Further Instructions

Okay, I hereby declare there has been enough fucking around. By yours truly as well as the writers, and producers of Lost. With that in mind, I have been digging and talking and searching and digging some more and made some connections and have come up with a possible spoiler connection for my favorite show - Lost. With that all being said there are some possible major spoilers listed below. So if you don't wanna know, don't read anymore. Let's start with tonight's episode The Man From Tallahassee. First, as everyone should already know is a Locke episode. No, I'm sorry, it's not a Locke episode; it is The Locke episode that everyone has been waiting for. We find out how Locke ended up in the wheelchair. Okay, this is your final warning the spoilers commence in the next paragraph.

My inside sources tell me this much about tonight's episode, and it's a lot. The flashback begins with Locke's father making wedding plans with a woman he is currently conning. Apparently the woman is worth quite a bit of money and Cooper (that's Locke's fathers name) is about to marry her. Her son, whose name is Peter Talbot (sp?), is concerned that Cooper is trying to bilk his mother out of her fortune and speaks to Locke about it. Locke goes and tells Cooper about this and asks him to call off the wedding or he will blow the whistle on him. Cooper agrees. Later, Locke get a knock on his door. Two FBI agents show up at his place asking questions about him and his connection to Peter Talbot since he was found dead with Locke's name on a piece of paper in his pocket. Locke goes to Cooper's home and questions him about it. Cooper swears he's not a murdered, that he was just after some of the woman's money. Turns out she is worth 200 million. Cooper says John got his wish as the wedding is off because of the woman's son dying. Locke asks his father "If I call her that's what she will say?" Cooper responds by telling Locke, "The phone's right there.". As John asks what the number is Cooper pushes Locke out of an eighth story window. The resulting fall breaks John's back. (So that's how he ended up in the wheelchair.) Now flashing forward to the island - Sayid, Kate, and Locke see Jack playing football. Juliet comes out and talks to him. Sayid says "Maybe Jack doesn't need saving." Jack and Juliet walk to a house and Juliet enters. Jack waits outside for ... Ben to come out in a wheelchair. Jack and Ben shake hands. Locke says, "This might be harder than we thought." Later that night, after a failed attempt to free Jack, Sayid and Kate are captured by the Others. Jack tells Kate she shouldn't have come back for him, that he has made a deal with the Others and he is leaving the island in the morning on the submarine. He tells her he will come back for her and he leaves the room. Meanwhile ... Ben wakes up and hears someone in his room, it's Locke with a gun aimed at Ben. Ben tells Locke he will tell him where Jack is. Locke tells him that he is not there for Jack, he's there for the submarine. Alex enters the room and Locke grabs her as he hears Tom approaching. Locke pulls her into a closet as he hears Tom tell Ben about Sayid and Kate. Ben replies by saying, "Get me the man from Tallahassee.", and Tom leaves. Locke wants his backpack and Ben sends Alex to get it. Ben blabbers something about wanting his dignity and asks John to put him in his wheelchair. He also tells Locke he knows about Locke being in a wheelchair and he knows how he got there. He then tells Locke he knows he probably found the explosives and wants to blow up the submarine. Ben tells Locke how hard it was not talking to John about his ability to walk again while being held prisoner in the hatch. Ben asks some questions about the plane crash and when John got the use of his legs back, and how painful it must have been. Alex goes and gets the pack which is near Sayid. Sayid tells Alex she looks like her mother. Alex says "My mother is dead.". Back to Ben telling Locke that if he blows up the sub, he (Ben) will have problems with his people. Ben's people want to be there but they like to know they can leave whenever they want. If John blows up the sub that illusion will disappear. (Illusion? Apparently Ben doesn't think he could let them leave whenever they wanted, hence he wants Locke to blow up the sub.) Ben goes on to tell Locke that somewhere on the island is a box and that inside that box is anything that he could imagine. Whatever he wanted to be in there would be in there when he opened the box. (He also takes a poke at Locke by saying "You know something about boxes, don't you John?" making reference to John working at the box company. The one Hurley just happens to own, I might add.) "What would you say about that John?" To which Locke responds (and this is a good line) "I'd say I hope that box is big enough for you to imagine yourself up a new sub." They then have words over Locke's anger and about Ben and the Others "cheating". Then Ben tells Locke about Jack's deal to get off the island. Alex then leads Locke to the sub and Alex tells him Ben wants John to blow up the sub. "My dad is manipulating you. He makes you think it is your idea, but it's his." Locke responds by saying, "I'll keep that in mind.", as he laves to go blow up the sub. Danielle is in the bushes watching all of this but makes no attempt to make contact with Alex. Jack and Juliet go to see Ben. Jack asks Ben to let his friends go. "I’ll let them go as soon as your off the island, you have my word.", Ben tells him. Juliette thanks Ben for keeping his promises. Jack, Juliet, and some others run into Locke at the pier just before they are about to leave. Jack asks Locke what he’s doing there to which Locke replies "Sorry Jack." Jack- "Sorry for what?"

BOOM

The sub explodes and Jack looks mad.

Locke is handcuffed to some plumbing in a boiler type room. The man who recruited Juliette (I guess the one from Mittleos, my connection means) and Ben open the door.
Locke-"You don’t have to pretend your disappointed. I know you wanted me to blow up the sub."
Ben tells the recruiter to uncuff him.
Ben- "Remember when you called me a cheater? I never wanted to let Jack and Juliet go because it was a sign of weakness and failure but I also couldn't go back on my word and kill them because that would have been cheating and I would have lost my power over the others. Then you came walking out of the jungle to make my dream come true. (He said something similar to Jack about his tumor and Jack falling from the sky.)

Locke-"You’re not gonna start talking about the magic box again are you?"

Ben- "No John I’m gonna show you what came out of it. When I asked you if it hurt I wasn’t talking about physical pain. How did it feel that your father tried to kill you?

Locke-"You wanna know if it hurt my feelings?"

Ben- "I know you’re afraid. That’s why you don’t want to leave, you're hiding and this is the one place he can never find you. You have some type of communion with this island John and that makes you very special. I want to help you."

Locke- "Why?"

Ben- "Because I’m in a wheelchair and you're not. Are you ready to see what was in the box?"

Cooper is sitting tied to a chair with duct tape over his mouth!

Locke-"Dad?"

Crash to black.

Wow! Locke's father on the island? Well we shall see if my connection is right or not. Either this is gonna be a big spoiler for us all or it's a load of horse hockey. I can however promise you this; that if my informant is right, look for a death of a character next week. Hopefully there will be more to come. Enjoy!

Strawberry Spring

Mother Nature Does What She Does Best ...

And Fucks With Us! Again!

It's been a week of weird. This time last week I was out walking the dog around the block and thinking maybe I should have worn shorts. It was 72 freakin' degrees. Then as I am puttering around the old homestead I notice on the news that they are talking about snow. Surely they must mean somewhere else. Certainly not around here. I was wrong. Friday comes and it seems like a normal Friday morning in mid-March (as normal as that can be around here). Rain in the forecast and then a change over to sleet, freezing rain and possibly snow. Still in disbelief I snickered to myself. I usually only snicker to myself, I don't snicker well so I don't want too many people seeing it. Now guffawing, I do that well and am happy to do so en mass. Back to my story. Somewhere during the morning on Friday, I go outside for break and it has already started. Rain with a little sleet mixed in. Not thinking this was a big deal I wondered if this was what they were all in a tizzy over. Shortly after noon, I took my second break. What a difference. The rain had changed entirely over to sleet and was beginning to accumulate. A stiff wind was blowing and the temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees since I had came to work at 6 am. I popped on the radio inside of the Cheeksmobile and the current "slizzard" was all the rage. El Nino, slizzard, rain event, and all those other "new" weather terms can kiss my ass. What the hell is a rain event? Who schedules these and how do we get tickets? It was at this time I decided I was going to skip lunch and leave early. At 2:00 I left work and decided to tool around town to do a few errands. What a stupid idea this was. But I did them none the less. I got home a little before 4:00 and took out the "Pupper" he's 2 and a half but he's still a puppy to me. He didn't like it much either. So we quickly returned home. My apartment is on the second floor, which usually works out well when we have downstairs neighbors and it's cold outside. Unfortunately our downstairs neighbors moved out at the beginning of February. So it's been nearly impossible to keep our apartment warm for a month. It was nice last week, we even had windows open. But Strawberry Spring is only an illusion created by nature, it's like Indian Summer only with an attitude. For me, Indian Summer is really nice, most of those days are how I would like it to be all year round. Nice 70 degree days in late October are awesome only we know they won't last and soon the days will be cooler and eventually get cold when winter comes around. Strawberry Spring is a vicious bitch. It comes around and says; "Hey, this is nice, isn't it? Pretty warm, man are those legs white. It'll be spring soon, and then summer and you should really start to work on your tan so as not to frighten the young or elderly away with those legs that only you and the undead seem to be able to sport. Well, gotta go. Oh and Old Man Winter says he really hates you, but he doesn't have to tell you that, you'll know by Friday." And so I did. But it got me a day off work, yeah I called out Saturday. So screw off Strawberry Spring and you can eat my ass Old Man Winter. You both deserve each other. Now if I can find out who had the idea to change the clocks in the middle of March instead of the old way we used to do it, well, him and I need to have a talk. March, in like a lion out like a lamb can blow me. That's a stupid saying, and a tattoo of it is even more stupid. But that's another story entirely.

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame???

This week the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (as questionable as that may be of a name now) inducted the class of 2007. Included in this years honorees are/is R.E.M (deserved but perhaps a little bit early they haven't had nearly enough reunion tours), The Ronnetts (Ronnie Spector lead singer and wife of Phil, their producer were the group responsible for "Be My Baby", "Baby I Love You", and a lot of other songs with Baby in the title from the '60s.), Patti Smith (the Poet Laureate of the feminist movement in punk rock as well as a Glassboro State College dropout), Van Halen (aside from being one of my favorites, which probably carried little weight in the decision to put them in, they are also in the Guinness Book of World Records for most number one hits on the Billboard Mainstream Rock List as well as fifth on the list for album sales by rock bands. The top four being Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Pink Floyd and Def Leppard.) With that being said, it's all a big sham because I left one honouree out. Grandmaster Flash. Now I don't have a problem with his art per se, just the fact that he is in the RNRHOF I find highly suspicious. By description alone he should be discounted, he is a hip-hop musician and DJ not a rock musician or artist. Beyond that fact, I also find it odd that while Grandmaster Flash is being inducted, which let me point out "White Lines" and "The Message"are two of the best and most ground breaking songs in rap history, they are that, rap. However the Moody Blues and Rush are still not in the RNRHOF. So what gives?
Perhaps the main criticism is that the nomination process is controlled by so few. Three of which are founder Jann Wenner, former foundation director Suzan Evans, and writer Dave Marsh, and the inductees are reflected in their tastes rather than the views of the rock world as a whole. A former member of the nominations board once said:

"At one point Suzan Evans lamented the choices being made because there weren't enough big names that would sell tickets to the dinner. That was quickly remedied by dropping one of the doo-wop groups being considered in favor of a 'name' artist ... I saw how certain pioneering artists of the 50s and early 60s were shunned because there needed to be more name power on the list, resulting in 70s superstars getting in before the people who made it possible for them. Some of those pioneers still aren't in today — but Queen is."

Petitions with tens of thousands of signatures were also being ignored and some groups that were signed with certain labels or companies or were affiliated with various committee members have even been put up for nomination with no discussion at all.

Another criticism is that too many artists are inducted, allowing for several lesser acts to make it in. In fifteen years, 97 different artists have been inducted. A minimum of 50% of the vote is needed to be inducted, although the final percentages are not announced and a certain number of inductees (5 in 2007) is set before the ballots are shipped.

The Sex Pistols, inducted in 2006, refused to attend the ceremony, calling the museum a "piss stain."


Perhaps the Sex Pistols were correct, but we should have known it was going to be a joke since they chose Cleveland over Philadelphia for the site in the first place. I know Cleveland is the better choice, oh sure Philadelphia had "Bandstand" and was the place where much of the early days of Rock and Roll was rooted in but compared to Cleveland which was where... um ... Rock and Roll in Cleveland is ... well it was where ... oh, I'll go think about it and get back to you on that one.

More Evidence

The Glass Ballerina

There we are, David and I, in our blurry glory. Every four or five weeks, depending on the time of year, I get to go see "My David". He loves it when I call him that! I say depending on the time of year because my hair grows faster in the warmer months so I go more frequent then. David is my personal hair stylist. About 10 years ago give or take I moved to The Shade of the Mighty Maple and eventually grew tired of driving nearly a half hour to get my hair cut. Even though I used to go to Gullo's in Marlton and yes, the girls were hot there I needed to go somewhere closer. After Gullo's changed ownership, in part I believe due to a divorce settlement, it changed location, management, as well as prices and stylists. The girl I usually got quit and went to work in Medford which is even further away. The prices went up and I couldn't find a stylist I liked. Although it was in Gullo's that I got my first man induced erection, so I guess the prices weren't the only thing that went up, but I digress. During a time when I was driving around town, I noticed a place called Shear Energy. I decided to stop in to get a hair cut. Thus bloomed the 10 year love fest with "My David". I have never had anyone style my hair the way he does. The straddling my knee while he trims my beard aside, they are after all only perks, he throws that in for free with the service. I've been a client of David through his becoming a widower when his partner died as well as almost loosing him. It was a spring morning somewhere around 2001 that David awoke with an incredible head ache. All it did was worsen and soon he was in the Emergency Room with a brain hemorrhage. He was lucky to be alive. I was told about it the day after it happened when I went for my normal appointment. At the time they still didn't know if he was going to make it. I was crushed. Not only was a friend of mine gravely ill and I was concerned for his health but where the hell was I gonna get my Doo done now? For almost one year (I think that's how long it was anyway) I suffered through someone else cutting my hair, I almost considered going back to Gullo's but the drive was not worth it so I stayed with Shear Energy. One day I walked into Shear Energy and to my surprise there stood David behind a styling chair. He was back. A little thinner (now since corrected), and still a bit weak but it was David. Happily, we are still together. I love hearing all his stories about his love life (but I fear he's turning into a video chat room Floozie) and he loves hearing all of my rough around the edges redneck stories (my metro sexual ones too, even though he tells me metro is now out). Oh, and in case you are wondering yes, that is my hand on his ass in the picture, and my girlfriend took the picture. Not sure what that says about her?!?!

Fave Foto Friday

OK so this is my first shot at getting on Pax's FFF so with that I offer this little entry:

The Creature Walks Among Us!!

That's right, you heard it here first folks, it's official, The Creature really does walk among us! And he might be running for Mayor of Philadelphia, for Christ's sake!! I submit the following pictures as well as the previous film captures as 100% proof that I am not making this up! I present to you Milton Street otherwise known as The Creature!
If that's not proof enough, I have the next one that I like to call "The Snake in the Mailbox" picture. This one was snapped right in my neck of the woods just after he posted bail for being arrested for tax evasion but right before he went on a crazed rampage and killed four innocent bystanders and took one unsuspecting woman hostage (The Creature has a habit of doing this if you have seen the movies.)

In fact after this, I am hesitant to call them "movies" now, they may just turn out to be early documentaries of the rise to power of The Creature. I almost wanna move to Philadelphia so I can vote for whoever has the courage to run against this monster. Somehow I have a bad feeling this may be the beginning of the end. God, if your listening, please help!!

(Some of the facts may have been exaggerated for dramatic effect. In other words, no, he didn't really kill anyone and didn't do any kidnapping either.)

Tale of Two Cities

I told you those stories so I could tell you this one. I told Russell I was going to be including the stories about him in my blog. He was okay with that, then I told him what stories I was going to write about and he was a little bit worried. He knows me pretty well it turns out even though we had not seen or spoken in over 20 years. As it turns out he liked what I wrote (although he remembers some of it differently than I do but hey, it's my blog so I have final word) in fact he sent me an email that after I read it I decided I would edit down a bit and then include here in my blog so you might get a better understanding of Russell. With that in mind I let Russell take over as guest writer.


Cheekies (some names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.-Ed.),
Ok not so bad even tho you got a few things wrong, but I get the editing for dramatic effect and all so I'll give you a passadena. I told you after we left Texas we went to Mass and then Pheonix right? Well let me tell you coming back out here has been culture shock for me, but I am refamiliarizing myself with the area. But I gotta ask you where do you people learn how to drive? From what I can tell this is the handbook they give you when you apply for a liscence here.


NJ Drivers Manual

1. Turn signals will give away your next move. A confident New Jersey Driver avoids using them.

2. Under no circumstance should you maintain a safe distance between you and the car in front of you, because the space will be filled in by somebody else, putting you in an even more dangerous situation.

3. The faster you drive through a red light, the less chance you have of getting hit.

4. WARNING! Never come to a complete stop at a stop sign. No one expects it and it will result in your being rear-ended.

5. Never get in the way of an older car that needs extensive bodywork, especially with PA, NY or DE plates. With no insurance, the other operator probably has nothing to lose.

6. Braking is to be done as hard and late as possible to ensure that your ABS kicks in, giving a vigorous foot massage as the brake pedal violently pulsates. For those of you without ABS, it's a chance to strengthen your leg muscles.

7. Never pass on the left when you can pass on the right. It's a good way to prepare other drivers entering the highway.

8. Speed limits are arbitrary figures; given only as a suggestion and are not enforceable in New Jersey during rush hour.

9. Just because you're in the left lane and have no room to speed up or move over doesn't mean that a New York driver flashing his high beams behind you doesn't think he can go faster in your spot.

10. Always brake and rubberneck when you see an accident or even someone changing a tire. This is seen as a sign of respect for the victim.

11. Learn to swerve abruptly without signaling. New Jersey is the home of high-speed slalom-driving thanks to the Department of Transportation, which puts potholes in key locations to test drivers' reflexes and keep them alert.

12. It is tradition in New Jersey to honk your horn at cars in front of you that do not move three milliseconds after the light turns green.

13. Remember that the goal of every New Jersey driver is to get ahead of the pack by whatever means necessary.

14. In New Jersey, 'flipping the bird' is considered a polite salute. This gesture should always be returned.

Hope you like that, and hey are most of the people that read your blog thing from NJ?

See ya
Russell


(this ends the guest writer's part of the blog)


All I can say is welcome back and it's our state, get used to it! Also I know why Russell put in #4, he got rear ended doing exactly that very thing a few weeks ago. Um, what's ABS? You're way over my head on this one! For #11 you can thank us later. As for #12, you're goddamn right, I got shit to do, why else are the horns there? The goal in #13 should be everyones, what's the problem? "Flipping the bird", as you put it, is our state bird. Man, do you have a lot to get reaquainted with. Now if you would get registered you could comment on the blog you have now helped create (hint hint).

Live Together, Die Alone

Ok, so here's the story; like I mentioned in my last blog, in the fall of that year, during my junior year of high school, I saw a boy (man? he was 17, you tell me), lose "one of his boys" to the top of a chain link fence very much like the one pictured above in this blog. It was during second period gym class, for that part of the semester the activity was tennis. As I had said the tennis courts were surrounded by the aforementioned chain link fence. It was somewhere in the second week of tennis class, after we had done some fundamentals work and learned grip, stroke, pressure, speed, force, thrust, ... hey, we are still talking about tennis, right? Anyway, all the boring getting to know your racket crap was out of the way and it was time for us to split up into teams and play mixed doubles. We had to split up into guy/girl teams and Kathy Louis was my partner. This kind of has a Rustler connection in that she was the sister of the guy Meg was dating for awhile. His name was Steve, that's all I remember except for the time he got kicked by a horse, maybe you remember that too, Cerpts. But I digest, or something or other. After we picked partners they made a chart for us to play a round robin tournament. As luck would have it, I was actually pretty good at tennis, I was athletic back then. So was Kathy, she was the catcher for the softball team and the goalie for field hockey or maybe it was lacrosse. So, obvious, she was tough. Also later in life a lesbian, but that's not PERT-inent to the story ... or is it? Actually it's not I was just trickin'. So we are playing a match against another team, no idea who the girl was, but the guy was a teammate of mine on the football team, Robert Lee. No his middle name didn't start with an "E" it was Albert. Yeah, I had to ask. He was half Asian and half Puerto Rican. He also sat behind me in English class, this will come into play later. Anyway, back to that fateful tennis match; even though Robert was athletic as well, his partner was not. Kathy and I was doing a pretty good job of kicking their butts when Robert hit a shot back to me. It was one of the biggest lobs I had ever seen. Suddenly my racket seemed to be three times it's actual size, the ball was in slow motion, and we had a pretty big lead. This seemed like a perfect time to do my best Greg Luzinski impression (he was a baseball player on the Phillies back then, I almost said Mike Schmidt, but he's a dick) I wound the racket back and crushed it with a two handed forehand and lifted it up, up, up, and over the chain link fence that was around the tennis court. The number one rule of tennis in gym class was if you sent the ball over the fence you had to go get it. Two teams, one match, one ball. How odd, I should make the last part of that statement, but I'm jumping ahead of myself. Robert looked at me and said "Nice one asshole!". To which I dropped my racket and celebrated with my best "It's outta here!" Harry Kalas impression (he was and still is the announcer for the Phillies, he also does the NFL films commentary now since John Fascenda died a few years back.) So Robert says; "Now go get it." Here's a little more info about the layout of the tennis courts and the offending fence; there was only one door that led onto and off of the tennis courts. The door was two courts down and on Robert's side of the courts. So I replied "C'mon man, you're closer." Apparently Robert had been paying attention during science class or whatever class you are in when you learn the rule that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. So instead of going over to the door, exiting the tennis courts, and getting the ball, Robert decides he's going to go over the fence. Now this fence had to be about 10 or 12 feet tall. In the middle of the fence there was a metal pole that was for support that went all the way around the courts. Robert quickly jumped up, used this pole for support as well as a jumping off point for his feet in order to scale the second half of the fence. As he got to the top, where there was no more support, and it was exactly as pictured above, Robert swung one leg over and tried to use the pressure grip method with the toe of his sneaker as he went to swing the other leg over. His toe was about a foot or two from reaching the support bar and I guess he figured his foot would catch it as he slid down. Well, he never had the chance to test this theory however, because as he went to swing the second leg over, his foot other foot slipped. In other words he crotched the top of the chain link fence. All of the air immediately went out of Robert (this wasn't the only thing that would be coming out of my teammate this beautiful October morning), then he started moaning and screaming in agony. I ran over to him and asked if he was alright as I tried to stop laughing. He then informed me that the fence went into his balls. Of course my only answer was "What?", as I felt my own stomach lurch, flip upside down, and then spin back around. He once again informed me, a little louder this time, and with a lot more panic in his voice, that the fence went into his balls. I believe his exact words were: "I think the fence skewered my nut!" I yelled for the gym teacher, Mr. Kelley. He was still oblivious at this point to what was going on and what had happened. He immediately told Robert to get down off of the fence. I told him that I didn't think that was possible. He started walking over and I decided to meet him half way. It was about this time that someone else noticed the blood that was now drenching Robert's white gym shorts, the fence, and even dripping onto the tennis court. I looked back and my brain had a difficult time of processing the information my eyes were transferring to it. As Mr. Kelley asked to nobody in particular, "What the hell happened to him?", I realized my friends blood was all over the fence, and not just any blood, it was nut blood. I then told Mr. Kelley that I thought the fence was in Robert's balls. So he continued to walk towards Robert and told me to go get the nurse, which I did as fast as my fat ass could go. I ran into the school, into the nurses office and quickly blurted "We need you at the tennis courts, Robert Lee's nuts are on the fence. The nurse looked dumbfounded. She asked me if I thought we needed 911, to which I said I thought that might be a good idea. So she called them and then we went back to the tennis courts. In the time it took me to go get the nurse and for her to call 911 everyone except for Mr. Kelley was back in the school. Well, Robert was still there too, duh! I told Mr. Kelley we had called 911 and he told me to go get one of the janitors and see if they could bring out the cherry picker. If you don't know what a cherry picker is I'll try and describe it; it's like a ladder, with a landing and a little compartment for you to stand on,think of one of those little basket type ladder things that are on the PSE&G trucks that they use to raise them up to work on telephone poles. Well, that's what a cherry picker is. The one we had at the school was one you had to push around as it was on wheels. By the time me and two janitors got back to the tennis courts with the cherry picker an ambulance and a cop had arrived. the cop wanted a statement which I had to give him and the paramedics thought the cherry picker was pretty useful idea. So they erected the ladder and one of them climbed up and began to examine Robert who was now quieter than he had been a few minutes prior. Of course that was because he was in shock as the paramedic was quick to point out. That's pretty understandable. Every little movement sent waves of pain through Robert's body to the point he had faded in and out of consciousness a couple of times while perched on the top of the ball piercing fence. Then the paramedic that was checking out Robert said to the other "Call West Jersey, and ask if they want us to cut the fence or extract on the scene." I had no idea what that meant but it didn't sound as bad as it was going to get. Mr. Kelley then told me that when I finished telling the police what happened I could go inside and get ready to go to my next class. Robert then spoke up and said "No, I want him here." Mr. Kelley said it was okay if I wanted to stay and I figured I was partially responsible so it was the least I could do. How I soon wished I had decided to leave then and there. I finished telling the cop what had happened and came over to Robert and told him to hold on they we going to get him down real soon. Now he told me the fence was ripping his ball and his sack. My stomach did it's acrobatics again a little more seriously this time. The paramedic that was on the radio in the ambulance said and I quote "West Jersey said extract on sight and apply pressure packs until arrival.". That didn't sound good I had decided pretty quickly but I tried to make it sound like a good thing to Robert. "They are going to get you down now man.", I told him. He didn't respond, I think he was as close to fainting as he could get without actually doing it. The paramedic who was up on the ladder then gave Robert a needle. Yeah, in the balls! I'm getting queasy just writing this now. Well, apparently "extract on site" meant "take out the testicle and leave it dangling on the fence" because that was what they did. After they lifted Robert off of the fence (a few ounces lighter as well as a pint or two of blood lighter), it took me a few minutes to stop staring at my friends testicle that was now hanging on the fence. It wasn't as big as I had expected nor as round. It kinda looked like a bloody chicken dumpling. The paramedics put Robert on a stretcher and put him in the ambulance. While the one started an iv and got his vital signs (Robert was thankfully unconscious by now either from pain or drugs, I don't know which to this day), the other one removed the destroyed testicle and placed it in a blue bag. On the bag written in large black block letters were the words: Medical Waste. A few minutes ago it was a testicle inside the body of a seventeen year old and now it was "medical waste". I looked at the paramedic and asked him if they could save it and he told me it was almost impossible. So fast forward a week or so and Robert is back in school and he is sitting behind me in English class. I asked him how he was and he said it still hurt some and I apologized and sad I felt like it was my fault which he of course said it wasn't. Then he told me something I never expected him to tell me. He told me he had an artificial nut. It was made out of silicone (just like a breast implant apparently). To which I asked "What?!" And then just for good measure added; "Why?!" The answer was surprisingly convincing, Robert had asked the plastic surgeon for it. Robert felt that later in life when he might be "getting busy", as he put it, he didn't want a girl to be going down there and feeing around and only feel one ball. That was the end of our conversation about his nut, ever. Sometimes I think about it and wonder if they could have put a little zipper in his sack, maybe even like a stint so he could open the sack and close it thereby allowing him to have a variety of different balls to place inside. You know, holiday and special occasion theme balls. A little jingly one for Christmas, one shaped like an egg for Easter. Or maybe even a squeaky one like they put in dog toys. Now there is a conversation piece!

Three Minutes

A few days after the incident at the tennis courts (those tennis courts, months later, would also be the site of the first and only time I saw someone literally loose a testicle on the fence surrounding it, if you don't know the story, remind me sometime and I will tell it, as gingerly as possible of course) Russell's seat in first period English class was empty. I really didn't think anything of it at the time, he had been through enough lately and if he was sick, it was understandable. After English I saw a girl in the hallways who lived a few doors down from Russell, she stopped me in the hall and asked if I had heard about Russell's sister. I told her I had not. That was how I found out she had died. I didn't wait for Russell to come back to school to hear from him what had happened, as soon as I got home I called his house. He answered the phone and I realized I had no idea what to say. Then I remembered what he had told me "Just be my friend."
"Russell, man, it's Chris, look I know you probably don't feel like talking but if you need anything or want to talk to someone, just call."
I didn't want to bother him anymore as I started to feel a little bit embarrassed by the fact that my morbid curiosity was more of the reason I called than out of concern for him and his father.
"That's all I wanted to tell you. Bye." As I started to take the phone from my ear he said "Thanks. I'll be in school Monday." And then we hung up. Now the cold bastard in me, even back then it occasionally reared its ugly head, starting assessing the situation and came up with one solid fact: A mother dying from cancer merited almost two weeks from school, a sister who commits suicide only a few days. But I was in no position to judge. Russell wasn't in school on Monday after all, nor was I, as they had decided the funeral would be held on Monday. I went along with about a dozen other kids I went to school with. The funeral was as most funerals are; sad, morbid, and painfully long. What made this one different was the conversation I had with Russell for a few minutes outside of the funeral home. The funeral was at Bradley's funeral home, some of you might know where that is and it's not important to the story now that I think about it, but anyway, we went outside and Russell motioned for me to sneak around back with him. I figured that meant we were going to have a smoke. We lit our Parliament Lights that Russell supplied and I noticed my friend was more himself than he had been in the last month. He wasn't taking his sisters passing as hard as he had his mothers apparently, then I noticed something even more shocking, Russell was pissed.
"Can't believe the stupid bitch did it." He told me.
"What?" I asked, not believing what I had just heard.
"Kill herself, that was stupid." Russell even began to laugh a little now. Still unbelieving, I remained silent. "She said she was going to do it and I told her she was an idiot to think about it. Said she didn't want to live without mom around."
"Wow, that's rough.", was all I could muster to say.
"I know she took Mom dying and all hard but did she think I didn't?" Russell flicked his cigarette into the tall scrub grass that grew in the back of the funeral parlor where his dead sisters body was lying. "I told her she needed to get a grip and get some help, and not the kind of help that comes from pills in a little orange bottle either, but she didn't listen. She never did"
I was getting uncomfortable with the conversation but I had to stand there and listen, that's what a friend does after all, right?
"She left a note." Russell informed me next. "Sorry Daddy, blah blah blah, I miss Mommy, and I want to go be with her. Blah blah blah." Was basically how the note read , Russell is good at paraphrasing.
"Jesus, Russell, that sucks." I was good at stating the obvious.
"Yeah especially since she won't be seeing Mom now. You don't get there by killing yourself." Russell started to walk back to the front of the funeral parlor. "She was stupid, and selfish. And now I gotta bury her." Russell had grown up more than should be expected of anyone his age in the past few months. I didn't know what this meant for our friendship. As I said, I wouldn't get long to find out either. Two weeks after we finished school for the year, Russell's father was told by his superior officer that he was being reassigned to Texas. On July 5, 1984 Russell and his father moved out of the yellow house in Alluvium Lakes, and out of New Jersey. We said we would write, and for a while, we did. I don't know if it was him or me that failed to eventually respond to the others letter, but it doesn't matter at this point. Now over twenty years later Russell is/was a distant memory. Very distorted, and very foggy. Sort of like the camera angles at this years Superbowl (thanks CBS!). Then a weird set of circumstances led me to Lakeview cemetery in Cherry Hill during the late summer of last year. A coworker's mother died and I went to the funeral. I ended up going to the grave site as well. During part of the funeral at the cemetery, I noticed we were just a few graves down from where Russell's mother and sister were buried. That's when I started to remember all of this story, and none of this would have appeared on my blog, except for the fact that a few minutes after we had all decided it was time to do the "drop the flower on the coffin thing", I saw someone who I thought I recognized standing a little bit away from the group and was near other graves.
It was Russell.
We talked for a while, exchanged phone numbers (he move back out here two years ago, well kind of near here, West Chester Pa. to be exact), hugged and then went on with our day. As I walked back to my car I thought of what a weird coincidence that was, sometimes you're just meant to be somewhere I guess. I gave one last glance back to Russell and the pair of graves. A large bouquet of flowers was on the grave to my left, his mothers grave. On his sisters there was one single rose. For Russell, I guess, some things are hard to forgive.

?

To my friend Russell, with whom I slept, how long has it been since we spoke? Well, if you asked me about six months ago the answer would have been "a really long time". The last time I had heard anything from or concerning Russell (with two "L's" he made sure to tell me when I first met him in the third grade) was the early summer of 1984. I still remember sitting on the front porch of his little yellow house in Alluvium Lakes with his boom box playing our most favoritest songs. When Doves Cry, Dancing In The Dark, and What's Love Got To Do With It blasted from the speakers. Russell had the best boom box of anybody I knew, it had a dual cassette that allowed you to copy directly from one tape to another with just pushing two buttons. That was high tech shit back then man. We went to school together for seven years. His father was a career military man and they, along with his mother and older sister, had moved here from California when he was 8. We ended up going to school together at E. T. Hamilton School somewhere over in Voorhees. I don't know if I could find the school again on a bet, I don't know if it even still exists. Although I still remember where Russell lived. Last time I drove by, the house was still there. It's Tudor Brown now not Lampost Yellow. I still remember that was the name of the paint color that we used when we helped his father paint it back in 1980. It was the year the Phillies won the World Series. That's my thought process on remembering when it was anyway, Russell swears it was 1981. But back to 1984. We were just starting to celebrate finishing our sophomore year of high school, which was the second best year of school, to me, ever, senior year being the best. Not so good for Russell. Around Christmas vacation that year (I guess that would be '83 at this point), Russells' mother found out she had cancer. An inoperable brain tumor the doctors told the family. Of course they were welcome to seek a second opinion if they liked but it would probably be the same result. The prognosis was grim, the cancer was at a fairly advanced stage. They said four to six months. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. They were off by a few weeks. She died Valentine's Day of '84. Russell took it hard. The entire family took it hard. As would be expected. His sister, whose name escapes me, took it even harder. She overdosed on some sort of pills, alas, I can't remember what they were either (I think a sort of sleeping pill), two months to the day that her mother had died. Two thirds of an entire family was gone in the blink of an eye. Russell, who had came back to school at the end of February after his mother passed, was different. He was a lot quieter, a lot more serious, and it seemed, anyway, a lot older. At least more mature. Your mother wasting away in front of your eyes can have that effect apparently. Russell and I were still in three classes together, and we still had that unspoken friendship but we were now distant. Probably caused by my inability to know how to deal with a situation like this. This continued until a few days before his sister would die. Russell was outside at the tennis courts before first period one early April morning smoking a cigarette. This was back then when you could smoke in school, on the property, anyway, and the area around the tennis courts was the appointed area at Eastern Regional High School for smoking. Like I said, we were sophomores and although I played sports, I still smoked occasionally, everybody did back then. I joined Russell at the tennis courts, luckily my bus dropped me off near the smoking area and I was concerned about him, like I was every day, except I noticed who else was around the smoking area, so that made me more worried. Two of the schools biggest bullies were also there. I won't give their names but I still remember them to this day. Funny what sticks in your mind and what falls through the cracks. I could see the look on their faces and they were getting ready to start trouble as I walked up to Russell. I asked him for a cigarette and he handed me a Parliament Light. He smoked them because he liked the recessed filters so that meant, to him anyway, that they weren't as bad for you as the "cowboy killers". That's what he called Marlboros. He handed me one and a lighter. The fact that he carried a lighter impressed upon me the fact that he was a serious smoker, even back then. I didn't carry cigarettes on me let alone matches or a lighter. Now, nearly twenty three years later, he hasn't smoked for almost ten years, I, on the other hand, am good for anywhere between a pack and a half to two packs and even though they are supposed to be "ultra lights", they are of the "Cowboy Killer" variety. Anyway, back to my story. Too late to say "to make a long story short" that option ran out a few sentences ago. The two bullies were seniors, and that meant we were mortal enemies. In the normal high school hierarchy, seniors are always the top dogs. Sophomores, are like the lowliest of the working middle class. The freshman, like the homeless, are there just to show us how bad it could be. For some reason, possibly caused by some rift in the fabric of time, our sophomore class was as big, as bad, and as popular as the seniors. Sure we couldn't drive to school, we didn't have senior study hall, but the one thing we did have that the seniors didn't was we were the winners of Spirit Week. Traditionally, the seniors won this honor and won it walking away. For only the second time in school history had a class other than the seniors won Spirit Week. The first time it happened it was the juniors that won. So this made it even worse. The seniors were, for a while, the laughing stock of the school by the underclassmen and faculty alike. I can remember my teacher telling a senior in science class to be quiet or he would sick a sophomore on him. That senior was now standing near us at the tennis courts, the sophomore the teacher was talking about was Russell. They were making fun of something or other about Russell or me and doing it loud enough for us to hear. Russell heeled out his smoke and glared at the two idiots. "Shut up, assholes." He told them. That was all they needed. One of them asked "And what if we don't? You gonna run home and cry to Mommy?" That would have been enough for Russell, but before it even had time to register and for that switch to flip, the other one added; "Oh that's right, you can't cause you're Mommy's dead!" Yelling as he got to the end of the unbelievably hurtful statement. The switch that had already been flipped, now blew a fuse. Russell went beserk. For what seemed to me to be about five seconds, only long enough for me to get out "That's really f...." the "...ucked up" part of the sentence only one of them could have heard because with one punch the bullies numbers had been cut in half. At least the conscious ones were cut in half. Russell knocked out the first one, "Mr. Runhomeandcrytomommy", with one wild swing. A noise I had never heard from a human being, let alone anything living, exploded out of Russell. I don't think Russell purposefully targeted him first, I think just the unlucky draw of being the first one Russell reached was all it took for him to be the first to suffer the pent up rage Russell now released. It wasn't just the words they said that got the reaction. It was the fact that Russell just needed an excuse. He had no one to release the rage upon, until now. The force of the blow caused Russell to fall back himself, into the chain link fence around the tennis courts, head first. The fact that a rough section of fence tore a gash big enough that would later require fourteen stitches to close didn't stop Russell from now going after "Mr. Causeyourmommysdead". Unlike his buddy, "Mr. Causeyourmommysdead" didn't go down after one punch. It took three. The two morons, got up and left as I tried to attend to my hurt friend. Although, he had "won" the fight, blood was pouring down his face. I was in a panic. Luckily this was the time when those paisley bandannas were in style. You know the ones that nearly everybody had back then. I had a red one in my back pocket and I used it to start tying to stop the bleeding. Russell cringed and jumped back. He shoved me away and said "Ouch, don't man, I'm okay." To which I replied; "Then Russell, I don't know what to do for you, tell me what I can do for you!" I don't know if the question was meant to be as deep as Russell took it, I admit I was almost in tears when I asked it so he might have thought I meant it differently, but I don't think I asked it the way he answered it. He stood there looking at me, blood now drenching the collar of his grey "Member's Only" jacket (remember those?) turning it black. He fell to one knee and just started to sob as he answered me. "Just be my friend man, just be my friend." And that's what I did until the summer of '84 when his father got the orders he was being reassigned to a base in Texas.

To be continued...

Two For The Road

An Open Letter To The Guy That Works At The Gas Station

Dear Sir,

First allow me to begin by saying I am not a person who usually complains about the blue collar working man and/or woman, especially those that have to deal with customer service issues. I deal with people myself on a daily basis seeing as I work in retail. I know as well as the next guy that the normal paying customer can be a pain in the ass with a world of aggravation and some to spare. This, however, does not give you the right to provide me with horrendous customer service and expect me to accept and pay for said service without opening my mouth. I don't know where you are from, I assume though, from your accent you don't get choked up from hearing a rousing rendition of Born In The USA. Actually I don't either although I can assure you I am a true red, white, and blue-blooded American son of a bitch and if you knew my mother you would know I speak the truth. Since I am one-quarter Native American Indian I am truly one of the very first of the original gangstas. Even though my heritage is lost, watered down, or otherwise MIA, mostly due to the fact that after that first fateful Thanksgiving all the Indians decided they now wanted to become members of the Fakahwe tribe (you know the ones that walked around the Midwest for years asking "Where the f*ck are we?), I still deserve to be treated as a valued customer. If the shoe was on the other foot and you pulled into my gas station I would have served you differently than you did me. I feel that I need to note here that although I did say "my gas station" I do not really think it is in fact your gas station. I mean if it is, that's cool, in fact it might be better if it is since there is no way you will still be open and operating come Mother's Day with the type of customer service you are offering. But I digress. Oh, that means I got lost in my own thoughts and wandered off the subject, but I assure you I will not leave you dragging through this quagmire any longer than I need to. Oh, again I apologize, a quagmire, is, well, never mind just forget it. You do, after all, have customers you need to ignore and argue with, now don't you. As I was saying, let's reverse the situation and make you the customer and I will put on the crooked hat with the bent up rim of "Gomer Pyle: Pump Jockey". The first thing I would have done as soon as I was able to is I would have approached your car window and said something to the effect of "Hi, can I help you?" and then waited for you to tell me the amount and type of gas you wanted me, Gomer Pyle: Pump Jockey, to stick down you automobiles waiting gullet. As you can see I, unlike you, would not have continued the conversation I was having with the other guy at the station. Which brings me to a question, was he a new hire and were you training him? Because if so, I hope I was the example of what not to do. Anyway, let's say you wanted the same type and amount of gas I did, so after you told me that you required me to dispense twenty (20 see that's what that number looks like) dollars of regular petrol I would have removed your gas cap, removed the nozzle from the pump, put in 20 on the preset dial (which by the way comes in real handy and I suspect you might be using that little feature a little more in the future;). Then I would have placed the nozzle in the cars tank tube and began to give Malibu Barbie (that's my cars name you uncivilized man beast) a little drinkie pooh. Having done all of this correctly would have resulted in me getting twenty dollars of gas, instead the pump continued to pump until my little flirt on wheels was all filled up. Before you say anything, I know that is a lot of things to do and remember but no one held a gun to your head when you applied for the job, now did they? If they had told you all of this at the interview perhaps you would have opted for the brain surgeon career, that might have been a little easier. I guess you didn't notice me trying to get your attention, I mean I only waved at you, banged on my window, and flashed the crisp twenty dollar bill at you. Of course, how could you see me, you were still talking, still oblivious, and still stupid. You exited your little douche bag aquarium and when you walked by my car I informed you that I only asked for twenty to which you replied "Twenty?". Here's a little exercise I want you to do, do it a few times if you need. Ask anybody else who might be in the room with you to participate as well, it might help and make this easier. What I want you to do is say these two things to yourself - "Twenty dollars" and "Fill it up" and tell me do they sound the same? The easy answer here is no, they don't, not in any language. Now we had a problem. Many years ago, for a few months, I too worked at a gas station. Hey, times were hard so shut up! During those few months I never over pumped, not once, not even by a penny. You know why? Because I used the preset numbers on the pump, idiot. Of course if I had ever over pumped I would not have complained, argued, or whined about it. All of which you did, even going as far as tell me you were going to call the police and report me for theft of $3.55 of gas. Now I don't know if you did write down my license plate number like you said and called the police but I do know this; if I get a knock on my door and have to answer questions about the "Three dollar bandit" this won't be the last you hear from me. I know where you work, at least for now you do anyway. After I left and thought about it for a little while I realized I would have done something different and no it wouldn't have been to give you the money so it didn't have to come out of your pocket as you were so quick to point out. I don't care, and yeah by the way, I did have it on me. So you got punked. But as I was saying, the one thing I would have done differently is if I had known you were going to pump my car until it was full regardless of how much I asked for, I would have only asked for ten bucks! So when your paycheck is three and a half bucks lighter than usual let this be a lesson to you. Listen to the customer, and do what they ask you to do, it is, after all, only your job. Oh, and the other thing, don't fuck with the Cheekies! And next time you best squeegee my windows if you know what's good for you!

S.O.S

"That's about the size of it." - C. Rice

Overstating Our Union

We apologize for the inconvenient interruption of your normally scheduled blog, but I couldn't help it. This is the play-by-play of the State of the Union address since it was on every channel except for TBS or Spike and Ultimate Fighter and Seinfeld reruns just wasn't doing it for me last night.

9:04 President is officially announced.

9:10 President makes entrance claims delay was because quote "American Idol is such a damn good show, ain't it Dick? Heh Heh, I said dick."

9:11 News guy tells me that some congressmen (and women) get in early, some as much as three hours early, to get the primo handshake seats for photo ops. Apparently they feel that in two years when I go to the polls I'm going to remember the guy who was on tv for two seconds shaking the President's hand as he walked down the aisle to give his state of the union. Of course I'm not going to remember anything about health care reform or the War on Terror (there's that capitalization trauma I put on myself again). I'll just remember that guy shaking GW's hand. Yeah okay, keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep better.

9:12: I notice the president is wearing a Carolina-blue tie. I hate Carolina-blue. Therefore I now hate George Bush. Is that a demonstration of the properties of a transitive equation? I don't know where that last part came from.

9:15: Fuckers are still cheering. Is this real, or faked? I think the Speaker of the house definitely looks like she's faking it. (By the way, does anyone else think Nancy Pelosi is kinda hot, at least as far as Speakers of the House go?).

9:16: Ooh... Madam Speaker... I love it when you bang that gavel. Let the games begin.

9:17: GW just said aloud he was proud to begin his speech by saying "Madam Speaker." I wonder what he's thinking in his head? If it was Clinton, I'd say I know what he's thinking in his head. "Giggidy, giggidy!"

9:19: I wonder if half the senators need hip replacements after every State of the Union the way they make those old geezers stand up and sit down so much.

9:21: Nancy (the Speaker broad, not Reagan) can't stop blinking. Why is she blinking so much? Does she even realize she's doing it? It's more distracting than the reflection off Dick Cheney's bald spot for Christ sake.

9:22: Guess we're gonna start with that pesky economy thing the prez has to deal with every year. Everyone's clapping because GW wants to balance the budget. That's good news, I guess. Good luck with that, George. I wouldn't trust you to balance my friggin' check book!

9:23: Apparently the Democrats didn't want to applaud Bush when he said he wasn't going to raise taxes. Either the Democrats want to raise taxes (wouldn't surprise me), or they remember the elder Bush saying the same thing. I'm still going to go with the former... Democrats seem to hate rich people.

9:24: Close up on Hillary in her little pink shirt. She looks like she's zoned out. I wonder what she's thinking about. Probably wondering if anyone would notice her flicking Barack Obama on the ear. I bet that's why she sat behind him. Speaking of Barack (who the hell named this guy anyway?), does he realize he's automatically at a disadvantage cause of that name. Just change the "B" to an "S" and it's a whole new ballgame folks!

9:25: Senator Kennedy is sleeping. Everyone in Vegas who took under 15 minutes wins.

9:26: I begin to wonder if GW would have been one of the "slower" kids benefiting from "No Child Left Behind" if the program existed when he was growing up?

9:27: Even Dick Cheney doesn't look excited about re-authorizing no child left behind. But come to think of it, I can't remember if I've ever seen Dick Cheney excited about anything, except for that whole shooting his buddy thing. Oh, and by the way last time we checked, his daughter's still a lesbian, and he hates that fact!

9:28: Camera looks to Hillary as the president talks about crappy healthcare. I think she's blushing a little. That's right bitch, no one's forgotten that you're the one who screwed that up. But I still might vote or you.

9:29: I recognize more faces on the field of an arena football game than I do at the floor of the State of the Union. Is that a bad thing? And was that Dikembe Mutumbo (look him up if you need, want, or care to) sitting next to Laura Bush? Couldn't have been. I must be getting tired!

9:30: I think John McCain is winking at the President. Is this some sort of secret code? Or is he actually just winking at Nancy who happens to be behind the President? At least that might help explain all her blinking.

9:31: I swear I just saw Hillary flick Barack Obama in the ear. Did anyone else see that? I can't wait for the presidential primaries next year.

9:33: That looked like the most uncomfortable sip of water I've ever seen. Do you think it was actually written into his speech? You know, like when a pornstar is finished sucking a guy and he's ready to shove it up her fleshy pink pie, but instead he has to spend the next five minutes feasting on the yeast because it's in the script, and it's the most uncomfortable and un-arousing part of the entire scene. And did I just compare the State of the Union to a porno?

9:36: Did I just hear Dub say: "I'd like to announce I am officially hiring Jack Bauer to head our Homeland Security department."? He does know 24 is a tv show, right?

9:38: Nancy, for the Love of God, STOP BLINKING!!!!!! I think it's going to cause me to have a seizure.

9:39: I know he keeps saying Shiite, but it sounds like he's saying Shit. Is the State of the Union really supposed to be this funny? I'm not even drinking. Though next year, remind me to make up a drinking game for it.

9:40: Good news, everyone applauded when GW said we have to protect the American people. I'm glad to know both Democrats and Republicans like protecting the American people. But honestly, I think the line GW used was stolen straight from a conversation I had over the phone the other day with an old high school buddy who happens to be Muslim. Coincidence? Or violation or privacy rights? You decide.

9:41: I think Condoleezza is constipated (or just really scared of the Frankenstein-looking guy sitting next to her).

9:42: John McCain is definitely asleep. But what can you expect? He's a geriatric from Arizona. It's 9:42. This is way past his bed time.

9:44: George Bush says, "Everyone here wishes this war were over and won." This from the same guy who declared victory how many years ago?

9:47: GW uses the word "terrorist" or some variation of it four times in two minutes. In a side note, according to Random House Dictionary, a terrorist is: "a person who terrorizes or frightens others." I wonder, does that mean George Bush is considered a terrorist in Iraq? Methinks yes.

9:50: Haha... Bush just said the word "duties."

9:56: Shit... phone call. I'm back. What did I miss? Nancy still blinking? Check. President still pursing his lips at every pause? Check? Dick Cheney still not breathing? Check. Good, I didn't miss anything.

9:57: Dikembe Mutumbo is sitting next to Laura Bush at the State of the Union. I'm not crazy. And my friend Russell owes me five bucks.

9:58: Why did GW just refer to Dikembe as a "Son of the Congo?" Isn't that an insult? Can I start referring to my black friends as sons or daughters of whatever African nation their ancestors were from? Or better yet, why don't I just start doing it to everyone. My friend Russell will no longer be called Russell, and instead referred to as: "Son of Westchester." Yo, Son of Westchester... where's my five bucks?

9:59: I'm disappointed in myself. I recognized Dikembe right away, but I totally botched the "Julie Aigner, creator of Baby Einstein" call. Oddly enough, I now owe Russell 15 bucks. On a somewhat related note, I knew I wasn't crazy thinking my conversations with Russell have been getting a bit more advanced lately.

10:02: John Kerry just high-tailed it out of that chamber floor faster than a diabetic at the Krispy Kreme factory. I didn't know he could move that fast.

10:04: I think GW just pinched Condoleezza's ass. You lucky, lucky bastard.

10:05: What's the going rate for an autograph from the President of the United States? I just bet Russell, double or nothing, that one of those programs he's signing shows up on Ebay within the next week.

10:06: And that's it for the most exciting hour on television, folks. Tomorrow, it's back to your regularly scheduled program.

The Official 2007 Super Bowl Party Online Invite

Dave

Well, seeing as how the Eagles shot their collective wad when they went and lost in the Big Sleazy, (I still say the fix was in!) it means I now get to turn my attention to the Super Bowl. Super Bowl XLI, to be exact. Another one where the best part of it will be the commercials and of course the party that comes with it. That also includes the people there, I'm lookin' at you now Cerpts and, hell, Fink too if his little "ball and chain" he calls a fiance will let him come out for the party. In fact, bring her too since I ain't got the chance to check her out yet. Oh and Cerpts, since I could only come up with the blueberry buckle part of your request, I thought maybe this pic of Mrs. Monaghan would suffice. A short pause while we take another gander at her ... ahh ... that's good eatin right there. OK, back to your normally scheduled blog entry. The week of the Super Bowl will be an awesome week this year. Read on for actual proof. We got the Super Bowl on Sunday February 4th, we got the second half premier of the winter or spring or whatever the frigg they are calling this next bunch of Lost episodes on Wednesday the 7th, then the next night the 8th we have the new season of Survivor starting. This season is in Fiji. This of course is not mentioning the usual collection of Boob Tuberific programming that I also enjoy on a daily basis. The Super Bowl party is gonna make for a great way to kick off the beginning of the spring season, yeah I said spring. It will only be a matter of a few weeks before we turn the clocks ahead since they went and changed when we do that now. Before I get ahead of myself, I want to share some of the philosophy that goes into making a great Super Bowl party, and I've been to and thrown many. One thing they all had in common weather there were a dozen people or two guys at the party they were fun. Cerpts of course has been at all of them, so at the two guy party you can figure out the guest list. That was the very first Super Bowl party for Super Bowl XXX way back in 1995; Dallas vs. Pittsburgh. There is always plenty of food, and the games we play are fun and enjoyable even if the actual football game isn't! So now over twelve years later I'm back at it with more games, more food, and more fun. Still working on that half time entertainment, never know if this will be the year we get the stripper. So yes Cerpts, you are invited, but how the hell do you expect an invite to something that you are a foundational (is that a word? well it is now!) part of? Funny, here's the guy who was the Best Man at my wedding (we all know how that turned out don't we folks) and he gets more excited about a stinkin' Super Bowl (I'm gettin' tired of capitalizing that, but you just gotta, man!) party than he was about that day. Of course at the party it won't be 114 degrees and he probably won't be in a tuxedo so I can see his point. Of course one can never tell can one? The traditional Super Bowl Party is probably the least fussy, most unpretentious party you can go to all year. So, there is no point in holding anything back! Go all out and serve everyone's favorite high fat, finger-licking snack foods. After all, the television set is the focal point, not the food. Or is it? Thinking about the traditional party food for this event- chips, sour cream or cheese dips (onion soup dip springs to mind), chili, salsa, Buffalo wings, cheese balls or curls, pizza (the Domino's kind, thank you very much, not the goat cheese and smoked pheasant kind) - I wonder whether these items are served because they're easy to serve and eat while watching the game, or because this has become the one event where Americans can eat their favorite foods without guilt. Men take the lead at this party, and their tastes have set the tone for the snacks as well as the entertainment. So ladies, LET US! Let's all eat what we enjoy and forget about the diet ramifications or culinary trends at lest for one day! The official online invitation to be posted soon!

Lockdown

It's difficult to figure out why I have to be the one to find this stuff, (or hear about it as is the case here) and although a bit late, I still need to share my findings. I originally heard about this on the morning of Christmas Eve this year, did a little research myself, and basically forgot about it. Well, it has resurfaced and so I shall share.

The Caganer - a wholesome and fun Catalan addition to the typical Christmas creche figurine family. The traditional caganer (that's him over there <<<<>>>>>) is an old Catalan man with a red hat and canvas shoes squatting and taking a dump in the manger. Over time, the theme has expanded to include sumo wrestlers, Santa, the Devil, the Pope, Dali, and soccer fans, just to name a few. He is considered a fertility symbol.

In Barcelona there's a temporary market of stalls in the Placa Nova which sell the caganers and a host of other Christmas paraphernalia, including the next member of the Catalan Christmas family: Caga Tio. Caga tio comes in many sizes, but generally looks just like our new friend, sans the pipe. Customs surrounding caga tio differ, but all agree, caga tio means "shit log." (That's the Caga Tio up top ^^^^^)

Here I relay to you what I think is the full blown caga tio ritual.

Fifteen days before Christmas, caga tio makes his appearance in the dining room, where he must be fed at least once every day. He likes oranges, crackers and sweet wine. In some families, caga tio starts small, but grows as the days progress toward Christmas. At some point, caga tio is moved out of the dining room, into the living room, and covered with a blanket to keep him warm. On Christmas Eve, before the traditional Christmas dinner, the kids are sent to their rooms to say three Our Fathers, which gives the elders enough time to stash presents under caga tio's blanket. After their prayers are done, the kids return to the living room and start beating the hell out of poor caga tio with big sticks. And they sing a song. One version goes "Shit, log, shit! If you don't shit well, we will whack you again!" Another goes "Log, log, shit candy! If you don't shit for Christmas, we will whack you once more!" After the children have gotten their fill of flogging the log, the blanket is removed to determine caga tio's state of digestion. Typically, a miracle has occurred, and the log has pooped wrapped gifts, which are called "the shits." Often one of the shits will be something weird, like an egg, to let everyone know that it was the last one deposited by caga tio.

I'm getting one of each fo next Christmas!

The Whole Truth

Happy New Year! Time to continue the "Year In Review" retrospective.

July to December

July 5: North Korea test fires a long-range missile capable of reaching the U.S. Mainland, but just like North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il, it fizzles out and falls short (zing!).

July 23: Floyd Landis wins Tour de France.

July 27: While appearing on TV to declare he never used performance enhancing drugs, Floyd Landis's testicles fall off.

July 31: Fidel Castro temporarily relinquishes power to his brother due to illness. Cubans everywhere take to the streets to pray for their leader's return to health (the soldiers holding automatic weapons aimed at the "grievers" are "accidentally" stationed behind the cameras).

August 10: London police arrest 21 people in connection to an alleged terrorist plot with designs to blow-up US-bound airliners. Alcoholics everywhere join smokers in mourning the loss of their ability to carry their favorite vice with them onto airplanes.

August 11: A resolution to end the 2006 Israel-Lebanon conflict is unanimously accepted by the United Nations prompting Iran's President to request of his secretary, "Can you print that new UN Resolution for me on two-ply?" Kim Jong-Il reportedly made a similar comment.

August 24: Pluto is demoted to the status of "dwarf planet" more than 70 years after its discovery. Pluto was not immediately available for comment, but lawyers for the Planet have filed a grievance in court requesting the term "dwarf planet" be changed to "circumferencly challenged" or "gravitationally limited."

September 4: Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin dies. Only one man had the winning Vegas bookmakers "Age-Animal death" combination of "Stingray/Age 44," winning a total of $355,000.

September 10: Seven-time World Champion Michael Schumacher announces his retirement from the sport of Formula 1 for the end of the year. Auto racing fans across Europe celebrated the achievement of one of the greatest drivers in history. Auto racing fans across America continued drinking their Busch Light and perfecting their "how to hit a woman without causing visible signs of bruising" techniques.

September 12: Pope Benedict XVI gives a lecture quoting an ancient criticism of the Islam faith. Muslims around the world get angry and threaten to harm Westernized nations. Naturally, the threat of violence from angry Muslims shocked many Americans and Europeans, prompting this comment from one concerned Arizona man: "Shut up and lower gas prices."

September 19: The Royal Thai Army stages a military coup in Thailand. Thailand's lucrative child-sex-tourism industry remains unaffected.

September 29: U.S. Representative Mark Foley resigns after the revelation of explicit emails he had been sending to underage male pages. Representative Foley was later seen boarding a plane bound for Thailand.

October 9: North Korea claims to have conducted its first ever nuclear test, winning the $10 "who can develop a nuke first" bet Kim Jong-Il had with Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmandinejad.

October 15: The UN imposes sanctions on North Korea. President Ahmandinejad points and laughs.

October 31: Bob Barker announces his retirement from The Price is Right. Most traumatic day in American History since 9-11.

November 3: Ted Haggard resigns as president of the National Association of Evangelicals after allegations of methamphetamine use and sex with a male prostitute. Guess that one doesn't need a punch line now does it.

November 5: Saddam Hussein is sentenced to death by hanging for crimes against humanity. Immediately after the sentencing, Hussein allegedly was heard muttering the phrase, "I knew I should have hired Johnnie Cochran."

November 8: A transit of Mercury occurs. I have no idea what that means, but because it's scientific and it sounds important I though it might be worth noting in a "Year in Review".

November 21: A gas explosion in a Polish coal mine kills 23 in the season finale of "Which Country Can Have the Worst Mining Disaster?"... surprisingly, Fox's most-watched show despite it's disappointing ratings.

December 11: The Holocaust conference is opened in Tehran, Iran by Mahmoud Ahmandinejad the same day a note from President Ahmandinejad is delivered to Korean leader Kim Jong-Il with the phrase, "20 bucks says I can still piss them off enough to invade my country before yours."

December 30: Former Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein is hung for crimes against humanity. Haters of evil around the world celebrated. But perhaps the biggest celebration took place in Hell, where Hitler, Genghis Khan, and Stalin were excited to finally replace Pontius Pilate at their Tuesday night bridge games, explaining, "We're tired of him trying to convince us his one kill trumps all ours combined."

It sure was a kooky year, wasn't it? Here's to making 2007 even crazier!

Maternity Leave

A belated happy b-day to the big guy up there. Seeing as how Sunday is the last day of two-double-O-six and Monday being the first day of two-doube-O-upside -down-and-backwards-L, these two days seem like an appropriate time to join every other major media outlet and offer a retrospective on the last Year of the Dog until 2018. Yes, International Asperger's Year (designated as such to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the birth of Dr. Hans Asperger, discoverer of Asperger's Syndrome) has provided us with some jolly laughs and even jollier heartaches. Granted, the ball hasn't dropped yet, but it seems the only thing we've missed out on is a good one-liner disaster... you know, one of those horrendous events that will, for the next 50 years, be associated with a specific word or phrase, like Katrina, 9- 11, or Mike Tyson. For funsies, let's take a retrospective moment to remember those things our collective American short attention spans have already forgotten about.

[Cue cheesy yet oddly inspiring music...]

January 3: 12 deceased coal miners and one survivor were discovered in the Sago Mine Disaster, effectively tripling West Virginia's tourism revenues for the year and helping launch the state's new catch phrase: "West Virginia Isn't For Coal Miners."

January 5: A hotel in Mecca collapses, killing 76 pilgrims, or as President Bush would prefer to call them, "Evil Doers."

January 14: A natural gas explosion in a coal mine kills eight in Romania, eventually leading to a copyright infringement lawsuit on the "Romania Isn't For Coal Miners" slogan the country tried to adopt after the disaster.

January 22: Kobe Bryant scores 81 points in a regulation NBA game, officially doubling the entire season points output for the 2006 Oakland Raiders.

Februrary 8, 9:43 PM: Kelly Clarkson wins a Grammy Award.

Februrary 8, 9:44 PM: Hell freezes over.

Februrary 8, 9:57 PM: Kelly Clarkson wins a second Grammy Award. Februrary 8, 9:58 PM: Satan abdicates his throne.

February 11: U.S. Vice President Dick Cheney shoots his friend in the face before moving into the recently vacated position of Dark Prince and Ruler of the Underworld.

February 19: Sixty-five miners become trapped underground after an explosion at the Pasta de Conchos mine in Nueva Rosita, Mexico. All 65 die in episode three of 2006's least watched realty television series, Fox's "Which Country Can Have the Worst Mining Disaster?"

February 22: The 1 billionth song is purchased from the Apple iTunes Store, prompting Steve Jobs to make his highly controversial, "Suck it, Bill Gates!" statement, a quote the media took way out of context.

March 3: The first World Baseball Classic opens, eventually resulting in the humiliation of the United States and finalizing the demise of baseball in the very country that claims it as its National Past Time.

March 5: Reese Witherspoon wins the Oscar for Best Actress, but the reflection of the sun off new Prince of Darkness Dick Cheney's head keeps Hell from freezing over again.

April 11: President of Iran Mahmoud Ahmandinejad confirms that Iran has successfully produced a few grams of 3.5% low-grade enriched uranium. After the media firestorm, he sentences 27 members of the Iranian press to death for "Not properly photoshoping my giant nose so it doesn't look so Jewish."

May 1: The Great American Boycott takes place across the United States as illegal immigrants all over the country skip work in a protest for immigration rights. The only noticeable result: lawns across America were slightly longer than usual when the immigrants reutrned to work to cut them the next day.

May 9: Another mine disaster... this one in Australia. Mexico's body count still leads all contenders.

June 19: The Carolina Hurricanes defeat the Edmonton Oilers to win the Stanley Cup. For many people, this news was the first indication that the NHL strike was over, and that North Carolina had a professional hockey team.

Happy New Year's Eve! Make sure to check in tomorrow for July to December... Now I got a Dreamcicle calling my name... My fourth actually.

Rumsfeld

This is just too funny!

One of Them

This is all your fault my dear Cerpts! Although it was a long road to get my list together for this blog it was an even longer road for yours. So here is a list for you to go through, you know what to do with the copy and pastin stuff!


Barry Manilow Weekend in New England
Johnny Cash Sunday Morning Coming Down
Patsy Cline She's Got You
Beatles Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/End
Kingston Trio Wimoweh (Mbube)
Ray Charles America The Beautiful
Beastie Boys Sabotage
Moody Blues The Question
Doors Moonlight Drive
Neil Diamond I Am...I Said
The Who Happy Jack
Rod Stewart Some Guys Have All The Luck
Tom Jones Delilah
Cat Stevens Wild World
Bread Diary
Cream/Derek And The Dominoes/Eric Clapton Wonderful Tonight
Billy Joel Say Goodbye to Hollywood
Eagles Heartache Tonight
Van Halen Little Guitars
Pink Floyd Wish You Were Here
John Denver Annie's Song
Abba Waterloo
Bee Gees I Started A Joke
Blue Oyster Cult (Don't Fear) The Reaper
Renaissance Carpet Of The Sun
Hall And Oats Don't Hold Back Your Love
Heart These Dreams
Bonnie Raitt Have A Heart
Rush Tom Sawyer
Meatloaf You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night)
Alanis Morisette Uninvited
Dusty Springfield Son Of A Preacher Man
Buffalo Springfield For What It's Worth
Rick Springfield April 24th/My Father's Chair
Bruce Springsteen Bobby Jean
Journey Stone In Love
Willie Nelson Pancho And Lefty
AC/DC Who Made Who
Bob Segar Like A Rock
Billy Idol Cradle Of Love
U2 Bad
Air Supply Making Love Out Of Nothing At All
Bon Jovi Silent Night (no, not the Christmas song!)
Kate Bush Under Ice
Madonna True Blue
Ozzy Osbourne Old L.A. Tonight
George Michael/Wham Different Corner
Beach Boys Don't Worry Baby
Guns N Roses November Rain
Indigo Girls Galileo
Red Hot Chili Peppers The Zephyr Song
Radiohead Creep
Dave Matthews Don't Drink The Water
Blink 182 Miss You
Greenday Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)

The Long Con

20 ways the world would be different if men ran things.

1. Breaking up would be a lot easier. A smack to the ass and a "Nice hustle,you'll get'em next time" would pretty much do it.

2. Birth control would come in vodka or schnapps flavors.

3. Valentine's Day would be moved to February 29th so it would only occur in leap years

4. On Groundhog Day, if you saw your shadow, you'd get the day off to go drinking. St. Patrick's Day, however, would remain exactly the same although it would be celebrated 4 times a year.

5. Garbage would take itself out.

6. Regis and Kathie Lee (or who whoever his partner is this week) would be chained to a cement mixer and pushed off the Golden Gate Bridge for the most lucrative pay-per-view event in world history.

7. The only show opposite "Monday Night Football" would be "Monday Night Football from a Different Camera Angle".

8. Instead of "beer-belly", you'd get "beer-biceps".

9. Tanks would be far easier to rent.

10. Two words... Free Sex.

11. Daisy Duke shorts would never go out of style again, ever.

12. Every man would get a real Get Out of Jail Free card per year.

13. Telephones would cut off after 30 seconds of conversation.

14. It would be perfectly legal to steal a sports car, as long as you returned it the following day with a full tank of gas.

15. Instead of a fancy, expensive engagement ring, you could present your wife-to-be with a giant foam hand that said "You're #1!".

16. When your girlfriend really needed to talk to you during the game, she'd appear in a little box in the corner of the screen during a time-out.

17. Nodding and looking at your watch would be deemed as an acceptable response to "I love you".

18. "Sorry I'm late, but I got wasted last night", would be an acceptable excuse for tardiness.

19. At the end of the workday a whistle would blow and you would jump out of your window and slide down the tail of a brontosaurus and land right in your car.

20. Lifeguards could remove citizens from beaches for violating the "public ugliness" ordinance.

21. Hallmark would make "Sorry, what was your name again?" cards.

22. 21 would be an acceptable number even though you said 20 but thought of one more right before you posted your blog