MIA destroy his song. Being as his next of kin were in the audience watching, I believe they were legally within their rights to kill one (if not all) of the performers that took a shit on Dino’s memory and then wiped their asses with it. Except maybe MIA’s unborn child. That kid is innocent. My rage spares the unborn.
- Alison Krauss and Robert Plant recorded music together? I thought Robert Plant was dead. At least he has been dead to me after the Honeydrippers fiasco.
- Is there anything left for Kanye West to not bitch about? Even the Commish is with me on this one.
- Stevie Wonder. Sigh. You just make me sad.
Nice work, Johnny Trombones. However, you are only true of heart if you owned The Final Countdown on vinyl. Or obnoxiously sing “Carrie” to every woman you know with the same handle twenty five years after the fact. For the former members of my design team, here is your point of reference. May I remind you that in 1986 a man could be pretty and awesome at the same time.