I've reached the crotchety, old, "get off my damn lawn you punk kids" phase of my musical life, what with all the beeping, booping and discoteche-ing going on with their electronic future music. I was born in the 80's....I really don't want to go back. Plus, if history tells us anything, whenever we try to sound all futuristic and shit, it doesn't age well at all.
Luckily, Ty Segall exists. And he kicks so much fucking ass.
20.) Cloud Nothing - Attack on Memory
I bet when Silverchair heard this album they were all like "Fuck...that's what we should have tried to do. Then people wouldn't have forgotten we existed."
Fave tracks: No Future, No Past and Stay Useless
19.) Godspeed You Black Emperor - Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend!
Getting a Godspeed You Black Emperor album unexpectedly is always a nice gift that makes you feel all warm and cozy on the inside.
Fave tracks: Godspeed You Black Emperor albums are to be listened in full.
18.) The Shins - Port of Morrow
Just classic Shins. Poppy and produced enough to enjoy some mainstream success while maintaining street cred with the kids.
Fave tracks: Simple Song and For A Fool
17.) Baroness - Green & Yellow
One of about three metal bands I actually listen to. And metal is probably a loose term. Still, they kick ass, write interesting songs, have some sweet riffs and don't sing a whole bunch about dragons, satan or corn children.
Fave tracks: Eula and Take My Bones Away
16.) FIDLAR - Shit We Recorded In Our Bedroom EP
God I can't wait for FIDLAR to release a proper album. It's going to tear everyone faces off. This band should be the next big thing. They probably won't, though, because people suck. They are rock and roll. This would be significantly higher if it had more than 4 songs.
Fave tracks: West Coast and Crackhead Ted
15.) Killer Mike - Rap Music
I didn't hear too much rap that caught my ear this year. Killer Mike had an awesome track called That's Life from several years ago and finally got me interested in a whole album this year. Rap needs some more guys like this....smart, aware of what's going on in the real world and able to not be a total lame ass rapping about "issues."
Fave tracks: Reagan and Don't Die
14.) Grizzly Bear - Shields
Part of me thinks I should like Grizzly Bear more than I do because they make some beautiful music that gets stuck in my head. But part of me wants to hate Grizzly Bear because would it hurt them to display at least a little goddamn testosterone once in awhile?
Fave tracks: Yet Again and Sleeping Ute
13.) Ty Segall & White Fence - Hair
Ty Segall is the future. And the present. And he kicks so much ass. It's telling that this is his "worst" album of the year, and comes in at 13. There are two more coming.
Fave tracks: Easy Ryder and Scissor People
12.) Death Grips - The Money Store
Thank god someone finally decided to do something completely new with rap. I guess its experimental and probably a lot of people will hate this, but at least its interesting and doesn't suck.
Fave tracks: Get Got
11.) Titus Andronicus - Local Business
I'll admit, I kinda slept on Titus Andronicus. The Airing of Grievances album sat in my collection, unlistened to for years. Then a a few months ago I put it in and realized it is brilliant shit. The Monitor was also pretty awesome. Then they released Local Business this year. Just another slice of brilliant rock and roll.
Fave tracks: Ecce Homo and My Eating Disorder (no good youtube vids for these)
10.) The Flaming Lips - The Flaming Lips and Heady Fwends
Just when I was starting to lose a bit of interest, they release this magnificent slice of psychadelic mind fuck. Who would have thought I'd love a Ke$ha track this much!
Fave tracks: 2012 You Must Be Upgraded and Ashes In The Air
9.) Spiritualized - Sweet Heart Sweet Light
Hey Jane is one of my fave songs of the year. So there's that. And this album is another in a long line of great albums by J. Spaceman.
Fave tracks: Hey Jane and Little Girl
8.) Metz - Metz
You can't listen to Metz loud enough. You really can't.
Fave tracks: Get Off and Knife In The Water
7.) Jack White - Blunderbuss
An old favorite of mine. While I wasn't blown away by his solo debut like some apparently were, I also wasn't disappointed. And after the luke warm feeling I'd had towards the Raconteurs and Dead Weather, I thought I would be disappointed.
Fave tracks: Freedom at 21 and I'm Shakin'
6.) Tame Impala - Lonerism
I jizzed my pants when I first heard Elephant. Then I didn't fully understand the hype behind the rest of the album. Then I listened to it using headphones. It needs to be heard with headphones to be fully appreciated.
Fave tracks: Elephant and Mind Mischief
5.) Ty Segall - Twins
The last album Ty Fucking Segall released this year. It might climb higher the more I listen to it. It's awesome.
Fave tracks: You're The Doctor, Thank God For The Sinners and The Hill
4.) Thee Oh Sees - Putrifiers II
It's no secret that my upbringing of a steady dose of KY58 has instilled in me an affinity towards the wonderful musical stylings of garage rock. So I'm not sure if the rekindling of my love of garage rock this past year is just part of my musical taste cycle or if people like Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees just released brilliant albums. I'm pretty sure its the latter.
Fave tracks: Putrifiers II, Lupine Dominus, and Flood's New Light
3.) FIDLAR - Don't Try EP
There are only four songs on this EP. They all kick so much fucking ass. Full album coming out in February. It's gonna be awesome.
Fave tracks: Got No Money, No Waves, No Ass, and Black Out Stout
2.) Father John Misty - Fear Fun
Dude quits Fleet Foxes. Dude makes music that definitely comes from same vein as Fleet Foxes, but is significantly more interesting than last Fleet Foxes album. Funtimes in Babylon.
Fave tracks: Nancy From Now, I'm Writing A Novel, Tee Pees 1-12, and Well, You Can Do It Without Me
1.) Ty Segall Band - Slaughterhouse
Have I mentioned before that Ty Segall is, like, really, really good. Because he is. He's rock and roll's best kept secret and even the indie kids seem reluctant to crown him grand champion of everything, which he probably is.
Fave Tracks: Tell Me What's Inside Your Heart, I Bought My Eyes, Muscle Man, and Diddy Wah Diddy (magnificent Captain Beefheart cover)
Monday, 14 January 2013
Friday, 4 January 2013
Grandpa
In many ways, I didn't know Grandpa that well. It's not that I didn't enjoy being around him or anything like that.....it's more that we Hunts have a tendency to keep things to ourselves.
I mean, I knew Grandpa loved hunting, sports, working in the garden, king pedro, the occasional rye and coke, cribbage and he could wear the shit out of a paper Christmas crown. I just didn't know a whole lot about him. What made him tick.
For example, I know he served in World War 2, but I have no idea what capacity he served, where he served, etc. It was one of those things he never talked about. And there were a lot of things us Hunts don't talk about. We don't handle emotional stuff well and I'm pretty sure bringing up the war would bring up emotional stuff that Grandpa would prefer not to deal with.
I also know he was a stubborn sonofabitch. Most old timers are. Grandpa had his way about doing things and didn't stray too far from it. At least that's what I gather from the stories I'd hear from Dad about growing up.
I remember numerous years ago Grandpa had some health issues and I think most of us, himself included, figured he was reaching the end of the line. That Christmas we all got some pretty big cheques and it seemed like he was handing out one last gift to us before punching his card. But that was several years ago........the next few Christmases had a significantly smaller cheque. And then there were more health problems. And we figured his card was going to get punched. And he kept plugging along for damn near ten more years. Like I said, the man was a stubborn sonofabitch!
Anyways, I've spent the week laid up on the couch, sick, and earlier in the week I was watching some program and one of the characters was overtly optimistic about everything, despite how poorly things were going in his life. When confronted about his optimism he mentioned its important to stay positive so you can try and pull out any of the silver linings from your terrible situation, otherwise they will pass you by. I thought it was pretty terrible and tacky and was willing to present an argument against such an outlook on life, but for some reason I kept thinking about that line all week.
Then yesterday morning I got a call that Grandpa was not doing well at all and they figured this was going to be the last hurrah. In many ways, it was time. Grandpa had a good run. He was 90ish and had spent the last couple years slipping into poorer and poorer health. And one of the things that had been going for awhile was his memory and mind, which is always a struggle for family members. Grandma suffered from Alzheimer's when I was much younger and it's not easy.
Anyways, I spent a lot of the day thinking about Grandpa. Remembering good times like hunting in Reston, playing hockey in his drive way or basement, watching Hockey The Lighter Side over and over again at his place as it was the only thing resembling children's programming in his VHS collection. I remember Grandpa would drive out to Kirkella, which was like a 4 hour drive the one way, just to watch me play hockey. He loved watching his grandchildren play sports and when you'd talk to him about sports, he'd be sure to remind you how to play the game properly.
Then I started thinking about recent years, as Grandpa's health deteriorated. I didn't visit him too many times in the hospital/nursing home over the last couple years, I think mainly because of how much I struggled visiting Grandma when she was dealing with Alzheimer's. I probably selfishly preferred to have my older memories of Grandpa. However, the last couple months I ended up visiting him several times and was quite glad I got the opportunity to do so. And then I got to thinking about that stupid silver linings quote from the other day......and was reminded of the following:
About a year and a half ago or two years ago I was out in Treherne and Dad decided to go in Sunday morning and pick up Grandpa and bring him out for the day, with the idea I'd take him back when I went back to the city. Grandpa was in much better physical health then, but his mind was going. Driving back, Grandpa completely forgot who I was within 5 minutes and didn't recognize me the rest of the trip. But as we drove past Starbuck he turned to me and said "This here is the town where I met my wife." Grandpa then started talking about Grandma and remembering a bunch of things about her. And I think because I was a stranger to Grandpa since he no longer recognized me, there was no longer this emotional wall built up between us. And so I took the opportunity to ask Grandpa about his wife, how they met and all these other things. And Grandpa opened right up and spent the rest of the ride talking about her. It was amazing.
After that experience, I felt like I got to learn a bit more about Grandpa and what made him tick. For one thing, I have no doubt he loved Grandma deeply. He had no idea who I was, but he could remember details about meeting her like it was yesterday.
I'm pretty sure what drove Grandpa was his love for the people around him. He may not have always been the best at communicating this, but when I look back I think this is true. He tried to do what he thought was best for them, even if they didn't quite understand it or like it at the time.
So, in many ways, this little experience where I got to learn a bit more about Grandma and Grandpa's obvious love for her was one of the silver linings of his illness. And for that I will be forever grateful.
RIP, Grandpa Ted.
I mean, I knew Grandpa loved hunting, sports, working in the garden, king pedro, the occasional rye and coke, cribbage and he could wear the shit out of a paper Christmas crown. I just didn't know a whole lot about him. What made him tick.
For example, I know he served in World War 2, but I have no idea what capacity he served, where he served, etc. It was one of those things he never talked about. And there were a lot of things us Hunts don't talk about. We don't handle emotional stuff well and I'm pretty sure bringing up the war would bring up emotional stuff that Grandpa would prefer not to deal with.
I also know he was a stubborn sonofabitch. Most old timers are. Grandpa had his way about doing things and didn't stray too far from it. At least that's what I gather from the stories I'd hear from Dad about growing up.
I remember numerous years ago Grandpa had some health issues and I think most of us, himself included, figured he was reaching the end of the line. That Christmas we all got some pretty big cheques and it seemed like he was handing out one last gift to us before punching his card. But that was several years ago........the next few Christmases had a significantly smaller cheque. And then there were more health problems. And we figured his card was going to get punched. And he kept plugging along for damn near ten more years. Like I said, the man was a stubborn sonofabitch!
Anyways, I've spent the week laid up on the couch, sick, and earlier in the week I was watching some program and one of the characters was overtly optimistic about everything, despite how poorly things were going in his life. When confronted about his optimism he mentioned its important to stay positive so you can try and pull out any of the silver linings from your terrible situation, otherwise they will pass you by. I thought it was pretty terrible and tacky and was willing to present an argument against such an outlook on life, but for some reason I kept thinking about that line all week.
Then yesterday morning I got a call that Grandpa was not doing well at all and they figured this was going to be the last hurrah. In many ways, it was time. Grandpa had a good run. He was 90ish and had spent the last couple years slipping into poorer and poorer health. And one of the things that had been going for awhile was his memory and mind, which is always a struggle for family members. Grandma suffered from Alzheimer's when I was much younger and it's not easy.
Anyways, I spent a lot of the day thinking about Grandpa. Remembering good times like hunting in Reston, playing hockey in his drive way or basement, watching Hockey The Lighter Side over and over again at his place as it was the only thing resembling children's programming in his VHS collection. I remember Grandpa would drive out to Kirkella, which was like a 4 hour drive the one way, just to watch me play hockey. He loved watching his grandchildren play sports and when you'd talk to him about sports, he'd be sure to remind you how to play the game properly.
Then I started thinking about recent years, as Grandpa's health deteriorated. I didn't visit him too many times in the hospital/nursing home over the last couple years, I think mainly because of how much I struggled visiting Grandma when she was dealing with Alzheimer's. I probably selfishly preferred to have my older memories of Grandpa. However, the last couple months I ended up visiting him several times and was quite glad I got the opportunity to do so. And then I got to thinking about that stupid silver linings quote from the other day......and was reminded of the following:
About a year and a half ago or two years ago I was out in Treherne and Dad decided to go in Sunday morning and pick up Grandpa and bring him out for the day, with the idea I'd take him back when I went back to the city. Grandpa was in much better physical health then, but his mind was going. Driving back, Grandpa completely forgot who I was within 5 minutes and didn't recognize me the rest of the trip. But as we drove past Starbuck he turned to me and said "This here is the town where I met my wife." Grandpa then started talking about Grandma and remembering a bunch of things about her. And I think because I was a stranger to Grandpa since he no longer recognized me, there was no longer this emotional wall built up between us. And so I took the opportunity to ask Grandpa about his wife, how they met and all these other things. And Grandpa opened right up and spent the rest of the ride talking about her. It was amazing.
After that experience, I felt like I got to learn a bit more about Grandpa and what made him tick. For one thing, I have no doubt he loved Grandma deeply. He had no idea who I was, but he could remember details about meeting her like it was yesterday.
I'm pretty sure what drove Grandpa was his love for the people around him. He may not have always been the best at communicating this, but when I look back I think this is true. He tried to do what he thought was best for them, even if they didn't quite understand it or like it at the time.
So, in many ways, this little experience where I got to learn a bit more about Grandma and Grandpa's obvious love for her was one of the silver linings of his illness. And for that I will be forever grateful.
RIP, Grandpa Ted.
Monday, 19 November 2012
Did The Jays Lose The Marlins Trade?
The general opinion going around is that the Toronto Blue Jays up and fleeced the Marlins in their recent massive trade and, in terms immediate baseball talent, they probably did. And while it will be the most anticipated season in recent memory for Jays fans, I can't help but get an uneasy feeling this trade may come and bite the team in the ass down the road as I look more into it.
First off, the centrepiece of the deal is generally considered to be Jose Reyes, an All Star shortstop and, admittedly, fairly exciting player to watch. He's been a great player in the past, getting on base at a good but not great clip, and had plus plus speed a few years ago but due to decline and injuries, probably only possesses plus speed at this point. Arguably the most talented player in the trade, there is no doubt he will contribute significantly over the next few years.
But here's the problem....since Reyes signed a backloaded contract last year with the Marlins, $66 million of his $106 million contract is paid out over his age 32 to 34 seasons. $10 million was paid out last year, which means the Marlins got one year of him at under market value, which also means that the contract will be over market value down the road. And considering middle infielders don't age graciously (Jays fans may remember when Robbie Alomar fell off a cliff as a Met) paying Jose Reyes $22 million as a 33 year old might severely limit the Jays roster flexibility in a few years.
Now, one could make an argument that Josh Johnson is the most talented player in the trade (and considering the importance of starting pitcher, he may be the most important to the success of the Jays next year). However, he has one year at $13.75 mil left on his deal and then hits the open market. And his agent has made it known he has every intention of testing that open market. So the Jays are only getting one year out of Johnson and, given his injury history, this may only result in 10-15 starts.
And this is where it starts getting ugly. Mark Buehrle used to be a pretty solid pitcher. And while he's not terrible, he's not much more than a decent 4th starter that doesn't miss any bats at this point in his career. Useful, for sure. However, due to the backloaded contract he signed last year with Miami (notice a trend starting?), he's due to make $19 million as a 34 year old and $20 million as a 35 year old. $20 million for an aging number 4 pitcher that can't strike anybody out is a steep price.
John Buck has been terrible the last two years after a flukey season in TO a couple years ago. If the Jays are playing him regularly, they have issues, which means John Buck is not much more than a $6.5 million bullpen catcher.
Finally, Emilio Bonifacio is a utility infielder with good speed but not a whole lot else. He's under team control for the next couple seasons and, while useful and reasonably cost effective, he's not going to be a star and probably shouldn't start on a contending team.
So, while the Jays definitely got some big names and talented players, their value is not exactly through the roof. In fact, the only players they got whose contracts are under market value is a pending UFA (Johnson) and a utility infielder (Bonifacio). Meanwhile Buck and Buehrle are woefully overpaid and Reyes will probably end up being overpaid.
Meanwhile, they didn't give up a stack of nobodies. Yunel Escobar may be a head case, but he's also a pretty serviceable middle infielder with a reasonable contract. Hechevarria and Alvarez both look to be useful guys under team control for the next few years but probably won't make the Jays regret making the trade. Jake Marisnick is a bit of a boom or bust prospect that could make the Jays regret this trade down the road and turn into a perennial all star....or he could be Andy Marte. Justin Nicolino is a hard throwing lefty and everyone loves hard throwing lefties, while DeScalfani is a bit far off to accurately project but looks like a potential end of rotation starter. I'm not sure why the Marlins wanted Jeff Mathis.
If you consider things in terms of monetary value, the Marlins made out pretty good here. Hell, they might have won. In exchange for a bunch of players getting paid what they deserve (or more), they got some interesting/useful young players getting paid less than what they're worth. And if you look at it further, two key pieces of the trade weren't even on the Marlins roster last year. They signed Reyes and Buerhle as free agents last year, backloaded their contracts, got one season out of each at under market value, realized they weren't a contender, packaged those two players along with an impending UFA and got a package of 4 or 5 decent to good prospects. That's the kind of shit you used to be able to pull off in GM mode in video games 10 years ago before they adjusted the AI to prevent that shit.
If Jeffery Loria wasn't Jeffrey Loria, this might look like a genius series of moves. But Jeffrey Loria is a cunt and, when you look at the way things have played out, it seems to point to the following series of events:
1.) Jeffrey Loria convinces dumbass Florida politicians to build him brand new stadium, promising to increase payroll and cease firesales in the future. Dumbass Florida politicians believe him, despite the fact he's fucking Jeffrey Loria.
2.) Jeffrey Loria gets brand new, mostly publicly financed stadium despite being a piece of shit. Jeffrey Loria proceeds to make good on his initial promise and sign a bunch of players to above market value contracts. Two keys to each contract: there aren't any no trade clauses and all the contracts are significantly backloaded.
3.) Marlins flounder some out of the gate. Jeffrey Loria, going back on his promise, starts the fire sale, trading Hanley Ramirez and Heath Bell during the season.
4.) Marlins then dump rest of team in trade to Toronto Blue Jays in the offseason. Without no trade clauses and the backloaded contracts, Jeffrey Loria was able to create the illusion of spending, with no risk, and really only being out $24 million, which is a small price to pay for a brand new $634 million stadium. Now their top two highest paid players are Ricky Nolasco ($11.5 mil) and Yunel Escobar ($5 mil).
5.) Jeffrey Loria sits in brand new, publicly built stadium, collecting revenue sharing cheques and spending the least he can on payroll, making asstons of money to his personal account in the process.
6.) Hopefully dumbass politicians that trusted Jeffrey Loria don't get re-elected.
Granted, none of this may matter much to Jays fans if the Jays were to make a World Series run, as the time to strike is probably now. However, if they don't make some sort of run this year or next, expect another 5 or 6 years of trademark Blue Jays mediocrity.
As for Marlins fans........well.....I guess Jeffrey Loria has to die at some point.
First off, the centrepiece of the deal is generally considered to be Jose Reyes, an All Star shortstop and, admittedly, fairly exciting player to watch. He's been a great player in the past, getting on base at a good but not great clip, and had plus plus speed a few years ago but due to decline and injuries, probably only possesses plus speed at this point. Arguably the most talented player in the trade, there is no doubt he will contribute significantly over the next few years.
But here's the problem....since Reyes signed a backloaded contract last year with the Marlins, $66 million of his $106 million contract is paid out over his age 32 to 34 seasons. $10 million was paid out last year, which means the Marlins got one year of him at under market value, which also means that the contract will be over market value down the road. And considering middle infielders don't age graciously (Jays fans may remember when Robbie Alomar fell off a cliff as a Met) paying Jose Reyes $22 million as a 33 year old might severely limit the Jays roster flexibility in a few years.
Now, one could make an argument that Josh Johnson is the most talented player in the trade (and considering the importance of starting pitcher, he may be the most important to the success of the Jays next year). However, he has one year at $13.75 mil left on his deal and then hits the open market. And his agent has made it known he has every intention of testing that open market. So the Jays are only getting one year out of Johnson and, given his injury history, this may only result in 10-15 starts.
And this is where it starts getting ugly. Mark Buehrle used to be a pretty solid pitcher. And while he's not terrible, he's not much more than a decent 4th starter that doesn't miss any bats at this point in his career. Useful, for sure. However, due to the backloaded contract he signed last year with Miami (notice a trend starting?), he's due to make $19 million as a 34 year old and $20 million as a 35 year old. $20 million for an aging number 4 pitcher that can't strike anybody out is a steep price.
John Buck has been terrible the last two years after a flukey season in TO a couple years ago. If the Jays are playing him regularly, they have issues, which means John Buck is not much more than a $6.5 million bullpen catcher.
Finally, Emilio Bonifacio is a utility infielder with good speed but not a whole lot else. He's under team control for the next couple seasons and, while useful and reasonably cost effective, he's not going to be a star and probably shouldn't start on a contending team.
So, while the Jays definitely got some big names and talented players, their value is not exactly through the roof. In fact, the only players they got whose contracts are under market value is a pending UFA (Johnson) and a utility infielder (Bonifacio). Meanwhile Buck and Buehrle are woefully overpaid and Reyes will probably end up being overpaid.
Meanwhile, they didn't give up a stack of nobodies. Yunel Escobar may be a head case, but he's also a pretty serviceable middle infielder with a reasonable contract. Hechevarria and Alvarez both look to be useful guys under team control for the next few years but probably won't make the Jays regret making the trade. Jake Marisnick is a bit of a boom or bust prospect that could make the Jays regret this trade down the road and turn into a perennial all star....or he could be Andy Marte. Justin Nicolino is a hard throwing lefty and everyone loves hard throwing lefties, while DeScalfani is a bit far off to accurately project but looks like a potential end of rotation starter. I'm not sure why the Marlins wanted Jeff Mathis.
If you consider things in terms of monetary value, the Marlins made out pretty good here. Hell, they might have won. In exchange for a bunch of players getting paid what they deserve (or more), they got some interesting/useful young players getting paid less than what they're worth. And if you look at it further, two key pieces of the trade weren't even on the Marlins roster last year. They signed Reyes and Buerhle as free agents last year, backloaded their contracts, got one season out of each at under market value, realized they weren't a contender, packaged those two players along with an impending UFA and got a package of 4 or 5 decent to good prospects. That's the kind of shit you used to be able to pull off in GM mode in video games 10 years ago before they adjusted the AI to prevent that shit.
If Jeffery Loria wasn't Jeffrey Loria, this might look like a genius series of moves. But Jeffrey Loria is a cunt and, when you look at the way things have played out, it seems to point to the following series of events:
1.) Jeffrey Loria convinces dumbass Florida politicians to build him brand new stadium, promising to increase payroll and cease firesales in the future. Dumbass Florida politicians believe him, despite the fact he's fucking Jeffrey Loria.
2.) Jeffrey Loria gets brand new, mostly publicly financed stadium despite being a piece of shit. Jeffrey Loria proceeds to make good on his initial promise and sign a bunch of players to above market value contracts. Two keys to each contract: there aren't any no trade clauses and all the contracts are significantly backloaded.
3.) Marlins flounder some out of the gate. Jeffrey Loria, going back on his promise, starts the fire sale, trading Hanley Ramirez and Heath Bell during the season.
4.) Marlins then dump rest of team in trade to Toronto Blue Jays in the offseason. Without no trade clauses and the backloaded contracts, Jeffrey Loria was able to create the illusion of spending, with no risk, and really only being out $24 million, which is a small price to pay for a brand new $634 million stadium. Now their top two highest paid players are Ricky Nolasco ($11.5 mil) and Yunel Escobar ($5 mil).
5.) Jeffrey Loria sits in brand new, publicly built stadium, collecting revenue sharing cheques and spending the least he can on payroll, making asstons of money to his personal account in the process.
6.) Hopefully dumbass politicians that trusted Jeffrey Loria don't get re-elected.
Granted, none of this may matter much to Jays fans if the Jays were to make a World Series run, as the time to strike is probably now. However, if they don't make some sort of run this year or next, expect another 5 or 6 years of trademark Blue Jays mediocrity.
As for Marlins fans........well.....I guess Jeffrey Loria has to die at some point.
Monday, 15 October 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 30
I'm officially putting Gary Bettman on notice.
I don't even miss hockey anymore. In fact, if Bettman had any brains, he'd fucking get that CBA figured out immediately because at this point, I don't even know if I need hockey.
I'm on Day 15 of my George St-Pierre workout. And I'm making that shit work, baby! I'm on such a roll that I think hockey might just end up getting in the way of my cagefighter training.
Furthermore, my cagefighter training is rubbing off on other aspects of my life. My vastly improved balance, weight loss and general conditioning has improved my curling game several times over. I was such a dominant force during my first game of the year that we stopped keeping score after the 2nd end! BOOM! POW!
And I feel fucking awesome. Full of energy. Shit....I don't even realize I've stayed an hour late at work until someone mentions it....then I'm all like "Well shit...I gotta go home and Rushfit the hell out of everything."
And the other day I had a plate of broccoli for supper. Broccoli. Me!!! WTF!?!?!
But what really has me thinking we don't need hockey was watching Felix Baumgartner, the baddest badass in awesometown take a balloon up to 128,000 feet and then JUMPING THE FUCK OUT!!! If we had this kind of shit going on all the time, we wouldn't care about hockey and football and stuff.
I actually ended up watching the ascent, all two and a half hours, instead of watching my beloved NFL. And I didn't regret a moment of it. There was the badassness of the whole thing. There was Science! running amok all over everything. There was some pretty cool engineering. And I was fully prepared to be let down when he finally did jump. I thought that there was no way it would be as awesome as I hoped. But I found myself fully captivated as Felix ran through his final checklist, popped the door open and looked out onto the abyss that man was about to make his bitch. And it WAS EVERY MOMENT AS AWESOME AS I HOPED!
I honestly think this couldn't have come at a better time. While the political right in the US seems to be waging an all out war against science, education and fancy book learning, slashing scientific research and general education budgets and waging a war of propaganda against all them fancy book learnin' folks with their fancy degrees that don't know nothin' 'bout the troubles of us honest workin' folk, Red Bull Stratos came and bitch slapped all of that shit down with authority. They took Felix Baumgartner, professional badass, that has BASE jumped off Taipei 101 (tallest BASE jump) and the hand of the Christ the Redeemer statue (shortest BASE jump), strapped him aboard a capsule connected to a weather balloon, sent him up and had him jump out, breaking the sound barrier.
But while all this was going on, we got to see how awesome science is. All the engineering work that went into the capsule design. The constant flight path recalculations. The accurate estimates on height, top speed, etc. And the amount of preparation Felix had to do to prepare for the flight. It was awesome and inspiring.
There needs to be more crazy ass awesome fucking shit like this. Way more. And we need to make big media spectacles of this stuff. Because it's GODDAMN COOL and there is all sorts of other cool shit that kids watching this could aspire to be. So let's do more of this shit. We'll get Neil Degrasse Tyson involved. If it takes a bunch more of the sweet Red Bull money, so be it. Because society can only become a better place if we're watching more Red Bull Stratos and less Big Bang Theory or The Bachelor. Shit, I wouldn't even need to watch hockey anymore.
You hear that Gary Bettman?
I don't even miss hockey anymore. In fact, if Bettman had any brains, he'd fucking get that CBA figured out immediately because at this point, I don't even know if I need hockey.
I'm on Day 15 of my George St-Pierre workout. And I'm making that shit work, baby! I'm on such a roll that I think hockey might just end up getting in the way of my cagefighter training.
Furthermore, my cagefighter training is rubbing off on other aspects of my life. My vastly improved balance, weight loss and general conditioning has improved my curling game several times over. I was such a dominant force during my first game of the year that we stopped keeping score after the 2nd end! BOOM! POW!
And I feel fucking awesome. Full of energy. Shit....I don't even realize I've stayed an hour late at work until someone mentions it....then I'm all like "Well shit...I gotta go home and Rushfit the hell out of everything."
And the other day I had a plate of broccoli for supper. Broccoli. Me!!! WTF!?!?!
But what really has me thinking we don't need hockey was watching Felix Baumgartner, the baddest badass in awesometown take a balloon up to 128,000 feet and then JUMPING THE FUCK OUT!!! If we had this kind of shit going on all the time, we wouldn't care about hockey and football and stuff.
I actually ended up watching the ascent, all two and a half hours, instead of watching my beloved NFL. And I didn't regret a moment of it. There was the badassness of the whole thing. There was Science! running amok all over everything. There was some pretty cool engineering. And I was fully prepared to be let down when he finally did jump. I thought that there was no way it would be as awesome as I hoped. But I found myself fully captivated as Felix ran through his final checklist, popped the door open and looked out onto the abyss that man was about to make his bitch. And it WAS EVERY MOMENT AS AWESOME AS I HOPED!
I honestly think this couldn't have come at a better time. While the political right in the US seems to be waging an all out war against science, education and fancy book learning, slashing scientific research and general education budgets and waging a war of propaganda against all them fancy book learnin' folks with their fancy degrees that don't know nothin' 'bout the troubles of us honest workin' folk, Red Bull Stratos came and bitch slapped all of that shit down with authority. They took Felix Baumgartner, professional badass, that has BASE jumped off Taipei 101 (tallest BASE jump) and the hand of the Christ the Redeemer statue (shortest BASE jump), strapped him aboard a capsule connected to a weather balloon, sent him up and had him jump out, breaking the sound barrier.
But while all this was going on, we got to see how awesome science is. All the engineering work that went into the capsule design. The constant flight path recalculations. The accurate estimates on height, top speed, etc. And the amount of preparation Felix had to do to prepare for the flight. It was awesome and inspiring.
There needs to be more crazy ass awesome fucking shit like this. Way more. And we need to make big media spectacles of this stuff. Because it's GODDAMN COOL and there is all sorts of other cool shit that kids watching this could aspire to be. So let's do more of this shit. We'll get Neil Degrasse Tyson involved. If it takes a bunch more of the sweet Red Bull money, so be it. Because society can only become a better place if we're watching more Red Bull Stratos and less Big Bang Theory or The Bachelor. Shit, I wouldn't even need to watch hockey anymore.
You hear that Gary Bettman?
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
Lockout Protest Day 17: The George St-Pierre Workout Video
I'll admit....I kinda hit a creative lull around Day 10 and stopped blogging my Beardless NHL Lockout Protest....partially because I couldn't think of anything worth posting and partially because I was busy with work and stuff.
But I've still been shaving daily and now I'm back from my sabbatical and ready to kick ass and chew bubblegum.
During my time off, I was able to think of another scheme to try and help force the owners and Gary Bettman into unlocking out the players. Not only will I continue to shave every day, denying the world my precious gift of beard much like NHL owners deny the world the precious gift of hockey, I will also start working out. Regularly. This should scare the shit out of Gary Bettman.
Why?
Because I was entirely prepared to spend any and all evenings in which the Jets played sitting on my ass, on the couch, with a six pack of beer, bag of chips, pizza and getting fat all while establishing a vicious routine of comfort that I would then use to justify watching any sort of NHL, even without the Jets playing, every night of the week. I'd be loyal viewership in that precious male, ages 18-35 demographic that would contribute to ratings and merchandise sales and all sorts of revenue.
But if I establish a workout routine, led by the broken English support and motivation of my new friend George St-Pierre, this introduces way too many variables to my plan. What if I develop a consistent workout routine? What if I crave each workout with a driving passion such that I turn off NHL games to start working out? And, God forbid, what if I start getting in shape and feeling better about myself?
What then?
Maybe I stop eating chips and pizza and start eating carrot sticks and vegetarian, whole wheat pasta. And then I sit down to watch hockey and find myself restless. I mean....this new found self-esteem will get me thinking about all the things I could be doing with my life other than watching hockey. Then I find myself forgetting about hockey entirely, deciding instead to spend my evenings working in a soup kitchen and tutoring underprivileged children with their homework.
GARY BETTMAN.....YOU SICK MONSTER!!!! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE CREATED!!!!!
****
Do you ever wonder what happens when a fat man, such as myself, decides to start up something like George St-Pierre's Rushfit? I'll tell you.
Minute Zero: Alright....time to start this shit. (*Receives text message from co-worker: Brad, want to go for some cold ones at Thirsty Lion?*)
Minute Zero, the Next Day: Okay....this time for real...gonna start some Rushfit. Bring it on, you dirty French surrender monkey. I've been biking 30 K, six days a week for three months. I've been playing hockey. I've been lifting weights and doing situps and stretching. I'm ready for you.
Minute Five (Warm-up Round): Well, this isn't so bad. Breathing hard. Starting to break a bit of a sweat. Haven't pulled anything, which is surprising. Really thought my back would have given out by now. Must be all that biking.
Minute Eight (Warm-up Round, still): I'm going to get through this. I'm going to come in here, Day 1, make Rushfit my bitch and get fucking RIPPED AND JACKED! BOOYEAH! I'm even keeping pace with Mr. World Champion himself.
Minute Ten (End of Warm-up, Real Round 1): Okay. Now for the real deal. I'm sweating, but so is GSP. All this biking has made me a fucking fitness champion. Sure, I'm a bit doughy looking still, but that's just residual fat from years of binge eating and depression. I probably have a six-pack and shit under there. Today I AM A FITNESS CHAMP. What's this? Air squats? Child's play!
Minute 13 (Still Round 1): Man....this is really starting to burn the old leg muscles. I mean....there is some muscle on the outside of my thighs that GODDAMN BURNS LIKE HELL. I don't even know what this muscle is called because I NEVER KNEW IT FUCKING EXISTED BEFORE. Jesus Christ, when are we getting to the core and upper body workouts.
Minute 15 (End of Round 1): DEAR GOD! Thank-you for this 40 second break. Oh, water, precious life-blood of humanity. How you quench mine thirst. You taste so delicious and sacred...I shall never drink any other liquid ever again.
Minute 16 (Round 2): FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! More goddamn air squats!?!?!?
Minute 17 (Still Round 2): OH FUCK! How the HELL am I supposed to do these goddamn burpee style things when it feels like there is a GODDAMN KNIFE stabbed into the mystery muscle on the side of my GODDAMN THIGH!
.....alright....you're a fucking champ.....you've focused, committed and aren't going to let a little bit of pain fucking let you down. you're mind's still sharp....the spirit is willing.....LET'S FUCKING DO THIS SHIT!
.....goddamn...why can't I do this.....why, leg, won't you push up....my goddamn brain is sending you a fucking signal to push up....i don't care if it burns and you're tired....we're a team and we're fucking champs...it's not like its ripping or tearing or injurious....you're just a GODDAMN PUSSY. PUSH THE FUCK UP!
Minute 18 - 35 (Middle of Round 2 to end of Round 4): Lying in a sweaty heap of fat, out of shape, unathletic patheticness on the floor, wondering how it ever got to this.
Minute 36 (Round 5): Alright.....let's fucking give 'er this last round and call it a success. CHAMPS DON'T QUIT.....
Minute 41 (End of Round 5): Holy shit...made it through that round. FUCK and YES! Completed Day 1. I mean....there are a lot of champs out there that take at least 2/5ths of the game off. I mean, Tom Brady has played in 5 Super Bowls, won 3 of them, and he only plays 50% of the game.
Minute 51 (End of Cooldown): Man....I feel....kinda good. YOU HEAR THAT, BETTMAN! I FEEL GREAT! I'M GOING TO GO AND DO DISHES NOW! AND CLEAN THE BATHROOM! AND TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE! AND RUN ERRANDS! I DON'T NEED HOCKEY!!! I DON'T NEED TV!!!!!!
Oh sweet....Cajun Justice marathon!
But I've still been shaving daily and now I'm back from my sabbatical and ready to kick ass and chew bubblegum.
During my time off, I was able to think of another scheme to try and help force the owners and Gary Bettman into unlocking out the players. Not only will I continue to shave every day, denying the world my precious gift of beard much like NHL owners deny the world the precious gift of hockey, I will also start working out. Regularly. This should scare the shit out of Gary Bettman.
Why?
Because I was entirely prepared to spend any and all evenings in which the Jets played sitting on my ass, on the couch, with a six pack of beer, bag of chips, pizza and getting fat all while establishing a vicious routine of comfort that I would then use to justify watching any sort of NHL, even without the Jets playing, every night of the week. I'd be loyal viewership in that precious male, ages 18-35 demographic that would contribute to ratings and merchandise sales and all sorts of revenue.
But if I establish a workout routine, led by the broken English support and motivation of my new friend George St-Pierre, this introduces way too many variables to my plan. What if I develop a consistent workout routine? What if I crave each workout with a driving passion such that I turn off NHL games to start working out? And, God forbid, what if I start getting in shape and feeling better about myself?
What then?
Maybe I stop eating chips and pizza and start eating carrot sticks and vegetarian, whole wheat pasta. And then I sit down to watch hockey and find myself restless. I mean....this new found self-esteem will get me thinking about all the things I could be doing with my life other than watching hockey. Then I find myself forgetting about hockey entirely, deciding instead to spend my evenings working in a soup kitchen and tutoring underprivileged children with their homework.
GARY BETTMAN.....YOU SICK MONSTER!!!! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE CREATED!!!!!
****
Do you ever wonder what happens when a fat man, such as myself, decides to start up something like George St-Pierre's Rushfit? I'll tell you.
Minute Zero: Alright....time to start this shit. (*Receives text message from co-worker: Brad, want to go for some cold ones at Thirsty Lion?*)
Minute Zero, the Next Day: Okay....this time for real...gonna start some Rushfit. Bring it on, you dirty French surrender monkey. I've been biking 30 K, six days a week for three months. I've been playing hockey. I've been lifting weights and doing situps and stretching. I'm ready for you.
Minute Five (Warm-up Round): Well, this isn't so bad. Breathing hard. Starting to break a bit of a sweat. Haven't pulled anything, which is surprising. Really thought my back would have given out by now. Must be all that biking.
Minute Eight (Warm-up Round, still): I'm going to get through this. I'm going to come in here, Day 1, make Rushfit my bitch and get fucking RIPPED AND JACKED! BOOYEAH! I'm even keeping pace with Mr. World Champion himself.
Minute Ten (End of Warm-up, Real Round 1): Okay. Now for the real deal. I'm sweating, but so is GSP. All this biking has made me a fucking fitness champion. Sure, I'm a bit doughy looking still, but that's just residual fat from years of binge eating and depression. I probably have a six-pack and shit under there. Today I AM A FITNESS CHAMP. What's this? Air squats? Child's play!
Minute 13 (Still Round 1): Man....this is really starting to burn the old leg muscles. I mean....there is some muscle on the outside of my thighs that GODDAMN BURNS LIKE HELL. I don't even know what this muscle is called because I NEVER KNEW IT FUCKING EXISTED BEFORE. Jesus Christ, when are we getting to the core and upper body workouts.
Minute 15 (End of Round 1): DEAR GOD! Thank-you for this 40 second break. Oh, water, precious life-blood of humanity. How you quench mine thirst. You taste so delicious and sacred...I shall never drink any other liquid ever again.
Minute 16 (Round 2): FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! More goddamn air squats!?!?!?
Minute 17 (Still Round 2): OH FUCK! How the HELL am I supposed to do these goddamn burpee style things when it feels like there is a GODDAMN KNIFE stabbed into the mystery muscle on the side of my GODDAMN THIGH!
.....alright....you're a fucking champ.....you've focused, committed and aren't going to let a little bit of pain fucking let you down. you're mind's still sharp....the spirit is willing.....LET'S FUCKING DO THIS SHIT!
.....goddamn...why can't I do this.....why, leg, won't you push up....my goddamn brain is sending you a fucking signal to push up....i don't care if it burns and you're tired....we're a team and we're fucking champs...it's not like its ripping or tearing or injurious....you're just a GODDAMN PUSSY. PUSH THE FUCK UP!
Minute 18 - 35 (Middle of Round 2 to end of Round 4): Lying in a sweaty heap of fat, out of shape, unathletic patheticness on the floor, wondering how it ever got to this.
Minute 36 (Round 5): Alright.....let's fucking give 'er this last round and call it a success. CHAMPS DON'T QUIT.....
Minute 41 (End of Round 5): Holy shit...made it through that round. FUCK and YES! Completed Day 1. I mean....there are a lot of champs out there that take at least 2/5ths of the game off. I mean, Tom Brady has played in 5 Super Bowls, won 3 of them, and he only plays 50% of the game.
Minute 51 (End of Cooldown): Man....I feel....kinda good. YOU HEAR THAT, BETTMAN! I FEEL GREAT! I'M GOING TO GO AND DO DISHES NOW! AND CLEAN THE BATHROOM! AND TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE! AND RUN ERRANDS! I DON'T NEED HOCKEY!!! I DON'T NEED TV!!!!!!
Oh sweet....Cajun Justice marathon!
Thursday, 27 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 12
I'd like to note that Day 11 is the day we all lost hope in the NHL resolving their issues in time for a season. Things have moved from mild outrage an exhausted apathy. TSN shamefully threw in the towel and started airing European hockey league highlights. In what I only assume was an attempt to appeal to our nostalgic idea of when hockey existed in a simpler time, TSN has ripped through the '87 Canada Cup and the '72 Summit Series. And Sportsnet...well....nobody watches Sportsnet except when NFL is on and they black out NFL Network.
Now, TSN did air a "What Happened To.." feature on Manon Rheaume. And she's still totally hot and a total milf and I'd definitely bang her, so at least there was that.
In beardless news, I discovered today that my beard is a key component to my water fountain usage at work. When I use the water fountain, any water that doesn't quite get in my mouth now runs down my face, down my chin and drips all over the floor. This is an issue because I like to make long, intense, awkward eye contact with another guy from work who's office window looks directly out at the water fountain. Now, a giant, potentially hazardous, puddle of water forms under the water fountain. With my beard, the water would trap and bead in my beard and safely drip back into the water fountain drain.
Also, since I'm bitter about the lockout and want to be a bitter, angry downer, the following are things that way too many people like that actually suck:
1.) Dane Cook
2.) Big Bang Theory
3.) Mumford & Sons
4.) Srkillex
5.) Russell Peters
Now, TSN did air a "What Happened To.." feature on Manon Rheaume. And she's still totally hot and a total milf and I'd definitely bang her, so at least there was that.
In beardless news, I discovered today that my beard is a key component to my water fountain usage at work. When I use the water fountain, any water that doesn't quite get in my mouth now runs down my face, down my chin and drips all over the floor. This is an issue because I like to make long, intense, awkward eye contact with another guy from work who's office window looks directly out at the water fountain. Now, a giant, potentially hazardous, puddle of water forms under the water fountain. With my beard, the water would trap and bead in my beard and safely drip back into the water fountain drain.
Also, since I'm bitter about the lockout and want to be a bitter, angry downer, the following are things that way too many people like that actually suck:
1.) Dane Cook
2.) Big Bang Theory
3.) Mumford & Sons
4.) Srkillex
5.) Russell Peters
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 11
My new goal is to buy an NHL team. I don't even care which one. I'll even buy the Panthers and keep them in Florida move them to Juarez, Mexico if that's what Bettman decides I need to do to get in.
I really only want to do this so I can be the lone dissenting voice amongst the ownership group. Because all we ever hear is how the owners are unified and 100% behind Gary Bettman. Which is BULLSHIT! Just look at True North. You can't tell me they're too happy having a lockout. They made a bunch of money...they have a hockey hungry market with guaranteed revenues for the foreseeable future and they certainly don't want to be disenchanting a shit load of casual fans that got caught up in the hype and hysteria last year. Oh....and one has to imagine a significant chunk of money was freed up from other investments in order to purchase the team last year. That's a lot of money that could be collecting interest or invested into high rate of return investments that is currently tied up in a business making absolutely no money.
All I want is to go all Mark Cuban on everyone's ass and piss the living fuck out of Jeremy Douche Geyser Jacobs and go public saying I don't support Bettman or the other owners.
So, in order to buy an NHL team, I'm gonna need a shitload of cash. And, while I would have been able to pimp myself out to tons of hot bitches and make shitloads of money as a high class manwhore, I currently lack the amazing beard to do so. So this means I need to concoct a crazy money making scheme. So I present to you the Stranglebator 3500!
Now, while I strongly believe stranglebator survival rates showed be determined by some sort of Darwinian function, I'm also a capitalist that isn't going to shy away from a business opportunity when I see one. I have identified that stranglebating is a high risk activity that is in need of adequate safety equipment. Not only do stranglebators risk death each time they get down to business...they also run the even bigger risk of dying while stranglebating and having this information go public. Nobody wants to be the next Michael Hutchence or David Carradine. Remember....when you die is not nearly as important as how you die. And nobody wants to die while simultaneously choking themselves and masturbating.
And this is where the Stranglebator 5000 comes in. I envision it being some sort of quick release mechanism that could be electronically actuated. Your belt or other strangling device would be attached to this and the apparatus could be mounted to a door knob or bathroom hook or whatever stranglebators use. This device would be wired to a PLC (programmable logic controller). Also wired to the PLC would be a pair of accelerometer wristbands, that would send a signal to the PLC when the accelerometers detected movement.
Now, if the accelerometers are detecting above a certain threshold of movement, this means all is well and the user can continue to do what they're doing. If, for whatever reason, the accelerometer is not sending a large enough signal back to the PLC (ie. the wrist bands are no longer moving), it will send a signal to the quick release mechanism to actuate, releasing the choking device and allowing air to flow to the users lungs before they completely pass out and die.
I really only want to do this so I can be the lone dissenting voice amongst the ownership group. Because all we ever hear is how the owners are unified and 100% behind Gary Bettman. Which is BULLSHIT! Just look at True North. You can't tell me they're too happy having a lockout. They made a bunch of money...they have a hockey hungry market with guaranteed revenues for the foreseeable future and they certainly don't want to be disenchanting a shit load of casual fans that got caught up in the hype and hysteria last year. Oh....and one has to imagine a significant chunk of money was freed up from other investments in order to purchase the team last year. That's a lot of money that could be collecting interest or invested into high rate of return investments that is currently tied up in a business making absolutely no money.
All I want is to go all Mark Cuban on everyone's ass and piss the living fuck out of Jeremy Douche Geyser Jacobs and go public saying I don't support Bettman or the other owners.
So, in order to buy an NHL team, I'm gonna need a shitload of cash. And, while I would have been able to pimp myself out to tons of hot bitches and make shitloads of money as a high class manwhore, I currently lack the amazing beard to do so. So this means I need to concoct a crazy money making scheme. So I present to you the Stranglebator 3500!
Now, while I strongly believe stranglebator survival rates showed be determined by some sort of Darwinian function, I'm also a capitalist that isn't going to shy away from a business opportunity when I see one. I have identified that stranglebating is a high risk activity that is in need of adequate safety equipment. Not only do stranglebators risk death each time they get down to business...they also run the even bigger risk of dying while stranglebating and having this information go public. Nobody wants to be the next Michael Hutchence or David Carradine. Remember....when you die is not nearly as important as how you die. And nobody wants to die while simultaneously choking themselves and masturbating.
And this is where the Stranglebator 5000 comes in. I envision it being some sort of quick release mechanism that could be electronically actuated. Your belt or other strangling device would be attached to this and the apparatus could be mounted to a door knob or bathroom hook or whatever stranglebators use. This device would be wired to a PLC (programmable logic controller). Also wired to the PLC would be a pair of accelerometer wristbands, that would send a signal to the PLC when the accelerometers detected movement.
Now, if the accelerometers are detecting above a certain threshold of movement, this means all is well and the user can continue to do what they're doing. If, for whatever reason, the accelerometer is not sending a large enough signal back to the PLC (ie. the wrist bands are no longer moving), it will send a signal to the quick release mechanism to actuate, releasing the choking device and allowing air to flow to the users lungs before they completely pass out and die.
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 10
So, whilst I was angrily and frustratingly shaving, it donned on me that I only have one razor blade. And considering the last time I purchased shaving equipment was probably sometime in 2006ish, it began to don on me that I'm probably way behind the razor technology curve. I'm still rocking a Gilette Mach 3 that I got for free in some promotional handout of hygiene products way back during my first year of university. I assume this handout was 10% promotional and 90% trying to get computer science students to use deodorant.
Back to the lockout, though. If this thing drags out much longer I'm going to need to buy some more razor blades. And I assume the Mach 3 is no longer in circulation. I'm sure it was left in a cloud of dust during the great razor blade race of the mid-2000's. I don't even know how many blades we're up to. I assume we're probably around 6 by now. Someone should do a study to determine the razor blade asymptote.
***
In other lockout news, the NFL referee lockout.....clusterfuck doesn't even do it justice. I actually turned off the game Monday night about halfway through the fourth quarter. There was a play where the Seahawks QB through a pretty good pass into one-on-one coverage. The Green Bay corner, I believe it was Shields, covered the play brilliantly. As a football fan, it was a thing of beauty how he kept pace stride for stride, turned around, located the ball and then made a brilliant play on it, breaking up the pass. It was text book and one of those plays that makes me appreciate how talented some of these players are. So of course the ref threw a pass interference flag on the play. It was such a horrible call on such a well executed play that it was my breaking point. I had to shut off the TV because these refs have basically reduced the game to "drunken, blindfolded hobo jacking off onto a dart board" levels of randomness.
And apparently it got worse.
After watching all the highlights, the big take away for me is that Pete Carroll is fucking clownshoes. I say this because after the debacling by the refs during the Sunday night game, Harbaugh and Belichick met each other in the field and shook hands. Both coaches seemed to give knowing looks that what just happened was a gong show and that the result of this game, outside of the standings, was basically meaningless in terms of one team or the other gaining any advantage in the decent rivalry building between the two teams. Both coaches realized this was a potentially great game ruined by the officials and neither team was pleased with how it played out.
Carroll, meanwhile, was celebrating and fist pumping like a fucking moron and constantly refuses to acknowledge that the victory is a result of pure, dumb, incompetent luck. Harbaugh, while definitely going to take the win, seems to have too much respect for the game, the players and the coaches he goes up against. And this is why Carroll is clownshoes.
Back to the lockout, though. If this thing drags out much longer I'm going to need to buy some more razor blades. And I assume the Mach 3 is no longer in circulation. I'm sure it was left in a cloud of dust during the great razor blade race of the mid-2000's. I don't even know how many blades we're up to. I assume we're probably around 6 by now. Someone should do a study to determine the razor blade asymptote.
***
In other lockout news, the NFL referee lockout.....clusterfuck doesn't even do it justice. I actually turned off the game Monday night about halfway through the fourth quarter. There was a play where the Seahawks QB through a pretty good pass into one-on-one coverage. The Green Bay corner, I believe it was Shields, covered the play brilliantly. As a football fan, it was a thing of beauty how he kept pace stride for stride, turned around, located the ball and then made a brilliant play on it, breaking up the pass. It was text book and one of those plays that makes me appreciate how talented some of these players are. So of course the ref threw a pass interference flag on the play. It was such a horrible call on such a well executed play that it was my breaking point. I had to shut off the TV because these refs have basically reduced the game to "drunken, blindfolded hobo jacking off onto a dart board" levels of randomness.
And apparently it got worse.
After watching all the highlights, the big take away for me is that Pete Carroll is fucking clownshoes. I say this because after the debacling by the refs during the Sunday night game, Harbaugh and Belichick met each other in the field and shook hands. Both coaches seemed to give knowing looks that what just happened was a gong show and that the result of this game, outside of the standings, was basically meaningless in terms of one team or the other gaining any advantage in the decent rivalry building between the two teams. Both coaches realized this was a potentially great game ruined by the officials and neither team was pleased with how it played out.
Carroll, meanwhile, was celebrating and fist pumping like a fucking moron and constantly refuses to acknowledge that the victory is a result of pure, dumb, incompetent luck. Harbaugh, while definitely going to take the win, seems to have too much respect for the game, the players and the coaches he goes up against. And this is why Carroll is clownshoes.
Monday, 24 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Protest: Day 9
While it may be true that most NHL players are really just Co-op Farm Supply water truck drivers and phys. ed. teachers that showed a little too much drive and work ethic for those positions and are only millionaires because of our society's probably misplaced value system in which we put our desire to be entertained well ahead of our desire to not go into massive credit card debt so we can afford season tickets, I thought it would be fun to Wikipedia some owners and see what their deal is.
Also, it will give me an idea of some secondary businesses that these owners own that I can boycott.
Today, I selected Stan Kroenke, owner of the Colorado Avalanche. I picked him from the list because I'm pretty sure he owned an NFL team at one point.
So it says here Kroenke's wife is the daughter of Wal-Mart co-founder Bud Walton and they inherited Bud's stake in Wal-Mart when he died. This is off to a flying start, because I already have a Wal-Mart boycott! Fuck those fucks.
Besides owning the Colorado Avalanche, he also "owns" the Denver Nuggets, Colorado Rapids (MLS) and Colorado Mammoth (NLL). All these teams are technically listed as owned by Josh Kroenke so that Stan can also own the St. Louis Rams and get around NFL owner restrictions (there's that NFL team I thought he owned). Stan is also the majority owner of Arsenal, which is in some homosexual soccer league. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I guess Stan is one of those guys that should be lumped in with all the rest of the hard-working, smart, job-creating owners of the NHL that assume all the risks and allow the cattle to graze at their ranch. After all, he had an excellent business model of marrying some rich broad who's daddy was a multi-billionaire. And like any trophy husband, he wanted a few nice toys to keep him happy so his wife bought him some sports franchises. And what do trophy husbands do with the toys afforded them by their sugar mommas? Umm......concern themselves with the bottom line??????? Ummm....hmmm..
Maybe, considering all that fat Wal-Mart money he's been using to buy sports teams, the Wal-Mart guys were all like "Stan...we'll give you some fat Wal-Mart cash to buy these sports teams as long you maintain our proud tradition of employee exploitation that we've worked long and hard at to establish."
Sunday, 23 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout: Day 8
Wither, Jets Zubaz
For you shall remain unused
And I am beardless
For you shall remain unused
And I am beardless
Saturday, 22 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 7...The One Where Brad Realizes He Faces a Sarah Orleskyless Winter
A terrifying realization came over me yesterday when watching the Bombers game:
If there is an NHL lockout, I am going to spend all winter without my future girlfriend and wife, TSN Jets sideline reporter Sarah Orlesky. Sarah Orlesky is the most beautiful woman in the world of sideline reporters and her beauty is multiplied by a factor of several thousand considering she brings Winnipeg Jets games into my home and onto my TV screen.
I had it all planned out. I'd watch Sarah for about a quarter of the season to get my confidence up and then I'd make my move. I'd wait for a home game that I had tickets to that was also being broadcast on TSN Jets. A few days before the game I'd set up an elaborate trap using a bag of cheeseburgers to lure Gary Lawless into a janitor's closet. Once he took the bait and entered the closet, I'd lock the door and trap him in there for a good day or two. The bag of cheeseburgers will be gone within an hour and he will eventually be trapped in there without food and become excruciatingly hungry. (*Note to self: make sure to remove any remotely edible items such as urinal pucks, as we can't assume Lawless won't try and eat them).
Next I'd secretly place a package of bacon in Sarah Orlesky's purse. Then, just before the Lawless and Order segment, I'd release Lawless from the closet. He'd immediately sniff out the package of bacon in Sarah Orlesky's purse and wildly begin to attack her. I would then rush in to Sarah Orlesky's defence with a garbage bag full of steaks. I'd slowly lure the 8 Chinned Beast away from her with the steaks and then, when he gets close, throw the steaks in front of a moving bus because I might as well do all Winnipeg Jets fans a favor while I'm saving Sarah Orlesky. Sarah Orlesky would naturally fall in love with me for saving her from the savage, multi chinned monster, I'd become a local hero and be awarded the key to the city and Sarah Orlesky and I would get married and have kids that would grow up to be Norris Trophy winning hockey players and Lingerie Football League MVPs and Sarah Orlesky and I would grow old watching the Winnipeg Jets winning Stanley Cup after Stanley Cup.
At least that was the plan before this goddamn lockout happened that forced me to shave off my beard out of protest.
The fact that Gary Bettman would deny the world a winter of Sarah Orlesky proves that not only is he unworthy of my forgiveness, he's unworthy of Jesus' forgiveness. And Jesus forgave George Clooney for Batman & Robin.
If there is an NHL lockout, I am going to spend all winter without my future girlfriend and wife, TSN Jets sideline reporter Sarah Orlesky. Sarah Orlesky is the most beautiful woman in the world of sideline reporters and her beauty is multiplied by a factor of several thousand considering she brings Winnipeg Jets games into my home and onto my TV screen.
I had it all planned out. I'd watch Sarah for about a quarter of the season to get my confidence up and then I'd make my move. I'd wait for a home game that I had tickets to that was also being broadcast on TSN Jets. A few days before the game I'd set up an elaborate trap using a bag of cheeseburgers to lure Gary Lawless into a janitor's closet. Once he took the bait and entered the closet, I'd lock the door and trap him in there for a good day or two. The bag of cheeseburgers will be gone within an hour and he will eventually be trapped in there without food and become excruciatingly hungry. (*Note to self: make sure to remove any remotely edible items such as urinal pucks, as we can't assume Lawless won't try and eat them).
Next I'd secretly place a package of bacon in Sarah Orlesky's purse. Then, just before the Lawless and Order segment, I'd release Lawless from the closet. He'd immediately sniff out the package of bacon in Sarah Orlesky's purse and wildly begin to attack her. I would then rush in to Sarah Orlesky's defence with a garbage bag full of steaks. I'd slowly lure the 8 Chinned Beast away from her with the steaks and then, when he gets close, throw the steaks in front of a moving bus because I might as well do all Winnipeg Jets fans a favor while I'm saving Sarah Orlesky. Sarah Orlesky would naturally fall in love with me for saving her from the savage, multi chinned monster, I'd become a local hero and be awarded the key to the city and Sarah Orlesky and I would get married and have kids that would grow up to be Norris Trophy winning hockey players and Lingerie Football League MVPs and Sarah Orlesky and I would grow old watching the Winnipeg Jets winning Stanley Cup after Stanley Cup.
At least that was the plan before this goddamn lockout happened that forced me to shave off my beard out of protest.
The fact that Gary Bettman would deny the world a winter of Sarah Orlesky proves that not only is he unworthy of my forgiveness, he's unworthy of Jesus' forgiveness. And Jesus forgave George Clooney for Batman & Robin.
Friday, 21 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 6
Dear Mohammed,
I am writing to you because, well, Jesus stopped answering my prayers years ago and I'm desperate. You also strike me as the kind of guy that allegedly hates America and is opposed to the shaving of beards, so I think you'll be interested to hear my plea.
Basically, I'm cruelly being forced to shave off my beard on a daily basis. As someone that is staunchly pro beard, it pains me to do so every day. And it probably pisses you off to no end, considering your religion's stance on beards. But this is not my fault. In the words of Walter Sobchak, it's "THOSE FUCKS DOWN AT THE LEAGUE OFFICE" of the NHL that force me to do so, out of protest, since they've decided to impose a lock out on the upcoming NHL season. I implore you to work your magic and force this issue into resolution.
I would also like to point out that Americans don't really give a shit about hockey. Right now, its mostly Canadians, Russians and Fins that suffer the most. Those dirty, godless Swedes suffer, too, but they're dirty, godless Swedes so we should not care about their suffering. And, by stepping in and ending the lockout quickly, the rich, capitalist pig American league owners will be saddled with a less desirable CBA, limiting their ability to make as much money. I don't know if you actually hate America or not, but if you do, here's your chance to stick it to a few of them.
Thanks,
Brad
PS - I realize asking for a Bombers win tonight would be a bit ridiculous....but would it be too much to ask for you to have them cover the spread?
PPS - I apologize for that last request. I realize it was unreasonable.
I am writing to you because, well, Jesus stopped answering my prayers years ago and I'm desperate. You also strike me as the kind of guy that allegedly hates America and is opposed to the shaving of beards, so I think you'll be interested to hear my plea.
Basically, I'm cruelly being forced to shave off my beard on a daily basis. As someone that is staunchly pro beard, it pains me to do so every day. And it probably pisses you off to no end, considering your religion's stance on beards. But this is not my fault. In the words of Walter Sobchak, it's "THOSE FUCKS DOWN AT THE LEAGUE OFFICE" of the NHL that force me to do so, out of protest, since they've decided to impose a lock out on the upcoming NHL season. I implore you to work your magic and force this issue into resolution.
I would also like to point out that Americans don't really give a shit about hockey. Right now, its mostly Canadians, Russians and Fins that suffer the most. Those dirty, godless Swedes suffer, too, but they're dirty, godless Swedes so we should not care about their suffering. And, by stepping in and ending the lockout quickly, the rich, capitalist pig American league owners will be saddled with a less desirable CBA, limiting their ability to make as much money. I don't know if you actually hate America or not, but if you do, here's your chance to stick it to a few of them.
Thanks,
Brad
PS - I realize asking for a Bombers win tonight would be a bit ridiculous....but would it be too much to ask for you to have them cover the spread?
PPS - I apologize for that last request. I realize it was unreasonable.
Thursday, 20 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 5
I think I'm getting a cold. And, while I don't want to jump to conclusions here, I think it's related to standing in the middle of a bean field for 14 hours on Tuesday, freezing my face off. Except that I wouldn't have been freezing my face off had I had the insulating magic of a stately beard. And I would still have had that stately beard if Gary Bettman and his band of tripe wallowing swine hadn't staged a lockout. Thanks a lot, assholes!
And you know what pisses me off about this goddamn lockout besides there not being hockey and not having a goddamn beard?
This lockout out has given all these self-righteous cock gobblers out there more fuel to spew there "Well I think athletes are overpaid and they shouldn't make more money than doctors or teachers or fire fighters or police officers" bullshit. Because let's face it....this line of thinking is bullshit.
We live in fucking North America. Capitalism rules, baby. And if you don't like it, get the fuck out, you communist hippie!
At least this seems to be the general attitude from the majority of the population.
So, while these douchers whine and bitch and moan about overpaid players making more than doctors and lawyers, the moment the government mentions the words "raising" and "taxes", which is what would probably be required to pay teachers and doctors and fire fighters and police officers in this country since these services are all offered free of charge to the average citizen, you might as well have just strapped that person down and taken a large dump right in their mouth. Because they will go down, kicking and screaming, trying to fight against any sort of increase in taxes to prevent the "damn government" from taking all their "hard earned money".
But, if the local sports franchise in which they hold season tickets to, decides to raise season ticket prices yet again that year, they will mumble and grumble a little bit, but when it comes time to renew those tickets, you bet your ass they will fork over the several thousands of dollars required to do so.
So, if capitalism rules and the free market dictates value, who's overpaid?
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 4
So the NHL cancelled preseason games. And, while True North IS offering a refund or credit for the tickets I've purchased (True North....sigh....too bad they're lumped in with other douche volcanoes like Ed Snider and Jeremy "Eat A Fucking Dick" Jacobs), the NHL has not offered me any sort of refund on the NHL merchandise I have purchased to be a super fan and wear to said preseason games.
By my calculation, I spent about $600 on various Jets merchandise. So if we take two games out of 43 home games, that is 4.6% of value lost on my purchases. So I expect to see a cheque in the mail for $27.90 from the NHL to make up for the decrease in value of goods I purchased from them, seeing as the lockout does not count as an act of God, but instead is entirely a result of the owners refusing to allow hockey to happen. And speaking of God, clearly God does not exist because you can't just give Winnipeg hockey fans hockey and then suddenly tear it away from us like candy from a baby.
And did I mention that I still have no beard? I shaved again this morning. My face looked like a freshly shorn scrotum.
Also, while I'm discussing hockey related protests, I'd like to mention that EA Sports can go and die. Not only did they ruin football games when they negotiated an exclusive rights contract with the NFL, spelling the end for the far superior NFL 2K series, they've also ruined sports games in general.
And here is why: EA Sports games are cheap fucking cunts.
Because they can't be bothered with developing proper physics and AI in their games, they have to program in Fuck You Mode into all of their sports games to ensure that final scores are close. In hockey, the Fuck You Mode is controlled through their goalies. If you start winning to many games, suddenly you play a game against James Reimer and you get 78 shots, most of them excellent scoring chances and you score 1 fucking goal. Meanwhile, you have Tim Fucking Thomas in net, he faces 7 shots and lets in 5 goals and you lose the game 5-1.
NHL 10, the last EA sports game I will ever buy, had some "intelligent" handicapping system that would "increase" the difficulty of the computer opponent (mostly by making the computer's goalie Hasek in his prime and your goalie Andre Racicot in his prime) in order to create a consistent level playing field. The problem is you can't fucking turn off this adaptive setting so if you don't play the game for a few months and decide to pick it up again and continue your franchise, you just get hammered in the ass 8-0 for six games in a row before opening up your X-Box, ripping out the disc and fucking annihilating it in a rage of pure anger and hate and then taking a pair of scissors and stabbing Dion Phaneuf's cunt face on the box. (Actual story that happened.)
Now, some people may argue this is just a sore loser theory or whatever. But I also own Tiger Woods Golf. And I've noticed something about it when playing a tournament. If, in you're first round, you shoot some ridiculous score like 20 under, the computer opponents will suddenly shoot between 15 and 25 under for the next three rounds. I found this out when I had the round of my life one day during round one of a tournament. I then shot respectable scores of 5 under and 6 under and didn't make the cut. I replayed the exact same tournament but decided to purposely shoot a +15 in my first round. The computer opponent's scores normalized around +10 for the next three rounds and I shot around 5 under the last three rounds and ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED THE FIELD.
If that's not proof EA doesn't program Fuck You Mode into their games, I don't know what is.
So EA Sports can eat fucking dicks and get herpes and die.
By my calculation, I spent about $600 on various Jets merchandise. So if we take two games out of 43 home games, that is 4.6% of value lost on my purchases. So I expect to see a cheque in the mail for $27.90 from the NHL to make up for the decrease in value of goods I purchased from them, seeing as the lockout does not count as an act of God, but instead is entirely a result of the owners refusing to allow hockey to happen. And speaking of God, clearly God does not exist because you can't just give Winnipeg hockey fans hockey and then suddenly tear it away from us like candy from a baby.
And did I mention that I still have no beard? I shaved again this morning. My face looked like a freshly shorn scrotum.
Also, while I'm discussing hockey related protests, I'd like to mention that EA Sports can go and die. Not only did they ruin football games when they negotiated an exclusive rights contract with the NFL, spelling the end for the far superior NFL 2K series, they've also ruined sports games in general.
And here is why: EA Sports games are cheap fucking cunts.
Because they can't be bothered with developing proper physics and AI in their games, they have to program in Fuck You Mode into all of their sports games to ensure that final scores are close. In hockey, the Fuck You Mode is controlled through their goalies. If you start winning to many games, suddenly you play a game against James Reimer and you get 78 shots, most of them excellent scoring chances and you score 1 fucking goal. Meanwhile, you have Tim Fucking Thomas in net, he faces 7 shots and lets in 5 goals and you lose the game 5-1.
NHL 10, the last EA sports game I will ever buy, had some "intelligent" handicapping system that would "increase" the difficulty of the computer opponent (mostly by making the computer's goalie Hasek in his prime and your goalie Andre Racicot in his prime) in order to create a consistent level playing field. The problem is you can't fucking turn off this adaptive setting so if you don't play the game for a few months and decide to pick it up again and continue your franchise, you just get hammered in the ass 8-0 for six games in a row before opening up your X-Box, ripping out the disc and fucking annihilating it in a rage of pure anger and hate and then taking a pair of scissors and stabbing Dion Phaneuf's cunt face on the box. (Actual story that happened.)
Now, some people may argue this is just a sore loser theory or whatever. But I also own Tiger Woods Golf. And I've noticed something about it when playing a tournament. If, in you're first round, you shoot some ridiculous score like 20 under, the computer opponents will suddenly shoot between 15 and 25 under for the next three rounds. I found this out when I had the round of my life one day during round one of a tournament. I then shot respectable scores of 5 under and 6 under and didn't make the cut. I replayed the exact same tournament but decided to purposely shoot a +15 in my first round. The computer opponent's scores normalized around +10 for the next three rounds and I shot around 5 under the last three rounds and ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED THE FIELD.
If that's not proof EA doesn't program Fuck You Mode into their games, I don't know what is.
So EA Sports can eat fucking dicks and get herpes and die.
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 3
Gary Bettman can eat a dick. Why? Because today I froze my face off standing in the middle of a soybean field for 14 hours, in the cold, in the wind. Why? Because I no longer have a beard to protect my delicate face skin and meat. Why? Because I shaved off my beard, with its protective thermal insulating layer of beard hairs. Why? To protest the NHL lockout. Why? Because Gary Bettman can eat a dick.
Monday, 17 September 2012
Brad's Beardless NHL Lockout Protest: Day 2
First off, shaving every day is bullshit. That's like seven minutes of porn I've wantonly decided to forego each day. That's time I'll never get back. Hope you're happy Gary Bettman.
Second, I cut myself shaving today. Which led to blood. That blood is on your hands Gary Bettman and various NHL owners. That blood is on YOUR GODDAMN HANDS! You could end this madness right now by ending the lockout instead of having myself and the rest of the world unnecessarily suffer without my beard.
Second, I cut myself shaving today. Which led to blood. That blood is on your hands Gary Bettman and various NHL owners. That blood is on YOUR GODDAMN HANDS! You could end this madness right now by ending the lockout instead of having myself and the rest of the world unnecessarily suffer without my beard.
Sunday, 16 September 2012
Brad's NHL Lockout Protest: Day 1
At the suggestion of WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-TYLER!!!!!!, I've decided to wage a protest against the NHL owners, commissioner Gary Bettman and their precious little NHL lockout. And how will I do so? Well, if the NHL is going to deny the world the precious gift of hockey than I shall, in return, deny the world the precious gift of beard.
That's right, folks.....despite being blessed with the incredible gift of beard.....a beard so majestic and powerful that others not blessed with the precious gift of beard are able to live their lives vicariously through it, I have decided to deny the world this beautiful creation of god until the NHL decides to no longer deny the world the wonderful, courtly and monumental recreation that warms the cockles of hearts known as hockey.
As such, I have decided to shave off my beard. And I shalst continue shaving my beard until such a time as the NHL removes the lockout and provides the world with hockey, instead of withholding it on some sort of power trip.
Now, I don't have a digital camera so I will have to provide an artistic approximation of the before shot:
That's right, folks.....despite being blessed with the incredible gift of beard.....a beard so majestic and powerful that others not blessed with the precious gift of beard are able to live their lives vicariously through it, I have decided to deny the world this beautiful creation of god until the NHL decides to no longer deny the world the wonderful, courtly and monumental recreation that warms the cockles of hearts known as hockey.
As such, I have decided to shave off my beard. And I shalst continue shaving my beard until such a time as the NHL removes the lockout and provides the world with hockey, instead of withholding it on some sort of power trip.
Now, I don't have a digital camera so I will have to provide an artistic approximation of the before shot:
And now, thanks to the cold hearts and vengeful minds over at NHL headquarters, I present to you the artistic approximation of how I now appear, sans beard:
Truly hideous. How will Gary Bettman and his owner cronies be able to sleep at night knowing the world is now such a hideous place and one of the god's greatest gifts to mankind is being denied on a daily basis? How will they be able to sleep at night knowing that, with each passing day of the lockout, I will continue to not get laid due to my newfound hideousness? And what happens when winter comes and my sensitive face skin is no longer protected from the harsh cold by a comforting, insulating layer of beard? Do they have no humanity?
Thursday, 23 August 2012
Bath
I couldn't figure out how to turn on the shower in my hotel room the other day. I'm an engineer, so I should be able to figure this shit out. But I couldn't, so naturally I assumed it was broken instead of embarrassingly going to the front desk and asking the teen mom high school drop out at the front desk how their fancy showers work.
So I decided to take a bath.
And I reached the conclusion that baths suck.
First off, I went to fill the bath. Now, as a kid, the goal was always to fill that sonofabitch up as high as you could to best simulate a swimming pool as much as possible. So that's what I did, not realizing that my body displaces a lot more volume than it did as a kid. So step one quickly became a failure when 15 gallons of bath water went flying over the edge of the tub the moment I got in.
So now I'm in the tub and I'm a big, tall guy and so I'm kinda hunching and squirming to get in under the water and I kinda gotta flail my legs out the end and then scrunch my back all up and once I finally get comfortable I realize that I'm just staring at my dick and my dick's staring back at me. It was an uncomfortable, slightly awkward moment. I decided that instead of lying there, staring at my dick, I'd better get down to business.
Now, I couldn't just slide my back down further and get my hair wet to begin the shampooing process because my legs were already hanging out of the tub and my ass was already against the far end and I had no more room to slide down. So I had to get back up, fucking turn around on all fours and then dunk my head under water. And as I'm dunking my head under water, I realize my ass is now pointed straight up in the air, just ready to get buggered by whatever redneck Oklahoman was about to burst into my room. Not that there was a redneck Oklahoman ready to bust into my room and bugger me, it was just the crippling vulnerability I felt at that moment that made me decide to skip the shampooing process all together.
So I decided to lather up the soap and get on with that whole process. Of course, I don't fit in this tub at all, so I have to stand up in the tub to lather up. So now I'm standing, freezing my ass off, lathering myself up with soap and wondering why the fuck I just didn't tell my pride to eat a dick and go ask the damn girl at the front desk how their goddamned, three sea-shelling fucking shower worked.
But I'm lathered up now and awkwardly get back down in the tub to rinse off. And here's the other problem with a bath: when you go to rinse off, all the goddamn soap suds just float at the top of the bath water and when you get out of the tub you're still covered in soap residue. So you dunk yourself under again, yet no matter how many times you repeat the process, you're still covered in goddamn soap scum.
So, while I pondered draining the tub, filling it with fresh water and then dunking myself under again, I realized this whole process shit the bed half an hour ago and I simply decided "Fuck it!" and got dressed and went for dinner.
Baths are bullshit.
So I decided to take a bath.
And I reached the conclusion that baths suck.
First off, I went to fill the bath. Now, as a kid, the goal was always to fill that sonofabitch up as high as you could to best simulate a swimming pool as much as possible. So that's what I did, not realizing that my body displaces a lot more volume than it did as a kid. So step one quickly became a failure when 15 gallons of bath water went flying over the edge of the tub the moment I got in.
So now I'm in the tub and I'm a big, tall guy and so I'm kinda hunching and squirming to get in under the water and I kinda gotta flail my legs out the end and then scrunch my back all up and once I finally get comfortable I realize that I'm just staring at my dick and my dick's staring back at me. It was an uncomfortable, slightly awkward moment. I decided that instead of lying there, staring at my dick, I'd better get down to business.
Now, I couldn't just slide my back down further and get my hair wet to begin the shampooing process because my legs were already hanging out of the tub and my ass was already against the far end and I had no more room to slide down. So I had to get back up, fucking turn around on all fours and then dunk my head under water. And as I'm dunking my head under water, I realize my ass is now pointed straight up in the air, just ready to get buggered by whatever redneck Oklahoman was about to burst into my room. Not that there was a redneck Oklahoman ready to bust into my room and bugger me, it was just the crippling vulnerability I felt at that moment that made me decide to skip the shampooing process all together.
So I decided to lather up the soap and get on with that whole process. Of course, I don't fit in this tub at all, so I have to stand up in the tub to lather up. So now I'm standing, freezing my ass off, lathering myself up with soap and wondering why the fuck I just didn't tell my pride to eat a dick and go ask the damn girl at the front desk how their goddamned, three sea-shelling fucking shower worked.
But I'm lathered up now and awkwardly get back down in the tub to rinse off. And here's the other problem with a bath: when you go to rinse off, all the goddamn soap suds just float at the top of the bath water and when you get out of the tub you're still covered in soap residue. So you dunk yourself under again, yet no matter how many times you repeat the process, you're still covered in goddamn soap scum.
So, while I pondered draining the tub, filling it with fresh water and then dunking myself under again, I realized this whole process shit the bed half an hour ago and I simply decided "Fuck it!" and got dressed and went for dinner.
Baths are bullshit.
Tuesday, 14 August 2012
Pornstar Names
I think its important for pornstars to have unpopular names like Bunny or Bambi or Roxy or Kitty. Because if they had popular names, they might end up sharing a name with your mom or grandma or something. And people probably wouldn't want to jerk off to some girl with the same name as their mom.
Thursday, 9 August 2012
Getting Old
I'm going to be 30 soon, which makes me old and past my prime. Which is pretty sad because it means I accomplished pretty much fuck all in my prime. Bascially, I spent my prime getting older and fatter. The double threat.
But I think I also got a bit wiser. And so I will dispense this wisdom to others, especially the kids out there: Don't bother with having dreams.
Now, I know that most people will read that and say "Oh, that's terrible. What a horrible thing to say. He's just so bitter and jaded and everyone needs to have dreams." And then they're going to go and watch some bullshit "inspiring" movie or tv show that ignores any trace of how the world actually works in order to try and inspire people and make them feel good about their shitty lives. But the average person is going to work a shitty job, get heartbroken, end up in a shitty relationship with someone they resent, get some sort of illness and things aren't going to magically work themselves out and tie things up in a nice little bow. No...you're either going to die too early or you're going to retire without enough money saved up and live way longer than you expected.
(This is essentially why I hate all country music made after 1985. Pre-1985, country musicians wrote songs about being heartbroken or having shitty jobs or what have you, then getting right fucking drunk out of their minds and, surprisingly, this doesn't solve anything, but only makes it worse. That's essentially how life works. All country music made after 1985 is all sappy, not anchored in any sort of reality, bullshit. Oh....my wife got terminally ill with cancer and is going to die in 10 months. But hey! She's pregnant! She had a little girl but my wife died during childbirth. But hey! The little girl reminds me of my now dead wife! Life's little miracle! OR Hey...my job sucks and my girl left me. Let's get consequence free drunk for the next week and that will solve all of our problems. OK! Hey look, after a week of being blasted I nailed this hot chick, I got a job working for NASCAR and my rich uncle gave me a new pick-up truck. Drinking is awesome!)
But, essentially, the vast majority of your hopes and dreams will either: a.) get crushed or b.) slowly fade into non-existence. Sure, there are examples of lucky assholes overcoming the odds, but these people are the exception and not the rule.
For example, consider the list of hopes and dreams you had when you were 10. My list probably looked something like this:
1.) Play in the NHL and MLB
2.) Own all the Nintendo games ever made
3.) Marry Kim Basinger
4.) Become a Navy Seal, astronaut and/or bad-ass crime solving detective
5.) Live in a pyramid
6.) Buy a truck with any sort of college fund money bequeathed to me
7.) Become a world famous musician playing the homemade stacking stool drum kit
This list not only shows how unrealistic our hopes and dreams can be, but also how dumb I was as a kid. Who would want to live in a fucking pyramid? It's got like one fucking room, there's death traps all around, no lights, no electricity. I used to think that a pyramid would be a giant mansion in prism form, however, in reality, it would make for a terrible, shitty place to live and would certainly not help you get laid.
The NHL dream died when we no longer had enough kids in our town to have a hockey team one year. Although probably before that. Nintendo was replaced by Super Nintendo, then N64, then something else and now its a Wii or something. That's a lot of games I would never play. I remember wanting to marry Kim Basinger after watching some movie where she robbed a bank. I think its because its the first time I noticed how awesome boobs were.
I did buy a truck, but instead of using my college fund money that I wasn't going to need because of my NHL career, I had to invest that money in a college education and then use that education to get a job, using the money from the job to buy the truck. And even then....it was just a fucking Ranger. So that's like 0.5 out of 7 success rate.
So let's go forward 10 years. I'm now 20 and in university.
1.) Graduate university.
2.) Get a job that doesn't suck.
3.) Meet a girl and fall in love.
4.) Get married.
5.) Have kids.
6.) Buy a modestly price, fuel efficient car.
7.) Buy a house.
So I got numbers 1-3 knocked off the list. Then 4 was an abject failure. Which did not lend itself well to completing number 5. The most fuel efficient car I bought was a Grand Am. And then I bought an even less fuel efficient Ranger. And I bought a shitty condo.
For the record, I do not recommend knocking off number 3 on that list and failing at number 4. That's a bad combination that leads to alcohol and binge eating. And not the magic alcohol that Toby Keith speaks about that makes all life's problems fade into a drunken haze of good times. It's more of the Hank Sr. alcohol that suppresses things into the recesses of your soul, lingering there, making appearances at inopportune times.
So that gives me a 3 out of 7 success rate. You'll also notice that this new list of goals is a lot more attainable than the 10 year old me list, and I'm still not even batting .500. Total score: 3.5 out of 14.
What are my goals now that I'm 30? Well:
1.) Don't die before I'm 50
2.) Sell shitty condo and buy slightly less shitty house
3.) Avoid becoming dependent on alcohol
4.) Don't get arthritis or back pain
5.) Save money so I can one day afford to retire
6.) Don't get erectile dysfunction (which really doesn't matter after number 4 and 5 from my age 20 list didn't get carried over to this list)
7.) Win my hockey pool
That's pretty much it. None of these are really dreams, anymore. They're not even goals. They're hopes. And they're simply hoping against negative things. Most of these should be achievable but history suggests that between 2 and 5 of these will be complete failures. And if it's 5 of them, you may as well hope number 1 is on that list.
So that's pretty much it. In a 20 year period you go from dreaming of playing in the NHL or some other long shot awesome thing to hoping a whole bunch of terrible shit doesn't happen to you.
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