Whuttup Ma'am

Oh, Beethoven!

2008-11-10T22:22:00.002-04:00

I'm going to utter a sentence I never thought I would utter in my entire life: Gee, I sure hope this is the last Beethoven movie.

Beethoven's Big Break. Trailer. @ Yahoo! Video

I saw the original "Beethoven" a long, long time ago, and yet when I watch this trailer, I'm pretty sure I recognize the exact same jokes being used in both movies.

My Guy Won!

2008-09-30T22:22:00.001-04:00

Let me start by saying that I too am wearing a bracelet. It was given to me by a store clerk, and it’s made out of candy. It’s delicious.

First, flag pins on the lapels became a requirement, and now it’s bracelets. Who knew that Talbot’s would end up playing such an important role in presidential politics? I predict that full-knuckle rings saying “U.S.A.!” will be the next mandatory showing of patriotism the candidates must display.

I’m certainly not trying to make fun of those individuals who lost their children and gave these keepsakes to the presidential candidates. Rather, the bracelet moment from Friday night’s debate was a microcosm of something that pervaded the rest of the discussion. It’s one thing to make sure you have an adequate retort, but it’s another thing when that retort is basically a mirror-image of the initial comment – whether it’s Obama comparing bracelets with McCain, or McCain responding to Obama’s comments with phrases and slogans frequently used and made popular by the Obama campaign. This is one of the reasons why the only way to lose a debate nowadays is to really fuck something up.

Friday night’s debate was what I like to refer to as a “My Guy Won” debate, as in, unless you support a third party candidate, you could probably watch the debate and find a way to say, “My guy won!” It seemed to me that McCain’s strategy was to make Obama look naïve and inexperienced, while Obama’s strategy was to appear poised and confident (or “presidential,” if you prefer that dumb term). In that regard, I think we can agree that McCain’s bar was set a little higher, since making someone appear naïve and inexperienced is tough to do without a “knockout” moment and/or a big mistake by your opponent. Obama’s goal, while less ambitious, was something that was under his control and could be achieved fairly easily, unless McCain out-poised or out-confidence…ed him. But then again, McCain is down in the polls (obviously, not by a large margin, but still down), so he should be setting the bar higher for himself.

But while there was no signature moment in the debate, that doesn’t mean that there weren’t anecdotes that I could ridicule as I got drunk watching it. Here, in no particular order, are a couple of moments that stuck out to me:

McCain: We gotta cut government spending!... what was your question again?

Pretty much every one of John McCain’s answers to economic questions contained a reference to his plans to cut government spending. I realize that cutting spending is his big crusade, but considering the current economic situation, did anyone else find this move to be ironic? After all, here we are in the middle of an economic crisis that was caused by private actors who were basically free from government regulation, and the essential consensus to solve the problem is for the government to step in and spend a crapload of money.

My other problem with the “cutting spending” talking point is that it’s just a simple crowd-pleaser. I always laugh* when I see polls showing that a large majority of people say that the government should reduce spending. Well of course people want the government to spend less money – the answer lies in the wording of the question: asking if you think the government should cut spending implies that they have the ability to do so and simply lack the motivation. I’m sure the same majority of people in favor of cutting spending would be in favor of the government creating more jobs if you asked them. I’m not saying that I don’t want the next president to try to reduce government spending; I’m just saying that it’s clearly not the central solution to our economic problems.

Several of the analysts I saw after the debate talked about how John McCain did a really good job of “framing” the economic discussion by making it about cutting spending. Really? So, let me get this straight, he framed the debate just by repeating something over and over, regardless of whether it answered the question? That’s like saying “Dustin Hoffman really framed the movie Rain Man to be about The People’s Court because he kept talking about Judge Wapner.”

*I don’t actually laugh at polling data. That would be pretty pathetic.

Obama Sexy Talk

In a response to one of McCain’s fist-clenched lectures about government spending (and getting “those damn kids” off his lawn), Obama used the phrases “orgy of spending” and “hard to swallow.” Yeah, down-home folksy colloquialisms like those should play really well in Ohio – “Whelp, we have a sayin’ ‘round these parts: you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t have an orgy with it!” Seriously though, you can’t.

Listen, Barack, we’re already a little worried about the prospect of you being able to nail everyone in Hollywood if you become president, so lets try to avoid the sexual innuendo as much as possible. Unless of course you were going after the coveted Deliverance vote, in which case, feel free to tell the moderator he/she has a “purty” mouth in the next debate.

The Lesson of the Iraq War

Jim Lehrer stated that we had learned many lessons from the Vietnam War, and he asked McCain what he thought the lessons of the Iraq War are. McCain stated, “The lesson of the Iraq War is to not have a failed policy.” Gee, too bad we had to learn that one the hard way, huh guys? And who says Americans don’t pay attention to history? I feel comfortable knowing that with John McCain as president, he will never institute a policy that we already know is failed. If one of his advisors encourages a failed policy, McCain will say “Nay, sir. I do not endorse your policy of failure.” He will strike that policy with his trusty pen, and you will know their name.

Now, I’m not an idiot. I realize that if McCain had been given time to prepare an answer to that question, he would most likely have listed the specific, boneheaded moves by the Bush Administration in the preparation and execution of the Iraq War. Still, both answers underscore his unwillingness to recognize that going into Iraq was a mistake.

Obama Cops Out

McCain was pressing Obama about his lack of visits to the Middle East at several points throughout the debate. At one point, Obama’s response was something along the lines of, “I’m very proud of my Vice Presidential selection of Senator Joe Biden who is the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee…” While most people would agree that Obama did indeed pick Biden to fill the gaps in his foreign policy resume, you never want to straight up admit that as a presidential candidate. Obama was sort of like, “Foreign policy? Yeah, that’s why I got Biden, remember? DONE.” That would be like John McCain saying of his pick, “I’m very proud of my Vice Presidential pick of Sarah Palin: She’s half my age, and I needed someone to show me how my Tivo works.”

McCain Compares General David Petraeus to Osama bin Laden!

Alright, I’ll admit that I’m just kidding about that headline, but in some bizarre wording, McCain stated, “The only thing General Petraeus and Osama bin Laden have in common is that they both think that Iraq is the central front in the War on Terror.” If you happened to turn on your TV at that precise moment, you would probably have thought, ‘Holy shit, did Barack Obama just say that General Petraeus is like Osama bin Laden?! That is FUCKED UP!’

I’ve heard the ‘bin Laden thinks Iraq is the Central Front’ defense of the War before, and it’s always interesting hearing it from certain people. If you suggest that we should wash our hands of the Middle East altogether, these are the same people that often say something like, “We shouldn’t take our marching orders from al Qaeda!” But apparently they have no problem taking strategic military recommendations from Osama bin Laden. Fair enough.

Obama Makes al Qaeda Sound Kind of Playful

See? I can make misleading headlines about both candidates. But I’m referring to the moment when Barack was talking about al Qaeda’s resurgence in power and influence. He stated, “al Qaeda is still out there, sending out videotapes.” Apparently, Senator Obama thinks that al Qaeda has become some sort of terrorist Netflix-type organization. But it makes al Qaeda seem like loveable losers because they’re stuck on VHS tapes, and they haven’t caught on to DVDs or Blu-ray yet.

I actually thought that Obama’s line was a clever way to convey his idea. However, I’m a petty man, and I take comfort in tearing people down.

Did You Know McCain is Old?

John McCain, like Barack Obama, has several fine lines to walk in this election, and the one that I find most amusing is that he has to cite his involvement in specific historic conflicts in order to emphasize his experience, but he has to do it in a way that doesn’t make you go, “Dude, that was, like, 60 years ago!” So, he ends up saying things like, “My friends, I’ve been involved in every national security conflict since the Lost Colony of Roanoke!,” and you’re left with a lukewarm feeling of assurance.

Conclusion

Those are pretty much all of my anecdotes from the debate. Like I said, I was drinking throughout it, so my comments eventually devolved into things like “McCain looks constipated,” which, while true, didn’t really lend itself to political commentary.

I was sober enough to see the ad that the McCain campaign quickly put out after the debate ended, mashing up the clips of Obama agreeing with McCain. I’m not surprised by the tactic, but I was surprised by the words that came across the screen: “Is Barack Obama Ready to Lead? No.” And I thought to myself, ‘Oh my God, John McCain has lost so much confidence that he’s criticizing Obama for agreeing with him! He’s going after the anti-McCain vote!’ I’ve got a new ad idea for the McCain campaign:

“Barack Obama and Joe Biden on John McCain: [cut to clips of Obama and Biden speaking of McCain’s sacrifices for the country]. We can’t afford to be led by two men who speak so highly of John McCain. That’s not the change we need…”

Anyways, in conclusion: My guy won!

Election Burn

2008-09-16T19:56:00.001-04:00

I was thinking about writing an entry awhile ago about the horribly offensive remarks Sarah Palin made in her speech at the Republic National Convention. Of course, I’m referring to the moment when the Governor drew a direct comparison of an innocent demographic (hockey moms) to a vicious and often socially rejected animal (pit bulls). This was uncalled for, and I continue to join the millions of offended Americans who demand an apology from that fat pig, Sarah Palin.

But seeing as the media and the American people have the attention span of a fruit fly, that topic is already eons old. Besides, if I focus too much on stupid non-issues, I would miss the fact that John McCain recently let his granddaughter go on a date with the Charlie Gibson boy from school. But seriously, folks, it’s pretty sad when we’re excited that the Republican nominee for Vice President is simply doing an interview. The Republicans distrust of the media is reaching asinine levels, but that’s for another article.

I should say at this time that I support Barack Obama. I feel that my analysis shouldn’t be diminished by that fact, but in the interest of full disclosure, I felt that I should mention it. If you are someone who will write off my opinion on that basis alone, then I just wanted to save you the time of reading the rest of this article.

Now, I know it was only one interview, but Governor Palin has been in politics for a little while now, so it’s certainly not the first time she has sat in front of a camera and been asked questions. However, after watching the various segments of the interview (thanks, ABC, for breaking it up into parts – that really fucks up my Youtube viewing), I think a co-worker of mine put it best when he said, “Her answers reminded me of when I was in school and hadn’t done the reading, but the professor was calling on me. I would just try to run out the clock.”

Alright, for just one second, let’s forget about the potential that she could become President of the United States of America, and instead let’s just think about the basic role of the Vice President – can you seriously watch that interview and tell me that she will help President John McCain govern the country in any way? When Russia decides to invade another former member of the Soviet Union (keep your eyes peeled, Estonia), what sort of guidance does Sarah Palin give war hero and veteran politician John McCain? “John, I stood on the shores of Alaska and used the binoculars like you said, but I didn’t see anything.” I mean, shit, before the interview even began, it was well reported that she was receiving a crash course in foreign policy from people like Senator Joe Lieberman. Amazingly, this didn’t seem to faze anyone, even though receiving a crash course in foreign policy is proof positive that you need a crash course in foreign policy.

But one can make the argument that she doesn’t need to help John McCain in the realm of foreign policy, rather she will advise him on other issues. I reply with this question: like what? Forgetting foreign policy, arguably the bigger issue in this election is the economy. While it’s true that Governor Palin has had to deal with managing a state budget, John McCain has spent 25 years in Congress voting on the federal budget every year. Are her insights that much greater than his? Recently, Palin said in a speech that Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae had gotten “too big and too expensive to the taxpayers.” I’m not trying to sound condescending, but Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were private companies that are just now being bailed out by the taxpayers. I ask again, what sort of guidance is she going to provide to President John McCain on these issues?

You might think that I’m talking about the E-word that has permeated every nook and cranny of this campaign. “Ebony”? No, but close. “Experience.” Over the past year and a half, the word has been tossed around more than I can even make a clever metaphor about it being tossed around a lot. And to all you cynics out there who say that Barack Obama doesn’t have the experience to be President, I have just one thing to say to you: You might be right. [Say whaaaaa? Didn’t he say he supports Obama? OH SHNAP!] But I would follow that up by saying that I’m not voting for him because of his experience; I’m voting for him because of his policy proposals and because of the poise and judgment I’ve seen him display throughout this seemingly never-ending campaign. The experience debate has become ingrained in the very fabric of this election so unfortunately it will be with us until election day, but I wish Obama supporters would stop trying to win this argument because (1) it’s unwinnable and (2) it’s a fruitless argument anyway.

You’re probably thinking, ‘Phil, you are very smart and very handsome [irrelevant, but thank you], so don’t you realize that you learn about someone’s judgment and poise through their experiences?’ Well, if that’s the case, then what do we really know about McCain’s experience? We know that he’s been in Congress for a long time, voted on a lot of items and sat on a lot of committees (and I don’t mean that flippantly, I’m just attempting to summarize). Unless you followed him around all those years, you don’t really know what his experience says about his judgment and poise. Experience is such a nebulous concept. When a true crisis hits, there’s never a precedent or a protocol for it – that’s what makes it a crisis. A president doesn’t go, “Hmm, when I was a Massachusetts Senator, what were the decisions I made the last time the Soviet Union put nuclear missiles on Cuba?” or “Hey, Karl, remember when I was Governor of Texas and we were throwing around proposals for what to do if terrorists started flying commercial jets into buildings?” And now, the idea of experience in this election has been blurred even more by Sarah Palin’s entrance and the notion that she has the right type of experience while Barack has the wrong type of experience. She’s been a governor, you say? Well, that’s a huge load off. On the presidential totem pole, that lands her somewhere between Thomas Jefferson and Rutherford B. Hayes. I wonder how she feels about the Desert Land Act of 1877…

But it doesn’t matter how Governor Palin appeared to me in her first (only?) vice presidential interview – the spin inevitably goes on. Charles Krauthammer, who has a face like a weasel’s vagina (ok, maybe that one showed a little bias), wrote an article for the Washington Post entitled “Charlie Gibson’s Gaffe,” in which he stated that Gibson didn’t stump Palin when she seemed unsure about the definition of “the Bush Doctrine.” Thank you, Charles Krauthammer, for finally getting to the heart of this presidential race: Charlie Gibson’s knowledge of foreign policy. Krauthammer reasoned that it was an unfair question because there are multiple definitions of the Bush Doctrine, and Governor Palin didn’t know which one to choose – they’re like Pokemon; you gotta catch ‘em all! Never mind, of course, that anticipatory self-defense was a hugely significant policy shift established by President Bush, or that Charlie Gibson actually clarified for Palin, “the Bush Doctrine, enunciated in September 2002 before the Iraq War.”

Similarly defensive was Martin Sieff (who? exactly), who wrote an article entitled “ABC’s Gibson Grilled Palin Hard, But It May Backfire,” which was apparently important enough to be linked on Drudge Report. Sieff described Gibson as “out for blood” and “out to embarrass Palin,” which sounds kind of like a… oh shit, what’s the phrase?... oh that’s right – kind of like a respectable journalist would question someone who has a good chance of becoming the second most important person in the country. Sieff also stated, “Gibson tried to embarrass Palin by referring to her Christian faith in asking people to pray for U.S. soldiers in Iraq. Palin countered by pointing out she was following the precedent set by Abraham Lincoln.” Now, if you watched the interview, regardless of your political leanings, I hope you can acknowledge that this statement is almost proudly ignorant of what actually happened. Gibson was questioning Palin about her quotation that the soldiers in Iraq were being sent “on a task from God.” At first, the Governor said that she wasn’t sure if those were her exact words (come on, Sarah, you know that Youtube exists, right?), and then she proceeded to say that she was paraphrasing Abraham Lincoln when he suggested that we never truly know God’s plan. This was a curious answer because, first of all, it is the exact opposite of her quotation, which says definitively that the mission of our soldiers comes from God. Secondly, while I’m not a historian, I was curious to figure out which Lincoln speech she was recalling. A quick Google search suggests that it might have been Lincoln’s second inaugural address, in which he does talk about God having his own plan that is unknown to mortal man. However, it’s ironic, when compared to the context of Sarah Palin’s invocation of God, that Lincoln also states that in war both sides seek the assistance of God, but “[t]hat the prayers of both could not be answered” and “[t]hat neither has been answered fully.” But I digress.

My point is that Barack Obama’s vice presidential pick demonstrated to me that he has the judgment of a conservative pragmatist whose decision, while certainly not without fault, was a compromise between candidates who might help him win and candidates who might help him lead. John McCain’s vice presidential pick demonstrated to me that he has the judgment of a man who wants to be the president.

Foux du Fafa

2008-08-04T16:33:00.029-04:00

Phil here, back again; check it to wreck it, let’s begin:

Here are my gracious hosts in Paris, Christina and Emmanuel. They’re really good people:

And here is their (I think 14-month-old) baby, Owen:

Christina helped me map out my plan of attack to see all the sights of Paris:

Also, this was where I was staying:

A family that is friends and neighbors with Christina and Emmanuel was on vacation and said that I could stay in their apartment. I had my very own flat in Montrouge. How ridiculous is that? The irony of course is that with such a generous offer, I would never do anything like invite people over, out of fear that I would screw up their place.

Before we get into the pictures of Paris, let me first apologize for the fact that these might end up being the same god-damned pictures of Paris that you have to suffer through every time a friend of yours goes there. I would like to think that my unique brand of witty commentary makes it somewhat better.

This warning sticker is on a majority of Paris’ trains:

If you can’t tell, the image is a thing with a human body and a bunny head getting his hand stuck in the door. I don’t take my safety advice from mutants.

First stop – Trocadero (at least, that’s the name of the metro stop). This is a pretty cool view to have as soon as you step off the metro:

Apparently, what used to be the Palais du Trocadero on this site is now the Palais de Chaillot. Anyways, the architecture is pretty sweet, I think:

This statue is called “Hey Guys, I’m Bringing Back the Side Ponytail; What Do You Think?” The French have a word for it:

This was one of the best views I’ve ever seen in my life, and it got me pumped to do some sightseeing:

Ol’ Iron Sides:

When you stand at the base, it really makes you wonder, ‘What was the point of this thing again?’

Here’s the line to take the tour of the Eiffel Tower:

There’s a reason you can’t see the end of the line. Screw that.

This kind of reminded me of the Sunken Gardens at William & Mary, only much French-er:

Looks like a great place to bang out a crunchy groove with your drum circle, if you ask me.

These small horses and donkeys appeared to be having some sort of conference:

Seriously, I’m not sure what was going on here because there wasn’t anyone nearby that appeared to be orchestrating rides on the animals.

Some sort of monument (the thing in the foreground, not the Eiffel Tower, just to clarify):

This is École Militaire, a French military school (or should I say, a "Freedom" military school, am I right?):

Seems like an awfully ornate building just to teach people how to say “I surrender” in different languages. BAM, NAILED ‘EM! I’m the one-millionth person to make a French surrender joke! Thanks, folks, I’ll be here all week.

This is Les Invalides. It’s a bunch of things – military museum, church, former hospital, and the burial place of many French war heroes, including Napoleon:

Just to let you know for the rest of the pictures; I’m not going to put a caption if all I know about a particular item is exactly what you can see for yourself. For example, “Here’s a statue of a guy holding his own head:”

This is where I would go in to see Napoleon’s tomb… if I had bought a ticket:

But you can actually see a surprising amount of stuff just walking around without buying a ticket:

Captain Short Stack himself:

This was a church at Les Invalides:

You gotta hand it to the French – Diddy’s got nothing on them when it comes to extravagance:

Here’s Jesus frozen in carbonite:

Looking out of the northern exit of Les Invalides:

Apparently, I wasn’t done taking pictures of Les Invalides:

Your run-of-the-mill Arc de Triomphe shot:

Storming the Arc:

I’m guessing this is the Flame de Triomphe:

No elevator in the Arc de Triomphe. More like the Arc de FAIL, if you ask me:

Looking east along the Champs-Élysées, toward the Louvre:

Looking west along the Champs-Élysées:

Apparently, there is a law in Paris that buildings can’t be taller than a certain height (I think it’s the Eiffel Tower). So, that “downtown” area in the distance is actually outside the city limits, and there isn’t anything to do there – it’s just businesses. I just cracked an egg of knowledge on you all.

Here’s some stuff:

Les Invalides rears its golden head again:

Ok, at this point in my sightseeing experience I had a run-in with the French secret service. Emmanuel had pointed out where President Nicholas Sarkozy’s house was on the map, but it’s not actually demarcated when you’re there. So, I figured out which one it was and took a picture of the side of it. A guy in uniform came up to me and made me delete the picture from my camera. He wasn’t rude about it or anything, and in a way I can’t blame him for being suspicious: here’s a thickly bearded guy who bears a striking resemblance to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad taking a picture of the side of a building that happens to be the home of the president of France. Anyways, President Sarkozy’s Chamber of Secrets is partially behind the trees on the left in this picture:

Here are some pictures of the Obelisk and the surrounding area. The bleachers that you see were being set up for the finale of the Tour de France:

You can really see how American architecture influenced the French:

Wait, America is older than France, right?

I entitled this piece of art “The Rusty Vagina”:

Yeah, I’m a classy guy.

But this couldn’t have been an accident:

The Louvre in the distance:

Here’s the Mona Lisa:

There wasn’t that big of a crowd around it. I really think they should get some more security to protect that thing.

Alright alright, so I didn’t go into the Louvre. Shit, I gotta leave some stuff to do when I go back, right?

Here are some random pictures as I walked along the Seine. My legs were definitely struggling at this point:

This is the Hôtel de Ville:

It’s actually City Hall. The Hôtel de Ville is neither a hotel, nor a… de Ville. Discuss.

In front of City Hall, there was a miniature golf thing:

Apparently, it’s part of a beach-themed celebration in Paris. They also put sand and beach umbrellas on the road that runs along the Seine. Unfortunately, since I was made aware of this celebration, I’m unable to show this picture and go “How random is this bull shit?!” and take the French down a peg or two.

To my fellow law school nerds, here’s a fancy Parisian courthouse!

It’s called the Palais de Justice (a modest title), and it holds a number of courts.

I took a ton of Notre Dame pictures. It’s hard not to when you see it:

Listen up, Catholics – for only 2 euros, you can light your very own Jesus tea candle!

But what’s 3 more euros? For a mere 5 euros, you can light a Jesus jar candle! Be better than the tea candle people! We all know Jesus prefers fire safety, anyway:

Actually, I shouldn’t be a douche – for all I know the money goes to charity. It’s just so fun to ridicule organized religion.

Apparently, Notre Dame has a Crime Scene Investigation unit:

Here are the gargoyles that were inspired by the box office success of Disney’s “The Hunchback of Notre Dame”:

This bell apparently required 16 people to operate back in the day. Kind of ridiculous:

And so this was my last view of Paris – from the very top of the South tower of Notre Dame, looking down the Seine:

I really enjoyed Paris a lot more than I thought I would. The weekend started with a couple of ‘dumb American’ moments. Namely, when leaving the airport I got on the correct train, but bought the wrong ticket. Additionally, the train doors don’t open automatically, so when I reached my stop I was just standing in front of a closed door like a moron until an understandably frustrated gentleman pushed past me to open the door. However, by the end of the weekend I felt that I had done the best job I could immersing myself: I gave up my seat on the metro for two lovely ladies, AND I ate a chocolate crepe as I walked along the Champs-Élysées – it don’t get much more French than that, do it?

Good News, Everyone

2008-08-02T18:27:00.002-04:00

I figured out why the pictures I have been posting are much smaller than they should be. The reason is that I'm an idiot. However, the problem has been fixed, and my pictures will be normal-sized from now on.

Of Montreal - Id Engager

2008-08-02T15:16:00.000-04:00

Of Montreal's new single is off the heezy:

Id Engager - of Montreal

'Daaaaaaaam, Boyeeeee! Anne Frank House/Den Haag

2008-08-02T14:11:00.035-04:00

Hey, you. Sorry I haven’t updated in awhile, but the good news is that I have a lot of pictures to upload (assuming you’re into that kind of thing). As usual, I have a few anecdotes before I get to the pictures:

-The Dutch are very tall people. I think I heard that the average height of a Dutch male is 6’3’’. I saw a couple and their pre-teen daughter the other day, and all of them towered over me. It feels weird being shorter than a 12-year-old girl. Why isn’t this country good at basketball (outside of Rik Smits, of course)?

-I can’t remember if I already addressed the topic of food, but when people ask me how Dutch cuisine is, I respond “What cuisine?” I don’t know what actually constitutes Dutch food. It’s basically a lot of sandwiches. I finally did have a couple of original Dutch food items that I did enjoy. One of them was kibbeling, which is actually just fish and chips, but still very good. The other was poffertjes, which are sort of like silver dollar pancakes but slightly different. I got them with warm cherries and whipped cream. They were reminiscent of “pancake puffs”, which we all love to make in our revolutionary pancake puff pans for only $19.99 plus shipping and handling.

-I went to a drag bar with some people, and it was pretty fun and surprisingly laid back. It was mainly just the bartenders who were dressed in drag, and one of them kept lip-syncing to opera music. I’m probably not doing a good job of selling this experience, but that’s not why I brought it up. When I was on my way to the bathroom, there was a table that had stacks of little placards with various ads for bars and clubs and stuff. One of the ads said “3 guys fuck; you vote on the best.” It’s the American Idol of gay sex shows. I don’t know what you guys think, but my guess is that people aren’t going to that show for the opportunity to vote. Plus, those contests are always rigged anyway, am I right?

-I’m getting pretty tired of seeing gorgeous European women hanging out with douchey-looking European guys. I know this isn’t solely a European phenomenon, but it really seems to be out of control here. I will say that I hold a begrudging admiration for the persistence and steadfastness of European males with regard to the mullet. They are trying soooooooo hard to establish the mullet as cool again, but no matter how hard they try it still looks awful. And the thing is, it’s never going to not look awful. And now they are so deeply committed to it that they’re just saying, “No, we’re not giving up on it.” I think it shows courage and conviction in the face of adversity.

And now it’s time for something completely different:

It is my understanding that signs like these were not there when Anne Frank actually lived in the house. If they were, then I think that would have been a huge strategic error.

But on a serious note, the Anne Frank House was obviously a very sobering experience. It had been awhile since I read the book, so I forgotten a lot of her story. Here’s the front of the house:

You weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, so I’ll just give you some impressions I had:

-I’m not trying to be funny when I say that it’s a little bigger inside than you’re expecting. Obviously, it’s not big enough for two families and another individual to live in, but it’s bigger than the mental image you generate from reading the book.

-It’s noticeably colder than the rest of the building. It’s possible that the museum does this for effect, but I would not be surprised if that’s exactly how it was when the Franks lived there.

-They blacked out the windows in the same way that the Franks did, and so the darkness coupled with the cold really creates a morose mood as you walk through the rooms.

-The creaking of the floorboards made it clear to me that they must have never walked around during the day (since the workers in the office downstairs did not know that they were there).

-On one of the walls, there was what appeared to be an empty glass case. I thought maybe something had been removed from it, but when I looked closer, I realized that the case was protecting pencil-markings that the Franks had made on the wallpaper, designating the heights of the children. I thought that was pretty cool.

-Probably the saddest part of the museum was a video clip of a friend of Anne’s who was in the Bergen-Belson concentration camp with her. She talked about how Anne had given up hope, believing her family and friends to all be dead. According to the friend, Anne died just a couple of weeks before Allied forces liberated the Bergen-Belson camp.

Moving on and keeping the tempo high, this is a church along the Prinsengracht (Prince’s Canal), right outside the Anne Frank House. Apparently, this church was built over the span of 10 or more years. At the completion of construction, they realized that they didn’t want poor people going to this church, so they built another one (which ironically also looks pretty cool) several blocks north along the Prinsengracht for the poor people to go to. I hate it when poor people interrupt my conversations with the Lord:

We took a fieldtrip to The Hague. Our first stop was the Peace Palace, which is home to the Permanent Court of Arbitration. Supposedly, it’s slightly controversial because it looks like a church:

As the story goes, the painter who was hired to do the ceilings had a crush on a girl who did the gardening. While he would be up there, painting the ceiling, he would look through the windows and see her. These four characters are symbols of peace, and he apparently painted one of them to look like her. If that didn’t get him laid, then I’m out of ideas:

A statue donated by the United States:

I don’t remember the significance of this:

Jesus – The Ultimate Arbitrator:

This is the authentic version of something that can be found in every Chinese restaurant in America:

This is the main arbitration room, but it’s currently undergoing renovations:

I thought this was an interesting image to have on a window in something called the Peace Palace, because this mother fucker looks like he wants to kill someone:

These next few pictures are mainly intended for my Mom, but if you like Roman gods too, then knock yourself out:

This is another arbitration room:

Our guide told us that the artist of the large painting intended for it to glorify peace and denigrate war. The painting is incomplete, however, because the artist was drafted and ended up dying in battle. What a world.

I think this next item was a gift from Russia. It’s so heavy that they had to build a special railroad to transport it and reinforce the supports of the floor where it would be held. If any of you are thinking of getting me a present which requires a special railroad to transport it; don’t:

After lunch, we went to the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY). If you’ve been following the news, this is the location where Radovan Karadzic is being tried:

The ICTY is a tribunal set up to try people who committed various war crimes and human rights violations during the 1990s in the former Republic of Yugoslavia (the best way to sum it up is by referring to it as ‘the Slobodan Milosevic stuff’). While we were there, we saw some of the trial of Ante Gotovina, Ivan Cermak and Mladen Markac. The irony is that Gotovina is viewed as a hero in Croatia because he attempted to expel Serbs from the Krajina region, apparently an area where the Serbs often pushed around the native Croatians. Just goes to show you – one man’s self-defense is another man’s multiple counts of war crimes and inhumane acts.

Here’s a windmill!

Not a full view of it, though. Sorry.

That’s all for now. Up next, pictures from Paris.

Hot 'Dam!

2008-07-18T20:02:00.011-04:00

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been in Amsterdam for almost two weeks now. It’s even harder to believe that it wasn’t until about the fourth day I was here that I saw a used condom in the streets. I mean, seriously, I thought the streets of the Red-Light District would have been paved with used condoms. What gives?

Speaking of the Red-Light District, I’ve been trying various ways of walking to campus, and one way goes right through there. I guess I assumed that the whole prostitutes-in-the-windows thing was limited to the evenings, but boy was I wrong. Anytime is prostitute-time in Amsterdam. And as you might imagine, there is a pretty significant disparity between a seductive lady of night on Saturday evening, and a scary Wednesday morning whore. It’s a certain je ne sais quoi.

Speaking of the French language, today I booked airfare to go to Paris next weekend. My sister’s best friend from college lives there, and she said it would be cool if I crashed with her and her family. She had a baby not too long ago, so she asked me if I wouldn’t mind being woken up around 7 am by a crying baby. I told her that it would be fine, since I usually cry loudly in my bed around 6:30 am (thanks, folks, I’ll be here all week!). Anyways, I figured since I was in Europe, I had to take advantage of the cheaper travel, and why not go to Paris? It is, after all, “The City of 1000 Suns.” Wait, that’s not right. I think Paris is “The Show Me State.” Yeah, that’s definitely it.

Speaking of “yeah, that’s definitely it” (wait, what?), you were probably thinking that the greatest hits of Sugar Ray were lost to the annals of time. Nah, son. Sugar Ray is alive and well, and I know this because the other day my roommate was loudly singing “I just wanna fly.” Like, really singing it and trying hard to get the notes right and stuff. He knew I could hear him too. But he’s a really nice guy, so I’m not going to rip on him for it. Actually, he lost his key, and apparently the housing people decided that making a new key would be too difficult so they just gave him a different apartment. So, now I have a double all to myself, which has its pluses and minuses. Mostly pluses, though.

One quick note, which I forgot to share last time: The housing company gave us sheets, and the design on them is cardboard. So, they gave us cheap, stiff sheets and made them look like cardboard. That’s a sense of irony that I can appreciate.

Just a couple of pictures this time:

This is a view from one of the exits of the University.

I like this old clock tower. Also, you may notice a pigeon flying right at my camera. It makes the picture look kind of ominous, I think.

Here are some pictures from Dam Square in the center of the city. I didn’t know what this building was until I looked it up on Google a second ago. It’s the Amsterdam Royal Palace, but the royal family doesn’t live there anymore. The Palace is currently used for state functions.

Yup, that’s Darth Vader. Apparently, the Dutch Royal Family was hosting several state officials from the Empire on this day.

This is a memorial statue in Dam Square. It memorializes all the penises which have fallen in this great country. God, what an asshole I am.

Thank God somebody finally has the guts to stand up to the oppressive Dutch government. And to do so in English, for some reason. Actually, in a way it makes sense – when the government has de-criminalized marijuana and prostitution, what else do you demand of them? “Legalize wee- oh wait… prostitution should be allow- shit… umm… no government at all, I guess?”

The other day, I went with some people to the Van Gogh Museum (I know, it might shock some people that there are things to do in Amsterdam other than smoke pot). This is the Rijksmuseum, which I’d like to go to before I leave:

The Rijksmuseum looks like a castle, while the Van Gogh Museum looks kind of like a Holiday Inn:

You can’t take pictures in the museum, but if you ever go to Amsterdam, I highly recommend going to the Van Gogh Museum. I’m not particularly sophisticated when it comes to art, but one of the guys in the group I went with was gay AND he used to manage an art gallery. So, he explained stuff to me.

But seriously, it was amazing to first look at the paintings close up and see the individual thick globs of oil paint he used, and then step back and see the image that those globs create. Apparently, Van Gogh produced close to 2,000 pieces (mostly paintings but also some drawings) in a career that only spanned ten years. I did the math (because I have that kind of time), and that’s about three or four pieces every week. And I can’t imagine how much time went into each painting. It’s no wonder he went insane – how could you not?

Ralph (that’s the art dude) said that between three of the most famous paintings at the Museum – Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers, Self-portrait as an Artist, and Irises – he estimated their collective worth to be around a quarter of a billion dollars. And that was only three of the paintings there! It makes you wonder how many of the paintings were found in somebody’s attic or just hanging in their grandma’s bathroom. Instant millionaires.

Well, that’s all for now. I’ll leave you with a symbolic photo of waiting for the tram:

"Ante Up" by Bert (featuring Ernie)

2008-07-15T10:13:00.001-04:00

Bert and Ernie give an excellent performance of "Ante Up" by M.O.P.:

See more funny videos and funny pictures on CollegeHumor

Ingenuity

2008-07-14T14:03:00.000-04:00

This little girl says, "Fuck you, claw machine - I'll do it myself."

First Round of Amsterdam Pictures

2008-07-10T16:35:00.025-04:00

Hey everybody. Since I last emailed people, I have explored the city and started classes. I have to say that even though the weather has been terrible so far, Amsterdam is a fantastic city – weird as shit at times, but fantastic. Also, my classes are really interesting, and the faculty is impressive. On the first day, our guest speaker was Michael Kirby, a justice on the highest court in Australia. He talked about the law in Australia and how it compares to the rest of the world. He had some constructive criticism for the United States, but who doesn’t these days. One thing that I thought was really interesting was that the people of Australia amended their constitution to say that all judges must retire at the age of 70. The average age of our Supreme Court is 68 – Stevens, Scalia, Kennedy and Ginsburg wouldn’t be on the court, and Souter and Breyer would be retiring within two years.

Unfortunately, Justice Kirby did not say “bloomin’ onion” or “that’s not a knife; THIS is a knife”, even though we were all thinking it.

As I suspected would be the case, there are a lot of gay people in this program – probably about 75% of the program. And most of them are very gay. I’m talking I’ve-been-referred-to-as-“honey” gay. But most of them are really funny (I think you probably have to have a sense of humor to deal with being gay and living in the United States).

Last night was Euro Beer Night at the Ann T’ij, which is the bar in this complex where the students live. It had to be explained to me that in this context “Euro” was used to describe the cost of the beer, not the origin of the beer. Even with the conversion rate ($1.60), that’s a fantastic price for beer. And they don’t serve shitty beer here.

Couple of odds and ends before I get to my pictures:

-This morning on my way to class some weird dude tried o sell me ecstasy. It was 9:30 am. I don’t know if there is a right time to sell ecstasy, but that just struck me as odd. I didn’t buy it, by the way.

-On my way home from class, I heard a knock on a window, and I turned to find an attractive young woman wearing very little clothing waving me toward her establishment. I think she liked me! But I had to get back to my apartment to take a nap, so we didn’t get a chance to chat. Sadly, fate had brought us together, but I may never see her again…

-What was even funnier was that I walked a little further down the street, and I noticed this one relatively hefty lady in a window. However, she was sitting down and eating something from a Styrofoam plate. This raised questions in my mind, like ‘Is that part of her appeal?’ and ‘Doesn’t she get a lunch break?’

Anyways, here are pictures from my first round of sightseeing. Don’t expect any pictures of women dancing in windows in the red-light district, as apparently you’re not allowed to and it could get ugly if you do take pictures. It’s pretty tacky anyways.

This is my humble abode, or as the Dutch would call it Van Humblabodenrijkenvanderstraatweg:

If you notice in the picture of the shower stall, there is a drain stopper on the wall. That’s right, a drain stopper for this one-inch deep shower stall. I suppose it will come in handy when I want to fill my apartment up with water.

I like these exit signs because it’s not necessary to show a stick figure actively exiting the building in order to indicate an exit:

Here’s the housing from the outside:

You can see the boat that has been converted to housing in the background. If I showed up here, and they told me I’d be living on a boat, it would be cool for about two seconds, and then I’d say “This blows.”

This is the canal closest to where I live. It probably has a name, but I don’t know it:

This is an old church or something. But it’s not the famous “Oude kerke”:

The “don’t walk” lights, as you can see, are red lights of people standing still:

Maybe I’m analyzing this too much, but doesn’t that mean “don’t stand still”?

Getting closer to the center of the city:

Here’s something I wasn’t expecting to see in Amsterdam:

I don’t know what this building is, but there is a store on the first floor that sells Christian paraphernalia. Seeing this in Amsterdam sort of felt like seeing the food pyramid in McDonald’s – people have already arrived there with certain intentions, so what is the likelihood that you’re going to convince them of anything?

I don’t know if you can tell from this picture, but the buildings seriously lean in Amsterdam:

The one-way streets are really narrow. Sometimes you think you’re walking on a sidewalk, but then a car almost runs you over:

Speaking of which, pedestrians absolutely, unequivocally do not have the right of way in Amsterdam. You need to be alert or you will be run over by a bike.

Parallel parking is hard enough when shimmying up to a curb:

It must have happened that a car has fallen into a canal while trying to park.

More crooked alleyways:

I’m pretty sure this is graffiti and not something the University intended:

I think it looks sweet though.

The University of Amsterdam has this really cool courtyard in the middle of this part of campus:

For some reason, when I was in it, I felt like I was the son of an old aristocratic family, and I had been sent off to Amsterdam to become sophisticated in the arts and the great thinkers of our time. But then I thought ‘Nah, forget it; yo home to Bel Air!’

The mandatory canal shot:

Most of you already know that Amsterdam draws a distinction between “coffeehouses” and “coffeeshops”:

If you want some coffee, you go to a coffeehouse. Funny how there are significantly more coffeeshops than coffeehouses…

This is Amsterdam Centraal Station:

This is either graffiti from an 18th century cartographer, or it’s an advertisement for the Amsterdam Maritime Museum:

Well, that’s it for now. Of course, these pictures were just taken as I walked to campus for the first time, so obviously there is much more to see and take pictures of. I’ll try to be better at remembering my camera.

I'll post these pictures on Facebook if you'd like to see larger versions of them.

Amsterdam Dance

2008-07-06T09:27:00.002-04:00

Today, I leave for my month-long study abroad program in Amsterdam. I don't know much about Amsterdam, other than that the locals spend most of their time dancing in the street like this:

Balancing the Ticket

2008-07-06T09:24:00.001-04:00

Everyone seems to have a theory or strategy for picking the vice presidential candidates. After all, it’s fun to do—it’s like the NBA Draft but for politics. You hear people saying things like “McCain’s gotta go with a young prospect like Bobby Jindal” or “Obama is weak at the Center position—he should pick Ted Strickland” or “I like Jim Webb’s ability to shoot 3’s and drive the lane.”

In the end, there’s no exact formula for figuring out whom a presidential candidate will pick. John Edwards didn’t help John Kerry win his home state of North Carolina (although he did balance out the “John” ticket nicely, saving the campaign millions of dollars by allowing them to only print one first name on their merchandise). Dick Cheney was clearly a pick not to win any one state, but rather to help Bush with policy issues, such as explaining the difference between a “Prime Minister” and a “Prime Meridian.”

Having said that, I’d like to give my opinion on the ideal “veep” candidates: however, I prefer to go outside of the realm of the usual names being thrown around. Be aware—I am in no way being satirical.

Senator Obama

First up, Barack Obama. Now, I’m always a fan of symmetry. I like when yin mingles with the yang and makes sweet, circular love. So, Sen. Obama should be looking for a candidate to balance the ticket, and to do that, we must look at his flaws. Number one: he’s young, and we all know that “young” automatically equals “inexperienced.” After all, what did Alexander the Great do with his life before he died at age 32? Instead of serving as the president of the Harvard Law Review, being a community activist, or teaching constitutional law at the University of Chicago Law School, Obama really should have been gaining more presidential experience by doing things like starting an oil and gas company during an energy crisis or becoming part-owner of a shitty baseball team.

What’s another flaw? His scary name. It’s so… ethnic. There’s a harsh “ock” sound in the first name, his last name starts with an O, and we all know what name lurks in between. So the VP should either have a very plain name or a very pleasant name. The first name that popped into my head was “Cotton Candy,” but that sounds too much like a stripper’s name. So, I decided an ideal VP candidate for Sen. Obama would be named “Gummy Bear” (specifically, “Gummy Not-Hussein Bear”) because everybody would love a candidate with a name like that.

Okay, so far we’re looking for a plain-named, old, white person. Oh, did I not mention that the VP must be white? We don’t want to go scaring the electorate with a ticket featuring two brown people; what kind of science fiction movie do you think we’re casting here?

What else about Obama? He’s an elitist. Nothing makes my blood boil more than a presidential candidate who thinks he’s better than me. I need a president who is only as intelligent and accomplished as I am; maybe even a little less so. In order to balance the ticket, Obama’s VP candidate needs to be of an intellect that is far inferior to that of the average person.

So, it looks like the Senator should pick a running mate who is old, white, has a safe-sounding name and is dumber than the average American. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Four more years! Four more years!...

Senator McCain

I’m in favor of a much different approach on the Republican side of things. I’m pretty sure the GOP invented the phrase “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Of course, they also invented the phrase “If it is broke, don’t fix it either,” but that’s for another article.

A lot of people have been throwing around names like Louisiana’s Gov. Bobby Jindal, and former Hewlett-Packard CEO, Carly Fiorina, but I think these selections are completely in the wrong direction. The fact is the Republicans have such a good thing going with old, out-of-touch white men. Why change now? Even Mitt Romney doesn’t make the cut for me. For starters, he is waaaay too tan for a top Republican position. And although he's 61, he looks like he's 50. If you want to be an old, out-of-touch white man, you have to look the part.

I've got a wild-card VP candidate to throw out there: Strom Thurmond. Now, I know that there are some question marks surrounding him—like his problematic history of racism, or the fact that he died five years ago—but hear me out on this one. First of all, the corpse of Strom Thurmond would keep the conservative base happy. The added bonus is that it establishes the GOP as older and whiter than ever. He could help Sen. McCain on economic issues because Strom Thurmond was actually around when they changed the currency from seashells to gold. Additionally, a human corpse serving as the second in command would represent quite an historic change, and we all know that this is a “change election.”

I don’t think it will be a problem getting the American people to jump on board with this idea; after all, Weekend at Bernie’s grossed over $30 million at the box office. Furthermore, what’s the biggest criticism of McCain? He’s old. What could make John McCain look younger besides a decaying corpse standing next to him? I have no idea what else would do the trick.

Wait a Second; Barack Obama is Black?

2008-07-03T11:31:00.000-04:00

Barack Obama would not be where he is today if he wasn’t born with two eyes. It had to be said, and I’m the one to say it. But why stop there? I also firmly believe that Senator Obama wouldn’t be where he is today if he wasn’t born at all. Don’t try to deny it.

Why can’t I hold these beliefs? After all, I’m just following the same logic as those who have stated, and continue to state, that Barack Obama would not be in the position he is in right now if he were not an African American. Geraldine Ferraro ran into trouble for making such a claim, but she is certainly not the only one who feels this way.

I’m not writing this article to agree or disagree with this belief. The truth is that I haven’t even gotten to the point of agreeing or disagreeing with it because I keep getting caught up in how stupid and pointless such a statement is.

Let me backtrack and explain the complicated process behind race and ethnicity: Barack’s father, a black man from Kenya, had intercourse with, or “banged”, Barack’s mother, a white woman from Kansas, and when Barack was born he had brown skin… That’s it. If you got lost along the way, go back to the beginning this paragraph and start over. Now, if new information was discovered that Senator Obama was born with white skin and then physically altered his race at some point in his life, then I promise Ms. Ferraro and those of her ilk that I will personally lead the charge against him – Surgically changing the color of your skin and the texture of your hair simply for political gain is 100% not cool, and I have always felt that way. That’s why I have never supported Michael Jackson in his numerous campaigns for public office.

In a nutshell, people who make this claim are saying that physical attributes, over which you have no control, will have an effect on the course of your life and your career. The purpose of saying this is of course… well, come to think of it I don’t really know why people say it. I guess the point is to make Barack feel guilty that he’s black? Maybe they’re trying to make his supporters feel guilty that they are voting for a black man? I find it hard to believe that Obama’s skin color is more helpful than it is harmful in this country. Hell, we even have media outlets running headlines like “Is America Ready for a Black President?” which is pretty racist in itself.

The implication is that Senator Obama hasn’t had to work as hard as a white candidate to get where he is right now, despite the fact that we have had many African American presidential candidates who haven’t garnered the kind of support which he has (Alan Keyes has learned the hard way that just being black does not necessarily help you when you are also a little bit crazy). You don’t get to be the Democratic nominee for president and leading in nationwide polls simply by being black – otherwise, we would have elected P. Diddy president a long time ago. Ma$e could have balanced out the ticket nicely as the vice presidential candidate.

So, Barack Obama is an African American, and he is running for president. Where would he be if he were white? I’ve got a better question: Who cares? He’s not white nor will he ever be. It’s a fruitless exercise. Ironically, Geraldine Ferraro made the statement while working for the Hillary Clinton campaign, and there were certainly people saying that Hillary wouldn’t be where she is if she wasn’t a woman. I wouldn’t be where I am if I wasn’t white. John McCain wouldn’t be where he is if he hadn’t gone to school with Abraham Lincoln (in fairness, though, Lincoln was a senior when McCain was in the 6th grade). But all kidding aside, it’s just as pointless to ask where would McCain be if he had not been a prisoner of war.

Statements like these are silly distractions that take our focus away from real policy differences between the candidates. Consequently, we end up with windbags going on and on about whether Barack would be the Democratic nominee if he weren’t African American and douche bags writing articles analyzing the question… Oh shit… On second thought, don’t read this article.

This Guy Is a Catch...

2008-06-29T11:40:00.003-04:00

...and I know that because he says he's a catch:

Take notes, guys: If a girl isn't returning your calls, she's probably taking her mom to chemotherapy.

It's weird how he sounds nerdy yet the words and phrases coming out of his mouth are unbelievably cocky.

Pay particular attention to the way he pronounces "assume" at about the 2:20 mark.

Anyways, my guess is that she definitely called him back and now they are happily dating.

Cinderella Story

2008-06-29T03:25:00.003-04:00

I make a solemn plea to sports analysts everywhere: Please stop referring to the 2007-08 Boston Celtics as the greatest turnaround in NBA history.

Or can we at least put an asterisk next to such a comment?

For those sports fans who were not aware (and I’m looking at you, people living in the Biodome), the Celtics won the 2008 NBA Championship, and in the process they won an impressive 66 games. During the 2006-07 season, however, the Celtics managed only 24 wins—but that’s pretty impressive considering the team consisted of Paul Pierce, some eighth graders and a couple of those old guys whom you see playing at the rec center with Horace Grant-style glasses and braces on both knees. I mean, sure, we all remember the huge splash they made in the free agent market when they signed Kevin Pittsnogle on July 26, but amazingly they turned right around and got rid of him on October 20.

The increase of 42 wins shattered the previous record of 32 games, set by the 1997-98 San Antonio Spurs. Some attribute that amazing feat by the Spurs to the addition of guard Reggie Geary, but I’ve stubbornly held that it had more to do with the drafting of this guy named Tim Duncan (coupled with a healthier David Robinson).

Well, what happened in Boston? Did Brian Scalabrine pull Larry Bird out of his ass? Not that I’m aware of. Did Doc Rivers learn how to coach? Definitely not. The Celtics were poised to get the number one pick in the 2007 NBA Draft and make Greg Oden the “Shaq” to Paul Pierce’s “Kobe.” But at the end of the Draft Lottery, Boston was shocked to find itself with the fifth pick, which was definitely the opposite of “wicked awesome.” With Pierce growing more and more frustrated with the overall shittiness of the franchise, General Manager Danny Ainge decided it was time to resort to Plan B, entitled: “We Got the Fifth Pick? Holy Shit! What the Fuck Are We Going To Do Now?’

And so the Celtics executed a number of personnel moves (the most underrated of which was the signing of James Posey). Of course, the primary moves were a trade to acquire Ray Allen from the Seattle Supersonics and a trade to acquire Kevin Garnett from the Minnesota Timberwolves. In fact, out of 15 players on the Celtics 2007-08 roster, only six were on the team during the 2006-07 season. Boston went from a starting lineup of (then-rookie) Rajon Rondo, Wally Szczerbiak, Paul Pierce, Al Jefferson and Kendrick Perkins to a lineup of Rajon Rondo, Ray Allen, Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett and Kendrick Perkins (not to mention a slew of better bench players). So, really the analysts are right: the Celtics experienced an incredible single season turnaround. Unfortunately, it was a turnaround of their roster.

Does this devalue the Celtics championship? Of course not. My frustration is merely with those people who tend to give credit where credit is not due. To most people, a “dramatic turnaround” is keeping relatively the same roster, drafting one (albeit incredible) player and winning 32 more games—it’s not adding two future Hall-of-Famers, completely changing your bench players and winning 42 more games.

Which brings me to Danny Ainge. We’re quick to forget that he was on the hot seat before this season. I’ll admit, Ainge deserves credit simply for pulling off these trades, but it’s time for everyone else to admit that he fell ass-backwards into this scenario: he is not some sort of GM genius. First of all, he was extremely lucky that there were two teams out there that were in full rebuilding mode and were very eager to unload their respective superstars. People are acting like somehow this was Ainge’s plan all along: stockpile young players and eventually trade them for superstars. In what way is that a reliable strategy? In actuality, Ainge was planning on drafting Greg Oden or Kevin Durant and hoping that either one would form a nice core with Pierce and Al Jefferson. When they wound up with the fifth pick in the Draft, Ainge was forced to say “fuck it” and trade the team away or risk being fired halfway through the season.

This probably makes me seem bitter about the Celtics’ success; however, although I wouldn’t say that I was rooting for them in the Finals, I definitely was not upset about them winning. There are three reasons for this mindset: 1) My hatred of Kobe, Phil Jackson and the Lakers reigns supreme; 2) The result of the Finals made my team, the Cleveland Cavaliers, look pretty damn good considering we almost defeated Boston with nothing more than Lebron James and some cardboard cut-outs of basketball players; and 3) I’m kind of excited (make that downright giddy) about the prospect of the Celtics following the exact same path of the Miami Heat. Much like the Heat, the Celtics mortgaged their future to win a championship right now. There’s nothing wrong with that, but Boston fans need to be prepared for the repercussions. By my math, Ray Allen will be 98 at the start of next season, and he showed significant signs of slowing down throughout the playoffs. Additionally, Kevin Garnett proved to the world that he is content with taking 18-foot jumpers every time down the floor and that he really doesn’t feel compelled to take over a game on most nights, even though he is talented enough to do so.

I congratulate the Boston Celtics on their NBA Championship, but can we please stop talking about this like it’s a rag-tag, Walt Disney, underdog sports tale, reminiscent of Tiny Giants?

Leggo My Prego

2008-06-24T18:14:00.002-04:00

I can’t tell you how many times I sat in 9th grade Biology class and thought, “Gosh, I would love to be a dad right now [cradling an imaginary baby in my arms].” Apparently, this sentiment was shared at Gloucester High School in Massachusetts, where pregnant teens are popping up like pregnant hotcakes. Here’s how it started: some misguided 15-year-old texted her friend, “hey, bff, i tots wanna get pregos!” and her friend replied “samesies, obvi ;-)” and it all went downhill from there.

I didn’t think that at age 24 I would already be scratching my head and thinking “Kids these days” like a crotchety old man (and not just because I have Progeria), but if being pregnant is cool, then high school has changed slightly since I was there. Don’t get me wrong, girls got pregnant when I went to high school, but the typical reaction was to say “I’m sorry” with downcast eyes, not “That’s awesome!” with a leaping high five.

I guess some of the girls entered into a secret pact (or as I like to call it, “The Baby-havers Club”) to get pregnant, give birth, and thus bring a swift end to their adult lives at the same time. It’s even being reported that one of the girls had sex with a 24-year-old homeless guy just to participate in this fertility fest. Mark it down; June 2008—the first, and I hope the last, time anyone felt that they had no choice but to sleep with a homeless person in order to “fit in.”

Whatever happened to sharing a limo at prom as the ultimate sign of friendship? Sure, my friends and I made a pact in high school to lose our virginity. Okay, so maybe it was less of a pact and more of a wish, but still it appears that sex by itself is not taboo enough for today’s 15-year-old. According to BBC News, a pediatric psychiatrist named Elizabeth Guthrie said that “some girls might be viewing pregnancy as a fast-track to adulthood and independence” and that “[i]t may give you an opportunity for unconditional love and attention from the baby.” First of all, I think we’re playing fast and loose with the term “fast-track.” Nine prolonged months of getting larger and more hormone-crazed doesn’t exactly seem like a “short-cut” to anything. Secondly, independence? No, DE-pendence. As in, you will now have a human life that is dependant on you for survival. Unless the kids were looking for independence from fun things with friends. Third, when I was in high school, if you really wanted unconditional love and attention, you didn’t go out and get knocked up—you got yourself a Tamagotchi. Just think; this whole ordeal could have been prevented with a handful of Tamagotchis and maybe some Pogs. The Pogs don’t have anything to do with pregnancy; I’ve just got all of these sweet slammers in my closet, and I don’t know what to do with them.

I don’t want to sound like Andy Rooney (again, not just because I have Progeria), but what the hell happened to sexual education in our schools? It’s not that sex ed teachers scared me from having sex in high school, although they tried. Rather, it’s that the classes made me feel so damn uncomfortable and awkward about sex (at least, that’s how I rationalize not getting laid in high school). For example, to this day I vividly remember watching a video of a woman giving birth from the doctor’s-eye view. Do you think these girls would have wanted to get pregnant after seeing footage of someone’s lady-business being wrecked by the emergence of a slimy purple creature? One hopes not. Side note: I also vividly remember a video of a man checking his testicles for lumps. Despite the full frontal nudity, you never saw the penis. This guy either had a really small member, or he had had sleight-of-hand abilities worthy of Houdini.

Obviously, there’s no single solution to this problem. It takes a village to raise a child and all of that shit. Still, I suspect that this is the inevitable result of generational one-upsmanship: high schoolers today get pregnant to be cool; high schoolers in the 80s and 90s did hardcore drugs to be cool; high schoolers in the 1950s held hands to be cool; high schoolers in the 1890s sat around a light bulb to be cool. We shouldn’t just roll over and let it happen, but the first thing to do is stop acting like this is a Gloucester and “not my kid” problem and start recognizing it as an American disillusioned youth problem. Step Two is, of course, making Tamagotchis mandatory in schools. Who’s with me?

CNN – The latest in dungeon incest news

2008-06-12T15:51:00.009-04:00

The hyperlink on CNN.com reads “Incest cellar girl wakes up from coma.” Now, if you’re slightly offended by the insensitivity of this title, don’t worry because the actual article title is totally different: “Incest dungeon girl wakes up from coma.” Nice touch. ‘Incest dungeon girl’ has a much better ring to it than ‘incest cellar girl.’

For those of you wondering what I am talking about, here’s the link to the article. If you don’t want to read it, I’ll summarize for you: Fat Cat from “Chip n’ Dale Rescue Rangers” is alive and living in Austria under the name “Josef Fritzl.” Actually, I don’t mean to make light of a horrible situation (although he does look like Fat Cat). Rather, it is my intention to make fun of the insensitive way that this article covers the story. Basically, this crazy person imprisoned and raped his daughter in a dungeon that he had built under his home, and he produced several children with her, some of whom he kept captive and some of whom he allowed out into the world. Ideally, he’s going to go to jail for the rest of his life. End of story, no need for the media to bother these people any more.

Yet, today we have a 24-hour news cycle, and CNN can’t allow a story this shocking and juicy to just wither up and die (be on the lookout next year for “One-year anniversary, where are they now – rape incest dungeon lady”). One of the children/grandchildren of Fritzl has been in a coma since he was arrested and just recently woke up. If this was an article celebrating the fact that this girl isn’t going to die, then that would be fine by me. However, CNN believes that this “could shed new light on what occurred in the basement were she was held captive for decades.” Ok, this has a weird torture-porn vibe to it. Why do we need to shed new light on what this guy did when he already confessed and presumably will get the book thrown at him? [I don’t mean that figuratively - in Austria, most criminal punishment comes in the form of book-throwing: if you commit a misdemeanor, you get an STD pamphlet or a children’s book lightly tossed at your arm; this guy Fritzl should get Nolan Ryan throwing a hardback of “War and Peace” at his testicles. It’s kind of like an intellectual upgrade on stoning.] I can’t help but think that CNN is [gasp] just doing this for the shock value.

And “[i]ncest dungeon girl”?! Really, dudes? What is that, the worst superhero in history? It’s bad enough that she has had one of the shittiest lives on Earth, but now she’s being referred to as not just a ‘dungeon girl’ (which I’m sure is some sort of kinky fetish) but as an ‘incest dungeon girl’ (which I’m sure is some sort of illegal kinky fetish). That’s like setting someone on fire and referring to them as “arson guy.” It sounds like she actively chose these things. And yes, I’m fully aware that all I’m doing is whining about one measly title of an article, but it’s a microcosm of how so many news organizations strive for shock value rather than actual important news. I like to call it the WWE-ification of the media.

Tillman

2008-06-10T16:03:00.000-04:00

This dog seems really awesome, but I'll bet he's actually a dick in person:

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

Reserve Your Copy Today

2008-06-02T15:52:00.008-04:00

I've got great news, everyone: Senator Larry Craig is writing a book. You may remember Larry Craig as the Idaho Senator who got caught trying to hook up with a dude in a men's room in the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, and then executed the worst denial in history by calling a press conference to say "I'm not gay" instead of "I didn't solicit sex in the bathroom." When I first heard the news of a book, my initial reaction was that Senator Craig would most likely start out with the intention of writing a "book", but after about a week of writing he would probably have something in the same vein (no pun intended) as a steamy Penthouse Forum letter. However, this article provided more details.

First of all, the description of Larry Craig as "outgoing" is hilarious. Somehow, I don't think that the author meant it ironically, but in their defense, in Idaho I think 'outgoing' means 'really gay'. Also, I love how the author states that Craig was arrested "after police say he attempted to solicit gay sex." So, after he's caught soliciting sex by an undercover cop and he signs a written confession saying that he was guilty of soliciting sex, we're still just referring to it as something that the police are off-handedly claiming? Agreed. After all, the Minneapolis-St. Paul police have been after Larry Craig for years. Those assholes were just looking for a reason to take him down.

Anyways, getting back to the book, Craig says that it's going to be "on energy," but it will also include "a bit" about the airport incident. Therefore, you can officially add the term "shitty businessman" to "liar" and "douche" when you tell your grandchildren about Larry Craig. Let me break this down:

"[O]n energy"? What are you writing; a 4th grade science report? Larry, is the book going to be about conserving energy? climate change? our dependency on foreign oil? Because if you just write a book "on energy," it sounds like the type of thing you used to see a slack-jawed, bifocaled 5-year-old talking about on the 'don't take my word for it' segment of "Reading Rainbow" ["Hi. My name is Michael, and I read 'On Energy', by Senator Larry Craig. Its has all kinds of neat stuff about energy and where energy comes from. My favorite parts were the ones about the energy from the sun and the anonymous gay bathroom sex." - waves at camera until fade].

So let me get this straight (again, no pun intended): you want to write a book "on energy" and only include "a bit" about the time you were arrested for trying to have sex with a stranger in a men's bathroom - the only thing you are and ever will be famous for? Oh yeah, that should send copies flying off the shelves. And besides how exactly are you going to shimmy the airport incident into a book that's supposed to be about energy? - "The scientists have misinterpreted data about changing weather patterns to be signs of catastrophic climate change - much the way the tapping of my foot and hand motions under the stall divider have been misinterpreted as me beckoning for a penis..."

The article didn't mention anything about a possible title to Senator Craig's book, so if you don't mind, I'd like to throw some of my own suggestions out there. Feel free to add your own in the comment section:

-"An Inconvenient Handjob" (and/or Blowjob);

-"I'm Not Gay... But My Boyfriend Is! LOLz ;)";

-"The Secret (to soliciting anonymous sex in a men's restroom)";

-"I'm So Far in the Closet that I'm Finding Christmas Presents: The Larry Craig Story";

-"Senator Larry Craig: My Life as a Public Servant (and a Bit about that Airport Thing)";

-"Goosebumps: Monster Blood III"; and finally

-"Men are from Mars, and I Love Them"

You may also notice in the article that Larry Craig endorsed Lt. Gov. Jim Risch. Endorsing, eh? Is that what they're calling it these days...

*In somewhat related news: today, I came across this article which states that actress and nebulous being, Tatum O'Neal, whom you may remember from some movie a really long time ago, was caught buying coke last night. She tried to get out of it by saying that she was "researching a part." Once the police officers stopped laughing at her claim that she had actually been cast in a movie, they arrested her. A quick check of IMDB shows that Tatum's next project is "Fab Five: The Texas Cheerleading Scandal." I'll just briefly mention the fact that in order to call something "The _____ Scandal", it actually has to be something that people remember. As for Tatum, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that even if crack is in this movie, buying it probably isn't necessary to successfully execute the role of "Lauren Tippit." Look, Robert DeNiro is the quintessential method actor, but he didn't feel the need to murder anyone to prepare himself for "Goodfellas." METHOD-ACTING FAIL, TATUM.

Memoir-ial Day Weekend

2008-05-30T21:15:00.017-04:00

I went to Philadelphia with some friends for Memorial Day weekend, and I suppose that's as good a topic as any other to talk about. Naturally, I took one of the chinatown buses, which is definitely the best way to travel up and down the east coast. Those of you who know me well understand that when I say "best" I really mean "cheapest." I find it funny that they actually have websites with bus timetables and stuff, because it really doesn't matter. Buying your ticket online is a meaningless gesture. All you do is show up with some cash, get on a bus, and when that bus gets full it leaves. It's really more like smuggling than traveling. I've literally traveled on a bus that was supposed to be sold out, but they gave me a ticket nonetheless and as we were pulling out I saw people standing on the sidewalk holding their printed-out tickets and looking confused. ...On second thought, I feel bad about that story. But you get the point. This time around on the chinatown bus, I noticed the driver moving some suspicious-looking black garbage bags from one bus to another. I'm not going to speculate on this one and will instead plead ignorance - What I don't know can't hurt me (or implicate me as a drug mule).

Anyways, on Saturday we walked around the City of Brotherly Love. As you can see, we went to Independence Hall ("Jump for democracy!"). It was crazy to think that I was standing in the same place where Nicholas Cage stood four long years ago, when he uncovered the special bifocals that Benjamin Franklin made so that he could view a treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence. What can I say - I'm a history buff!

You can see on the right-hand side of the picture the massive line of people trying to see the Liberty Bell. However, there are windows right by the bell that allow you to see it from the outside. And what's even better about the windows is that you can also point and laugh at the people who waited an hour to see an old cracked bell.

We walked down Market Street, and I think it was "Hate White People Day" because there were several groups set up with microphones or megaphones talking about white people. I'm not saying they were 100% incorrect with their assessments; I'm just saying that it was awkward. I thought about shrugging and saying "Sorry?" when I walked past, but I decided against it.

Then we sort of did a bar hop up and down South Street. Here's Sam and I at Fat Tuesday enjoying a beer that tastes as cold as the Rockies. Speaking of which, how long do you think beer companies are going to ride this whole "cold taste" bandwagon? It begs the question: are they retarded for not understanding that cold is actually a tactile sensation and not a taste, or are we retarded for allowing that to actually be a selling point? Maybe the beer companies will stop talking about it if everyone starts using it as a reason why they don't like a particular beer: "Why don't you like Bud Light?" "Eh, it tastes way too cold. I need something a little warmer tasting, that's all."

Later on that night, on our way to do karaoke we hit a pothole so big that it actually flattened both tires on the driver's side of the car:

I stood in the pothole, thinking it would be a great way to illustrate how big it was:

Instead it just looks a crazy man standing on an invisible surfboard in the street (which you can probably see every Saturday night in D.C.). Still though, I think you can tell the ridiculousness from this picture:

Look at that thing. That straight line you see across the top is actually a T. Rex femur - that's how deep this hole is.

So basically, I learned that Philadelphia is a fun city with history, some cool bars, poorly maintained roads, and roughly two duck tours per every one human being. Hope everybody else had a great holiday.

FREE SHIT GIVEAWAY

2008-05-19T19:02:00.005-04:00

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

This might sound a bit morbid, but when *anything*, let alone a TV show, garners this kind of a reaction in people, then they should probably be put to sleep. After about 1.5 solid minutes of this demented reaction, Oprah should have quietly exited the building, sealed the doors, and sucked the oxygen out. And it would be for their own good because I'm not sure that these people have a human central nervous system anymore - they've become flatworm-like beings that only respond to fluctuations in light and the sound of Oprah's voice.

And you know what the worst part about it is? Apparently, the "Oprah's Favorite Things" episodes are the ones where Oprah gives free stuff to her audience members. That's what these consumer whores (and I don't mean that in a sexist way; it's just coincidence that most of them are women) are screaming about. "What's that?... Free shit? Free shit?! FREE SHIT!!! Thank the sweet baby Jesus because we're getting free shit today!"

Remember in elementary when you'd be sitting at a table waiting quietly for the teacher to pick which table would lead the line to go to recess or lunch? And then the teacher would pick a table and those kids would go crazy and run to the door, but they caused such a ruckus that the teacher would change her mind and tell them to sit back down? And those kids would mope back to the table and blame each other and be like 'Aw man, why did you have to be so loud? We could have been line leaders and now it's all your fault!' Well, that's what Oprah should have done to her audience:

Oprah: "Free shit giveaway today!"
[insanity ensues]
Oprah: "...Nevermind. You guys clearly couldn't handle the responsibility. No free shit today. Sit back down."
Audience member 1: "Aw, man; it's all your fault!"
Audience member 2: "Na uh!"
Audience member 1: "Ya huh!"...

Under that scenario, you can definitively say that you're at least dealing with homo sapiens.

It's Raining McCain!

2008-05-18T19:40:00.002-04:00

I don't mean to show my bias, but here's a colorful little collage of missteps by John McCain:

In the Senator's defense, he's not used to having every statement scrutinized, since video cameras were not invented until very late in his life.

So, does this video prove that John McCain would be a bad president? No; it just shows how awkward he is, and how much he's pandering to win the election. I know, I know - every candidate panders, but pander about stuff that makes sense. Why would you make up stuff about how safe it is in Iraq when your policy is that we should keep troops there?

Sorry for the boring post.

Me Love You Long Time

2008-05-11T23:28:00.014-04:00

I was on Facebook checking my Scrabulous situation when I was caught off guard by a very odd advertisement, as you can see below:

That's right; SaigonDarlings.com. And this ad wasn't tiny and off to the side - it was the same size as above and uncomfortably invading my Scrabulous space. I'm not sure if Facebook's ads work like Google's ads where they correspond to something you searched for or something that was stated in an email (except when the ad is completely out of left field, like when you get an email that says "What are you up to this weekend?" and next to it is an ad that says "50% Off All Dog Yoga Equipment"). If that's the case, then apparently I have something in my profile (maybe it's my listing of "indonesion gamelon" under my favorite types of music) or my composition of friends is such that a computer somewhere went, 'Hmm, this guy would love to meet some Vietnamese women online.' On the other hand, maybe the ad doesn't correspond to anything, and Scrabulous just got a creepy back-alley sort of feel to it.

Needless to say, I checked the site out (don't judge me; you know you were going to do it too as soon as you finished reading this). First of all, you are greeted with a large picture of a Vietnamese girl playing a mandolin. So, clearly this website is the real deal - no phony, non-mandolin-playing, impostor Vietnamese women around these parts.

Right off the bat, I'm thinking this site is just not for me, primarily because it says, "Are you feeling lonely for over a decade?" Apparently, you have to be single for at least ten years to participate in the Saigon Darlings program. I'm not sure why I was surprised to find that the website was written and/or edited by someone who speaks English as a second language, as evidenced by phrases such as "The chances of meeting the love of your life through Vietnam Dating in Saigon Darlings are big!" Big chances, you say? I like those odds! I also enjoyed this comment: "Do not miss this opportunity to experience Vietnamese Dating with not just attractive Viet girls but also good-natured one." Yes, I'm sure the guys who are going to this site are thinking, "I'm tired of all these attractive Vietnamese girls with sour dispositions... ah, says here these women are good-natured. I wonder if they are genial and affable as well..."

But I don't mean to simply poke fun at someone's struggle with English; in fact, I feel kind of badly because sometimes their struggle ends up conveying a message that I'm sure they didn't intend. For example: "Once a member, you will be given access to use the features and services of the site. You will never know that the ideal person you are seeking is here at Saigon Darlings." Wait, are they saying that despite joining the site, I still won't find the person for me? Seems somewhat contrary to the business model. Another example: "If you worry about the differences of your culture when it comes to dating, it is not a barrier to have a happy relationship since most of the Vietnamese girls already accepted the thoughts about dating online." 'Most' of the girls have accepted the thought of online dating? Are some of them being registered on this site against their will? Maybe I've just uncovered the seedy underbelly of online dating - a world in which women are forced, against their will, to... make an online profile and wait for emails.

Of course, when I hear the term 'Vietnamese Dating,' I think of two Vietnamese people going out for a night on the town. However, shocking as it may be, this website seems to be chock-full of creepy, old non-Vietnamese guys. Go figure. Take this guy for example...

...he seems nice enough; got a pretty sweet apartment; looks like he's got some granite counter tops in there and OH MY GOD HE'S NOT WEARING PANTS. I would feel badly about simply making fun of people on dating websites, but this guy asked for it. He looks like Willard Scott and the Oklahoma City bomber, Terry Nichols, had a baby (and then deprived that baby of pants for the rest of its natural life). Please, God, tell me that his camera has a timer - otherwise, try to wrap your mind around the concept that somebody actually took this picture ("Let's take the picture right here" - "Sounds good" - "What if I lean on the granite counter top?" - "I like it" - "Ok, pants on or off?" - "Hmmm... let's go with off for now and we'll see how it turns out").

And then there's this guy...

...who has apparently been kidnapped and tied up in his college graduation robe. His profile says he has a Bachelor's Degree in Economics, in case you were wondering.

This next pose is what I like to call "Frightened in a Photobooth," and the chicks absolutely love it...

...His self description reads "attentive, comprehensible, modest for friend, love." You might think his English is bad, but then he throws you that curveball of "comprehensible" which is both a big word AND it means that he is able to be comprehended. Also, I think the next time I get asked the question 'How would you describe yourself?', I'm going to respond 'Love.'

I should probably end this post now. The truth is that I could talk all day about the creepy P.E. teacher...

...the Saudi Arabian guy who used a picture of a picture inside a frame for his profile...

...or whatever this guy is supposed to be...

...but at some point, it loses its value, and I just feel like an asshole.

Anyways, you get the point - the website is weird, and now I'll never be able to look at Scrabulous the same way.

Man, with my first year of law school over, it sure does feel good to have this space in my brain to think about stupid shit like this!

And You Think I'm Childish...

2007-09-18T12:41:00.000-04:00

Quick blogpost here because I have to go to class soon. I just wanted to comment a little bit on the fact that I bought CapriSuns to put in my lunch for law school because I've caught a little bit of flack for it. Yes, it is true that CapriSuns are generally meant for children under the age of ten, and it's also true that I can finish a CapriSun very quickly now (sometimes, I pack two!). However, a drink is a drink no matter the packaging (be it can, box, pouch or squeeze-it), and I stand by my decision as one of the best investments that I've mad in a long time.

And let's face it: CapriSuns are easily not the most childish thing that one could put in their lunch. Take for example something that I just witnessed while eating my lunch - a girl eating Kix cereal out of a Ziploc plastic bag. For those of you who don't remember, Kix is a children's cereal made out of styrofoam and sadness (and on a side note: Kix is an example of how putting a smiling child on your box can somehow make you a kids' cereal even though it tastes like nothingness). But truthfully you could substitute "Kix" with "Plain Cheerios" and the result would be the same: eating dry, tasteless cereal out of a little plastic baggy. What's wrong? No cut up pieces of hot dog today? The only appropriate way for a human being to eat dry cereal out of a plastic bag is with crumbs around their mouth as they haphazardly push handfuls of the cereal toward their face such that 50% ends up in their mouth and 50% on the floor, all whilst reaching out with their other hand in an "opening and closing" motion for the toy that is inevitably out of their reach.

Blog Entry (For Kids)

2007-09-09T12:35:00.000-04:00

The other day, I missed the bus by like five minutes, so I had about an hour to kill before the next bus came. Luckily, the bus stop is at Fair Oaks Mall, which I’ve only been in a couple of times. It turned out to be more fun than I thought it would be, because I saw two of the most ridiculous stores I’ve ever seen.

The first one was “Talbots For Kids.” What a great idea: There is nothing little girls like more than dressing like professional women about town. When I was a kid, I can’t tell you how many times I had a job interview coming up with nothing to wear. But I suppose the point of Talbots For Kids is for parents to go and buy clothes that their kids will hate and not want to wear.

The second retarded store was “Pottery Barn For Kids.” Pottery Barn For Kids! Look, when kids play “house”, they aren’t really concerned with getting the furnishings right. Kids don’t need a store to help them find napkin holders that match their chargers. And yes, I do lose some Man Points for knowing what napkin holders and chargers are.

*I have a new entry for my ongoing segment called “Weird People that I’ve Seen on the Bus.” The other night, a woman got on the bus, and she had the makeup scheme of a transsexual prostitute. You might wonder, “Well, Phil, how do you know that she wasn’t a transsexual?” An excellent question; I know she wasn’t a transsexual because she had the most pronounced camel-toe I HAVE EVER SEEN. Basically, it was an atomic wedgie. I could actually see her G-spot. I think that she might have misunderstood the meaning of the song “Lady Lumps.” You should not be able floss your snatch through your pants. I know; this disgusting, but I had to make you share in my pain.

*One final bus note: The other day, this woman was reading a Spanish-language newspaper, and the headline was “’No Soy Gay’, Afirma Senador Craig”. I don’t have a joke here; I just thought this was hilarious.

She was the Meryl Streep of her time...

2007-09-04T13:20:00.000-04:00

Quick entry here:

I found a montage of out-takes from Anna Nicole Smith's blockbuster film, "Skyscraper". It truly begs the question: How can you be an actor if the drugs you are on prevent you from being able to feel your face?

http://www.milkandcookies.com/link/67170/detail/

Law [School] and Order

2007-09-02T20:58:00.000-04:00

Hey three people who will read this. Sorry for not posting anything in a year or so. Anyone who reads this knows what I've been doing, but for the sake of continuity, I'll recap: I moved to Fairfax, where I pretend that I live in Washington, D.C.; I got a job working as a paralegal in a small law firm - my boss was/is a lunatic; I got into George Washington University Law School; I bought a pipe and some tobacco, but I can't figure out how to smoke it. That pretty much covers everything.

Well, I'm two weeks in, and law school is already pretty intense. Luckily, it's the workload and not the people. Most of the people whom I have met are nice and usually commiserate about having difficulty with the information. So far, I'd have to say that my favorite subject is blah blah blah, which I like much more than [snore]. Let's face it: none of you really care what classes I'm in or what they're about. You just want to hear interesting and/or funny stories about law school. As of now, I've got nothing; other than the fact that my Criminal Law professor talks like a nerdy Bill Cosby. So, instead of forcing it, I'll just talk about whatever anecdotes pop into my head while I'm typing:

*I hate people who will get a bubble in their throat but don't have the decency to swallow and clear that shit out. They just keep right on talking like everything is fine. Honestly, as soon as that happens, they could be reading from "Mein Kampf", and I wouldn't notice. I become fixated on the fact that they sound like Kermit the Frog. And then I try to swallow for them, hoping that either (1) I can somehow projectile swallow and clear the bubble out myself or (2) they notice me swallowing and either consciously or subconsciously solve the problem. Look, if a bird pooped on your face, you wouldn't just continue on with your day like nothing happened. You'd think 'My, I look ridiculous with bird poop on my face,' and you'd clean it off. Alright, I've sufficiently beaten this dead horse.

*To save money on my daily commute, I've been riding the bus to the metro (I then take the metro to a jet-ski; the jet-ski to a camel; and finally, the camel to a dirigible). Needless to say, I get to witness some fun characters on the bus. The other day, this woman got on the bus, and I don't want to call her overweight because that would be doing a disservice to overweight people. 'Overweight' is a polite term that doesn't quite convey the fact that this woman was large. And I don't care if you're fat; it's your body. However, this woman was wearing skin-tight, black spandex pants. And her ass crack was saying "Come here, spandex pants; I'm going to eat you up!" It looked like she had been wading waist-deep through the La Brea Tar Pits; spread-cheeked.

I'm going to try to update my blog more often. In fact, I'm hoping that it will serve as some sort of therapy and analysis, or anal-rapy for you "Arrested Development" fans, to maintain my sanity in my first year of law school. I'm guessing that most of the entries will end up like this one - making myself feel better by belittling others. And you know what? It feels like it's working.

My New-found Fame

2006-04-22T11:42:00.000-04:00

The other day, I was looking at various articles that I had written and trying to decide which one I should send to Collegehumor.com. I came to the startling conclusion that none of my articles would be acceptable. Don't get me wrong, I think that my articles are hilarious, but they aren't in the style that CollegeHumor generally publishes. You see, I [attempt to] write satire, while CollegeHumor articles are often just retarded editorials (and I mean "retarded" in a strictly pejorative sense, just in case you thought I was complimenting them by calling them retarded). I know that may sound pretentious or smug, but all I need to do is point out a couple of recent article titles to prove my point: "Sexual Shorthand" (it's about using letters of the alphabet to abbreviate various sexual acts), "Bar Faces" (it's about faces one makes at a bar), "So You're Going to Die a Slut" (it's apparently about the author's ex-girlfriend), "The Anatomy of a Shitty Party" (it's about... wait, why am I explaining these articles?), etc. Despite the fact that I think that articles written in this style are pretty dumb, I don't fault Collegehumor.com because to criticize them for this would suggest that they were trying to be something that they aren't. They aren't a satire website, so why would they try to be? I think my stand-up comedy article was accepted because it worked as both an editorial and satire (also, I think the sentence "Sure, you're 'the funny guy' in your frat..." related to them and hinted that I myself was a frat guy).

Anyways, after realizing that I didn't really have anything to send them, I decided to just write an article from scratch with the premise that it would be for CollegeHumor. It only took me about two hours, and I sent it out without much retrospection. Long story short, the dude to whom I send my articles sent me a reply that said that he would pass on this article. I didn't understand. So, I went back and read the article critically, and I realized a couple of things. First of all, it still ended up sounding more like satire than like an editorial. Secondly, the article has the tiniest bit of political commentary, and as a result I probably "killed their buzz." Lastly, and probably most importantly, I realized that in the article I basically made fun of the CollegeHumor audience. I didn't consciously do it; it just inadvertantly came through in some of my jokes. I guess that's an important lesson for me to learn about "the business": If someone gives you an opportunity to talk, they probably won't let you utilize that opportunity to ridicule them.

I know it wasn't the greatest article I have written (hell, it only took me two hours to write), but it is still something that I wrote that now will never be seen by human eyes... or will it? That's right, folks, I have a blog: a magical place where I can post things that I write and pretend that a huge audience is reading them! So here's the article:

"Immigration: An Issue Explained to Dumbasses [That's not the actual title I sent]

Immigration. It is one hot tamale of a social issue right now, and it’s the most recent news headline that has diverted the media’s attention from the War in What’s-it-called. When you turn on the TV, you notice that there appear to be a lot of people angry about immigration, but you don’t know why. Your sociology professor seems to be having a shit fit of excitement, but that class is like three hours long so you’re either asleep or staring at that stacked girl in the low-cut shirt (I’m talking to you, lesbians). Let’s face it, you don’t have the same kind of time to gain a relatively firm grasp of social issues that a patchouli-oil-soaked, coffeehouse hippie has. That’s because hippies divide their time in three ways – smoking pot, playing acoustic guitar and/or percussion in their jam band, and reading international news sources – while you have other responsibilities in life – like playing video games, masturbating, and smoking pot. I know that you can’t squeeze a quick glance at the BBC News website into that tight schedule, and besides you don’t attend Migrant Worker University, so what does this issue have to do with you? Well, quite frankly I’m not sure. But I do know that rhetorical questions add emphasis and importance to writing, so come up with your own answer. The point I’m trying to make is that maybe you would understand this topic better if it was explained in terms that relate to you personally. So, if you like extended metaphors, prepare to have your jeans creamed:
Alright, let’s say that you are the American federal government, and you’re beginning your first year of college… But then again, no person is actually named ‘the American federal government,’ so let’s give you a real name – something hip and cool, like Apple. Ok, so you’re a college freshman named Apple… wait, now that I think about, a college freshman named Apple would probably get his/her ass kicked on a regular basis. How about a tougher name, like… Colossus. Yeah, that’s it, Colossus. Alright, so you get to college, and you’re really happy because your dad (let’s call him U.K.) has been a real fucking douche bag lately. He keeps disrespecting your religion and taxing you and making you call him ‘King.’ The two of you have a huge falling out, and he’s like “Fine, Colossus! Let’s see how long you last on your own!” (don’t worry, you guys make up many years later). So, you get to college, and you meet your four roommates (you turned your form in late and got stuck in an overcrowded quad, even though you specifically asked for a fucking single). Your roommates, representing different sections of American society relevant to this debate, will be discussed in greater detail later.
You start attending classes, and you begin to realize that your work is really difficult and time-consuming. Your roommates do what they can, but they have their own shit to worry about. You’re feeling a bit overwhelmed, and you just wish that there was someone who could help you get a foothold in this college life. Then, in a stroke of luck, you discover this guy on campus named Dikembe. Now, Dikembe has never seen or heard of anybody from your side of campus, and because he is startled by your appearance, you are able to quickly subdue him and take him back to your room. You hold him against his will and force him to do your difficult work for you, and your success skyrockets as your professors are amazed at the amount of work you are able to accomplish. The years go by (over 100 years, to be exact), and you and some of your roommates decide that maybe it’s a little cruel to keep doing this to him (not to mention that you think the administration might be on to you). So, you decide to set Dikembe free. However, you have still totally fucked him over because some of your roommates want him to go back to his dorm, but that was like 100 years ago, dude. You can’t possibly expect him to know anybody over there anymore, plus he likes the dorm in which you guys live. So, you let him become a roommate, but you make sure he has fewer privileges than everyone else.
Now, pay attention because here is where the issue of immigration comes into play: After you have freed Dikembe, you suddenly don’t have anyone to do all of that hard work for free. Then one day, you wake up from a nap to discover that someone had snuck in and finished the difficult work for you. It turns out it was your neighbor, Miguel, and the two of you come to agreement: you will allow Miguel to sneak into your room (which is against dorm policy) to do your work, and in return you will pay Miguel very small amounts of money. This arrangement works like a charm for another 100 years or so, making you the most powerful person on campus. Suddenly, your roommate, Cleatus, who is poor and white (and continues to complain about Dikembe), wants Miguel to have to go back to his own room and go through the necessary process to officially become one of your roommates. He claims that Miguel stole his job, but you know that Cleatus never really had that job in the first place and wouldn’t actually do the job if he saw what Miguel had to do. Your second roommate is this guy named Bourgeois, and he used to be your most important friend but has lost a lot of weight lately because you have stopped really paying attention to him. He doesn’t particularly care about whether or not Miguel continues to work for you, but he would greatly appreciate it if you would stop allowing the Southern Asian kid down the hall do Bourgeois’ work. Your third roommate is your lab partner, and he has secretly been profiting exponentially from the work of Dikembe and Miguel. This roommate – let’s call him Rich – really really wants you to continue allowing Miguel to sneak into the room to do work, and the fact is, Rich’s opinion carries a substantial amount of weight since he helped pay for your tuition for the past 300 semesters. Your fourth and final roommate is Perry. Perry is just a hippie who sits around baked playing the bongo drums to his favorite Trey Anastasio album. Fuck him.
So, there you have it. That is the issue of immigration in a nutshell. You can use this knowledge of a current event to impress your family, friends, professors, or even significant others. Or, you can minimize this window, forget what I have said, and get back to spanking it. The choice is yours: choose wisely."

Like I said, not my best work, but in my opinion, not half bad either. Hey, it would have probably made it into The Pillory (but then again, I'm Co-editor, so the only person I would have had to convince is Elliot). So, I guess the point of this blog entry is to say that I don't think I'm going to be writing much for Collegehumor.com. If it requires that I try to change my writing style, then I don't see the point. A friend of mine recently told me that William Faulkner dabbled in Hollywood screenwriting, and later in his life he admitted that screenwriting killed his writing style. That's right, everyone, I just compared myself to William Faulkner. I'll be honest, I think I'm a more important writer, but we'll discuss that another day.

McCheaters

2006-03-01T21:15:00.000-04:00

Alright, we're going to play a little game of "You Be the Judge" (partly because I was inspired by Jessica's pictorial comparison of me and Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, and partly because this blog entry won't require me to write very much). A few weeks ago, I sent one of my Pillory articles to McSweeneys.net, which is an online satire magazine (sort of like The Onion, except The Onion deals basically with "fake news" articles, while McSweeney's asks specifically for everything but "fake news" articles). The response I got back from the head editor of McSweeney's was basically "Thanks, but no thanks," which was a little disappointing, not from a self-esteem standpoint, but rather from a standpoint of someone who reads McSweeney's and knows that it is very hit-or-miss (meaning it has a lot of really funny stuff, a lot of not funny stuff, and very little middle ground). I don't think I'm being cocky when I say that my article is funnier than some of the things I have read on the website. Anyways, fast forward to today, and my roommate, Elliot, tells me to check out McSweeney's because they may have stolen my article idea. In all honesty, the article ideas are sort of different (my article pokes fun at the stereotypical form of stand-up comedians while the McSweeney's article does that a little but mainly tries to come up with awkward and ridiculous stand-up comedy bits). And maybe what happened was that they were already planning on putting this article on the website and that's why they turned my article down. Anyways, here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to put both articles side by side in this blog entry, and you can be the judge of what you think happened (or simply, whose article you like more - I understand that bias may come into play here). First up, my article:

"Stand-up Comedy 101

If you’re like me, you’ve always wanted to try stand-up comedy. Sure, you’re the “funny guy” in your fraternity, but that doesn’t mean you can cut it under the bright lights. Well, fear not, because I have devised a fool-proof routine that is sure to make a stand-up comedy star out of whoever reads this article. Simply get up on stage and read the article as follows. (*Note: Don’t read the information in brackets out loud – they are meant to be directions, and they might sound patronizing to the audience)

“Hey, how’s everybody doing tonight? Awesome. Anybody here dating, huh? Anybody here on a date tonight? Haha, a couple of you don’t want to admit it. There’s one guy in the back with his arms crossed like ‘Not me, no way. I don’t know this bitch.’ [said in an overly white voice with a really funny look on your face; *Note: the beauty of this joke is that it does not even matter if there is actually a guy in the back who fits your description]
But relationships are tough though, aren’t they? One time, I went out on a date with this girl, right, and she seemed really nice and down-to-earth. So we get back to my place, and we are getting comfortable and suddenly I realized something: she had three arms. Three arms! I was like ‘Damn, bitch, I know you must’ve always won when you played tag growing up!’ [stated with a Sinbad-esque demeanor] She was even missing teeth. No joke. I went to kiss her, and I saw a sign in her mouth that said ‘Next tooth: 1 mile’ [This is the moment when you crack up at your own joke and stagger backward a little bit on the stage]

“I don’t know. Shit’s crazy. I like movies though. Anybody here like movies? Haha, there’s that guy again, crossing his arms in the back like ‘This is ridiculous. I don’t know what the hell is going on here.’ [again, really white and really funny-looking] My favorite actor is Arnold Schwarzenegger, you know, because he has that great voice. He can make anything sound like an action movie. He could just be ordering eggs and be all like, ‘I need some scrambled eggs now. [wait for laughter to die down] Did you not hear me? I said I need scramble eggs right now!’ Wouldn’t it be crazy if his waiter was somebody else famous, like Jack Nicholson or somebody. Jack would walk up to the table like, ‘Heeeeeeeeeeere’s your eggs!’ [laughter ensues; here’s where I go for the jugular by bringing back the earlier impression and having the two impressions interacting!] Arnold’s like, ‘What are you doing? These eggs are sunny-side up, and I wanted my eggs scrambled!’ Then Jack would be all like ‘You want your eggs scrambled?! You can’t handle your eggs scrambled!’ [once again, wait for raucous laughter from audience to subside] So Jack takes the eggs back to the kitchen where the cook is Bill Cosby, and he says ‘So, he is looking for his eggs to be scrambled, but you know kids say the darndest things these days and I don’t think I should scramble these eggs because if I do they might end up looking just like jello puddinnnnnnnga.’ [the important factor for the successful execution of this joke is the need sound like a drunken retard; whether or not that ends up sounding like the real Bill Cosby is truly insignificant in the eyes of the audience]

“So you guys have been great [spattered applause]. No seriously, you guys have been awesome, but I can’t get out of here without talking about the differences between white people and black people [an unnecessary and extended “ooooo” will carry over the audience]. Think about it! We are so different, and nobody has the guts to talk about it. For example, if you’re making small-talk with a white guy in the street, what does he say? He’ll say something like ‘What’s up, dude? It sure is god damn hot out here. I sure could go for a chicken salad sandwich or maybe some golf.’ And what does a black guy say? You know what he’ll say: ‘Damn, bitch. It’s hotter than a muh-fucka out here; now gimme your Reeboks before I smoke your ass.’ [there will be a short pause from the white people to make sure the black people are laughing, but once you see the black people smiling and nodding as if to say ‘It’s funny because it’s so true!,’ then you are in the clear].

[If you are able to, for a send-off bit, smash some fruit with a large, hammer-like device. Gallagher and comics of his ilk are hot right now.]

[Surely, this is the climax of the audience’s laughing spree, so it is an ideal time to leave.] Thank you Chuckle Hut [or The Ha-Ha House; or TeeHee’s; or The Knee-Jerker Tavern; or The Synonym-For-Laughing Place; or BET’s Comicview], you guys have been great!” [Try to fall into something as you exit; people love slapstick.]"

Wow. Sheer comic genius, if I must say so myself. Now, the McSweeney's article:

"MY OBSERVATIONAL
COMEDY BITS THAT
CONTINUALLY BOMB
IN COMEDY CLUBS.
BY DAN KENNEDY

- - - -

1.

Guys, you ever do that thing where your girlfriend is out of the room, and you think she's not going to be back for a while, so you're kind of relaxing and not really thinking she'll be back anytime soon, so you start to envision the entire rest of your lives together, and you feel this huge heavy weight in your chest and you want to cry for some reason, but you also feel happy and glad to have crossed paths in this life? What's up with that? You're thinking about life and love and everything, and you can see the both of you from the point of being innocent kids, then teenagers, then adults, then middle-aged adults, then aging, then gone and only photos of your lives left behind? And you're wondering who will be there to look at the photos? Like, will you have kids? Will the photos just end up at a flea market? (Start goofing around with crowd a little bit. Do the thing where you make up a name: Say, "I mean, hello? What is my name? Saddy McSadders?") Yeah, you guys in the crowd know what I'm talking about! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about! And you feel like you're going to cry or drink or both, but then she comes back in to the room way sooner than you thought and you're, like, kinda freaking out and trying to hide it? (Point at a couple sitting in audience and say, "Yeah! Look at this guy! He knows what I'm talking about!")

2.

What's up with death? It's like: Hello? My body's going to stop working entirely at some point and nobody knows where you go after you cease to exist in this physical realm? And there may even be a chance that nothing at all happens and you don't "go" anywhere? What's up with that? Hello? (Make silly "confused" face and hold hands up like you need crowd to help you understand death.)

3.

I feel sorry for married guys. (For some reason, this opening line almost always gets a little laugh. So wait for it—and two, and three, and pick [beat] it [beat] up.) I mean, what's up with being married when you could be drinking and comparing your life to a wealthy actor's life, then going to bed and having super-vivid fantasies of what it would be like to have sex with the girl that works at the bar down the street from your apartment? (Then do this: knock on the top of the microphone with a loose fist so it sounds like somebody knocking on a door and maybe make deadpan face and say, "Bueller? Bueller?" or maybe yell in an angry voice, "Fact: Brian Wilson lost his mind when he was 28.")

4.

(Time to interact with someone in crowd a little bit.) Hello there, where are you from? Ah, New York. Born and raised? And how about your date there, the handsome gentleman you're with this evening, New York as well? Well ... you're both the kind of people I wish I could be, or could have as friends. Oddly enough, I will think about you two pretty often over the next few months from time to time, not even knowing your names, just remembering what you two look like. And I'll ascribe characteristics to each of you, values and qualities that I long for and fail to see in myself. I will, strangely enough, start to actually base my self-worth on what I think you would or wouldn't say about what I've done with my life. In some of the moments when I ponder the two of you, I'll imagine a breakup scenario that allows you (gesture to the woman) and me to start dating and reminiscing about how we met in a comedy club when I was onstage. If I think the fantasy all the way through, I'll realize that, more than making love to you, I want to simply be you. It won't figure into my sexuality at all, which is to say, it's not that I'm a man wanting to be a woman so he can make love to men.

(Ask crowd if they're having a good time tonight, and if they could make some noise. Then resume bit.)

It won't even register as some sort of fetish—it's not like I want to dress as you or anything. It's just that I'll realize I want to have these qualities that I've given you in my mind; mainly, this sort of innocent freedom of spirit without the trappings of guilt or paralyzing self-analysis. I will, for a moment, think that you were quite possibly the love of my life, and that, most likely, I missed my chance at taking the risk to tell you so. I will resolve all of this internal struggle by purchasing a modest secondhand motorcycle and riding it in the Rocky Mountains near Basalt, Colorado.

That's my time, you guys!

I've been Dan Kennedy and you've been great!

Put your hands together and keep it going for (name of next comedian on list)!"

Did I mention I thought my article is funnier? Just kidding (now, I'm just being bitter). It should be noted that this Dan Kennedy fellow is a regular contributor to the website. Things that make you go "Hmmmmmmmm..."

Have You "Met" Anyone Lately?

2006-01-06T02:22:00.000-04:00

So obviously I haven't posted in awhile, and I'll be honest, I haven't been busy. I've just been perpetually lazy. However, I just saw something on T.V., and nobody is awake. So, I have to get it in writing (no matter how random and unnecessary it is) or else it may be lost forever.

I've noticed a trend in late night television over the past couple of months. If you stay up late enough, you are bound to see commercials for phone dating services (which is dinner-table speak for "phone sex"). These commercials aren't new, but what are new are the advertisements for gay male phone dating services. Tonight, I just saw one such commercial, but this particular company promoted men meeting men over the phone and then meeting them in person. All the while, there is no reference to men meeting men for intimate relationship purposes. It simply stresses that men can meet other men. With all these vague references to people "meeting" each other it was a little like listening to a southern Baptist try to teach sexual education: the only people who benefit from the description are people who already know what the speaker is hinting at. So I'm sitting here thinking, 'If they spend all this time meeting, when do these guys find time to fuck each other?'

But that wasn't what really amused me about the commercial. Later in the ad, they show several simulations of dudes meetings each other in person, for those viewers who might not know what this looks like. Even though anyone with half a fucking brain cell knows that this phone service is for gay guys, they continue to ambiguously skirt the issue. For example, one of the simulated "meetings" shows this big black dude in a wife-beater undershirt opening a door to a dude standing there, and they have this really bizarre, friend-like greeting as if the guy opening the door is like "Hey, it's Steve! Did you bring the nachos? Awesome, the game's about to start..." In another interaction, two dudes are talking to each other and one of the guys gives the other guy a couple of overly heterosexual pats on the shoulder. Look, I think we all know that anyone using this phone service is looking for a fuck buddy - not a drinking buddy. Although, that would be pretty hilarious if two straight dudes became friends through one of these things:

-"Man, you and Ted are such great friends. Have you known each other since you were kids?"
-"Actually, one night a long time ago I was bored and alone in my apartment, and this commercial comes on saying that if I call this number I could meet hundreds of dudes just like me. So I dialed the number, and here we are. It's been three whole months yet we're still best friends."
-"So, wait, you guys had phone sex?..."

Anyway, the moral of the story is that I stay up way too late. The other moral is that I don't update my blog often enough. But on a side note, I shaved my beard into a mustache, and I captured the evolution of my facial hair through the magic of photography. So, ask me about it sometime, and I'll show you the pictures. Also, I think it might be a law of nature that a mustache on any non-pornstar male under the age of 40 is certain to look really really gay. In fact, the only reason it doesn't look gay on a male pornstar is because while he is wearing it he literally has his penis in a woman's vagina (and as soon as he pulls out, you start to have doubts about his sexuality). I better do something about this mustache before I am asked to appear in a commercial for a male "meeting" phone service...

My Cop-out

2005-10-25T11:36:00.000-04:00

Hey Folks,
I have been too busy/lazy to write in my blog, so instead of coming up with something new, I'll simply give you a sneak peek of the next issue of The Pillory. This particular article is about abortion, and it's in the style of "The Onion" (I'm a hack). Oh, and I also just got a haircut (just in case you were looking for some personal info about me).

“Woman Seeks a Post-First-Trimester Abortion; Blames Procrastination”

A California woman appeared before the Supreme Court this week in an abortion suit that is by far the court’s most dynamic case of the decade. Experts agree that the justices’ decision is bound to re-shape the abortion debate in this country, and some are even calling this case more important than Roe v. Wade, Plessy v. Ferguson, and Alien v. Predator combined.

In a tearful press conference, Melissa Williams admitted that she was not prepared to bring a life into this world when she got “knocked up” by her boyfriend last January. “How can the government come into my life and take away my right to choose just because I didn’t get an abortion within their standard timeframe?” When asked if the reason why she didn’t get a first-trimester abortion was because she couldn’t make up her mind, Williams denied it, claiming she knew that she was going to get an abortion from the moment she discovered her pregnancy. The obvious question on everyone’s mind was ‘why the delay?’ “Ugh, you know how these things go,” Williams stated. “It’s like you get up one Saturday and you say ‘OK, I am absolutely going to clean the bathroom today. No excuses.’ And sure enough, there is a ‘Sex and the City’ marathon on TBS. Before you know it, it’s the end of the day and your bathroom is still dirty. It’s like my mother used to say: accidental pregnancies are nature’s little dirty bathrooms.”

Perhaps the most noticeable aspect of the press conference was fact that Ms. Williams did not look to be pregnant at all. She admitted later “Well, prolonged delays of the judicial system in America being what they are, I actually gave birth about four months ago. His name is Faux-Pas Aberration Williams, and he is soooo adorable! Regardless, I plan on killing him if I win this case.”

The unique aspects of Melissa Williams case has presented the Supreme Court with a number of issues on which they must deliberate: 1) Is it justifiable for both expectant and existent mothers to seek an abortion after the first trimester if they had intended to abort the fetus earlier but “never got around to it”?; 2) What is the proper way to dispose of a four-month-old, unwanted child?; and 3) How old is ‘too old’ when it comes to aborting your child?

The latter of these three questions will have distinct repercussions throughout the nation. Just ask Mary Anne Jenkins, a native of Philadelphia and a disappointed mother: “My son Gerald is a real loser. I don’t want to go into the details because it’s just depressing to even talk about him, but depending on the outcome of this case, I think I’m starting to remember that I was going to abort him in the first trimester but never got around to it [*wink*].” To these comments, the 17-year-old Gerald Jenkins replied “I’m in the room, mom, and I can hear you.”

The Supreme Court is remaining tight-lipped, not even letting the media know which way the justices are leaning. At a press conference, Chief Justice John Roberts stated, “Obviously, abortion is a very delicate issue in this nation, and landmark cases such as these bring out a lot of tension amongst the American people. Because of this, it is important that we approach this case with the utmost sincerity and dignity. I mean, there are a lot of ins and outs... and abortion is so serious... and... haha, I’m really sorry, I gotta be honest with you: I wasn’t paying attention at all during the hearings. I was trying to focus, but CT [referring to Justice Clarence Thomas] kept passing me these dead baby jokes. Have you heard these things? They are hysterical! And CT knows so many; he just kept passing them to me, rapid-fire. Haha, phew... Where were we? Oh right, it’s a delicate issue...”

Got Any Ideas?

2005-10-06T13:01:00.000-04:00

I haven't made a blog entry in awhile. That's partly because I had the LSAT last Saturday (10/1/05), and partly because I have been writing papers. Also, I have been saving most of my "funny" so that I could use it in articles for The Pillory. Truthfully, I haven't had any really interesting shit happen to me recently. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and get kidnapped or something. That would make for a pretty good entry.

The ?uestion

2005-08-14T11:06:00.001-04:00

Ok, if you can't answer the question "Paper or plastic?" in under five seconds, then you should probably kill yourself. I say that not because you are stupid (although you are pretty stupid), but rather because life is full of very complex decisions, and "paper or plastic" is not one of them. By telling you to kill yourself, I have saved you the difficulty of having to answer life's truly tough questions such as "What should I make for dinner?" or "Who's the father?"

There are a number of retarded reactions I have gotten to this question while working as a bagger at Farm Fresh. For example, sometimes I will ask the question to a couple, and they will look back and forth at each other, shrugging and silently pleading that the other would solve this unanswerable query.

I personally enjoy the people who get this look on their face like I just asked them "What's the square-root of 536?" They get this far-away look in their eyes as if to say "...Shit, I know this one... What are my choices again? Paper or plastic? Fuck."

Keeping with the theme of indecisive customers, there are some who seem confident in their answer but then throw you a curveball. They'll quickly say "Plastic," and then after several seconds of unloading groceries, they will suddenly spin and yell, "I mean paper!" I then have to break the unfortunate news to them that I have placed a time lock on the plastic bag and that there is no way that the groceries can be removed. For Christ's sake, chill out, Jumpy McNervous. Knowing my work ethic, I probably haven't even started putting the groceries in the bag.

And finally, I would like to officially announce that the phrase "That's fine" is not a socially acceptable response to the question "Paper or plastic?" If one more customer responds that way, I'm going to slap them in the mouth and then point my index finger in their face and say, "No." (...Alright, so I'm not actually going to do that, but it sounds funny, so I can pretend that I might do it.)

There are also people who are way too prepared to answer the question. The other day, I asked a customer "How are you doing today?" He looked at me and said "Paper." That makes sense. After all, I've had those days where I have felt a bit paper-y. I've been in a paper-ish mood with a paper-like outlook on life. (But on a serious note, I much prefer these people. They aren't going to bull-shit you. "Fuck the chit chat: I want some paper bags, stat.")

Fuck Farm Fresh

2005-08-02T14:38:00.001-04:00

Fuck Farm Fresh in its ruby red puckered asshole.

For the past few summers, I have had a number of part-time jobs. I usually have one main job that either makes most of my money or takes up most of my time (i.e., my camp counseling job for the past five or six summers or my internship this summer) and then a part-time job to supplement my income. I would like to think of it as a cherry on top, however most of these cherries have turned out to be dingleberries. Dingleberries do not go well with ice cream.

I know you are probably asking "Don't all summer jobs suck in some way?" and "What do you expect?" and "What is a dingleberry?" Let me start by saying that I can think of each job I have had and pinpoint exactly what made it blow: my job at the Virginia Beach Amphitheater = back-breaking work + low pay + upper level management douche bags = fuck you guys, I'm out of here; my job as a concierge at the Cavalier Hotel = easy work, but having to stand like a fucking royal guard for hours + a lot of supervisors and superiors who take pleasure in treating lower level employees like shit + the most butt-kissing this side of "The Art of Ass to Mouth: Volume 5" (yes, that is a real movie title) = you may sucketh my balls as I bid you adieu. These experiences would have probably led me to believe that all summer jobs are awful, if it weren't for my job as a camp counselor. That job was fun (hard work, but still fun); I liked most, if not all, of my co-workers and superiors; and it paid well. So, to answer your question, I do think there are good summer jobs out there, and furthermore a dingleberry is a small piece of shit. Without getting into too much anatomical detail, it can be really annoying.

That brings me to today. I've been working at Farm Fresh for a few weeks now, and I have been patiently waiting for that hallmark moment that finally pushes me over the edge into "you know what? fuck this job" territory. I feel that the moment has arrived: I always forget when my shift is because we are not given schedules and there is no consistency in shifts whatsoever. I'll have a shift that's listed as 'Wednesday night from 3:47:36 PM to 1300 hours military time.' Usually, I call in, and someone can easily tell me. This morning I called in and spoke with someone named Carole. Carole put me on hold to talk to someone named Pam. I was on hold for a good five minutes before Carole picked back up and said "Thank you for calling Farm Fresh. How may I help you?" For some reason, like an Alzheimer's patient I repeated my exact request. She then stated "I couldn't get through to Pam. Hang on a second." Allow me to now paint a picture of the workplace for you all: The customer service desk, where Carole was standing, is located at the front of the store and is approximately ten yards to the left of the clipboard that holds the schedules for Farm Fresh employees. I don't know who Pam is, or why she is necessary for this interaction to take place. Maybe Pam is the person who is designated to carry Carole over to and back from the clipboard. Maybe it's a firemen's carry situation, and Pam is the missing link in this chain that would otherwise successfully fling Carole to and fro the clipboard. These were the thoughts running through my mind as I waited for about ten minutes before, by the beard of Zeus, Pam picked up the phone. I explained to this mystery lady that I was trying to figure out when my shift starts. Well, I guess Pam was not the solution to my problems as she put me back on hold, which is good because my second question was going to be "Hey, is there any way I could listen to some more shitty oldies? I don't get enough of a fill during my shifts." Another five minutes or so rolls by, and I finally hear someone (and it very well could have been Carole) pick up the phone and say "Thank you for calling Farm Fresh. How may I help you?" My brain wanted my voice to let loose with a high-pitched scream that would shatter the ear drum of the person I was talking to (I imagine it would result in a Bat-Boy-esque facial expression), but I said to my brain 'No, brain. I'm going to handle this in a civilized manner.' Word-for-word, I stated, "I'm not going to keep doing this. All I wanted to know was when my shift started, and I have been put on hold for 15 or 20 minutes. So, I'll just get to work when I get to work," and I hung up. I was so mad that I couldn't even take a nap.

In all honesty, if that was the end of it, I would not have even made a blog entry about it. About an hour later, I had cooled off, thanks to a little bit of video games, when the phone rings. It's my boss (or one of my bosses, I guess), Nancy, and she starts off by saying "I understand that you called earlier asking about your shift, and you got a little impatient." This time, my brain wanted me to make a noise that would cause the listener to lose control of his/her bowels, thus filling his/her pants with human waste. I again explained to my brain that it was uncivilized and, furthermore, physically impossible to do so. I told Nancy that it was true that I called, however I was in and out of being put on hold for about 20 minutes. Nancy proceeded to do that wonderful thing when people talk to their employees like they are autistic. She goes, "Well, we are always busy here; you do know that we are always busy here, don't you Phil?" I wanted to say "First of all, I'm a fully functioning adult. You don't have to talk to me like I'm Corky from 'Life Goes On.' Secondly, bull shit that Farm Fresh is really busy on a Tuesday morning, or any weekday morning for that matter. People are at work weekday mornings. If we were busy on weekday mornings, why do you always need me to work afternoons and nights?" Instead of saying that, I simply said 'yes' and allowed to her to continue to feel like she is the greaser of the well-oiled machine that is the Farm Fresh on Great Neck Road. She explained to me that it is my responsibility to come to work and write down my shifts. Every job at which I have worked has provided a listing of shifts for its employees. I'm sorry if I don't keep loose-leaf paper with me at all times like Nathanial Bowditch, completing the chart of logarithms so that people may safely sail the seven seas (I knew reading "Carry on, Mr. Bowditch" in the seventh grade would help me someday, but who knew it would come in the form of an obscure reference in a lengthy blog entry). Oh, and my shift starts at 4:30. That's all I wanted to know in the first place. (But man, would it have been awesome if she was calling to fire me. It would almost be worth it to get fired from being a bagger.)

Earlier my dad called home, and I told him about what happened. I would have argued that the lesson to be learned is that anything can be turned into a whining yet hilarious (and in this case, laugh-out-loud funny) blog entry, but he made a better point: when I get out on my own, don't treat people I work with in that way. I will utilize this lesson when I start my career as a bagger at the Farm Fresh on Laskin Road. I can't wait.

"Oh Boy"

2005-07-28T14:42:00.000-04:00

(This blog entry is rated PG due to bathroom humor and use of the word "penis")

So last night I had bathroom duty (take note of the spelling: "duty," not "doody") at Farm Fresh. The cleaning part was not that bad considering the fact that a couple of times I had to clean bathrooms when I worked at the amphitheater (at any concert or entertainment venue, I'm pretty sure that the only bathroom etiquette that people observe is that whatever you do in the bathroom should at least stay in the stall itself). The only uncomfortable moment of the night occurred when some old guy came into the bathroom while I was cleaning. I didn't have a problem with this guy using the restroom while I was in there, but I was a little confused by what he said as he stepped up to the urinal: "Oh boy." Oh boy? Even after he left I couldn't wrap my mind around what he meant. Was it an excitedly anxious "oh boy" as in, "I can't wait to pee!"? Was it a nervously anxious "oh boy" as in, "Here we go again..."? Or was it an sarcastically anxious "oh boy" as in... well, you all know what sarcasm is. I realized that any way he meant it could not have been good. Think about it, if he was being sarcastic that means that he hates to pee. What's so bad about peeing, old man? If he was nervous, then that suggests he has some sort of a health problem associated with peeing. I don't want to get into the specifics, but clearly that's not a good thing. And finally, if he was excited, then, well, that pretty much speaks for itself.

The moral of the story is: don't make small talk with strangers in the bathroom (or at least, don't make small talk with me). I enjoy small talk with strangers as much as the next guy, but the game changes when you add the twist that we are both holding our penises (or peni, if you prefer the Latin). If I'm going to be talking to strangers while holding my penis, it better be a conversation that I'm paying for by the minute. (Thank you, folks, I'll be at the "Funny Bone" in Virginia Beach all week)

Me and My Politically-charged Questions

2005-07-19T00:03:00.000-04:00

In case you haven't noticed, I don't like the idea of people getting on a soapbox, be it a cardboard soapbox or internet soapbox (or a soapbox actually made out of soap, for that matter), and speaking their mind on politics as if they know everything and those who are in opposition to them know nothing. Currently, this is the basis for political discourse in our country. If you watch or listen to any political program today, the scenario is almost always the same: two or more individuals who fall on opposite sides of a conflict are brought on to discuss said conflict; each side proceeds to blindly argue his/her point; the volume of the speakers' voices gradually builds; the person who is yelling the loudest by the end of the show wins the debate. The Presidential "Debates" are the worst example of our problem with political discourse. In the Presidential Debates, they actually have rules stating that the candidates are not allowed to look at each other let alone interact with each other. Very little is actually debated in our country because people essentially say, "This is what I believe, and no matter how much sense your argument makes I won't change my point of view." This was Jon Stewart's basic point when he argued with Tucker Carlson and Paul Begala on CNN's "Crossfire." "Crossfire" is a show that basically brags about being ignorant, as they guarantee with every episode that they will find a way to take an issue and spin it to support both Republican and Democratic opinions. How does this help resolve the issue? I personally prefer to engage people with whom I disagree by asking them questions about why they feel a particular way about something (not in a Middle School gay guidance counselor sort of way but rather in a fundamental political belief sort of way). Believe it or not, this long explanation is just a build-up for what I originally wanted to talk about.

So, let me start by saying that I support someone's right to bear the Confederate flag. In my opinion, you can disagree with what the flag stands for (i.e., I support the right to do the action, not the action itself), but as long as you can prove that the bearer isn't using the flag to intimidate others, then you have to respect their freedom of speech.

However, I do have a question for those who bear the Confederate flag: why? Why bear the flag? I understand that there is this notion of pride; in the sense that you are proud of the time that your territory rebelled and almost succeeded in gaining its independence from the United States of America. Yet, how can you symbolize this event on one hand, while saying that you are "proud to be an American" on the other hand? I guess I feel that this is contradictory because the Civil War was a time when the south tried to leave the union known as America. If a territory in the United States today were to suddenly decide that it wished to secede from the nation, would we not declare the people of this particular territory to be completely unpatriotic? In my opinion, the Confederate flag represents the ultimate example of shame in being an American. Someone please help me understand.

My Day(s) in Court

2005-07-16T01:12:00.000-04:00

Fridays are "motion days" in the Circuit Court, meaning that attorneys come in and enter motions, such as a motion for a continuance, for whatever cases on which they are working. Essentially, nothing important happens on motion days, which is why my supervisors allow me to serve as the clerk by myself on Fridays. As I sat in court this most recent motion day appearing to be intently working on the computer while in actuality I was playing minesweeper, I had a sudden revelation: "Hey, court is pretty boring." Don't get my wrong, I'm not saying that days like these aren't exciting for the judges and attorneys and, in general, people who are involved in the outcome of the cases. I'm just saying that now I understand why during a particularly long motion in a divorce case I watched a 6'6'', 250 lb. Bailiff read an issue of "Oprah" magazine (twice) just to shed a glimmer of excitement into the great netherworld of boredom into which he had unexpectedly wandered. Needless to say, I have found subtle ways (other than minesweeper) to amuse myself in court. Behold:

1) Apparently, the phrase "so help you God" at the end of most courtroom oaths is optional. So, I like to keep witnesses and court reporters on their toes. Sometimes I swear them in and say the phrase. Sometimes I leave it out. Sometimes I pause after "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth" and then slip a "so help help you God" right in there when they're least expecting it. Let me tell you, the look on their face when I slap them upside the head with a "so help you God": priceless. *(in this case, 'priceless' actually means 'disinterested' or 'apathetic')

2) I even have a favorite motion. My favorite motion is the motion to quash. I don't actually know what a motion to quash is, but it sounds funny. I think that's because the phonetics are so similar to "squash" which is a funny word already, but it also ushers in humorous connotations (god damn, that sounded hella pretentious). When a lawyer requests a motion to quash, I often picture the judge pulling out a large foam hand or a big mallet, slamming it down on the bench, and saying something to the effect of "This subpoena has officially been quashed!" This image makes court proceedings seem more like a professional wrestling match or a Gallagher concert (neither of which are particularly interesting events to me, but my feelings might change if one of these events was to show up randomly in a fiduciary hearing).

3) Occasionally, a case will have a funny name which is entertaining as is. For example, one divorce-related hearing that I'll always remember was Ugbo v. Ugbo (There was great unrest in the Ugbo household, and what seemed like a match made in Ugbo heaven sadly came crashing down). Muller v. Butt was a pretty good one as well. However, when funny names are lacking, it helps to put a Sherlock-Holmes-esque tagline to make a case seem more exciting than it is. For example, Dillenbeck v. Dillenbeck doesn't sound great, but how about Dillenbeck v. Dillenbeck: The Case of the Missing Child Support. What about Jard v. White: The Negligent UPS Driver. Or, Rodriguez v. Rodriguez: The Speckled Band... oh wait, that last one really was a Sherlock Holmes story.

Well, that's pretty much all of the court entertainment that I have come up with as of now. I don't know how to end this unnecessarily long post, so I'll simple finish on a high note: Ugbo.

Legitimate Questions

2005-07-15T15:00:00.000-04:00

So, if Karl Rove truly didn't realize that he was giving away the name of an undercover CIA operative, why didn't he come forward two years ago when the story first broke and explain that it was an accident? If anyone has an answer, I would genuinely like to know.

[By the way, don't worry, I don't plan on using this blog as an impersonal way to air my political grievances without having to answer anyone face-to-face]

On a more serious note, I would like to say that I admire the staying power of the "Now That's What I Call Music" album series. They are up to #19. How is this possible? Every album is composed entirely of the most downloaded songs at any given time. They must have a very devoted and law-abiding following. Sort of like the Hitler Youth of popular music.

My First Post

2005-07-15T01:30:00.000-04:00

This is my first blog entry. There will be more later.