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St. Peter: Insult Comic

2011-04-22T15:06:00.007-04:00

I decided the internets, my web log in particular, would just a good a place to display my savory comedy vittles. As of now, being stored on my hard drive, the only exposure they received was from my computer's assorted "bleeps" and "blorps" (I have a 1979 IBM mainframe) and pornography induced malware. So without further ado and embarrassment to myself, enjoy!

EXT. GATES OF HEAVEN - INFINITY

A lineup of MEN and WOMEN shuffle along. ED notices a nervous looking ROY ahead of him.

ROY
What’s the hold up, already? C’mon!

ED
Relax, buddy. We’re almost there.

ROY
This wait is agony. I’m starting to think we’re in Hell, not-

ST. PETER (O.S.)
Next!

REBECCA steps before ST. PETER. It’s now revealed to be the Gates of Heaven. St. Peter, white beard and robe, keeps his head in the Book of Life.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
Rebecca Lawson. Born 1946. Married for 30 years. Three children--

St. Peter looks up from the book and at Rebecca. She has a very prominent MOLE on her face, which catches him off guard.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
Whoa!

St. Peter suddenly assumes a pseudo Andrew “Dice” Clay voice and mannerisms of a hack-ey comedian.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
I seen National Geographic specials on smaller moles than that. Oh!

Rebecca GASPS and covers her mole with her hand.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
But seriously, what was it like being on “Planet Earth”?

Roy becomes even more anxious.

ROY
What is this? What’s happening?

ED
You didn’t hear? St. Peter’s an insult comic now.

Ed holds up a newspaper, “Eternity Weekly”. On the front page is the headline “St. Peter ‘Kills’ at Pearly Gates” with the byline “Hopes to Book Club Tour in 2012”.

ROY
Oh no! He’s gonna’ tear me to shreds! That book’s got everything in it.

ED
So? No one’s perfect. How bad could it be?

ROY
Ever start a “Thicke of the Night” fan club?

ED
No-

ROY
Then have to resign as President for writing inappropriate fan fiction?

ST. PETER
...all right, you’re a good sport. Let’s hear it for Rebecca.

MILD APPLAUSE as St. Peter lets a shell shocked Rebecca in. MICHAEL, a Chinese man, steps up next.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
Michael Cheng, everybody! Put those hands together!
(looking through the Book)
Okay, looks like everything checks out. Come on in.

Michael is about to step through the pearly gates when:

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
Whoa, hold on there Michael. Cheng, that’s Chinese?

Michael nods “yes”.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
Hmm, says here that you’re quite fond of the practical joke?

MICHAEL
What? No, I--

St. Peter produces a can of Coke from behind his pulpit.

ST. PETER
And you put pee-pee in my coke!? What!?

More mild APPLAUSE and LAUGHTER.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
All right, thanks for letting us have some fun out here. Play a couple hands on the house.

St. Peter hands Michael some poker chips.

MICHAEL
There’s a casino inside?

ST. PETER
Sure. Whatever. Next!

A very nervous Roy steps before St. Peter.

ROY
H-Hey, how’s it going?

St. Peter gives Roy a prolonged look before going back to perusing the Book of Life. He mutters to himself before:

ST. PETER
Sheesh! How’d you ever make it this far? I ain’t seen this many blemishes since God gave Job a case of the ol’ full body herpes.
(to Roy directly)
Speaking of which, you know you can’t get Valtrex up here, right?

ROY
C’mon! I don’t have herpes.

ST. PETER
No, you’re right. It’s pretty hard to catch an STD when you’ve only been with...
(looks at Book)
...three women!? I seen less frigid pricks at an Eskimo blood drive!

ROY
Hey! So, I was a little picky. There’s nothing wrong with that?

ST. PETER
We’re not talking about finding the perfect accent color hand towel for your bathroom, here. I got more trim on accident than you did on purpose. And I hung out with lepers most of my adult life.

ROY
I only slept with the women I formed a meaningful bond with, okay? Some might consider that noble.

ST. PETER
And most would consider your penis to have a learning disability. Tell me, Sir Lancelot...
(looking through the Book)
...does watching “The Notebook” seventeen times only give you a vagina, or do you get the complete set with that?

ROY
“The Notebook” is a timeless love story both men and women can enjoy. It received a 52% on Rotten Tomatoes, so--

ST. PETER
Good Lord! At least lie to me and say your wife made you watch it. Oh that's right, you never got married.

The crowd behind Roy gives a sitcom-style “Ooooh!”.

ST. PETER (CONT’D)
Okay, okay. You’re all right, Roy. Welcome to Heaven.

Roy is about to walk through the gates when he stops.

ROY
Just where do you get off, sir? When’s the last time you were on earth? Almost 2000 years ago? There’s a lot more to life these days than not trying to die before your 33. Happiness and spiritual fulfillment aren’t so easy to come by, you know? Not a whole lot of God parting the clouds, commanding us to sacrifice our only son then yelling “Psych!” these days.

ST. PETER
You leave Abraham out of this!

ROY
I am no one special. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but in one respect I’ve succeeded as gloriously as anyone who ever lived. I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul and for me that has always been enough.

Roy waits for applause which doesn’t come. After a long beat:

ST. PETER
That’s from “The Notebook” isn’t it?

ROY
Yes.

Head down, shame filled, Roy attempts to enter. St. Peter clears his throat, points to a sign hanging from the gate that reads “Hecklers Will Be Removed Without Refund”.

ROY (CONT’D)
God damn it.

A pair of ANGELS escort Roy out of Heaven.

Is It Me, Or...

2011-02-14T00:07:00.002-05:00

...does the poster for "Big Momma's House 3"

...look like it should belong on the wall of Tracy Jordan's dressing room

I'm pretty sure Martin Lawrence would eat a turd (as opposed to starring in them, Boom!) if you paid him enough.

Meet the Mets Part 3: Starting Pitching

2010-11-10T12:00:00.001-05:00

The Mets made it official and hired Sandy Alderson. Initially I was a little concerned when I heard he was the front runner. Although he had continued to work in baseball, he hadn’t been a General Manager since his days in Oakland in the late 80’s / early 90’s. And while those teams were great, the game has changed radically since then. My top choice was White Sox Assistant GM Rick Hahn, who is reportedly a stats guy and responsible for hammering out a lot of the finer points of all the team’s contracts.

But Alderson was himself, an early proponent of advanced statistics. He’s recruited Paul DePodesta and J.P. Riccardi to join, what is suddenly, one of the best front offices in baseball. And he has been pretty candid thus far saying the Mets, with the monies already committed to 2011 payroll, will not be big spenders in the free agent market this winter. That is certainly refreshing to hear after years of Omar Minaya’s soft shoe “Well, we’re going to pursue all avenues to make this team better.” routine. Long story short I’m cautiously optimistic.

On to what was probably the most pleasantly surprising part of the 2010 season; the starting rotation. Let’s see who’ll be back in 2011:

1. Johan Santana: What more can possibly be said about Santana? He’s hands down one of the best. His recent injury history and declining K/9 ratio is a little disconcerting. But even if his skills are declining, I’m confident he’ll continue to find a way to win and it’s not like the guy’s 42 or anything. He’s still in his prime.

2. Mike Pelfrey: Big Pelf made some pretty big strides this year. Although he may not be the Ace the Mets hoped he’d be when they drafted him out of Wichita State, he still looks like a solid number two or three starter who’s above average groundball ratio will play well with the Mets strong defense.

3. Jon Niese: Niese definitely established himself as a rotation mainstay this year. If not for a shitty September, Niese’s numbers would have looked a lot better. He was obviously fatigued down the stretch, as he pitched more innings than he ever had in thirty big league starts in 2010. He posted solid 7.7 K/9 and 3.3 BB/9 ratios too, but did give up too many hits, averaging ten per nine innings pitched.

4. R.A. Dickey: Dickey was incredible last season, and I think it’s safe to say it wasn’t a fluke. He may not post numbers as good as he did last season (In 26 starts, 2.84 ERA, 138 ERA+, 165 hits given up in 174 IP, 1.187 WHIP) but he certainly appears to have figured out how to maximize his talents. He’s under team control for two more years, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the Mets offer him a two year contract.

Realistically that only leaves one rotation spot open for next year.

In House Candidates: I think this option starts and ends with Dillon Gee. He looked great in five Major League starts in September. He reminds me a lot of Rick Reed. He won’t blow you away, but he can throw four pitches for strikes. He tossed 194.1 innings in total, so you have to figure you could get a full season out of him without blowing out his arm, if you go by the Verducci rule. I love Jenry Mejia’s stuff, but I think between his control and injury issues he’s not there yet. The Mets would be smart to give him a year of stars in the Minor Leagues to build arm strength and control.

Free Agents: There’s a very good chance Johan Santana will start the year on the DL. So what I’d like the Mets to do is to sign one back-end, innings eater and one risk / reward type. You can never have too much pitching, as they say, and I think it’s wise to hedge your bets between a solid yet unspectacular starter, a potentially very good but uncertain starter coming off injury, and the rookie.

Risk/Reward Guys: At the top of the list is former Cy Young winner Brandon Webb. Webb, coming off major shoulder surgery, is working towards regaining arm strength and stamina so who knows how much you can realistically expect from him in 2011. But the idea of Brandon Webb behind Santana certainly is tantalizing. The problem is money. Webb is probably in line for a deal similar to last year’s Rich Harden or Ben Sheets deals; one year, incentive laden contract with a base of $7 - $10 million. I doubt the Mets will commit those kinds of dollars on a roll of the dice, not this year.

There are some other intriguing names in this bunch like Harden, Brad Penny, Vicente Padilla and Justin Duchscherer. Of this bunch, I like Duchscherer the best. He only cost the A’s $2 million last year. On the con side Oakland received a scant five start return on their investment. On the plus side this devalues Duchscherer even more heading into the winter. Also, when healthy, he’s proven very effective. To me he’s the perfect cross-section of risk / reward at a price the Mets can live with.

Reliable Innings Eaters: I would like to see the Mets go after one of Hiroki Kuroda, John Garland or Jake Westbrook. Kuroda, heading into his age 36 season next year, has been quietly solid for the Dodgers. He’s coming off his best season (31 starts, 196.1 IP, 3.39 ERA, 159 K, 1.161 WHIP) and would be a nice addition for not a ton of cash.

Garland had a nice resurgence in 2010 with the Padres, going 14-12 with a 3.47 ERA in exactly 200 IP. He was helped by a lower than average BAbip (.268) and the cavernous confines of Petco Park, but the Mets are solid defensively and Garland would fit in nicely in equally pitcher-friendly Citi Field.

Westbrook, predictably, benefitted from his mid-season to the National League. The Cardinals seem to have the inside track on re-signing him for next year, but his crazy 1.89 GB/FB ratio would play extremely well in Citi Field.

It’d be even better if they could get one of them on a one year deal, but I’d settle for 2 years in the $10-$12 million range. That’s still an affordable price and a short team deal. Worst comes to worst, if the rotation gets crowded, this type of pitcher (and at that price) is always attractive to contending teams at the trade deadline. So you’d probably get a higher-than-average return in any deal.

The Scrap Heap: Again, you can never have too much pitching, and the Mets would be wise to sign a couple guys with Major League experience to Minor League deals to fight for a job in Spring Training, or to keep down on the farm in case of injury. Some interesting Non-Tender candidates include Brian Bannister, Boof Bonser, Andrew Miller, and Sergio Mitre. Also, potential free agent reclamation projects include Nate Robertson, Ian Snell, and Micah Owings.

Hate, Explained

2010-10-23T00:57:00.001-04:00

Come this time of year, there’s always a lot of bickering between the pro and anti Yankee factions across the various social media platforms. I often wondered where it all started. I feel like it’s a “chicken or the egg” kind of thing. Did an overconfident Yankee fan, completely unprovoked, needlessly badger a fan of another team first? Or did the fan of another team “hate”, as the kids say, on the Yankees first?

Personally, I try to stay clear of the whole mess. I try to live my life focused on doing what I do. Whatever someone else does or doesn’t do well, that’s on them. But even I can’t help spewing a little Yankee vitriol now and then. There are numerous reasons to dislike the Yankees; a large, douch-ey entitled fair weather fan base, the outrageous payroll, the bullshit “aura”, “mystique” and “The Yankee Way”. For me, though, I think it’s because I simply just don’t get being a Yankees fan.

Being a Yankee fan is like having rich man problems, observe:

“Fuck! My Bentley’s getting detailed? Ugh! Fine, I guess I’ll drive the BMW.”
=
“What the fuck, A-Rod, the best player in the world for the past 15 years, how come you only have 20 home runs through August you bum!”

And when Joba Chamberlain was having a disappointing season, you went and picked up Kerry Wood and all the remaining money on his $10 million dollar contract. Could you use a slight upgrade at DH? Why not go and get Lance Berkman and the remaining money on his $14.5 million dollar contract?

I don’t blame the Yankees for spending money. How much they are able to spend is completely up to them as an organization. But, to get marginally better they spent tens of millions of dollars. That’s like throwing away your Rembrandt for a Picasso because it’s worth slightly more. Not only that, could other contenders have benefited more from additions like Wood and Berkman? Of course they could have, but the cost of their contracts made those moves prohibitive. If you’re the only team who can afford to make one of those moves, let alone both, how is that fair? Or more accurately, as a fan, how can you feel good about that?

The faulty economics of baseball aside, I think the thing that baffles me most is how does being a Yankee fan bring you any joy? Back in 2006 I was absolutely crushed when Beltran took a called third strike on an Adam Wainwright curveball in game seven of the NLCS. But years later I look back on that 2006 team and season with great fondness. I remember all the games I went to, witnessing them clinch the National League East for the first time in almost twenty years, the excitement of attending my first playoff game. Despite the fact that the Mets failed to even make the World Series, I consider that season a success. Numerous teams/players/seasons around Major League Baseball are beloved by their fans despite not winning a championship. Did you hear the Texas crowd’s defeaning eruption when the third out was recorded? Even if the Rangers are swept in World Series, how many fans will look back and smile when thinking about Josh Hamilton, Nelson Cruz, Cliff Lee, Neftali Feliz, Ron Washington, or that silly claw and antler things they do?

Conversely, how many Yankee fans will wax nostalgic about that magical 2010 season where they almost made it? How many Bronx faithful will remember all the clutch plays Nick Swisher and Austin Kearns made? Right now millions of Yankee fans have already moved on, content that with Cliff Lee likely in their rotation behind Sabathia next year, a World Series title is never more than a year away. And that’s been the “Yankee Way” for the last ten years.

We all wish we could always come out on top in life in whatever we do; have a great job, make ass tons of money, have a beautiful family, and an overall sense of spiritual fulfillment. Unfortunately, that’s not how life works. Most of us work too hard at jobs we don’t like, for too little money, feel shitty and come home to even more problems with only a sliver of time to do the things we actually enjoy in life. But, once in a while, we win; getting a fat tax return check, just catching a train, or calling out your boss in front of his/her bosses. And when we do it is so…fucking…sweet. It makes all the bullshit worth it.

To me, that’s what makes sports enjoyable. Most of the time your team is bad, mediocre, or at best pretty good. But when they’re good it’s an amazing, occasionally transcendent feeling. That’s why you stick it out through the bad times. That’s why you stay the entire game during a blowout loss; because someday, whether it’s two years or twenty years from now, you will remember that seventy two win season and say “Fuck you history! I suffered through Anthony Young‘s consecutive loss streak. I deserve this!”

So, in the last sixteen years, if you’ve made the playoffs sixteen times, won the pennant seven times, and the World Series five times where do you derive that joy? For a large segment of Yankee fans, the answer is you don’t. For me, that’s why I don’t “hate” on Yankee fans. It just makes me sad for them.

Meet the Mets Part 2: Bench & Bullpen

2010-10-07T17:51:00.003-04:00

The Mets made official what we expected for the last week and fired General Manager Omar Minaya and Manager Jerry Manuel. Today lets take a look at the oft nebulous and bench and bullpen.

As opposed to their American league counterparts with their socialist designated hitters, a National League bench and bullpen are more difficult to construct. Though this is probably an oversimplification, a bench player should offer a couple of the following qualities; pinch hitting ability, power, speed, defense, ability to spot start or fill-in due to injury. Here’s who likely to return next season from the current roster.

The Bench:

1B/OF - Chris Carter: “The Animal” as he was affectionately known finally got a look at the Major League level this year. He’s a solid bat with some power from the left side, showed the ability to pinch hit and spot start when needed, and his intensity and preparation impressed his teammates. I’d like to see “The Animal” use that intensity and hard work to improve his glaring lack of defensive prowess, however.

1B/OF - Nick Evans: Nick is out of options, and therefore cannot be sent to the Minor Leagues without being exposed on waivers to all other major league teams. He’s come close to breaking camp with the Major League club before. His value is similar to Carter’s, except with a right handed bat.

2B/SS - Joaquin Arias: I wish the Mets had given Arias more of a look down the stretch. He was once a highly touted prospect in the Yankees organization who was the player to be named later in the Alfonso Soriano for A-Rod trade. At 25 years old and with only 275 plate appearances in his career, it’s difficult to say what, exactly, Arias is. Regardless, you have to figure he can provide more value than Alex Cora as your utility middle infielder.

Give ‘Em the Heave Ho:

Fernando Tatis is not under contract for next year, and I don’t think you’ll see him in a Met uniform come Spring Training.

Potential Free Agents:

That leaves room on the bench for a back-up catcher, and legitimate defensive centerfielder (to spell Beltran & Pagan) and speed threat.

C - Rod Barajas: During the first half of 2010 the Mets got a bargain in Barajas, who signed a one year / $500K contract. Nagging injury and just being kind of old for an everyday catcher grind Barajas’ production to a halt and the Mets allowed him to be claimed off waivers. Barajas could really flourish in a back-up role. I really think he got burnt out as a 35 year old everyday catcher last season. Plus he’d be a good mentor for Thole. He did play well in limited action for the Dodgers, so you have to figure there will be a market for his services. But expect him to sign another one year deal for less than $1 million.

C - Jose Molina: The Blue Jays hold a $1.2 million option on Molina for 2011. It seems kind of silly to spend that much on a back-up catcher, but there’s a chance the Jays lose John Buck, who had a very solid bounce back year, to free agency. If they do, expect top prospect J.P. Arencibia to take over full time duty. Either way, they may overpay to keep the solid Molina brother in house.

C - Non Tender Candidates: A couple interesting non-tender candidates include Brayan Pena and Humberto Quintero.

C - Henry Blanco: If all else fails the Mets could bring back Blanco on the cheap. He’s got some pop, calls a good game and is well respected in the clubhouse. Plus him and Johan have a good report from their days in Minnesota.

Although this is a low on the Mets list of priorities, they should still take care and pick a suitable candidate. Josh Thole’s continued development defensively is critical to the Mets future success. So, if I were in the front office, I’d ask around the league and find out who’d be a good mentor while also providing some value statistically.

The center field market looks to be pretty thin with the only viable candidate being:

OF - Jody Gerut: Gerut is coming off pretty dismal season, albeit in very limited action. But he is above average defensively and has proved to have some worth as a left handed bat in the past. He signed a one year / $2 million deal with the Brewers last season. I can’t imagine him getting any offers over $1 million for one year, and probably on a minor league deal at that.

In House Candidates: The Mets best option may be in letting Jason Pridie and Jesus Feliciano fight it out in Spring Training. Feliciano raked at Triple-A this year, basically forcing the Mets’ hand in giving him a shot in the Majors. He was okay in just over 100 plate appearances, but his defense rates better in right field than in center.

Pridie was selected off waivers by the Mets in February. He performed well through late June at Triple-A, before injury derailed his season. His slash line of .286 / .342 / .389 is good, not great. As former 2nd round pick, there’s definitely potential still there.

The Bullpen:

Out of all the moving parts that make up a professional base-balling team, I think the bullpen is the hardest to construct. First, the role of the bullpen has changed radically in the last twenty years. Traditionally, the bullpen was where you stuck your ‘tweeners; guys who were good enough to pitch in the Major Leagues, yet not good enough to be a starting pitcher. The 1970’s and 1980’s brought about the advent of the closer. However, guys like Bruce Sutter, Goose Gossage and Rollie Fingers would routinely pitch 2-3 innings to get a save, and wrack up more than 100 IP for the season. A phenomenon completely unheard of nowadays.

For better or for worse, guys are actually groomed as relief pitchers/closers from high school and college on. So while the art of relief pitching is still evolving and becoming more advanced, relief pitching performance is still wildly erratic from year-to-year. A successful bullpen is, more often than not, a motley crew of veterans, rookies, and guys signed to minor league contracts. Building a bullpen is an inexact science so any organization’s best bet is to stockpile arms and try and find the best possible combination.

From everything I’ve read I also think it best to assign pitchers specific roles. Most pitchers don’t like being jerked around, not knowing when and in what situations they may be called upon to pitch. Shocking, I know. I find these classifications silly and arbitrary, but if helps pitcher performance than I’m all for it. Let’s take a look at who will be returning next season:

CL - Francisco Rodriguez: K-Rod’s legal / anger management issues aside, I have to assume he will be on the active roster next season. Unless Frankie serves jail time, it’s safe to say he will be the team’s closer next year. Before his reprehensible father-in-law punching, and creepy stalker mass texting incidents, Mr. Rodriguez was, statistically speaking, having an excellent season. He had 25 saves, struck out more than a batter per inning, giving up 7 hits per 9 innings pitched with K/BB ration of over 3:1.

SU [RHP] - Bobby Parnell: Parnell settled in nicely this year and I think it’s safe to say that the Parnell as starting pitcher experiment is over. He struck out nearly a batter per inning (33 K / 35 IP) while walking a scant eight batters. He let up a tad too many hits (41) but he’s still developing. Parnell’s high K/9 IP and very good K/BB ratios are an indicator of future success.

MR [RHP] - Ryota Igarashi: Mr. Igarashi is under contract for one more year. After a hot start his season got sidetracked with a hamstring injury it seems he never fully recovered from. He looked dominant at times, completely lost at others. Who knows if he breaks camp with the big league squad next year, but he will be a part of the bullpen at some point. Walks seem to be his biggest issue. In 35 IP last year he gave up 20 hits, struck out 25 while walking 18. If he can find some control, somehow, he could be an effective reliever.

MR [RHP] - Manny Acosta: The Mets claimed Acosta off waivers from the Braves prior to the 2010 season and was literally a steal. In 39.2 IP he struck out 42, gave up only 30 hits and walked 18. All good for an ERA+ of 134. His Batting Average on Balls in Play was .283, a tad below the mean of .300, so there was probably a little bit of luck involved. But he’s still under team control for another year, meaning he’s cheap and will provide value beyond his salary.

MR [RHP] - Sean Green: Since being acquired from the Mariners in the J.J. Putz deal, Green has been pretty not very good at pitching a baseball. He was hurt last year, and pretty much all of this year. Plus he changed his delivery during the off season so I’m willing to give him a pass. He’s entering his second arbitration year, and won’t receive a raise from his $975K salary with no body of work this year so he’ll be pretty cheap. He will be on the roster next year, possibly starting the year at Triple A, and hopefully, healthy he can show the Mets what he can do. If he stinks then they’ll just non-tender him next year.

In House Candidates:

LHP - Mike O’Connor: O’Connor was a 7th round pick of the Expos in 2002. He actually started 20 games for the Nationals in 2006, but only saw a cup of coffee at the major league level after that. The Mets signed him as a minor league free agent and he had an excellent year at Triple A, pitching to a 2.67 ERA in 70 IP with 70 K’s. He also held righties to a .231 BAA so he’s not necessarily just a lefty specialist. With the Mets potentially losing both Pedro Feliciano and Hisanori Takahashi to free agency, O’Connor deserves a look.

RHP - Chad Cordero: Another minor league free agent and former Expo/National. Cordero was 1st round pick in 2003 who saw Major League action the same year he was drafted. He was a very effective closer 2004 - 2007 before his arm blew up in 2008. He’s kicked around the Mariners minor league system before the Mets signed him in July. He pitched well in 16 IP, striking out 15 with a 1.69 ERA. I don’t think he’ll make the big league team, but he’s a solid option to have down on the farm for the inevitable injury or ineffectiveness.

LHP - Raul Valdes: The Mets got Valdes on loan from the Mexican league and he provided value out of the bullpen. His ERA (4.91) and peripheral stats are nothing to write home about, but he’s got a rubber arm, and can eat innings out of the bullpen.

Re-Signees:

LHP - Hisanori Takahashi: What a pleasant surprise Takahashi turned out to be. He had success in every role the Mets asked him to fill; starter, reliever, set-up man, closer. His stats are a little skewed because he got exposed as a starting pitcher, but as a reliever he posted a 2.01 ERA in 57.1 IP with 60 K’s and 22 BB. The rub is that Takahashi may want the opportunity to start. If a team is willing to give him that opportunity, then he may walk.

LHP - Pedro Feliciano: Pedro is entering free agency for the first time this year. He’s a work horse, leading the league and setting the club record for appearances with 92. He’s also extremely effective against lefties, and in a division that includes Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, Jason Heyward and Adam Dunn that is extremely valuable. On the con side Feliciano is 34 years old and made $2.9 million this year. He’s due for a raise and will probably be seeking a multi-year deal. He projects as a Type B free agent, so the Mets will offer arbitration. I’d try and work out a reasonable deal, and if he walks then take the draft pick. Even though the relief pitching market is never very strong, locking in a lefty specialist in his mid 30’s for multiple years at $4 million plus per year seems like a waste of money.

RHP - Elmer Dessens: Dessens signed a minor league deal with the Mets for $700K, his second consecutive for the Mets. He pitched well in 2009 and 2010 with a 3.31 ERA and 2.30 ERA in 32.2 IP and 47 IP respectively. But Dessens doesn’t strike out many batters (14 in 2009, 16 in 2010) and his BAbip of .196 and .243 in those seasons suggests his success is a byproduct of luck and good defense, more so than his skill. If the Mets can get him on another minor league deal for cheap, then I’d go for it. Otherwise I’d let him walk for a more lucrative deal, especially at 39 years old.

Free Agents:

The relief pitching market is notoriously shitty. There’s a good chance any decent reliever is a Type A free agent. I, personally, don’t see the value of giving up draft picks for a pitcher you hope throws 60 -70 innings quality innings. So either you overpay in dollars, years, draft picks or all three. Any Type B free agents are probably pretty good too, in which case they’re looking for dollars and years. After that you hope that you can pick up a reclamation project off the scrap heap.

None of these scenarios are ideal, which proves my point that building an effective bullpen is really difficult. In my opinion, the Mets could most use one more dependable left hander (since they’re liable to lose Feliciano and/or Takahashi) and one more dependable right hander. The cash strapped Mets will have to get creative and go bargain hunting:

LHP: Professional fatso Dennys Reyes is coming off a 2 year / $3 million deal so he doesn’t figure to be that expensive. He pitched well for St. Louis, but didn’t log a ton of innings either year and will be 34 next year. His high BB/9 IP rate is not ideal either. Joe Beimel is in the same boat as Reyes; enjoyed some success, will be relatively cheap (coming off a 1 year / $850K contract), but is 34, doesn’t strike guys out while walking too many. You can lump guys like Ron Mahay and Will Ohman into this category too. The best option for the Mets is Randy Choate. He’ll be a Type B free agent, so he won’t cost a draft pick. He made 85 appearances for the Rays this season, with a 8.1 K / 9 average. He’ll be eligible for free agency for the first time. So while he’ll be due a raise, his previous salary of $700K will make him cheaper than Feliciano.

RHP: I would love the Mets to go after Jesse Crain or Jon Rauch to shore up their bullpen. But both are making $2 million or more this year, Crain is coming off another solid campaign, Rauch has bolstered his value by closing part of the year for the Twins, and both are in their prime. Koji Uehara has been excellent for the Orioles since transferring to the bullpen. While he won’t command his previous $5 million salary as a relief pitcher, he doesn’t figure to be cheap either. Instead, bet on the Mets looking for guys coming off injuries or down years like Juan Cruz (who the Royals figure to buy out for $500K), Scott Shields (though he may retire), Mike MacDougal, or Tyler Walker. One feasible option may be Jose Contreras. The Phillies signed him to a one year / $1.5 million contract last year so he doesn’t figure to be that expensive. At 39 years old you wouldn’t think a multi-year contract is in order either, and he still provides value (9.1 K/9, 1.218 WHIP, 3.56 K/BB ratio) out of the bullpen.

Coincidence? Probably!

2010-10-06T16:24:00.002-04:00

Is it me or does the two kids dressed up like an old lady in that Snickers commercial:

Look a lot like Leatherface when he wears a wig and puts on make-up during the dinner scene in “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”:

Meet the Mets: Part I

2010-10-03T21:39:00.000-04:00

Normally I try and stay away from this kind of speculation when it comes to professional sports. I’m not a GM, I don’t have a business or law degree, and I’m not privy to the front office or the clubhouse. While I agree that one should retain at least a modicum of emotional distance when making business decisions, I also know that without insider knowledge of a team’s inner workings my opinions are not fully informed and my suggestions may not be realistic. Also, regardless of overwhelming fan opinion a team will still do whatever it wants no matter how stupid. Any Mets or Knicks fan can tell you that.

That said, I think all Mets fans can sense that change is coming. There have been numerous reports that Jerry Manuel’s contract will not be renewed, and that Omar Minaya will either be reassigned or fired outright as General Manager. In the wake of another disappointing season, there does seem to be an air, however slight, of optimism. With imminent change, I figured why not play fake GM? Heck, I couldn’t possibly do any worse than Minaya has the past few years.

So lets jump right in by taking a look at who, on the current roster, will be returning in an everyday role next season and identify what holes need to filled (that’s what she said).

Not Going Anywhere:

C – Josh Thole: All indications point to Thole being the Mets starting catcher next year and I think he’s earned a shot. He doesn’t have very much pop (slugging a mere .357 in 272 career plate appearances) but he makes consistent, solid contact and gets on base. I’d like to see his on base percentage a couple ticks higher (currently at .347 for the season) but he’s walked (21) about as much as he’s struck out (23) so the potential for even better plate discipline is there. Thole’s calling card has always been his bat, but I’ve been impressed by his defense and game calling abilities. He’s clearly worked hard and improved these areas of his game.

1B – Ike Davis: Meet your first baseman of the foreseeable future, Mets fans. Davis made us all believe the hype during his rookie campaign. He’s got power to spare, drives in runs and by all standard and advanced fielding metrics is a very good defensive first baseman. He definitely needs to cut down on the strikeouts (135 in 587 plate appearances) but he’s still young and learning. What I’ve found most promising about Davis is, after a hot start, he went into a bit of a slump once opposing pitchers figured him out. But over the last month or so Davis has readjusted his approach and got hot again. He’s shown the ability to adapt to the advanced scouting and higher quality major league pitching. Pencil him in for 25-30 home runs, 100+ RBI and Gold Glove defense starting as soon as next year.

SS – Jose Reyes: The Mets hold an $11 million option on Reyes for next season, after which he can become a free agent. As retarded as the Mets can be, I can’t imagine even them not picking it up. Some people (ne idiots) have suggested the Mets try and trade Reyes with the ludicrous “break up the core” argument. Reyes won’t turn 28 until June of next year. While the beginning of his career was plagued with injuries, Reyes played in 150+ games four consecutive seasons, prior to last year’s injury shortened campaign. He will finish this season with over 130 games played and over 600 plate appearances. So I don’t think his durability is a question any longer. More importantly, his offensive and defensive production would be impossible to replace in house, via trade or on the open market. Guys who rely on their speed for offense and defensive range often start to break down quicker than players with other skill sets. Being that Reyes is still only 27 years old, barring tragic injury or unforeseen diminished production, I would start working with his agents on a four year extension next year, taking him through his age 32 season.

3B – David Wright: Not much to say here; .300 BA, 30+ home runs, 100+ RBI, face of the franchise and signed for a very reasonable $14 million next year. Signed through 2012 with and option for 2013, he’s not going anywhere.

LF – Jason Bay: There’s no way around it; Bay’s season was, to put it mildly, disappointing. But I like Bay. He’s a hard working, low key guy. And his defense, supposedly the weak part of his game, was surprisingly good. I have to believe he’ll turn it around if only because he’s making $18 million each of the next three years. Even if the Mets wanted to dump him, his contract makes him untradeable.

CF – Carlos Beltran: Possibly the most polarizing figure on the roster, which is surprising considering how mild mannered he is. I, personally, am a Beltran supporter. Much like Reyes his production on both sides of the ball at one of the most demanding positions on the field is unparalleled and would be impossible to replace. He’s definitely returned to form after a slow start coming off the DL, so the reports of Beltran’s demise have been greatly exaggerated.

RF – Angel Pagan: Where would the Mets have been without Pagan this year? I shudder to think how much worse they would have been. With a full, healthy season under his belt we’ve finally seen Pagan reach his full potential.

Give ‘Em the Heave-Ho:

2B – Luis Castillo: There is absolutely no way Castillo is on the opening day roster next year. Despite being healthy (or as healthy as Castillo can be) he has completely vanished in the waning month of the season. I can’t even remember the last time I saw him in the starting lineup. He’s either released or traded come Spring, with the Mets eating his salary either way.

Potential Free Agents:

With Castillo out of the picture, that leaves second base as our only need (realistically speaking) in the starting lineup. The Mets are right to give Ruben Tejada as much of a look as possible down the stretch. Ultimately I don’t think he’s there quite yet with his bat. There’s been talk of a Ruben Tejada / Daniel Murphy platoon next year but that’s a dangerous concept to rely on, considering who knows if Murphy can even play an adequate second base.

Bear in mind that the Mets have over $120 million committed to next year’s roster by my half assed calculations. This doesn’t include arbitration raises to the likes of R.A. Dickey, Angel Pagan and Mike Pelfrey. Despite the Wilpon’s insistence that they are not strapped for cash, all reports indicate the Mets will be spending very little money this off season. So my plan would be to acquire a cheap, league average second baseman on a one year deal. This will provide depth at the position (Tejada, Murphy, Luis Hernandez, Justin Turner, Joaquin Arias, Reese Havens) while giving prospects like Tejada, Turner and Havens more seasoning in the minor leagues. Here are some potential candidates:

1. Orlando Hudson – The Mets have coveted him for years. He signed a one year, $5 million deal with the Twins this past off season. At 32 years old, and coming off a slight off year by his standards I wonder if the Mets can’t get him for one year at less than $5 million. Despite his off year, he has provided 1.8 Wins Above Replacement on offense and saved 18 runs Above Replacement on defense.

2. Mark Ellis – The A’s hold a $6 million option on Ellis for next year. I’m not plugged into the A’s organization and am not sure if they have plans on exercising that option. The A’s are traditionally cash strapped, so you have to figure there’s a decent chance they buy him out for $500K and go with a younger, cheaper option. Though not as strong defensively as Hudson, he is still considerably above average with a solid slash line at the plate (for a second baseman) of .290/.358/.373. However, even if the A’s make him available, he could command over $5 million / year and, depending on how the market shakes out, a multi-year deal thus making him out of the Mets price range.

3. Felipe Lopez – This is probably more in the Mets wheelhouse. Lopez signed a one year, $1 million contract with the Cardinals in the off season. He’d probably sign for that much, possibly less, considering the Cardinals released him after he was late numerous times. He struggled offensively this year, but for the first time in his career so you have to believe he can turn it around at age 31. However, his struggles combined with his insubordination does raise some red flags and the Mets can ill afford another PR kerfuffle. Lopez does provide, more or less, league average defense at second so for $750K - $1 million you have to consider taking a flyer on him. Consider him a back-up plan.

Some other low cost options include Adam Kennedy and Aaron Miles, neither of which are bound to set your soul aflame. There’s a risk/reward option in a guy like Akinori Iwamura who really fell the fuck off this year, but he’s a guy you sign on a minor league deal and hope catches on in Spring Training, not someone you guarantee a starting job to. But honestly, if none of the above three are available, Plan B is to let the in-house candidates duke it out in Spring Training. They’re liable to produce just as well, if not better, than the David Eckstein’s of the world, and for less money.

Trade Bait:

As much as I support Carlos Beltran, I realize his relationship with the fans, media and team is probably irrevocably damaged. I’m sure both the Mets and Beltran will want to part ways once his contract expires after the 2011 season. There’s been some chatter about the Mets trying to trade Beltran. I’m not sure how realistic that is, but what the Mets should definitely NOT do is trade Beltran this off season. They will not get anything of value for him, and still have to pay a chunk of his remaining salary.

Instead they should simply lie in wait, and see how Beltran’s 2011 season plays out. Beltran’s September resurgence would lead you to believe he can be a presence at the plate again. The big question mark is his defense. Hopefully his knee heals enough that he can regain most of his ridiculous range in center field. If not, I would start him in right field so as to build his value as a corner outfielder. So if his offense and defense return to form, and if the Mets are not contenders next year I would be open to trading Beltran, but only if the price is right. Beltran will be 34 next year, no spring chicken but with a few good years still left, so the Mets shouldn’t expect a huge haul. Realizing they will have to pay a large chunk of his salary and contingent on Beltran rebuilding his value as a premiere outfielder, I’d pull the trigger on a deal for a young, major league or near major league starting pitcher and a solid position player prospect. Otherwise, just hold onto him and take the draft picks as I have to assume he will turn down any arbitration offer next off season so he can get the hell out of New York.

Talkin' 'Bout My Generation (the TV Show)

2010-09-23T01:05:00.003-04:00

As a straphanger I’m acutely aware of print ads. They are everywhere; in subway stations, in every train car, on the side of every bus. I find most print ad design to be utterly banal and fucking boring. Usually, their most interesting aspect is the creative ways in which people deface them. I still remember someone slapping a word bubble sticker next to Sandra Bullock’s head on the poster for “Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous” with the phrase “I’m a vapid hole.” But sometimes you get an ad for a movie or television show that is so laughably bad it is just as brilliant.

Case in point the print ads for the new ABC show “My Generation” which have been plastered everywhere for the past few weeks. They consist of a photo of a member of the show’s ensemble cast, usually looking up and to the left for some reason, accompanied by a phrase meant to be provocative and pique your interest in an “OMG!” kind of way. Here’s one of my favorites:

Ooooh, you’re so edgy “My Generation”! I’m sure a show on a major network, where you can’t curse or show tits or dong or offend anyone because, as a major network, you are so cripplingly dependent on paid ad revenue, yes I’m sure you will push boundaries and challenge every notion of what we thought television could be. And all on a network owned by the Walt Disney Company, no less.

Ultimately “My Generation” might actually be a really good show, who knows. But advertising the show in this way is going to turn off more viewers than it attracts. It comes off as a nerd’s attempt to be cool, like when Sam wore his Parisian Night Suit to school on “Freaks & Geeks”. It’s just painful and embarrassing for everyone involved. Just be yourself, “My Generation”.

Or, if you’re going to try and be edgy, then fucking go for it. Don’t half-ass it with this coy-finger-in-mouth “Aren’t I naughty?” bullshit. It just doesn’t cut it anymore. In addition to the comparably lax censorship the proliferation of basic and premium cable has offered, you now have to compete with a little thing called the internet where every depraved desire and curiosity can be sated in a matter of moments. Seriously, I just found a video of women sucking off a horse while pooing into another horse’s mouth. That horse is pooing poo made of that woman’s poo directly onto the back of young man in a Little Fauntleroy costume who is licking the knee cap hair of a Leather Boy with a little person and a dwarf beating the shit out of each other with riding crops on his lap. Then the whole thing splattered a bunch of paint on OK Go! All right, it was an OK Go! video, but still you get the point.

That’s why I’ve taken the liberty of redesigning your ad campaign for you ABC. I’ll expect a check for your entire P & A budget in the mail within 7-10 business days. Make it out to cash, though. I don’t need the IRS all up in my shit. Personally, I’m a big believer in transparency in advertising; just say what you mean. Don’t insult my intelligence by trying to trick me into buying what you’re selling:

Too cold? I get it, so let’s try ramping things up a bit:

Still a little verbose, huh? In and out, run and gun more your style? I got you covered:

Straight sex, even infidelity, is so boring, so vanilla. That’s why you re-tool the show and create television’s very first copromaniac:

Now that’s edgy!

*Big thanks to Niki for her amazing Photoshop wizardry in rendering my shitty camera phone picture of this ad actually usable. My hilarious commentary on a show that will probably be canceled within seven episodes would not have been possible without her.

Conspicuous (Soft Rock) Consumption

2010-09-01T16:24:00.002-04:00

Sorry to be so commercial-centric these days, but a thought occurred to me the other day that I simply cannot ignore. Why hasn’t anyone appropriated Philip Bailey and Phil Collins 1984 smash hit “Easy Lover” into a fast food jingle? Especially in this advertising day and age, where no one produces original jingles anymore, instead relying on hit music for theme songs and commercials. Dig the sweet chorus:

It lends itself perfectly to any number of two-syllable foods or food chains. Sing along and see for yourself!

PIZZA HUT:
She’s a cheesy lover
You’re gonna love our blend of six cheeses

TACO BELL:
She’s a taco lover
Try our brand new carne esada

BURGER KING:
She’s a Whopper lover
Always flame broiled, never frozen

KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN:
She’s a chicken lover
With our eleven herbs and spices

The list is endless; pizza, burger, Subway, Wendy’s, Popeye’s, Sonic. It so easy, it practically writes itself. Seriously, I wrote all of those in about three minutes and I’m considered legally retarded in seventeen states. For this travesty to exist, that means one of two things:

1. Despite the song being in existence for over twenty five years, this idea has never occurred to anyone? No one? Really? The people who gave us “Where’s the Beef?” and “Just Do It” couldn’t conjure “She’s a Big Mac Lover / Pickles, onions, sesame seed bun”

Or, even more impossible to believe:

2. Ad men have come up with this idea, perhaps numerous times, but Phil Collins has so much artistic integrity that he refused to let his pop masterpiece to be used in something so denigrating as a commercial.

You’re telling me the man who took a truckload of Disney cash to write a song called “You’ll Be in My Heart” thinks using his song for a commercial is beneath him? Something’s not right here, and I demand answers faceless ad persons of the world. I refuse to believe that Phil Collins thinks he’s better than Kool and the Gang:

AND Lionel Ritchie:

Who are the Ad Wizards Who Came Up With This One?

2010-08-24T13:04:00.001-04:00

As I’ve stated numerous times here, my brain is 83% filled with old, slightly obscure commercial and commercial jingles from my childhood. The other 17% is sparks from my synapses misfiring, boner jams, and the memory of that time that kid shit his pants in the 4th grade. He tried to play it off like he didn’t, but everyone knows he totally did! Why else did he go to the nurse’s office with corduroys on and come back wearing a pair of ill-fitting Toughskins? You are a pants-shitting liar, Vinny Havermayer!

As such, I like to consider myself an expert on the commercial medium. And I must say that commercials these days are just fucking horrible. Recently I took at sketch writing class at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. Our assignment, one week, was to write commercial parodies a la Saturday Night Live:

So the assignment should have been simple enough, yet when everyone got to class next week we all opined on how difficult it was to write commercial parodies. Most companies these days, in their defense, will spend tens of millions just to produce a single ad. As such they will focus group the bejesus out of it until it’s completely bland and flavorless. Writing a parody of it would be like satirizing off white house paint.

The other reason these were so difficult to write is that a lot of commercials are already trying to be funny, or at the very least have an element of humor in them. In this post-postmodern age everything is slathered in coat upon coat of sweet, succulent irony. Ads are so self aware, with tongue firmly planted in cheek, it’s almost like they’re beating you to the punch.

The victim in all of this is the actual point of the commercial. If you have no idea what the commercial is trying to tell you, how can you make fun of it? As a counterpoint, here’s a childhood favorite of mine:

What information did you glean after watching that commercial? Honeycomb’s big (yeah, yeah, yeah!). So if Honeycomb is big, by deductive reasoning we can conclude that it’s not small (no, no, no!). It has a big honey taste, which makes sense since we’ve already qualified Honeycombs as being large in size. The commercial also has a catchy jingle to help you retain all this information, as well as a celebrity cameo by the late, probably drunk Andre the Giant. If Don Draper was still alive in 1989, he would have drank a fifth of Johnny Walker Red and let a hooker slap him around, he would have been so happy. It accomplishes everything you could possibly want in an ad. Also, if I were writing a cereal commercial parody, this would be a great commercial to try and do something fun with; the corny song, the unexplained presence of a robot, Andre the Giant instilling fear into children with his brute strength and crushing power. And it’s all presented to you in a completely un-ironic way. The Honeycomb Corporation genuinely wants you to know all of the above, and this is the best way they saw fit.

As an example of a contemporary commercial, check out this painfully unfunny Bud Light ad:

So what exactly did we learn from this commercial? Um…Bud Light…party…T-Pain saying guacamole is kind of funny, but not really? Unlike our Honeycomb commercial, this Bud Light commercial’s message is muddled and unclear. Their slogan, “Here We Go”, what does that even mean? And seriously Bud Light, autotune and T-Pain jokes after Auto Tune the News and “I’m On a Boat”? Way to phone in the entire concept of the commercial.

Unlike the “Schmitt’s Gay” parody, there’s nothing to make fun of in this beer commercial and those like it. I can only shake my fist in anger at how colossally stupid and lazy it is. Who are the ad wizards who came up with this one!?

The Wild, The Innocent, and the Ed Hardy Shuffle

2010-07-29T18:54:00.002-04:00

If you’re like me, and I know am, then it’s been pretty hard to ignore MTV’s “Jersey Shore”. Even though you wish your brain capacity could be used for more important things, there is a part of your brain that at the very least is aware of some guy called “The Situation” who has abdominal muscles. That’s how MTV does business; the moment anything catches on, they immediately beat you into submission with it. Then the moment it loses favor in the public consciousness, they distance themselves from it and deem it ironic and worthy of our mockery (See Ice, Vanilla). It’s a brilliant strategy. They make money on popular culture coming and going.

With the premiere of the Season Two of “Jersey Shore” nigh upon us, I’ve seen numerous Facebook posts and Tweets to the effect of “Can’t wait! It’s my guilty pleasure!” or “The show’s such a trainwreck. I love it” and “GTL! LOL!”. I’ve made peace with reality television; it’s here, and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. But this brand of reality television still makes me queasy because of comments just like that. The only reason MTV broadcasts the show, and why it’s such a raging success is so we can point and laugh at a bunch of dumb kids from Jersey, with their regional colloquialisms, funny accents, binge drinking, silly dancing and fist fights. It’s theater of cruelty, a sideshow attraction. I’d make comparisons to the Elephant Man, but at least he had enough dignity to rail against his own dehumanization.

Initially, the appeal was that the cast wasn’t in on the joke. Now, surely the cast must know the cause of its skyrocketing popularity and lofty position in our zeitgeist. And it’s not because everyone thinks they’re really cool. What do you do when you find the culture you’ve whole heartedly embraced and have come to embody, is now being universally made fun of? In the case of the “Jersey Shore” cast, instead of defending and perhaps promoting the positive aspects of said culture, you take the money and run. Or more accurately take the money and put on the minstrel show.

Oh yes, about the money. Tonight, while you mock and deride from the omnipotence of your couch just realize that each cast member is getting $10,000 per episode for the twenty four episode second season run. Do the math, that’s a shade less than a quarter of a million dollars. Now who’s laughing?

Luck Be a Lady (And a Mets Fan) Tonight

2010-07-01T16:31:00.003-04:00

As we’ve now crept into July, hurtling towards the All-Star Game and therefore the midway point of the season, I thought I’d take this opportunity to check in on my beloved Mets. After the strum and drang of the past three seasons I made a promise to myself; I would not go overboard with my fandom this season. I would do my best to keep it at a reasonable level, and not let a baseball team run my life for the next six months. For the most part I feel I’ve kept good on that promise. Sure, I’m keenly aware of the team, their record, their stats and personnel moves but I’ve managed to take everything in stride. I haven’t purchase World Series tickets when they’ve been on a winning streak, and haven’t made with the gnashing of the teeth and the cursing of the gods when they’ve lost.

Now here we are on July 1st, ten games over .500, 1.5 games out of first place and (though still very early) one game up in the Wild Card standings. While still dealing with player injuries and ineffectiveness, unlike last year they’ve managed to plug those holes adequately and remain in contention. Omar Minaya said he was going to build a team built on “pitching, speed and defense” and holy fucking shit he actually did. Currently they are 7th in MLB in team ERA, 7th in fielding percentage with the 6th least amount of errors, and 2nd in the league in stolen bases.

I’ve really enjoyed watching this team play baseball this year. They’re fun to watch, are fundamentally sound and have show a knack for coming back, and not phoning it in once down by a few runs. But, for the long term success of this team, a good season by the 2010 Mets is what I feared most. Why? Because I have zero faith that Omar Minaya knows what the fuck he’s doing. I’ve seen a shift in the media tides, where the general consensus seems to be, albeit somewhat grudgingly, to give credit where credit is due when it comes to Omar. If anyone deserves credit for the 2010 Mets success (so far) it should be luck.

John Maine & Oliver Perez / Hisanori Takahashi & R.A. Dickey:

How soon we forget that it was Omar Minaya who so generously bestowed 3 years/36 million dollars on Oliver Perez two years ago despite doing nothing to deserve it. And John Maine, whether mentally or physically, has not been right since his 2007 campaign. So is it any wonder both sucked total and complete shit in 2010? Not to a normal person capable of making rational decisions based on empirical evidence. Instead of trying to bring in a middle/back end of the rotation innings eater, or a cheap arm with high upside, or try and trade for an ace Minaya decided to stand pat, sign some veterans to minor league deals, hide under some coats and hope everything would turn out okay.

Yet, lo and behold it did! I love the way both Takahashi and Dickey pitch. Dickey mixes in just enough mid-80’s fastballs with his hard knuckleball to keep hitters off balance, and Takahashi has about five different pitches he can throw for strikes at any time. Both have provided much needed innings and both have a better than 2:1 strikeout to walk ratio. But you can’t tell me that two players signed to minor league deals for less than $2 million total figured into the Mets plans for 2010. Even if Minaya thought both would see major league action at some point, there’s no way he could have predicted either (not to mention both) would provide the type of stability the starting rotation so sorely needed.

Ike Davis / Mike Jacobs & Fernando Tatis Platoon:

I’ll give Omar some credit for calling on rookie Ike Davis, rather than sticking with middling veterans Jacobs and Tatis in a starting role. But did you really need to wait until two weeks into the season to make this decision? Davis tore the cover off the ball during spring training and during his brief stint in the minors in 2010. Jacobs flat out sucked during his tenure, proving himself to be the one dimensional player everyone knew he was. Tatis, while a solid bench/role player, should never have been considered for a full time job, even in a platoon. Since preventing Davis from potentially achieving super-two status (enabling him to reach arbitration one year early) was obviously not a concern with his April promotion, why even wait that long? If the goal is to field the best 25 man roster possible, the choice was clear. When Davis was promoted to the majors on April 19th the Mets were 4-8. In those eight losses they scored a rather paltry average of 3.25 runs/game. And of those eight losses, half were by one run. Davis’ bat in the lineup could have easily earned the Mets another victory or two. I know it’s a long, 162 game season but ask the 2007 and 2008 Mets how much difference one victory makes.

Chris Carter:

Again, I’ll give Omar some credit for brining up Carter and releasing Frank Catalanatto. But, again, if the point is the build the best possible team why didn’t Carter make the team out of spring training? Carter offers timely hits and power off the bench and in a spot start. By all accounts his intensity and preparedness are beloved by his teammates.

As much as I love having Chris “The Animal” Carter on the bench, do you know what the Mets gave up to get him? Billy Wagner who, in turn, netted the Red Sox a first round draft pick, and a compensation round draft pick when Atlanta signed him as a Type A free agent. Wagner didn’t fully recover from Tommy John surgery until August, when the Mets were long out of contention. Also, the Mets had paid his salary up until that point. Financially, they only had an obligation of two months left once he returned from the disabled list. It’s not as if getting Wagner’s salary off the books gave them enormous payroll flexibility. So the Mets had no financial or considerable talent gain in this deal. You tell me what’s more valuable? The 20th and 39th overall picks in the first year player draft? Or unproven role player Chris Carter?

I think that’s what bothers me the most. I could go on and on about Luis Castillo’s contract or the handling of Beltran’s knee injury but the scariest part of Minaya’s reign as GM is his complete lack of understanding of the current market. If you’re a team with not a ton of money to spend, who are you going to take a chance on? The aging veteran who’s going to command a few million dollars a year? Or the young kid down on the farm that’ll cost you the league minimum for the next three years? Look how many first and second year players are making huge impacts for their teams across the major leagues. And as we approach the trade deadline, who do you think is going to be traded for the Cliff Lee’s, Dan Haren’s and Roy Oswalt’s of the world?

Even the most casual fan can see that there’s been a major shift in baseball with a premium being placed on young talent. Prospects can either help your team for years to come, or net you that superstar you need for the stretch run. Yet the Mets refuse to pour more resources into their scouting/development department and insist on being the only major league team to follow the inane slotting system.

I really hope the Met stay in contention and make things interesting his summer, and into the fall. But if the Mets success means a contract extension for Minaya, we as fans can continue to count on luck as our biggest factor in roster building.

Smooth Jazz, Rough Trade

2010-04-23T19:23:00.001-04:00

A couple months ago I joined a gym around the corner from my apartment. The place is great and probably a little too fancy for the likes of me, but my rationale was that any monies beyond what I was accustomed to paying would be offset by the convenience. Not only that but by joining a gym so close to home I now have no excuse for being fat. I literally shamed myself into whipping my ass into shape.

Locker room culture has always made me a little uncomfortable, mainly because of those guys who are too comfortable in it. You know who I’m talking about; the guys who don’t mind strutting around completely naked. They’ll put one leg up on the bench and casually converse with you over mutual funds and fantasy football, their sweaty rolls compressed and hang-down flapping in the breeze.

For those who feel I’m being a little uptight about the whole thing, and that the naked human form is “like a beautiful thing, man “ let me posit this to you, you hippy fruits; Michelangelo’s “David”, the Venus de Milo, The Situation…yes, the ideal human form can be a beautiful thing. But guess what? 99% of everyone, everywhere are far from ideal. Most of us are overweight, obese, ill proportioned, too hairy or all of the above and more.

All of this is doubly worse for men because men’s bodies are at best, functional. A woman’s body has lines, curves, is round and soft. When Georgie O’Keefe wanted to paint vaginas without painting vaginas, she painted beautiful flowers and landscapes. The best artistic abstraction of the penis to date has been a portrait of a hot dog and two golf balls.

Over the years I’ve gotten used to it with a serious, workman like attitude; enter, change, leave. Which is fine by me, I’m certainly not there to make friends. And really what’s the big deal? If some dude wants to yack about his kids soccer team while drying his balls, who gives a shit, right? WRONG!

Under normal circumstances, sure, but for some reason my gym has decided that Kenny G’s satellite radio station is appropriate music to play in a men’s locker room. Let me set the scene for you; you’re getting changed, just trying to get in a good workout for the day. On either side of you are a couple dudes also getting changed very slowly. All you can see out of your peripheral vision is flab and wieners. No big deal, just keep going about your business…then this song comes on:

Or this:

Or how about this:

Lest we forget about the art of the smooth jazz cover:

C’mon gym! Your unsavory combination of moist male nudity and smooth jazz is just too much for a man full of shame such as myself. I don’t need to start associating pasty cellulite with the music of Taylor Dane.

Unknown NFL Prospect Says What Everyone is Thinking

2010-03-24T11:58:00.006-04:00

I try not to be a cynical man, really I do, but THIS REPORT from NBC Sports’ Pro Football Talk did me good this morning. For those not inclined to make with hyperlink clinking, and the reading, I’ll set the scene for you. At the NFL scouting combine, Heisman Trophy winner / avid Jesus lover Tim Tebow was about to take the Wonderlic test with a group of fifty other NFL prospects. The Wonderlic test is a timed exam designed to test a player’s critical thinking and decision making abilities, for the uninitiated. Got it? Okay, so then this happens…

“Per a league source, after the person administering the test to Tebow's group had finished, Tebow made a request that the players bow their heads in prayer before taking the 50-question exam.”

“Said one of the other players in response: 'Shut the fuck up.' Others players in the room then laughed.”

Oh to be a fly on that wall…or a player laughing in Tim Tebow’s face.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less whether Tebow worships God, Buddha, Mohammed or Your Mom (oh snap!). Nor do I doubt his sincerity; by all accounts he’s a genuinely devout young man who lives his life according to the principles of Christianity. That fact, I’ll admit, is refreshing considering how many public figures use religion as a crutch or a shield, when in reality they care more about lining their pockets or getting their dick wet than they do about any burning bushes or sermons on mounts.

But here’s the thing, whether your sincere or a complete phony, keep that shit to yourself. The relationship between yourself and whatever you choose (or don’t choose) to worship is a private one. How devoted you are, and how it affects your every day life is personal, and doesn’t need to be broadcast to the world. Jesus doesn’t need to be thanked every time your score a touchdown. Besides being completely frivolous (I’m assuming Jesus has more pressing matters to attend to) I’m pretty sure he knows how appreciative you are for those six points.

From a pragmatic standpoint, something like this is what could scare NFL teams from taking Tebow too high in the draft. He’s been living in a bubble of awesomeness most of his life. The prayer requests, the Jesus talk, the eye black tape with bible verses, all of that has been tolerated (that is, if it rubbed anyone the wrong way at Florida) because he won. Between his arm slot and accuracy issues, and now this little dust up it seems as if that bubble is about to burst.

Not everyone wants to pray before or after anything in their life happens. Not everyone is as devout or prefers to put their beliefs out on proverbial Front Street like you. Not everyone believes in the same God (or any God for that matter) as you. And now that you’re back on the low end of the totem pole, not everyone is going to keep their mouth shut if this type of behavior gets on their nerves. So show a little tact and cram it for once, Church-ey. Sheesh! Is it any wonder this kid was home schooled?

Brett Favre = Stan Gable...Kind Of

2010-01-26T13:38:00.007-05:00

Despite all the records held, and his assured (and definitely deserved) enshrinement in the Professional Football Hall of Fame I think it’s pretty much been proven what a douche Brett Favre is. Not just a douche, but a self-important, phony huckster with an ego the size of Green Bay’s collective cholesterol level that needs constant massaging douche. Perhaps your take isn’t as harsh as mine, but his track record speaks for itself; the drawn out retirement drama, jerking around Green Bay, then screwing with them by signing with the Vikings, blaming poor play on injuries, embarrassing players and coaches by putting them on blast for normal, behind-closed-doors disagreements.

Yet many sports writers and media types remain completely ignorant of these facts. More mind boggling still are the writers and media types who recognize the douchiness, and then defend it. He didn’t throw game ending interceptions in two NFC Championship games because he’s an egomaniac who has to be the hero, he did it because he’s a gritty playmaker. After he throws a touchdown pass he doesn’t run around the field like a retard who’s just been given a Snickers because he has to be the center of attention at all times, he does it because of his child-like enthusiasm for the game even at 40!!! ZOMG!!! He doesn’t jerk everyone around over his retirement because he’s a self absorbed narcissist, he does it because he’s so passionate about the game. The free passes this guy gets for his occasionally reckless and me-first play on the field, as well as his assholery off the field is astounding.

As my brother has posited before, many sports writers laud players who look most like them physically. In baseball this is known as the David Eckstein Effect. While in football you may know it as the Wes Welker Conundrum. Regardless, sports writers love gritty, undersized white guys who make the most of their limited talent and athletic ability. When you look at the numbers, at this point in his career, David Eckstein is not very good at baseball. Yet every year brings another feature detailing his heart, his guts, his toughness…all things you couldn’t possibly qualify or quantify, and therefore can’t argue against. They see their pasty, flabby selves in our undersized white friends, playing the game they love and have devoted their adult life to. It makes them feel as if, with a few twists of fate, that could have easily been them out on the playing field. I get it.

So here’s what I don’t get…Brett Favre’s not that guy. He’s been blessed with a multitude of physical gifts including a canon for an arm. He was the star quarterback of his high school football team; a team coached by his dad. As a kid, did you ever play for a team where the son of the coach wasn’t a total douche? I rest my case. He received a full scholarship to, and started all four years at quarterback (even though they wanted him to play defensive back) for Southern Mississippi. He was then drafted in the second round of the 1991 NFL Draft. This is a guy who, in high school and college, would have tortured the fat dorks who would eventually grow up to slobn’ his knobn’ in print. Or would he? That’s when it hit me…

…I’ve been thinking about this completely wrong. He totally is that guy, and that’s exactly why he gets treated the way he does. Allow me to explain; if TV has taught me anything it’s that big, dumb jocks like to give nerds wedgies, swirlies and occasionally trash their fraternity house. However, Brett Favre is not TV. Neither is he a decent human being, last time I checked. People as savvy as Brett Favre don’t dismiss their brainy bespectacled brethren, they use them. How? By throwing them some cool crumbs, making them feel down and part of the club in exchange for the things they need.

Here’s how it works; High School Brett Favre turns to High School Peter King in Sequential II Math and says “Oh bro, I’m totally gonna’ fail this test. This shit is so hard!” High School Peter King, head swirling that High School Brett Favre would even look in his general direction, let alone talk to him, retorts “Oh no, if you fail you won’t be able to play on Friday. And without your arm of molten steel and sex appeal, we’ll lose our aerial attack and become one dimensional on offense.” Having lost interest ages ago, High School Brett Favre turns and says “What? Sorry I was finger banging this girl next to me while you were talking about stuff I don’t care about. But yeah, I agree with whatever you said. This is total bullshit!” And just like that a light bulb goes off over High School Peter King’s head “Well you could just copy off of my test. That way you’d pass and still be able to play on Friday.” A falsely appreciative High School Brett Favre exclaims “Oh thanks bro! You’re the best. I owe you one.”

Of course that “one” isn’t really anything of value. High School Brett Favre isn’t going to invite him to the raging party after the game, shotgun beers with him and let him grope blind drunk cheerleaders. But who cares? High School Peter King is on cloud nine. In exchange for homework and test answers, he’ll get a casual, barely noticeable nod of recognition in the hallways, he’ll crack jokes about his weight in gym class then slap him on the back and say “Just kidding”. And maybe, just maybe, High School Brett Favre will sign his yearbook with an impossibly cool “C-Ya-When-I-C-Ya”.

Cut to twenty years later and Favre’s still playing off of these guys’ flabby man crushes. He gives them juicy sound bites and good copy. He returns their text messages. He gives them exclusive interviews full of false humility, heartland values and rugged handsomeness all wrapped up in corn fed charisma. He makes them think they’re good buddies while using them to paint the picture of Brett Favre he wants everyone to see and perpetuate his own bullshit mythos. But put a gun to his head and I bet Favre admits he’s wanted to punch Peter King in the jowls for the past 10 years.

So please Brett Favre, stay retired this time. I don’t think I can take much more. It’s not as if there’s another player entering the league poised to carry your bullshit torch.

An Open Letter to NBC

2010-01-20T00:57:00.004-05:00

Dear NBC:

I’ve been thinking long and hard about the steaming elephant turd quagmire you’re currently steeped in regarding The Tonight Show. At first I was inclined to blame you, NBC. I mean, it is your network after all, and the situation could not have been handled less graciously. Your wishy-washy, lets-try-and-make-everyone-happy approach has prompted Liberace’s corpse to reanimate and release a statement about “how fucking gay” you are. Seriously, it’s on the AP wire, look it up. Also, I think it’s been pretty well established what a giant douchebag Jeff Zucker is.

But then I realized something; you’re a multi-billion dollar corporation, which is part of a multi-multi billion dollar conglomerate. You’re job is to make as many people happy as often as possible in order to make the most amount of money. This approach is inherent in your nature, hell it’s company policy. Large corporations don’t make bold moves. Bold moves make most people uncomfortable, and when they don’t pan out they can cost you a shitload of money, way more than if you had just played it safe.

Sadly, it seems as if you’ve already made up your mind about what to do. But I beg you to think about who the real villain is in all this mess. Your executives shouldn’t be trading barbs with Conan; they should be firing Jay Leno.

“Jay Leno? By all accounts he’s a lovely, genuinely nice, extremely hard working man. Why is he to blame for all this?” you may be asking yourself. Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we?

May 1992 – Faced with Johnny Carson’s imminent retirement, NBC is divided on The Tonight Show’s successor; Jay Leno or David Letterman. Helen Kushnick’s (Leno’s manager) strong arm tactics win Leno the job. Afore mentioned bullying begins to piss off The Tonight Show staff and the network. Having already got what he needs, Leno fires Kushnick as both his manager and The Tonight Show producer four months into his tenure.

December 1992 – Now faced with either matching CBS’ sixteen million dollar offer to David Letterman, or letting him go, NBC mulls over reneging on their deal with Leno and handing over The Tonight Show to Letterman. In a December 23rd article in the New York Times, Leno complains “I’m disappointed…I feel like a guy who has bought a car from somebody, painted it, fixed it up and made it look nice and then the guy comes back and says he promised to sell the car to his brother-in-law.” Wow, sounds eerily familiar, doesn’t it? I wonder if Jay Leno uses car metaphors for everything in his life?

1993 – 1995 – Leno keeps his job, but finds himself losing the ratings battle against The Late Show with David Letterman on CBS. Despite this, NBC allows Leno to find his audience. After some fine tuning (new set, longer monologue, new band leader) and the publicity derived from his infamous 1995 interview with Hugh Grant (his first public appearance after being arrested for solicitation) Leno eventually takes over the ratings crown and doesn’t relinquish it for the next thirteen years.

OK, so this one’s on you NBC. Jay Leno gets over two years to settle into a groove, while Conan gets…seven months?

June 2004 – Jay Leno announces his retirement from The Tonight Show. His retirement will become effective in 2009, when his current contract is up. In Leno’s own words “In 2009 I’ll be 59 years-old and will have had this dream job for seventeen years. When I signed my new contract, I felt the timing was right to plan for my successor, and there is no one more qualified than Conan. Plus, I promised Mavis I would take her out for dinner before I turned sixty.”

Hah-hah! His long hours and constant touring keep him a home a combined 9 ½ days every calendar year. And most of that time is spent sleeping or fabricating car parts for stupid old timey cars that don’t exist anymore. Oh Jay, your obvious contempt for your wife is hilarious!

October 2007 – Uh-oh! The seeds of enmity are being sown. According to a Los Angeles Times article Leno isn’t so sure he wants hand over The Tonight Show reigns all of a sudden. The article says Jay felt pressured in planning his departure so many years in advance. Now, of course, this was all from an anonymous source so Jay could deny any direct link to the statement. Very sneaky, Leno. But wasn’t it Jay himself who, three years earlier, said the time was right to plan for his successor? And I certainly don’t recall any rumors circulating that he was being muscled out of the host’s chair. Why would the network do that anyway? He was the late night ratings champ eleven years running at this point.

July 2008 – Not moved by these rumblings and grumblings NBC announces the dates of The Tonight Show transition at a Television Critics Association meeting. Leno ramps up the pressure by attending the event incognito as a reporter and asking pointed “What about Jay? Where will he go?” questions, to which NBC execs have no answer.

I don’t recall this incident, personally, but it sure does paint a haunting picture of Jay’s ego. I’m going to assume this was done as a bit for his show. If so, then he’s a giant douche. If I were an NBC exec I would have answered “Uh, that ass-chinned fuck face said he was going to retire. So he’s going to go home to that wife of his he can’t stand being around, as far as I know.” But if this wasn’t for a bit, and Jay just did it apropos of nothing…wow…someone might want to check the trunk of his Stutz Bearcat for Branford Marsalis’ decomposed body.

December 2008 – After making it very clear he would not ride quietly off into the sunset; NBC is faced with the possibility of losing Jay Leno to a rival network. Having handily won the 11:30 ratings battle for the past 12 years, NBC smells potential disaster. Long story short Leno has NBC by their tiny, tiny balls and he knows it. Before he can become a free agent, NBC announces The Jay Leno Show will air starting in the fall of 2009. In a completely unprecedented move, it’s revealed that the hour long talk/comedy/variety show will air Monday-Friday at 10pm thus eliminating the slot traditionally held by hour long dramas.

May 29, 2009 – The Tonight Show with Jay Leno ends

June 1, 2009 – The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien premieres

September 14, 2009 – The Jay Leno Show premieres

January 8, 2009 – With ratings tanking, and affiliates fuming NBC confirms the rumors, and announces the cancellation of The Jay Leno Show.

Which brings us to today. As stated previously I understand your attempt at a “Lets give everyone a show!” compromise. I thought the Jay Leno Show idea was patently retarded, but I understand it from a business point of view; it had the potential to be a ratings boon on your shitty network, while simultaneously saving tons of money that would have otherwise been spent on the cast, crew and promotion of five prime time shows. Unfortunately it didn’t work out. And you know what you do when shit doesn’t work out? You cut your losses.

Jay Leno wouldn’t be getting The Tonight Show back if he didn’t want it, or hadn’t lobbied for it. So really, it’s mostly his fault and now nobody wins. You, NBC, look like a bunch of incompetent, callous jerkoffs. Jay Leno has been revealed for the conniving, manipulative piece of shit he is, thus spoiling all the good will he had built with a chunk of his audience. Not to mention the fact that he’s coming off of an epic failure of a show. I’m sure people are really going to want to tune into him now. You’ve also managed to build enormous public support for Conan, who will no longer be working for you shortly, while simultaneously giving people a reason to tune into David Letterman and Jimmy Kimmel as they rake you over the coals every night.

I’m sure, on some level, Jay Leno is a very nice guy. And his work ethic has been well documented. But let me ask you this; when’s the last time you heard anyone say “Man, that Jay Leno’s hilarious!” or “Did you see that ‘Jaywalking’ segment last night? Classic!” If I had a nickel for every time someone said that to me I’d be eating Fancy Feast for dinner, sleeping in Van Cortland Park and making a living off of the local middle school population. Either by buying wine coolers and modeling glue for them, or letting them kick me in the penis for spare change (ladies choice!) You know why? Because I’d be so broke from hearing people say the exact fucking opposite to me!

Years from now do you think anyone will compare Iron Jay to Carnac the Magnificent, or even to the Masturbating Bear or Pimpbot 5000 for that matter? No one will talk about him innovating the talk show format like Steve Allen. History won’t label him a master storyteller and wit like Jack Paar. No one will remember his impeccable delivery and comic timing the way they remember Johnny Carson’s. And do you know what Conan O’Brien was doing during Jay Leno’s Tonight Show infancy? Only writing and producing a little show called The Simpsons, arguably the greatest American television show ever made. Not only did he write/produce The Simpsons, he did it during the show’s Golden era, when it was at the absolute peak of its greatness. Seriously, look up the episodes he was involved in on IMDB; “Marge vs. the Monorail”, “Homer Goes to College”, “Homer’s Barbershop Quartet”, and “Mr. Plow” just to name a few.

No, history will simply remember Jay Leno as a guy who hosted The Tonight Show for 17 years. No one will remember what he actually did with the show because his comedic style and personality is so bland. Although this is the reason he appealed to such a broad audience, it’s just like everything else in popular culture today; disposable. He’ll make some tepid, inoffensive jokes about easy targets (see Jackson, Michael), you’ll chuckle slightly (if you’re half retarded) then instantly forget it.

Yet the guy who put you between a rock and a hard place not once, but twice, cost you a mid-eight figure buyout for his soon-to-be predecessor and staff right in the midst of the reported $200 million dollar loss you’re going to take on the Winter Olympics, criticized you on his show despite the fact that you’re bending over backwards to accommodate him, and shirked any responsibility for the savage beating you’re taking financially and in the press, the completely unfunny, mediocre, forgettable, back-stabbing cocksucker who’s managed to squander his nice guy image which is pretty much the only thing he had going for him…he’s the one who ends up getting what he wants. Well I can’t say I’m surprised. That’s life for you. Just let me know how Jimmy Fallon works out on The Tonight Show five years from now.

Stay Tuned...

2010-01-19T16:28:00.006-05:00

I'm currently working on an epic post about this Tonight Show debacle that, sadly, should end any day now with Conan O'Brien taking his buyout check and heading for greener pastures. Since every time I sit down to try and finish the post more and more Jay Leno and NBC vitriol just spews from my brain like some sort of engorged demon cock (for the sake of that last statement I'm going to assume that Satan's minions cum hatred) here's a couple clips to tide you over; Jimmy Kimmel and the late, great Bill Hicks eviscerating Jay Leno:

You Damn Kids Get Off My Liz-awn!

2009-12-08T00:59:00.005-05:00

The other day I made the mistake of going to my corner deli coffee spot right when the Middle School half a block away let out. God Almighty, I’ve seen more law and order in Shanghai prisons. I thought I stepped through a time warp and ended up in Civil War Beirut. If 13 year olds aren’t the rudest motherfuckers on earth, I don’t who is. Any regard for basic tenets of retail social contract such as forming a line and waiting your turn crumbled to ash under the weight of their collective turdishness. Seriously, I think I was interrupted about three times with a “Mister, let me get, um, a Snickers. Nah, fuck that. Skittles, yo.” while simply trying to order a cup of coffee. I’ve been farted on by strangers in crowded subway cars with more respect. I went in looking for an afternoon caffeine fix, I left questioning the existence of God.

Middle School aged kids making a part of your soul shrivel and die for the future of humanity is nothing new, however. No, what made this trip extra special was a brief, heated exchange between a boy and a girl over by the canned soda cooler.

Boy: Yo, I swear to God…

Girl: If you gonna’ do something, then go ahead and do it, nigga.

Girl walks away. Boy clicks his tongue.

Boy: Damn…bitches nowadays.

What cracked me up was that this line was uttered with a certain measure of world weariness. A bitter damning of “bitches nowadays” peppered with wistful nostalgia for the bitches of yesteryear. All this from the mouth of someone whose experience with women begins and ends with that one time he accidentally brushed against a titty on the lunch line.

The whole thing just made me wish he would have expanded his Grumpy Old Man fist-shaking thought even more. “Back in my day bitches would be happy to split a lemon phosphate down at the General Store. Even if they really wanted an egg cream. Nowadays these ho’s think they’re automatically entitled to a grape soda and twenty-five cent bag of Cheetos. Then they have the stones to complain when you bring them a Sunkist instead. More crust than a pie factory, I tell you. Bitch, those Cheetos are to be earned!”

Oh the Inanity: Mackenzie Phillips, Superstar

2009-10-02T13:29:00.005-04:00

Being in the biz I’m often on film or film industry related websites for various research purposes. Either that or I’m desperately trying to remember some nonsense, like the name of the actor who played Michael Landon’s sidekick on “Highway to Heaven”. You know, the guy who wore the A’s hat and was always skeptical, yet amazed when Michael Landon would perform a minor miracle as if he didn’t know full well that he was a god damned angel…Christ, what an idiot.

Anyway, IMDB Pro offers many visual aids based on how often things get searched for on IMDB in order to gauge their popularity. One of which, dubbed STAR Meter, tracks how often individual people get searched for and/or how often people go to their IMDB page. This data is then fed into some sort of reel-to-reel, John Frink-like super computer. Said super computer then ranks individuals while dispensing cigar chomping, Hollywood mogul platitudes in a robotic voice like “I’m gonna’ make you a star, kid!” or “You’ll never eat lunch in this town again!”

The top ten is usually littered with people you’d expect; Megan Fox, Kristin Stewart, etc. Not great actors per se, but the people most present in public’s hearts and mind. The interesting part, however, is that when something awful happens to someone, no matter how far they’ve receded into the periphery of the spotlight, they automatically zoom right back into the top ten. For example Patrick Swayze is number five on the list, wedged in between Robert Pattinson and Johnny Depp, and I’m sure Roman Polanksi will be up there come next week. So I was not surprised when the other day, lo and behold, Mackenzie Phillips had skyrocketed to number two!

Not sure why Mackenzie Phillips has been in the news recently? Ummm…yeah. So just to give you an idea of how brightly Ms. Phillips’ star shone in our collective conscious the past few years, I found her personal STAR Meter chart fascinating:

Damn! She hasn’t been that high since she did a speedball with Leif Garrett backstage at Van Halen at the Forum in ’79. Zing!

Mackenzie Phillips holds a weird place in my mind. I’m convinced there’s a small portion of my brain imbedded with hazy knowledge of late 70’s/early 80’s sitcoms. I can’t remember what the hell I did yesterday, but need someone to recite the lyrics to the “It’s a Living” theme song? I’m your man! When I was a kid our local daytime airwaves were littered with reruns of these shows, mostly on Channel 5 (before it became Fox) and Channel 11 (before it became the CW). So during the summer or on days off from school that’s what I would watch because what else would I do? So when I heard about this mess all I could think of was Julie Cooper banging her absentee dad.

But if TV has taught me anything, and it surely has taught me almost everything I know, there is an upside to all this. Getting molested by your father will prepare you for great things in life. Don’t believe me? Just ask Abe Lincoln:

You Know What Time It Is?

2009-10-02T13:27:00.001-04:00

Swayze is Swayze

2009-09-14T23:58:00.001-04:00

Just as we live in a world with only two Ramones, and two Beatles we now live in a world with no featured players from this sketch.

Chris Farley - Chippendales

I espoused why I would not weep for Mr. Swayze when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, but there’s no way around it…that’s just sad.

Let's Get Pol-it-ical, Pol-it-ical

2009-09-11T11:31:00.001-04:00

I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m nowhere near on top of this country’s political landscape as I should be. Mostly because these issues have nothing to do with me personally. Is Referendum C-6419 going to put more money in my paycheck? Or make the price of oil go down? No? Then I don’t really give a shit. Secondly, because I find politics in any form, from the federal government down to your block association, to be nothing more than a pissing match, or a boner contest, or any other sport involving your genitals…a vagina 400 meter dash, perhaps? Politics and punditry remind me of every horrible relationship ever; two people who have no interest in actually listening or creating meaningful dialogue, but love to shout about how incredibly right they are and how you’re point of view not only makes you legally retarded, but potentially a terrorist…or gay (or straight if you’re already gay). The whole thing just makes my brain’s dick go soft.

Shameful on my part? Probably. I hate to be the embodiment of the lazy, ignorant American and our piss-poor voter turn out. But I do try to maintain a marginal interest and at least be aware of what’s going on in this country.

So it’s been pretty hard to ignore all this health care reform business. Regrettably, as stated above, I can’t say I know enough about this issue to side one way or the other. Do I think the health care system needs reform? Fuck yes! Is President Obama’s plan to reform it the tits? I have no idea. All I know is that ever since the President proposed his plan PEOPLE HAVE BEEN LOSING THEIR SHIT!

Everyday yields a new video of a town hall meeting filled with seething, hate filled maniacs screaming at each other, lunatics carrying pictures of Obama as Hitler, fear mongering, allegations of communism and socialism. What are we, in the McCarthy era? Seriously though, did you see that video of that woman in a wheelchair, who was merely trying to ask a question, get shouted down and ridiculed at a town hall meeting in New Jersey?

And you’d think that our elected officials would be able to rise above all this. You’d think both sides of the aisle would be able to have a rational, intelligent debate on the issue. No, these assholes are just fanning flames:

Never in my life have I seen the President so disrespected in an official setting. Not just this Joe Wilson piece of shit either. The Republicans groaned, chuckled derisively, booed and heckled Obama throughout his entire speech. Not even Clinton in the middle of his shittiest shitstorms got it this bad, not even close. And for what? Cause the guy wants to give people health care!? If you disagree with the plan, fine. Come up with a better plan, or propose changes to Obama’s plan, don’t heckle the fucking President of the United fucking States of America. Christ, if the President of the United States isn’t heckle-proof in front of a joint session of Congress then, fuck…we should just disband the federal government and live in an anarchic nation state of roaming nomadic warriors where only Darwin’s rules of nature apply, a la Mad Max.

The more I thought about this, however, the more it made me realize that the Democrats, as a whole, are a bunch of spineless fucking pussy farts. Actually, scratch that, as comparing Democrats to spineless pussy farts would just be downright offensive to spineless pussy farts everywhere. Democrats are more like the spawn of a gangbang between a jellyfish, the cowardly lion from “The Wizard of Oz” and impotence.

Why so harsh on the Democrats? Where’s the outrage? Where’s the call for Wilson’s head? Where’s the gnashing of the teeth, the anger, something, anything!? No we’ll politely accept his apology then just quietly forget about the whole thing.

For 8 years we lived with a President and an administration that constantly lied and deceived the American public. Remember that whole Valerie Plame thing? What about the fact that thousands of young American men and women were sent to Iraq to die on a complete lie? Did the Democrats ever call President George W. Bush a “liar” during a speech in front of Congress? Did they ever question the legality of invading Iraq directly or through the media? Did they ever challenge him and his administration in any kind of meaningful or noteworthy way? Did they do any god damn thing at all? No, of course not. Bill Clinton gets his dick wet and gets impeached. George W. Bush illegally invades a sovereign nation and nothing happens.

Now, with less than a year in office, President Obama has had the validity of his American citizenship come under ridiculous scrutiny, as if the position of “Most Powerful Man in the Free World”, let alone U.S. Senator, doesn’t come with some sort of background check. Then, when he tries to do something positive for our country, he finds his policy relentlessly attacked with tall tales of “death panels”, and ineffective commie-pinko socialized medicine replacing the healthcare provided by your employer. By the way, been to the emergency room lately? How’s that private health care working out for you?

Look, say what you will about the Republicans (like “scumbags” for example) but strip away all the superficiality (like their ideology and ethics) and you have to admire their tenacity and effectiveness. Ever since Lee Atwater hit the scene (and his ideological protégé Karl Rove) if they want you to buy into their bullshit or hate on the Democrats’ they make it happen. Those motherfuckers do not play. They get shit done. Sure, the Democrats have control of the House and Senate…for now, but they would be wise to take a page or two out of the Republican playbook…and grow some fucking balls already.

Let the Bears Pay the Bear Tax. I Pay the Homer Tax

2009-07-22T15:23:00.000-04:00

Shit is official. I’m kind of-sort of-but not really-but at the same a home owner. I feel so adult, like I’m turning into my parents (or more accurately, my mom) with real adult-like responsibilities and what-not

Jesus Christ, have you ever listened to the lyrics to that song? They make me want to stick my head in the oven. Maybe Harry Chapin killed himself in that car crash, listening to this jam 8 track. What, too soon?

"I'm the Devil and I've Come Here to do the Devil's Business"

2009-07-13T22:51:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I finished reading “Helter Skelter” by Vincent Bugliosi. For the uninformed “Helter Skelter” tells the story of the Manson Family murders as told by the California Deputy District Attorney who prosecuted the case. It’s written tastefully (not to mention incredibly well) and Bugliosi never resorts to sensationalism. He simply lets the facts speak for themselves, and the facts are fucking insane!

Bugliosi starts the novel out in the third person, laying out the facts of the case and key figures involved as they were known when the murders took place. Once Manson and his Family are arrested, Bugliosi inserts himself as a character (as he is now prosecuting the case for the state of California) and tells the story from the first person. Realizing his case is very thin, Bugliosi takes it upon himself to continue the investigation so as to uncover enough physical evidence and motive for a conviction. It’s an interesting and effective literary device. The story completely switches gears in terms of perspective, but it puts us in Bugliosi’s shoes; building his case against Manson piece by piece. It’s a fascinating story and I can’t recommend it highly enough.

Anyway, that’s enough “Reading Rainbow” for one day. The book is filled with interesting facts, anecdotes and tidbits, but it was one I uncovered myself that I thought was of note. LA has always fascinated me. There’s this great dichotomy to it. It’s ground zero for both the film industry and the adult film industry. On one hand it’s a place where dreams are made and stars are born. On the other hand it has this incredibly seedy underbelly. I guess it makes sense in a town full of rich movie stars and moguls. With all that power and money their most wanton desires and sickest fantasies are at their disposal, and there are plenty of people willing to fulfill them. The crazy thing is as long as there’s been a Hollywood, there’s been this flipside to it; Fatty Arbuckle, Black Dahlia, Manson.

Another thing that fascinates me about LA is the architecture. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the houses look so much different from where I grew up; all these little neighborhoods sprawled out across the city. Sun drenched, sleek homes built into the many rolling hills and valleys. While I was reading the book I decided to see if the Tate/Polanski house was still standing. 10050 Cielo Drive was a beautiful, large ranch style home complete with a guest house, detached garage, pool and a stunning view of Los Angles from its perch high above the city. I did a Google Maps search of the address, but couldn’t find it. That’s where Wikipedia saved the day…

“The last resident of the original house was the musician Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails.”

Even more interesting is the fact that he set up a studio in the home where he recorded “Broken” and “The Downward Spiral”. In 1993 he moved out of the house after a chance encounter with Sharon Tate’s sister. From a 1997 Rolling Stone interview…

“…she said ‘Are you exploiting my sister’s death by living in her house? For the first time, the whole thing kind of slapped me in the face…’What if it was my sister?’ I thought…I went home and cried that night. It made me see there’s another side to things, you know?”

Now it’s one thing if you want to live in the house, it’s another to name your studio (Pig) after the word scrawled in blood on the front door of the house in Sharon Tate’s blood. Just own up to it, and don’t cry all night like your prom date stood you up when you suddenly realize “Hey, real people actually got brutally murdered here. Maybe that’s not cool.”

Regardless of the size of Trent Reznor’s vagina, he sold the house in 1994. It should be noted, however, that Reznor took the front door of the house and installed it at his new recording studio in New Orleans. Long story short he should change the name of his band to “Giant Tube of Vagisil” because he’s a big fucking pussy. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, you spineless douche.

Shortly after the purchase, the new owner demolished the house, and replaced it with a mansion complete with a new street address, 10066 Cielo Drive, hence me not being able to find it via Google Maps. The kicker to this long, stupid story? Said owner of the mansion that now resides on the grounds where Sharon Tate, Abigail Folger, Jay Sebring Wojciech Frykowski and Steven Parent met their demise that fateful summer night in 1969 is none other than Jeff Franklin. If that name sounds familiar it’s probably because you’ve seen it, or his production company logo at the end of many a TV show. Most notably:

Yeah…I got nothing. I mean, that pretty much speaks for itself.

Hey New York Mets...Yeah, We Need To Talk

2009-07-08T00:16:00.005-04:00

Hey, so we need to talk…I think we need to take a break. Wait, before you get all upset, let me explain. Now It’s not permanent, okay? I mean what am I going to do? Join the obnoxious douchebag army in that other borough?

Or head down I-95 and become a hate filled troll with a raging inferiority complex?

No, of course not. For better or for worse, you’re the only team for me, you know that. That’s the thing, it’s just that recently there’s been a whole lot more worse than there has been better. I know what you’re thinking “Another fair weather fan” and seriously, how can you say that? I’ve been around for some pretty lean years. Remember 1993? What about 2003? The worst team money could buy? I sure as hell do.

At least I knew those teams sucked, and I was okay with that. But you’ve really jerked me around lately. Don’t get me wrong, 2006 was magic. I fell head over heels in love with you. You seemed to push all the right buttons at just the right time, and you completely dominated the division. You came within one game, within one base hit of the World Series, but…it was not meant to be.

It took awhile to get over, but I did…and so did you. In 2007 there didn’t seem to be any hangover from 2006’s post season letdown…that is until September 12th when you proceeded to lose 12 of your last 17 games, blowing a 7 game lead and handing the Phillies the division. The last of said losses came on the very last game of the year when, with the season on the line, Tom Glavine couldn’t even get out of the first god damn inning, giving up 8 runs.

2008 is when my disappointment finally started to turn to genuine frustration. Despite a roster full of talent, you played listless, uninspired baseball for the first half of the season, resulting in a .500 record. Just when I was ready to write you off, you caught fire and again were in the division lead come September. But for the 2nd straight year, with the entire season riding on the last game, you couldn’t come through for me.

Now we’ve come to this; 4 straight losses, 4 games below .500, 2 consecutive shutouts, 22 innings without a run scored, 4 and half games out of first place and limping towards the All Star Break.

I held out hope in 2007 and 2008 because I knew if you could just get your shit together, you’d compete. But this year…to be honest with you, I just don’t have that same feeling. 3 out of your 4 core, All Star caliber players, 2 of your 5 starting pitchers, and your 8th inning/set-up man are all hurt with no time table for their return and we’re less than a week from the All Star break. And if these guys ever do come back, who’s to say how they’ll perform?

You know what? I’m not angry, honestly. The results aren’t all that surprising considering the pathetic, cobbled together MASH unit of a lineup, starting rotation and bullpen you’re throwing out there everyday. I’ve been about as die hard as they come for the past 4 or 5 seasons. I could count the number of games I didn’t watch beginning to end on one hand during that time period. So after all the time and energy I’ve spent on this team, now I’m just tired; tired of the constant ups and downs. I’m tired of getting my hopes up, only to have them dashed. Christ, it’s like you’ve given my heart a case of blue balls the past 3 seasons.

I’m tired of the heartbreaking losses. I’m tired of the mind numbing, inconceivable losses:

I’m tired of the poor front office and personnel decisions. I’m tired of all the injuries and the incompetent handling of injured players. I’m tired and I just can’t take it anymore.

Sure, I’ll still watch your games, read Mets Blog, and check the box scores every day, but my heart just won’t be in it, not like it was. Sorry New York Mets, but we need to take a break. Trust me, it’s just better this way..

Jeremy Reed Will Rock You in Your Face, Stab Your Brain With Your Nose Bone

2009-06-25T13:09:00.005-04:00

I attended the Mets vs. Cardinals game at Citi Field on Tuesday night. And while the Mets put forth a pitiful offensive showing, scratching out 2 hits against journeyman Joel Pineiro en route to a 3-0 shutout, I noticed something strange. I believe it was in the 8^th inning. With the pitcher’s spot due up, the Mets pinch hit utility outfielder Jeremy Reed. As he stepped up to the plate I heard the strains of a familiar song; a menacing bass line, a simple two note synthesizer hook, the dusty “pop” of a 90’s style drum beat…is that “Survival of the Fittest” by Mobb Deep? Why, yes it is.

Lets just get a few facts straight so you can appreciate the absurdity of the moment. Jeremy Reed is not a superstar. He is a utility man, 4^th outfielder for the New York Mets. Even with their injury depleted roster, he’ll probably only get a couple hundred at bats this season (where most every day players will get 500-600 at bats a season). Although their reputation has taken a couple hits, Mobb Deep is fucking gangster. Straight out of the Queensbridge housing projects (which has produced the likes of Marly Marl, Nas, Cormega and Capone N’ Noreaga among others) they released their first album, Juvenile Hell, in 1993 at the age of 17.

Jeremy Reed was born and raised in Southern California where he lettered in soccer and baseball. While the nearby Los Angeles area hip-hop scene dominated the charts in the early 90’s with their G-Funk sound, Reed would have been only 13 when Mobb Deep’s The Infamous, the album containing “Survival of the Fittest”, was released in 1995. The Infamous, a hardcore classic, is an incredibly dark album; painting a grim picture of hopeless, near dystopian New York City, a far cry from Reed’s upbringing in warm southern California suburbs.

Also, Jeremy Reed looks like this:

And Mobb Deep sounds like this:

My question is who the hell picked this song for Jeremy Reed? It seems unlikely that he requested it himself. There are exceptions to every rule, but any interview I’ve ever read with an athlete where the subject of music comes up, and their iPods reveal the most bland taste in music…either that, or they love country.

Well, whoever you are sir or madam I applaud you. You provided a brief respite of absurd humor to an otherwise terrible game, plus you made me listen to an album I hadn’t given a spin in a few years. Who knows, with Mobb Deep representing Queensbridge in Long Island City, Queens, maybe the Mets are finally listening to me?

Seriously, New York Post?

2009-06-23T17:59:00.002-04:00

As I was waiting for the bus this morning I was greeted by this front page of the New York Post in the newspaper vending machine

Wow…I can think of about twelve things right off the top of my head that’s offensive about that. Least of which is poor Sonny Bono rolling over in his grave from the title of one of his hit songs being associated with domestic violence, not to mention Chris Brown and Rihanna. Nothing against Rihanna and Brown (actually fuck him, what a piece of shit) who are nice to look at and all, but Bono wrote, produced and arranged all of Sonny and Cher’s hits, all of Cher’s early-to-mid 70’s solo hits, and he even worked for the great Phil Spector as a song writer and as a promotions man.

More importantly, however, way to go New York Post for trivializing domestic abuse and women stuck in abusive relationships everywhere by plastering the title of a Sonny and Cher song over the picture of a battered woman! This isn’t some feel good human interest story about a dog saving a cat saving a baby from a raging inferno deserving of some clever punnery. No, this is a story about a woman who got repeatedly punched in the face by her boyfriend. What’s the matter, was “Beat It!” not subtle enough for your editors? Thank God no one takes that fucking rag seriously.

Who Says Comedy is Hard?

2009-05-29T16:26:00.003-04:00

I think I’ve watched this about 10 times today. It gets me every time:

Essays in Snobbery

2009-05-20T15:02:00.008-04:00

Not to get all Seinfeld-ian on everybody, but have you ever noticed how only the shittiest books get print ads on the subway? My least favorite ilk, which seems to be the majority, are the ads proclaiming some author to be the next fill-in-the-blank-already-shitty-author. Like “Watch out Clive Cussler, here comes Some Douche” or “This Dickhead makes Dean Koontz look a spineless eunuch who works at the tampon factory”.

Now, nothing against the Dean Koontz and Clive Cusslers of the world. Those guys all have their niche in the market place, and have made small fortunes catering to those niches. But let’s not pretend they’re anything more than they are; smart guys who found a way to turn a buck, not great writers. I get why these guys’ respective publishing companies would want to compare them to other successful writers in similar genres; because it’s quick and easy. But why would book readers want to read a 2^nd rate James Patterson or a broke ass John Grisham? I don’t know, I just feel like books aren’t disposable like other entertainment mediums. Remember when every network had their “Friends” rip off? You might’ve watched an episode or two because ultimately what did it cost you? A half hour of your time? But even if you’re a fast reader, which I’m not, reading a book is a pretty serious investment of your time.

Anyway, that’s enough self righteousness for one day. The above ads, though stupid, are largely inoffensive and if people want to read/watch/listen to crap, more power to them. It’s no skin off my ass. But the other day I saw an ad that took the normal level of stupidity straight into the retard-o-sphere…which I believe lies somewhere between the stratosphere and the mesosphere. Consult your local library.

The book in question is “BoneMan’s Daughter” by Ted Dekker. The ad is just like every other one I’ve seen; asinine quotes, a picture of the book and of Ted giving his best “I’m an intense writer” headshot pose. But the kicker is in the form of the tagline of the book. It poses, what it presumes to be, a highly complex moral quandary wrought with ethical grey areas at every turn, and it goes…a little something…like this:

“Would you kill an innocent man for a chance to save your daughter?”

Uh…yes. Don’t even have to think about it for a moment, yes. How do you want me to do it? You want me to shoot him? Strangle him? Bust out the Judas Cradle? What?

Out of all the Darwinian, you or them scenarios this one has to be the absolute easiest one to solve. If I had a son or daughter and some lunatic said “Hey, you have to kill some random dude that you don’t know, or else your son or daughter gets it” I would not hesitate for a second (providing said lunatic had proof that he had my son or daughter in custody) Sorry random guy, but if you’re what stands between me and my family’s safety, you get the gun clap. Family is one the few things, if not the only thing, that I and most people would put it all on the line for. So really this question ain’t no kind of question at all. Want me to go all “Rambo: First Blood Part 2” on a Mexican border town, paint their shanty’s with their own blood, and choke their rivers with their own dead bodies? Bring on the flaming, exploding arrows I say!

How I long for the day when I see these kinds of ads on the subway:

This is Way I Always Dreamed it Would Be

2009-04-27T14:36:00.006-04:00

I’m a believer that an iPod on shuffle can be a harbinger of things to come. If “Born to Lose” by Johnny Thunders comes on during your morning commute, it’s probably not going to be a good day. Conversely if “Lovely Day” by Bill Withers starts to play, guess what? You’re getting that raise you’ve been gunning for hot shot! “Last Caress” by the Misfits…Christ, I don’t even want to know what you’re mixed up in you sick bastard!

Saturday I went to my first ever game at brand new Citi Field. I’m not ashamed to say that the trip to the stadium was agonizing, especially considering that the 1 and 7 trains seemed to be moving excruciatingly slow between certain stops. For lack of a less cliché term I was like a kid on Christmas…or more accurately a really annoying kid a day or two before Christmas; all whiny and anxious that it’s not here already. Anyway, as I stepped off the 7 train and walked towards the Mets new home on an absolutely perfect spring afternoon “I Can Hear Music” by the Beach Boys came on, the first line being “This is the way I always dreamed it would be…”

That about sums up my feelings about Citi Field. While Shea Stadium will always hold a special place in my heart for all the amazing games I saw there, it wasn’t the nicest place to watch a ballgame. Sure the seats didn’t give you back spasms, there weren’t any crazy obstructed views, and yes you could get beer and hot dogs (although that was about it) but that’s the thing; Shea was purely functional. It was built during an era when cold, municipal architecture was in vogue (see Three Rivers Stadium, Jack Murphy Stadium, Fulton County Stadium, etc.) It was built for large groups of people to sit and watch a baseball game, that’s all.

Honestly, I was fine with that. The baseball game was always enough entertainment for me. I didn’t need all these bells and whistles to keep my attention. That being said, Citi Field is absolutely fucking gorgeous. Sure, it has a bunch of family friendly shit for your stupid, bored kids and a shitload more food options that are actually good (and surprisingly reasonably priced for a sporting venue), but the thing I love most is that the design of the stadium actually enhances the whole game viewing experience. At the old Shea once you retreated into the tunnels to get food, beer or go to the bathroom you basically had no idea what was going on in the game, save for the reaction of the crowd. At Citi Field if you get up out of your seat you can still see the game live, directly in front of you from just about any part of the stadium.

In a similar vein, you can get up and go to just about any part of the stadium during the game. Have an upper deck ticket (ne promenade) but feel like taking in the view from field level? Not a problem. Citi Field has a concourse that circles the entire stadium at field level. Now, of course you can’t just sit in an empty seat. But behind the last row of field level seats around the stadium they have these metal bars with cup and food holders, sort of like standing room. So you could conceivably pay for a cheap promenade ticket, but watch the entire game from field level. The stadium is filled with other little nooks, crannies and picnic areas where you can watch the game from a point of view other than your seat. Also, worried about missing some of the action whilst peeing? Fear not! The WFAN radio broadcast is piped into every bathroom so you won’t miss one pitch.

Another nice touch is the homage to New York/Queens. The façade of the stadium itself is modeled after Ebbets Field, former home of the Brooklyn Dodgers. I know some people think the stadium is too Dodgers-centric, considering the Mets filled the void created by the flight of both the Dodgers and New York Giants, but have you seen the Polo Grounds? I think Ebbets Field is much more aesthetically pleasing. Other touches include a scaled down version of the Hell’s Gate Bridge in the outfield, and the Pepsi Cola sign in right field, highly reminiscent of the Art Deco Pepsi sign on the Long Island City waterfront. I joked with my brother that the PA should adopt more Ramones songs to use in game (beyond “Blitzkrieg Bop”), considering all 4 original members grew up a stone’s throw away in Forest Hills. When a Met draws a walk how about “I Don’t Want to Walk Around With You”? When an opposing pitcher is removed after getting rocked they could play “Beat on the Brat”. Why don’t they play “Havana Affair” when Livan Hernandez pitches? He’s Cuban, right? Or “Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World” after a Met victory. Though I suppose a song about a scared Nazi soldier during World War II wouldn’t be all that appropriate. But it’d be no less appropriate than plenty of other Ramones songs.

But I digress; the point is I never knew what I had been missing. I guess a better song that could have played as I stepped off the train would have been the theme from “The Beverly Hillbillies”. After years of watching games at Shea I was blown away by even the smallest amenities (Cup holders on the seats!!?? Whaaaat!!??) Considering the Mets play in the largest media market in the world, and have one of the highest payrolls in baseball it’s about god damn time we have a world class home to call our own. Leave it up to Mets fans to never think they deserved better.

*As an addendum to this post I realize that the stadium has been criticized for various (completely ridiculous) reasons in print and on sports talk radio. If you don’t enjoy your Citi Field experience because they were low on jalapenos at the topping station or some other bullshit, you are a completely joyless dickhead who can only find pleasure in complaining or in the misery of others, and will be dealt with justly at some point in your life.

Have a Very Metal Pesach

2009-04-09T11:38:00.000-04:00

I’m going to go out on a limb and say this is probably the most metal song about the 10 plagues of Egypt. I’m assuming there are Christian metal bands out there, but I doubt none of them shred like Metallica. And if you’re going to make a song about the 10 plagues of Egypt (and make it metal) you have to go with the killing of the first born. Granted rivers of blood and flaming hail are pretty bad ass, but if there’s one piece of advice I took from my mom it’s “If you’re going to do something, do it right.”

This is definitely one of my favorite Metallica songs; a song told from the Angel of Death’s point of view, as he swoops down from the sky to take the lives of all the first born children of Egypt (unless you had lamb’s blood on your door, then the Angel would skip or “pass over” your house, hence Passover, derhay!) as identified by the chorus:

So Let it Be Written
So Let it Be Done
I’m sent here by the Chosen One
So Let it Be Written
So Let it Be Done
To kill the first born Pharaoh’s son
I’m Creeping Death

And, lest we forget the bridge before the final verse:

Die (Die!) by my hand
I creep across the land
Killing first born man

Bad-fucking-ass. One of these days I will get around to writing an apology to letter to Metallica…actually, scratch that. I will write an apology letter to up until and including “…And Justice For All” Metallica. Remember “Load” anyone? Jesus Christ even the great Rick Rubin could barely produce a decent album for these guys.

Anyway, at the height of Metallica’s thrash metal popularity I was still in elementary school. This being the mid 80’s (and without the benefit of the fine musical pallet I currently posses) all I knew about metal was that it was Satanic; a Satanic form of music listened to by Satanists who kidnapped and sacrificed children to Satan. Couple that with the fact that the only people I saw wearing Metallica shirts (or denim jackets with large Metallica patches on the back) were scummy looking kids with long hair, high tops and wispy teenage mustaches who (gasp!) smoked cigarettes and lived in the trailer park in town. I put two-and-two together in my young mind and decided to stay very far away. Oh how wrong I was!

So to all my Jewish friends, Happy Passover! Why is this night different from all other nights? Because it’ll melt your fucking face!

Now I Wanna Sniff Some Poo

2009-03-25T12:53:00.005-04:00

I’m still surprised when I find out something the kids today are doing or saying way too long after the fact. I’m at an age where I still consider myself “cool” and culturally savvy. And while most pop culture wouldn’t interest me as entertainment, I was at least aware enough to make fun of it (or you for liking it, cause I’m a snobby jerk) Unfortunately those days are gone for the most part, and when I come across something culturally relevant that I’ve never heard of, it saddens me a bit…for about 30 seconds, until I find out exactly what said thing is.

See, here’s the thing about kids in general; they’re stupid. Therefore the things they like are stupid. Case in point, I was driving with a couple friends out to the Jones Beach Theater for the annual “Rock the Bells” show this summer. As the conversation was mostly about hip-hop, somehow that awful “Crank That” Soulja Boy song and his retarded Superman dance came up. At this point the song had already blown up and become a huge phenomenon, yet I was completely ignorant. So I asked, and they told me what “Supermanin’ dat ho” was all about. Seriously? That’s what that song is about? C’mon Soulja Boy, if you really want to impress me make a song about a Rusty Trombone. You can call it “Ragtime dat ho!”

Interesting postscript to that story, my girlfriend came home from work (she’s a 3^rd grade teacher) and told me her kids were doing that Superman dance during free period, which she thought was cute. I said “You mean from that Soulja Boy song?” She responded in the affirmative, to which I replied “Uh, you know what that song’s about, right?” She responded in the negative, at which point I told her all the girls in her class were unwittingly preparing themselves for a lifetime of cum on their back.

Anyway, back to the lecture at hand. The ironic thing about kids is that while stupid their imaginations are incredibly fertile. Ever have a conversation with a real little kid? Nine times out of ten they’re fucking insane. Adolescent kids are always coming up with far out narratives while playing with their toys, or while running around with their friends. And once we reach the pubescent age that imagination turns to figuring out how to get high.

Now my dalliances with controlled substances are pretty tame and no crazier than millions of people my age, but my younger brother was more adventurous than I. In high school he had a highly intelligent friend who managed to synthesize gamma-Butyrolactone, or GBL which is closely related (in pharmacological makeup) to GHB, better known as the date rape drug. So it has a similar hypnotic and analgesic effect. All is well and good until one kid, of course, takes too much, passes out in school, and has to be taken away in an ambulance. So now the jig is up, and everyone involved gets busted. I remember laughing my ass off when my younger brother told me that a mutual friend, a kid who lived down the street from us and whom I’ve known forever, was dumb enough to admit he was “on” the drug during the subsequent interrogation. Though perfectly fine, with no motor skills or speech impairment, he too had to be strapped to a gurney and taken away in an ambulance.

However, stories like these are the exception to the rule. Most of the time kids getting high involves finding something toxic enough to kill brain cells while huffing. For my predecessors is was model glue or cleaning solvents. My generation, andthose slightly older, had aerosol products and whippets. So what are kids these days huffing, you ask? Jenkem. And what, pre tell, is Jenkem?

Are you fucking kidding me? In this day and age, a generation that has grown up with every single technological advantage at their fingertips since birth and this is the best you guys can come up with? I figured you would have been on some crazy space drug made out of moon rocks and lasers by now, laughing at grandma and grandma still pulling bong hits. No, instead you piss and shit in an empty Mountain Dew bottle, put a balloon over the cap and huff the gases from the fermentation process. Jesus Christ, isn't that how serfs used to get high?

I don’t know, maybe there is such a thing as too much information. Growing up in an environment this saturated, where just about everything can be accessed in mere moments, perhaps it just makes you bored and lazy, especially if that’s all you’ve ever known. So instead of progressing (to synthesized GBL or inhaling the vapors of moon rocks being melted by lasers) you regress (to fermented doo-doo) and pretty soon kids will be smashing each other over the head with rocks cause it makes you dizzy. One thing’s for sure, hearing that reporter say “butt hash” had me dying with laughter. So maybe I’m just as retarded as these kids after all.

Happy St. Patrick's Day To...

2009-03-17T10:41:00.002-04:00

...to the only person of Irish descent that 99% of the people getting absolutely 'faced today would be able to name:

It's magically offensive!

The Most Valuable Poet on the M-I-C

2009-02-15T23:22:00.004-05:00

Today marks the 10^th anniversary of the death of Lamont Coleman, better known by hip hop fans by his nom de plum Big L.

Big L was born and raised and Harlem. He learned to rhyme at Julia Richmond High School, and at the parks, and apartment buildings in his neighborhood, which he dubbed the “Danger Zone”, around 139^th Street and Lennox Avenue.

Winning numerous freestyle battles, he caught the attention of now legendary New York underground producer/solo artist Lord Finesse. He put Big L on his first track, the “Party Over Here” remix, in 1992 at the age of 18. Big L eventually became an official member of Lord Finesse’s D.I.T.C. (Diggin’ in the Crates) crew, a loose collective of New York producers, M.C.’s, and DJ’s including underground notables O.C. and Diamond D, and well as future hit makers Buckwild and Fat Joe.

Based on the strength of a demo tape of songs with D.I.T.C., Big L signed with Columbia Records in 1993. However, after hearing his first single, “Devil’s Son”, Columbia decided they had no idea how to promote an artist with lyrics like “I pistol-whip the priest every Sunday” nor did they care to. His solo debut “Lifetylez Ov Da Poor & Dangerous” was buried by the label, and he was eventually released from his contract.

Despite this setback Big L turned entrepreneur, starting his own label, Flamboyant Entertainment. He recorded, pressed and self distributed the now classic single “Ebonics”. The impressive sales (for a self released effort) and positive word of mouth and buzz generated caught the attention of Roc-A-Fella Records. Big L was in final negotiations on a deal that would have put Flamboyant Entertainment under the Def Jam banner when he was shot and killed.

Despite his dark, lyrical content Big L had no known enemies. There are many theories as to why he was shot and killed. Most of them involve some sort of connection to his identical twin brother, who was serving a jail sentence at the time; mistaken identity, retaliation, etc. A childhood friend, Gerard Woodley, was arrested for the murder but never charged due to insufficient evidence.

No matter the reason, his death very much mirrored his career; a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Big L should have been a legend. He was just as lyrically dynamic, witty, and verbally dexterous as his two most famous fallen comrades; Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur. Yet he received no support or promotion from a major label or industry heavyweights (Sean Combs/Bad Boy Entertainment and Dr. Dre/Suge Knight/Death Row Records/Interscope respective to Biggie and Tupac). Although some of his content was positive (see “Street Struck”) detailing the pitfalls of street life, he would never be considered conscious like the Native Tongues clique (Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, etc.) with their jazz inspired beats and Afro-centric content. His lyrics were very much rooted and in touch with the problems facing young black men of his generation, but he wasn’t overtly political like Public Enemy. Even though his content was and, considering his album was released almost 15 years ago, still is shocking he never benefited from any sort of controversy such as Ice-T (“Cop Killer”), 2 Live Crew (“As Nasty as They Wanna Be”) or N.W.A. (“Fuck the Police”).

No, instead he will remain a footnote on the fringes of relevancy for most. Yet, the list of platinum selling artists who’s styles have been influenced or even fathered by Big L grow each year; Jay-Z with his street tales and braggadocio, Ludacris and his larger than life persona and hyperbole, and most notably Eminem and his acid rap/horrorcore rhymes. Before signing to Columbia, Big L had even started a group called Children of the Corn with future super stars Cam’ron and Ma$e (then known as Killa Cam and Murda Mase)

Despite his lack of success, Big L does have one thing in common with Biggie and Tupac; his murderer remains at large, and his murder investigation open and unsolved. On February 15^th, 1999 Lamont “Big L” Coleman was shot 9 times in the chest and head one block from his home at 104 West 139^th Street. He was 24 years old.

Spittin' Them Heat Rocks

2009-02-09T10:59:00.007-05:00

My friend Matt sent me THIS article, and it makes me want to punch someone in the face.

The stuff about how you have to make over $100K to be middle class in New York is interesting. And the stuff detailing the cost of things that actually matter like mortgage, groceries, etc. is interesting too because everyone needs a roof over their heads and food in their mouths.

But cry me a fucking river, you assholes! Your the ones who got us into this mess, so sorry if you can't afford a personal trainer, a driver, two vacations a year, and private school for your ugly kids anymore. I can't believe the Times would have the audacity to print this shit. It seems like the point of the article is that it would be nigh impossible for these guys to live off of $500K in the city (which would be the cap on CEO's salary for any company that takes bailout money, according to President Obama's plan) but that's only because of their ridiculously extravagant lifestyle. $500K is more than enough, you just have to live on a budget like, oh I don't know, every other fucking person who's been affected by the financial crisis which, again, you caused.

Then that cunt Candance Bushnell says how it's a cultural thing, how this is how these people live and have to present themselves once they're that high up the corporate ladder. Well guess what? The economy's in the shitter! Maybe it's time for the culture to change you arrogant fucks!

Another Party Heard From

2009-01-21T13:22:00.006-05:00

By now just about everything that can be said about yesterday’s Presidential Inauguration has already been said. In our completely media saturated culture the historical relevancy of our first African American President, Bush’s legacy, and the challenges Obama now faces have all been endlessly dissected. After the inauguration ceremony had wrapped up, I swear they put on the screen the menu for the inauguration luncheon.

Bottom line is I won’t pretend that I have anything significant to say. I think my brother, an infinitely better writer than I, summed up my feelings best HERE. At the same time, I always found it hard to truly hate Bush. Sure, I hated his administration and all of its fuck-ups, lies, and Faustian back room handshake deals, but Bush, the man…I don’t know he just seemed like a douche more than anything. Nobody had any delusions that he, personally, was the architect behind it all. No, he was simply a figure head; the only remotely electable man among a group of scumbags, liars, cheats, and cronies. Seriously, who would ever vote Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld or Karl Rove President of their local Rotary Club, let alone President of the United States?

With that I mind, I like comedian Mike Birbiglia’s take on ol’ Dubya:

And Obama? Who the hell knows what will happen. The poor guy inherited a whole heap of bullshit, that’s for sure. But he certainly has me, and millions of other people convinced that he’s up to the task. My only regret is that I still wish he would have stepped to the podium to the strains of “What’s My Name” by DMX:

Ain’t no mistaking who the H.N.I.C. is then.

Raw Power, R.I.P.

2009-01-20T16:36:00.006-05:00

Well, nary a week of 2009 had passed without a sad bit of news, as evidenced by THIS headline in the January 8^th New York Times. Ron Asheton, guitarist and founding member of The Stooges was found dead in his home of an apparent heart attack, at the age of 60.

The Stooges were formed in 1967. In the era of folk music, peace and love they sang about how it’s no fun to be alone, walking by yourself or how they’ve been dirt and they don’t care. They played music as loud, and chaotic as the world around them. They were angry and alienated and they played as if Western world were going to collapse tomorrow, and at the time that’s probably how things seemed. Their live shows were legendary or infamous, depending on your point of view. They were an extension of their music, a full on assault with Ron’s guitar turned to 11, and lead singer Iggy Pop flailing around on stage; diving headlong into the audience, pulling down his pants, smearing peanut butter on his chest, and cutting himself with broken glass.

Anyone reasonably familiar with the band will automatically anoint The Stooges as the “godfathers of punk” or “proto-punk”. I feel like that’s an oversimplification and really sells the band short. Listening to their self titled debut, “Fun House”, and “Raw Power” you realize that those records served as branch points for thousands of bands, directly or indirectly, across a multitude of genres and sub-genres; punk, hardcore, metal, thrash, noise, experimental, avant-garde, down tempo “stoner” rock, jazz fusion. While physically (with his stage presence) and lyrically (“I Wanna Be You Dog”, “No Fun”) Iggy Pop certainly embodied the spirit of punk, sonically it was Ron Ashton who’s guitar work exploded with the possibility of all the afore mentioned bands and genres; three chord blues-based riffs heavily distorted, atonal wah-wah infused solos, long droning songs with one riff (“Dirt”), short punchy songs with crisp hooks (“Raw Power”).

After The Stooges attained some notoriety it was Asheton who was mainly responsible for holding the band together despite every other member’s increasing addiction to heroin. After being dropped by their label, Iggy Pop signed with David Bowie’s management company and secured a record deal with Columbia. Pop and Bowie initially attempted to reconstitute The Stooges with British musicians. When this proved unsuccessful, Ron (along with drummer brother Scott) was summoned to record “Raw Power” in London. However, Ron was demoted to bass with Iggy’s new writing partner, James Williamson, taking over guitar duties. Yet Ron took all these slights in stride, and helped produce one of the most influential albums of all time.

Track 1 of “Raw Power”, the seminal “Search & Destroy”, was the first Stooges song I ever heard. I don’t remember where I was, or when it was (save for it being high school) all I remember is that jarring, blaring guitar riff. And when the palm muted bridge kicked in I thought the speakers were going to start bleeding; the sound on the brink of disintegrating into white noise as the levels on the actual production crept into the red (granted this was the Iggy Pop re-mastered/re-mixed re-issue of the album). I was blown away, even before Iggy started singing about his heart full of Napalm. For crying out loud, the song inspired Henry Rollins to do this:

Post-Stooges, Ron receded into relative obscurity. While Iggy Pop would become an icon, Ron returned home and played in bands most people have never heard of. He died in his Ann Arbor, Michigan home, the same home he grew up in, and the same home The Stooges held their early practices in. I think it’s fair to say that Ron Asheton never got the credit or recognition he deserved. Then again I think it’s safe to say he never sought it.

Now Angrier and More Irascible for '09!

2009-01-16T13:01:00.006-05:00

A happy belated New Years to everyone. I just wanted to take the time to update you on some hot, sidebar action. I’ve added a (super gay) Twitter widget. Twitter is a service, much like Blogger, but with a much simpler idea behind it; to keep friends and internet stalkers in the loop by answering the simple question of “What are you doing right now?” in about 200 characters or less. It’s kind of like a blog for people with the attention span of a retarded goat with ADHD. In other words, your average 13 year old. Zing! Take that, younger generation!

I promise, no matter how true, to not post “masturbating” and “crying hot tears of shame and regret into my pillow” day after day.

On the blogging front I’ve had many ideas for new posts, many of which I’ve actually started writing. My only problem is that every time I do sit down to write my posts come out all angry and hate filled, thus making me sound like a maniac or an old man…even more so than usual. It’s not that big a deal, I just feel like the posts I’ve written wouldn’t be particularly enjoyable to read. So that’s why I haven’t posted recently. Hopefully that will subside soon, and I can continue to post the quality you’ve come to know and expect from me…or not. I mean seriously, why the fuck do you care? Now get off my lawn, you damn lousy kids!

/angrily shakes fist at no one

Annihilate, This Week

2008-12-23T00:52:00.002-05:00

Even the most high falutin’ of us must admit that we sometimes give in to our baser instincts when it comes to entertainment. We’ll buy up every DVD in the Criterion Collection and espouse the virtues of Transcendental Cinema, but still laugh our ass off at a poo joke, or buy a gossip rag at the supermarket.

I, for one, embrace these guilty pleasures. They help keep us grounded, and remind us that every form of stimulation doesn’t have to be intellectual. Also it’s the ying-yang principle; would a Persona be as effective without the Jackasse’s of the world to counter balance it? Well, maybe not directly, but you know what I mean.

When I was up at my mom’s house for Thanksgiving my younger brother put me on to a show called Human Wrecking Balls. The premise of the show is brothers Craig and Paul Pumphrey, creative breaking champions, attempt to destroy something man-made every episode using nothing more than their bare hands. If that sounds as awesome to you as it does to me, then we’re on the same page So far I’ve watched them destroy a hotel room, an office, a mobile home, a muscle car, and a single engine airplane and not one episode has disappointed. I mean these guys destroy everything. In the mobile home episode not only did they annihilate all the furniture and appliances, they smashed giant holes in the exterior walls, took down an interior wall including the studs that were attached to the ceiling joists, and caved in the roof. There aren’t many clips on the internets, but just to give you an idea:

Craig and Paul are actually kind of lame. They’re the guys who kill the buzz at a party by deciding to drunkenly do something macho, and do it loudly. Like you’re just chilling, drinking a beer when all of a sudden you hear someone scream “Dude, smash that chair over my back! Woooo!”, and suddenly all the energy deflates out of the room. Yet, watching them break shit does it for me. Human Wrecking Balls allows me to realize my destruction fantasies, but on a much large scale, vicariously through the Pumphrey brothers. Who wouldn’t want to smash a toilet, bust the glass on a copy machine, or throw a refrigerator out of a 5^th floor hotel room window?

My fascination with breaking stuff started at an early age. For some reason whenever my brothers and I would get together with my cousin Lou, we’d inevitably become destructive. It was never on purpose, mind you, that’s just where our brainstorming for stuff to do would lead us; battery roll in my grandparents basement, ghost riding bikes down my driveway, throwing each other down the hill in my backyard, taking our younger cousins to the “fighting room”, aka our grandparents guest bedroom, during family holiday get togethers, recreating a live action version of the arcade game Pigskin 621 A.D. in my backyard with disastrous results. One time, while waiting for our respective mothers to come out of Grand Union, we saw a crappy hatchback haul ass into the parking lot, pull into a spot filled with shopping carts, and smash into them head-on. The carts flew into the air and went careening in different directions. The driver then calmly exited the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. To this day it’s probably one of the top 5 funniest things I’ve witnessed first-hand. Why? I don’t know. Mindless, unnecessary destruction is just funny.

Some philosophers will tell you that it is in our nature, as humans, to destroy ourselves. Sure, the advent of the nuclear bomb, global warming, and the hole in the ozone layer certainly make a convincing case. But, in my opinion, true human nature is watching someone else bust through a wall with their shoulder while laughing your ass off:

Finally, My Long National Nightmare Is Over

2008-12-19T02:13:00.007-05:00

As I was perusing the internets the other day, as I’m wont to do, a small headline caught my eye:

Police Say Adam Walsh Murder Solved

For the uninitiated let me explain; Adam Walsh was a 6 year old boy who was abducted from a Hollywood, Florida mall in 1981. His disappearance caused headlines worldwide, as well as a nationwide search for him and his abductor. Two weeks after he disappeared his decapitated head was found in a canal, and for 27 years no one was ever charged with his murder. You may best know his father, John Walsh, as host of “America’s Most Wanted”, and tireless crusader against and advocate for abused and exploited children.

Oh yeah, also, this case haunted me and scared the shit out of me through my entire adolescence. Though the kidnap and murder took place in 1981, a shade too early for me to remember, NBC produced a made for TV movie entitled ADAM in 1983, as well as a sequel ADAM: HIS SONG CONTINUES in 1986. I swear the airing of ADAM was an annual event, and at the end the real John Walsh would do a PSA for missing children complete with milk carton-esque pictures and stats of real missing children. Reasons this terrified me:

The abducted child’s name was Adam.
The TV movie was simply titled ADAM.
He was 6 years old when abducted, roughly the same age I was when I became conscious of the case.
Adam Walsh was abducted in a Sears department store. Though in Florida, the Sears location used in the TV movie looked exactly like the Sears in the Newburgh mall. The detail was perfect, even down to where he was watching some older kids play video games; in that weird back part where the automotive section was, right by the shady entrance/exit at the end of the mall. A location I was all too familiar with.
The degenerate drifter who kidnapped and murdered Adam Walsh ditched his decapitated head in a swampy Florida canal.

Imagine being 5, 6 years old and constantly conscious of the fact that some kid with your name, about the same age as you was kidnapped and, despite the best efforts of police and FBI to find him, had his fucking head cut off!

Now, I applaud John Walsh for his efforts. I can’t imagine losing one of you own children in such brutal fashion. If put in the same position, something like that would make me a) Drink (more) and deny the existence of God (even more) b) eat the barrel of a gun and squeeze it or c) go all vigilante, Punisher style. Instead, Walsh enacted legislation in the form of Code Adam and the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act, as well as hosting “America’s Most Wanted”.

So, obviously, the man was just channeling his grief into something positive.

But for kids, life in the 1980’s was a minefield of predators; bearded guys in vans lurking outside your elementary school ready to offer you candy. You better work out a secret password with you parents incase a stranger pulls up along side you and tells you your mom was in a really bad car accident and that she sent them to pick you up and take you to the hospital. Or the corner drug dealers who would force you to do drugs whether you wanted to or not cause then you’d be hooked! I remember being bombarded with PSA’s that reinforced these ideas, or even planted them in my brain to begin with:

And of course, who could forget:

Really, the source of all this was the Adam Walsh case. Sure, drug dealers had nothing to do with it, but it was the media attention, the activism in the aftermath, the PSA’s that set the standard for other 1980’s crisis; child abduction, AIDS, the crack epidemic, nuclear holocaust and the last days of the Cold War. Christ, it’s a miracle we even survived.

Because of this I feel like a great deal of my childhood was spent in a haze of fear and anxiety. Maybe less of a haze and more like those dark edges on the edge of the frame of an old-timey silent film; sure they’re not the focal point, but they’re always there. And yes, I know that part of any childhood, regardless of when/where it should be, is fear and anxiety over the unknown. Shit, Charles M. Schulz made a career out of it.

Now that the case has been closed, though, I can’t help but wonder how effective the “fear of God” technique really was. Every year brings another JonBenet Ramsey, Madeline McCann, or Elizabeth Smart. Even though it's just as prevalent today as it was a quarter century ago, when's the last time you heard an AIDS related story on the nightly news, or in print? Or any mention of a cure at all? For all the D.A.R.E. programs, and "Just Say No" campaigns every major city has at least one neighborhood that serves as an open air drug market, making them as readily available as ever. That’s the problem with yelling and screaming; you do it long enough, and eventually people learn to tune you out.

An Open Letter To: Sonic

2008-12-09T00:17:00.003-05:00

Dear Sonic Restaurants:

I’ve endured enough of your emotional abuse these past couple years, and I feel it’s time to clear the air. Riddle me this, whoever buys ad time for your chain ; why do you feel the need to buy time in a market where there are exactly zero of your restaurants? It’s not as if they’re conveniently located outside the city either, say in Hoboken, or Rockland County or something. Places where I might pass through on my way to someplace cooler. No, according to your website the nearest Sonic to my zip code is 73.21 miles in Nazareth, Pennsylvania. Nazareth, Pennsylvania! Why the fuck would I ever be passing through Nazareth, Pennsylvania?
My righteous anger directed at your fast food franchise is two-fold, Sonic. Now, I’m not a big fast food guy at all. I feel the same way about fast food as I do about smoking; you know how incredibly shitty it is for your health, so indulge at your own peril. But Jesus Christ, Sonic, does your food ever look ridiculous; country fried steak on Texas toast with onion rings, extra long chili cheese dogs, tater tots, tons of crazy drinks, chocolate cheesecake bites…fuck and yes.
It’s bad enough you offer all this deliciously creative fast food that I would have to travel to Allentown just to savor. And the answer is no, I don’t like Billy Joel nearly enough to visit that industrial wasteland. No, you have to twist the knife with your charming, Christopher Guest/”The Office”, cinema verite style commercials:

And your commercials are always on during football or baseball games, thereby greatly increasing the probability that I am half-drunk, impulsive, and dying for some greasy fare.
So Why must you mock me Sonic? Do you take pleasure in fucking with me? Or am I so insignificant to you, so not even on your radar that you don’t even realize you’re giving my taste buds blue balls? You know what you are, Sonic? You’re like everyone’s big, unrequited high school crush that you end up getting paired with in Bio lab. Sure it’s awesome at first until you realize that it’s never going to happen, thereby making your life a living hell. Then there was that time she put her hand on my shoulder while we were dissecting those bullfrogs and I got a huge boner. Then everyone thought I was a weirdo who got off on slicing up frogs, and I was henceforth known as “Frog Fucker” for the next 2 years. Except, Sonic, this isn’t 6th period every other day, this is life! Quit teasing my stomach’s cock, you assholes!

Back in Black

2008-12-09T00:14:00.001-05:00

I’m sure, loyal readers, you’ve noticed that the posts have been few and far between lately. Unfortunately the fates have been conspiring against me, in more ways than one. This isn’t really an appropriate place, so I won’t bore you with details, but rest assured life has been a bit of a big ol’ turd sandwich. But just like the old proverb says “Turd sandwiches don’t last forever”. I think Ben Franklin said that. So things will return to normal soon, I’m sure. In the meantime please enjoy two things that have rocked my face recently. Please seek them out:

1. Louis C.K. – I saw him perform at Town Hall in November. I laughed so hard a couple drops of pee came out my dick hole…no joke

2. The Foot Fist Way – Got this on the Netflix last week. Danny McBride gives an amazing performance as the hero of this contemporary Greek tragedy about a southern Tae Kwon Do instructor.

Get Out the Rock the Vote or Die

2008-11-04T18:29:00.004-05:00

Those who know me, know that I’m not a very political person. Sure, I keep up with the issues and watch “The Daily Show” and “The Colbert Report” every night, but at the end of the day I find it hard to take a vested interest. This coming from a man who, nearly every day for six months out of the year, lives and dies by the actions of grown men in tight-ish pants hitting a ball with a stick, just to give you a frame of reference for how emotionally stable I am.

So normally I would say “Who gives shit?” One way or another, is it really going to affect your every day life? Is one candidate going to put more money in your paycheck? Is another candidate going to make the price of gas go down? And are either of them going to make your whites whiter and get rid of those stubborn grass stains?

But this year, it really does matter, doesn’t it? This country is in dire need of change. It needs a figure in office who will inspire us, and bring hope to some of the darkest hours this nation has faced in years.

Just as important, we have a chance to do something that’s never been done before. So vote Joe Biden for Vice President! Aren’t we finally ready for a Vice President from Delaware? Allow me to repeat myself, and let that really sink in; we, as a nation, have the unprecedented opportunity to elect a Delaware native Vice President, the 2^nd most powerful man in the world, for the first time in American history! We are truly on the brink here people. So I implore everyone out there, if they haven’t already, to vote! Let’s make history together, America.

Oh yeah, also that Chinese guy he’s running with ain’t bad either. The guy he’s running with is Chinese, right?

It's Halloween...

2008-10-31T10:29:00.003-04:00

...and you know what that means:

Make with the tricking and treating everyone, it's a blessing!

Take Another Little Piece of My Heart

2008-10-23T22:13:00.000-04:00

Three Things I Love About My Commute...Seriously

2008-10-14T00:22:00.008-04:00

1. Phat Cribs International Realty, LLC – West 145th Street & Edgecombe Avenue
Like most Americans I am incredibly delusional; delusional to the brink of severe mental instability. Not only do I believe in my heart of hearts that I will be rich and famous at some point in the near future, I also believe that I won’t have to do anything to achieve it. Nor will I have to possess any tangible talent or ability in any arena. It will simply happen. If that ain’t one bad break from pulling a Charles Whitman, I don’t know what is.
In any event, when I attain this level of wealth and renown I’m going to need to acquire some prime international real estate for leisure, and potentially profit. As someone who knows nothing about international real estate, finance or zoning laws (incase I want to go all MJ on my new Ibiza villa) where should I turn? Should I seek advice from my trusted financial advisor? A famed “realtor to the stars” type? Or perhaps a real estate agent from the place I intend to purchase my new international sex palace from? Nah, fuck that. I’m going to Phat Cribs.
“But Adam” you may say “I thought Phat Cribs only serviced the New York Metropolitan area”. Obviously you have not read the hinged at the apex, triangular shaped sign (you know, the kind that are normally reserved for announcing the day’s specials at your local deli) outside their store front. They’re Phat Cribs International Realty, motherfucker, and I’m pretty sure they brokered the deal for Clooney’s lake house in Italy, so go get fucked.
As a white kid who grew up in a half rural/half suburban area, my experience with the word “phat” is surely not the most authentic, but it feels like the word came and went very fast. So fast, in fact, they didn’t even get a chance to properly use it to death on “In Living Color” if I remember correctly. And while it was around, I found it to be laughable not chic. Again, in the early 90’s Incesticide , Ten, and Badmotorfinger were in constant rotation on my Walkman, but still…Phat Cribs, really? Really!?
Far be it for me to act as an arbiter of taste, or to serve as an accurate pop culture barometer. I always considered myself more of a hustler of culture, personally. But when’s the last time you heard someone use the word “phat”? As far as I can tell “phat” has been so forgotten by our collective lexicon, that it isn’t even being used ironically by hipsters…yet.

2. Tear Drops of Elegance – West 140th Street & Frederick Douglas Blvd.
Say what you will about our friends at Phat Cribs International Realty. At least you can tell what they do by the name of their business. What the fuck would a store called “Tear Drops of Elegance” sell/provide? In fact, what the fuck are teardrops of elegance? Is it a reference to something that I’m just not getting? Lyrics from a Jodeci song or something? Here are a few things I think could be appropriately titled Tear Drops of Elegance without you batting an eyelash:
-A Tennessee Williams Play
-An Emo band
-A Danielle Steele novel
-A brand name of feminine douche
-A codename for a top secret government doomsday device
Since I walk past it everyday, and about 7 other businesses offering the same services, Tear Drops of Elegance is your neighborhood nail salon, eyebrow waxer, hair braider, weave maker, and wig tightener. But don’t take my word for it!
The other thing I love about Tear Drops of Elegance is the store front itself. First of all everything is purple from the signage to the tint of the windows. In a perceived attempt to bring together the owner’s love of the color purple, and the store’s baffling, mind melting name, neon purple teardrops hang in the window.
I’ve searched my brain high and low for an explanation for Tear Drops of Elegance’s name and aesthetic. The only thing I can think of is that the store is owned and operated by Prince’s gay twin brother.

3. The Sedan Outside Mt. Zion Church – West 145th Street & Convent Avenue
Like many neighborhoods throughout the five boroughs of New York City, Harlem is inundated with churches. Christian churches of every conceivable ilk and sect ranging from Roman Catholic, to snake handling, speaking in tongues, sweat soaked suit wearing and screaming reverend, Protestant Southern Methodist Baptist Seventh Day Adventist.
Everyday, without fail, parked next to Mt. Zion church is a tan unnecessarily gigantic sedan. Think mid 90’s Cadillac Deville, or Pontiac Bonneville, something your grandfather would drive. Okay, no big deal right? But the car has a decal at the top of the windshield that reads something to the effect of “Jesus is Lord”. Again, not that big a deal, right? The car obviously belongs to the church’s reverend. And by the looks of it, the good rev is preparing for another flood driving around in that boat. Hey-o! Zing! No, the funny thing is that a) the phrase is in some sort of goofy Comic Sans type font, and b) there is a huge gap between the word “is” and “Lord”. “Jesus is” is in the top right corner of the windshield, and “Lord” is in the top left. This makes it look as if there’s a word missing in there, which then makes me think the owner of the car is a kick ass reverend. Like what the decal originally said was…
Jesus is fucking Lord!
…before the congregation got all bent out of shape about the jubilant swearing. That then makes me think of the “Swear to God with Reverend Winton Dupree” sketch from Mr. Show which contains one of the greatest lines of all time, if you’re not familiar:

“I am King Shit of Fuck Mountain, why would you fuck with me!!??” never fails to crack me up.
Also, every time I see a car like that in front of a church I half expect Sherman Hemsley to hop out and jump in on a round of double dutch. You know what I’m talking about…

The Titles of Tyler Perry's Next 10 Movies...

2008-10-07T14:05:00.001-04:00

In no particular order, and all slated before Fall 2010:

An Apple a Dais
Thou Shall Not Holla
Give Her an Inch and She’ll Take Your Man
Don’t Cry Over Spilt Temptation
Grits on the Griddle and Bacon Fat Between Your Ears
Variety is the Spice of Lies
Madea Takes a Baseball Bat to the Chops at a Family Reunion…or Something
Girrrrrlllll
Jesus Didn’t Make No Cornbread
Penny Wise, Nigga Please

Mazeltov!

2008-09-29T18:50:00.000-04:00

Happy new year to all my Jewish peoples! I think John Goodman as Walter Sobcheck in The Big Lebowski “3,000 of beautiful tradition from Moses to Sandy Koufax you’re god damn right I’m living in the fucking past!”

On this Erev Rosh Hashannah, if there’s one thing we can all agree on; black/white, Republican/Democrat, fucked hard by the financial crisis/gently fucked by the financial crisis, it’s this…

An Open Letter To...Carlos Delgado

2008-09-10T14:16:00.004-04:00

Dear Carlos,

I’m sorry. After the first two plus months of the season, sporting a batting average in the .220’s with no power, I wrote you off. I sure as hell wasn’t the only fan in this boat mere months ago, but who knew the Mets organization had some clandestine talks in a shady, poorly lit war room in the bowels of Shea Stadium back in June? They stroked their beards, clucked their tongues and said “Oh what’s to be done with this Carlos Delgado”? Yes, apparently Omar Minaya and Co. had serious talks about releasing Delgado after the All-Star break. With the Mets holding a $4 million dollar buyout on his contract at the end of the season, it appeared that even if Delgado found himself on the roster come September, his days as a Metropolitan were numbered.

So what has Delgado done since the 27^th of June? He’s hitting .301 with 24 HR and 68 RBI. The man is simply unconscious at the plate. This isn’t your typical baseball “hot streak”, which usually lasts a week or two. No, he’s put up these numbers over the past 67 games. That’s about two and a half months, over a third of the season!

You sir, are no man. You are some sort of mythical, D &D or World of Warcraft type Man-Beast, or Meast (as made popular by the fine folks at Kissing Suzy Kolber). At times you have thrust this team ‘pon your measty shoulders and said “Fear not, gentle homos, I shall carry us all to victory! Now quickly, shield your eyes lest my measty aura burn so white hot it melts thine eyes. Also, after I hit this home run, Beltran? Your wife’s giving me a dick waffle”

So in conclusion, Mr. Delgado, please accept my apology. I only hope you will forgive me and not use your animal rage and brute strength to tear me asunder, but to help the Mets make the playoffs. I promise I will never doubt your meast-ing abilities ever again…at least until next year.

Your Humble Servant,

Adam D. Callan, Esq.

At Home, He's a Tourist

2008-08-23T02:28:00.002-04:00

One of the many things I love about New York City is the unpredictability. At any moment you can be unwittingly thrust into a completely ridiculous situation. Walking the streets you’re apt to overhear, on average, about 7 insane conversations a day. And if you have a friendly face like me, guess what? Random, often inebriated, strangers will feel compelled to talk to you. I’ve had a homeless artist guy sketch me half drunk/half asleep on the 1 train not once, but twice! The same guy too!

My favorite one liner came while, surprise-surprise, having a drink at a bar with a friend. This rather inebriated gentleman started pulling the “you guys are my new best friends at the bar” routine; chatting us up out of nowhere, and for no good reason, buying us beers, etc. I forget what we were talking about, but whatever it was he commented “Oh man that’d be out of Iraq!” in the same way one might say “That’d be out of sight!” I don’t know why, but that always cracks me up.

On a similar note, one of the other great things about the city is that turning a corner can result in complete alienation. One moment you’re walking down a typical city street rife with apartments above ground floor bodegas and pizza joints. Next thing you know, you bust a left and all the signage is in Korean, shady looking side streets litter the block, and pushy street vendors are shouting at you in a foreign tongue, trying to sell you fish penises.

I used to work on West 21^st Street, between 5^th & 6^th Avenue. It was a strange area in that it was close to Chelsea, Flatiron, and Union Square yet wasn’t considered part of any of those neighborhoods. Everyday for over 3 years I took the 1 train to/from work, meaning I rarely, if ever, went further west than 7^th Avenue. Earlier this year I went to see “The Strangers” at the Clearview theater on 23^rd Street between 7^th & 8^th Avenue. I bought my ticket early and had some time to kill. I decided to hit up a watering hole I sometimes frequented on 7^th Ave & 19^th Street (the same place as the “Out of Iraq!” incident) and get a nice buzz on before the movie. Since I was closer to 8^th Avenue I thought I’d take the long way, indulge my naturally curious nature and check out a part of town I’d hardly ever seen before. I know I tend to get a bit hyperbolic for the sake of comedy, but I am not exaggerating one bit when I see that as soon as I turned the corner of 23^rd Street and 8^th Avenue I was immediately right smack in the middle of the gayest thing ever in the universe. Literally every single dude on the street was gay; respectable, older gay guys in business (yet faaaaabulous!) casual. Young, jacked up gay dudes with tank tops and shaved heads. Rainbow flags in every window. Sex shops with large display windows advertising dildos and dongs of every shape and size. Gay bars, gay restaurants, gay haberdashers!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t say this in a “Oh my god, gay people! LOL!” kind of way. I have gay family members. I went to Purchase College where there were more gay people than straight and the GLBTU ruled with an iron fist! No, I was simply fascinated by how much a neighborhood could change by literally turning a corner.

These days the new gig has me bringing home the bacon in Harlem. The part of Harlem I experience on a daily basis is still very much in flux. There are tree-lined blocks of gorgeous, pre-war brownstones that look straight of the exterior shots on “The Cosby Show” Then there are housing projects where, on any given day, you’re likely to see people of all ages just chilling out, shooting the shit, a 350 lb. woman screaming profanely into her cell phone, or straight-up crack heads making the rounds, chasing their fix. It’s a fascinating, if heartbreaking at times, area; one that I’ll probably write more in depth about at a later date.

The trouble is that, once exposed to these things for an extended period of time, the absurd/profane/gay/sublime to most become mundane to you. You know there’s a more than 50% chance that same crack fiend will ask you for some spare change outside your regular coffee spot. And when you give it to him and he tells you that Barack Obama owes his success thus far to a steady, healthy diet of “menstrual blood and clown tears” it will not faze you in the least.

Another beautiful thing about this city, however, is that just when you feel you’ve seen/heard it all, it always has another curveball in store for you. Earlier this week I was making my way through a rather quiet day at work. Only myself and an intern were slaving away on an absolutely gorgeous late summer day. I heard a car stereo blaring something from up the block. The song grew louder and clearer as it approached my office, and as it did I couldn’t believe my ears. First, as previously stated, I work in Harlem. Loud car stereos aren’t a big deal, but normally you’d expect to Soulja Boy or whatever bullshit hip-hop is topping the charts these days. Secondly, whoever’s car this was, they weren’t simply playing their music loud. My office is on the 3^rd floor and I was able to hear it crystal clear, as if I were playing it myself and rather loudly at that. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for those at street level. The song in question, you ask?

Yes, someone was playing “Lady in Red” at full, bass rattling the entire chassis of the car volume on 138^th Street between Frederic Douglas and Adam Clayton Powell. I heart NY indeed.

If You Get This...

2008-08-16T03:23:00.001-04:00

…and think it’s hilarious, then we should just forego the traditional courting ritual(s) and immediately become best friends…

…I think Saturday morning cartoon TV commercials, and 1980’s/1990’s commercials in general occupy approximately 67% of my brain.

Three Years Later, Two For Dad

2008-08-09T02:21:00.008-04:00

Time

May heal wounds

But I

Will kill you

Slowly.

Fading All Away

Look out

The window

To watch

The wind blow

Slowly.

Fading All Away

I won’t stop

Until you’re dead

Because your voice is in my head

I won’t stop

Until you’re dead

Helping you

And haunting me

Time

May heal wounds

But I

Will kill you

Slowly.

Fading All Away

Hear

The voices cry

And watch

The feelings die

Slowly.

Fading All Away

I won’t stop

Until you’re dead

Because your voice is in my head

I won’t stop

Until you’re dead

Helping you

And haunting me

Time

May heal wounds

But I

Will kill you

Slowly.

Fading All Away

-“Fading All Away”
Jay Reatard

“That was the worst moment of all, I think, and when I finally saw the ugliness and cruelty that were inside me, I turned against myself in horror. I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t bear to be who I was anymore. Every time I looked at him, I saw nothing but my own contemptible weakness, the monstrous reflection of what I had become.”

-“Moon Palace”
Paul Auster

Rest in Peace

Eugene Anthony Patrick Callan

10.15.44 – 8.9.05

Rock the Bells: Part I

2008-08-06T00:07:00.003-04:00

Sunday the Rock the Bells tour played its annual New York City area date at Jones Beach Theater. I went to last year’s show, held at the much larger Randall’s Island. So why did this year’s show only play one New York date (as opposed to two last year) and why was it held at a venue that was about a third of the size? Well, last year’s headliner was a reunited Rage Against the Machine, which in turn motivated the douchey white boy population to turn out in droves. Seriously you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a tribal tattoo. So does this decline in attendance mean that interest in real hip-hop is waning? Or was last year just an aberration and all those ‘roid shoulders and wife beaters were really only there to see Rage? It’s tough to say, but either way this year’s show did feel like more of a return to what the tour is really all about; a celebration of true hip-hop culture.

The hugeness of this show’s New York City area date cannot be overstated. First of all New York (specifically 1520 Sedgwick Avenue in the Bronx) is the birthplace of hip-hop. So really it’s a homecoming of sorts. Secondly most of the acts are from the New York area; Raekwon and Ghostface Killah (Staten Island), Mos Def (Brooklyn), Method Man (Staten Island) and Redman (Newark, NJ), and Nas (Queensbridge). So I had high hopes that that there would be many surprises in store throughout the day.

But before we get into the show, let’s take a moment to discuss the venue. The stage is actually set on the water. During the day a nice ocean breeze prevents it from getting too hot, and at night the lights reflect beautifully off the water. It’s a very nice place to SEE a show. However GOING to a show there is another story. For one you can’t bring anything in. There was a rumor floating around that although no food was allowed, you could bring in your own water. In preparation I bought a gigantic bottle of Poland Spring only to hear from surly Long Island security as I approached the entrance “Have your tickets out. Empty all your pockets. No food or drink allowed inside. If you have a drink step aside and finish it before you enter.” Awesome! It’s not like I’d need to buy that many $5 bottles of water in the 90 degree heat and salty ocean air. So I chugged about half the bottle before I felt more bloated than a pregnant fat chick, threw the rest away and entered.

Water may have cost $5 a bottle, but guess how much a beer cost? Zero. You know why? Because Jones Beach doesn’t serve any kind of alcohol at all! On one hand I get it; the theater is on the ocean, and if the Bronx is the birthplace of hip-hop, then Long Island is the birthplace of the douchebag. Alcohol + douchebaggery + the ocean = an inordinate amount of accidental drownings, not to mention all the other headaches that occur when one mixes alcohol and douchebags. But on the other hand, in the words of Gob Bluth, C’mon!!! I’m an old man. I don’t go to many shows any more. When I do, especially an outdoor show, I like to get a nice buzz on and enjoy myself. Plus, get a few drinks in me and I turn into a dancin’ machine akin to these guys. Don’t believe me? Peep me at a wedding with an open bar and prepare to have your mind’s ass blown.

Lastly, Jones Beach Theater is awash in a sea of shameless corporate promotion. Huge banners hang from every available space. Booths offering everything from Best Buy credit cards, to military enlistment were present. Even the individual toilets and urinals had sponsors. It didn’t prevent me from enjoying the show, and I realize that hip-hop generates billions of dollars of revenue for corporations owned and operated by old white men every year, but it was so over-the-top and obnoxious. I felt it really was a slap in the face to what hip-hop was originally all about, what this show was trying to celebrate. So as I was waiting for the theater to open up, grousing under my breath about no beer and all the corporate schilling being rammed down my throat, a friend of mine came running back from the Washington Mutual booth claiming that because he had a bank account and credit card with WaMu he could get us into the VIP area on the side of the stage. The very same VIP area, and the only place in the whole arena, they were serving beer! Oh the irony! I quickly quit my complaining, and traded in my self righteousness for a red wristband. If corporate America was going to offer me beer on this day, then I was going to accept.

Onto the show…where to begin, really? The lineup consisted of Kidz in the Hall, De La Soul, The Pharcyde, Raekwon & Ghostface Killah, Mos Def, Method Man & Redman, Nas and a reunited A Tribe Called Quest. It’s much too much to get into in one post, so I’ll start at the top and give you a little teaser…

De La Soul:

I was impressed by these guys the same way I was impressed by Public Enemy last year; they put on one great live show. Even though they’re now in their late 30’s/early 40’s, they still can move a crowd. Although these guys weren’t active during the infancy of hip hop (3 Feet High and Rising dropped in 1989) they were around early enough to fully appreciate their roots. Hip hop was originally party music. During various house parties and block parties DJ’s would loop the instrumental breaks of funk and soul records. Over these breaks they would spit impromptu rhymes, giving a shout out to their friends or just coming up with something clever to say. Back then no one could foresee platinum records or multi-million dollar recording contracts, let alone ever recording a legitimate album. Therefore you had to make a name for yourself by putting on a live show and generating good word of mouth. That’s just the way it was.

De La Soul had the crowd moving with their call-and-response filled set. They played a lot of the old school hits including “Buddy” and “Stakes is High”, but no “Me Myself and I” unfortunately. They closed their set with a really cool version of “Rock co.Cane Flow” from The Grind Date where, when the beat would slow to a crawl at the bridge, they would freeze and the music would stop. The crowd cheered louder and louder until the beat would kick in, and the song would start again.

In terms of guest appearances I was a little disappointed that Redman didn’t come out for “Ooh” which features one of my favorite all-time Redman choruses:

If you a fat chick getting your fuck on tonight

Then go Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Ooh

If you’ve never been shot or stabbed

Brick City go Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Ooh

I was also disappointed perennial De La Soul collaborator Prince Paul didn’t make an appearance. Oh well, the highlight of the set, however, did come when De La introduced Dres from Black Sheep and they all launched into a thoroughly crowd pleasing rendition of “The Choice is Yours”:

If you don’t remember that song, then you need to stop reading this right now…not just this post, I mean the whole blog…actually just stop reading anything written for the English language, period.

To Be Continued…

Guess Who's Bizack...

2008-07-24T00:41:00.006-04:00

Lately I’ve gotten a few comments from friends, mostly along the lines of “I’m bored at work, how come you haven’t posted anything recently?” or “I’d totally read your blog more if you posted regularly…and also if it was well written, and scores less retarded you inarticulate prick”. I’ve been meaning to post more, but the new job has been a swift kick in the trousers, responsibility-wise. It’s been great, and I think will ultimately prove to be a great opportunity, but there’s definitely been a larger learning curve than I anticipated. So to all 5 of you who check me out on the regular, I promise to post more and manage my time more wisely…or not, I mean who the fuck are you? Get off my back!

In the meantime here’s a video my buddy Chris sent me. I normally don’t go for this kind of thing, but this one cracked me up. Plus “Ante Up” (and almost anything by M.O.P. aka the Mash Out Posse) is one of my favorite “makes me feel like punchin’ someone in the face just for livin’” songs. So enjoy the new half-assed review and always remember, in the words of Billy Danze; I’m from the streets cousin. You know the drill. I’m nine hundred and ninety nine thou short of a mil. Indeed.

Half Assed Review: The Strangers/Them

2008-07-24T00:27:00.006-04:00

The majority of content produced by quote-unquote Hollywood is unimaginative tripe. Now, I don’t say this in a disparaging, stupid hipster who snidely remarks “I don’t watch TV” at a party, yet constantly makes pop-culture references kind of way. No, it is simply a statement of fact. Believe it or not most of the things we enjoy in our leisure time (movies, music, books, art, booze) are businesses. No one is in the game to make a small group of nerds happy. Otherwise shows like “Freaks & Geeks”, “Homicide: Life on the Street” and “Arrested Development” would still be on the air. Yes the idea is to engage and entertain, but the other half of the equation involves turning a buck in the process, like it or not. That’s why I ultimately can’t blame the studios for cranking out sequels, remakes, adaptations, sequels of remakes, and remakes of sequels of remakes based on the novel by Stephen King. There are tens, if not hundreds, of millions of dollars at stake. So if you’re an executive whose job it is to make sure that your company turns a profit, which project are you going to green light? The meta, self referential, Charlie Kaufman-esque artsy fartsy script? Or the script with a built-in audience that is already a proven winner?

Nowhere is this “well if it worked once, maybe it will work a thousand more times” mentality more prevalent than the horror genre. I find this ironic since, by and large, horror films cost less to produce than any other genre. This was prevalent during the horror boon of the late 1970’s/early 1980’s with the endless sequels in the “Friday the 13^th”, “Nightmare on Elm Street”, “Halloween” franchises, as well as the 2^nd tier “Hellraiser”, “Puppet Master” and “Sleepaway Camp” franchises of the world. With horror hotter than ever, this trend continues with remakes and franchises spreading like wildfire; “Scream”, “Halloween”, “The Hill’s Have Eyes”, J-Horror (“The Ring”, “The Grudge”, “One Missed Call”, “Dark Water”) “Prom Night”, and proposed remakes of both “Friday the 13^th” and “Nightmare on Elm Street”.

Recently I went to see “The Strangers”. I was intrigued by the idea of an original horror film, plus the trailer scared the bejesus out of me! Seriously, watch this…

If that doesn’t creep you out you are a robot or cyborg specifically programmed to not get creeped out…and also kill John Connor! As my nerd-like tendencies cause me to do, after I saw the film I began seeking out more information. I started hearing many comparisons between “The Strangers” and a French film produced in 2006 called “Ils” or “Them”.

Some people weren’t so much comparing the films, as stating that “The Strangers” had more or less ripped off “Them”. I was a little disappointed since I did enjoy “The Strangers”, but I figured the best way to find out was to see “Them” and decide for myself. I put the film on the ol’ Netflix que and a few days later I had the answer in my hot little hands.

Exhibit A: Plot

“The Strangers” – Kristen (LivTyler) and James (Scott Speedman) return to his family’s vacation house after a mutual friend’s wedding for a weekend getaway. The two seem upset as tension fills the gaps between their sparse conversation. Through flashback we learn that Kristen rejected James’ marriage proposal earlier at the wedding reception. We then see that James had spread rose petals, put out fancy candles and chilled champagne earlier in the day in anticipation of his engagement…awwwwkward. James drives into town to get Kristen cigarettes. Whilst gone, Kristen is harassed by strange noises and other trickery, and then scared the hell out of by masked baddies she sees outside. Upon James’ return the couple is aggressively pursued and attacked by a total of 3 mysteriously masked persons intent on making with the Knifey McStab-Stab.

“Them” – Clementine (Olivia Bonamy) a school teacher, retires to her boyfriend (or husband, it’s never quite clear. But considering they’re, you know, French, they’re probably not married and living in sin) Lucas’ (Michael Cohen) house in the country. After a relaxing evening of TV watching, and eating a shitty dinner, the two retire to bed. Unable to sleep, Clementine gets up to grade some papers. Once up she begins to fall victim to various psychological warfare trickery, including someone stealing her car. She wakes Lucas and while calling the cops more trickery ensues and before you know it Lucas and Clementine are being relentlessly pursued by mysterious, hoodie sporting baddies. They chase them through their house and the surrounding woods intent on making with the Killy VonBloodSpill.

Exhibit B: Mind Fuck Trickery

As anyone whose not a paranoid schizophrenic knows, movies aren’t real. In real life, when people get killed, they get killed. In movies the psychotic bad guy(s) preclude their murderous rampages with a little bit of sadism; small acts of mind fuckery to get inside their victim’s heads. Is someone really after them? Or are they imagining things?

“The Strangers”

· After many awkward and tears well upped in the eyes, terse exchanges Kristen and James hear a knock on the door. A muffled voice on the other side of the door asks “Is Tamara home?” James carefully opens the door. Standing on the porch is a girl with long blonde hair, her face cloaked in the darkness of the late night. James tells her she has the wrong house and she walks away. After she’s gone James checks the porch light, which he’s totally sure he turned on when the weirdo-girl knocked on the door. He gives the bulb inside the lamp a small turn, and sure enough it turns on. Weird.

· While James is out on his cigarette run, Kristen hears other things going “bump” in the night. In addition the chimney flue mysteriously closes, temporarily filling the cabin with smoke and causing the smoke alarm to go off. Kristen yanks the smoke alarm from the ceiling, and opens the flue.

· After that, crazy girl looking for Tamara knocks on the door again. Without opening the door this time, Kristen tells her she has already knocked on their door and that, no, Tamara is not here. Either that girl is tripping balls on some orange sunshine, or something’s up. When Kristen returns to the living room the smoke alarm and 9 volt battery is nowhere to be found. Freaked out she goes to call James on her cell phone, which had been charging next to the fireplace, only to discover it roasting in the fireplace like some much chestnuts.

“Them”

· Clementine hears various noises outside, mostly emanating from, which we find out later, one of those old –timey noise makers that you spin:

· Noises continue until Clementine looks out the window and sees that her car has been moved from directly in front of the house, to further back by the dirt driveway. When her and Lucas go outside to further investigate the lights turn on and the car drives away.

· Calling the cops proves fruitless. Being French, Clementine and Lucas sit at the kitchen table smoking cigarettes until, duh-duh-duh, the lights go out. Lucas goes to the door to look outside when someone suddenly shines a flashlight through the window in the door.

Exhibit C: Bad Guys

What would a good horror film be without a memorable villain? Freddy Krueger, Jason Voohress, Michael Myers, Leatherface, the list goes on and on. Even broke-ass 80’s copycats like “The Burning” and “Funhouse” has pretty gnarly looking bad guys.

“The Strangers” – Pretty god damn scary, don’t you think?

Especially when they’re wielding axes and knives with an eerie calm. Psycho killers wearing masks is dicey territory. They either can be really effective, or laughably ridiculous. Kudos to the costume designer/art department for coming with not 1, not 2, but 3 pretty solid masks. In addition, the three masks appear to be paying homage to their predecessors; the blonde and brunette masks to 1976’s “Alice, Sweet Alice” and ol’ bag head to “Friday the 13^th: Part II” and the totally unsung bag head Jason.

“Them” –

Guys in hoodies whose faces you can’t see. Not the best, but it could have been worse. It could have looked like a movie filled with people running away from Williamsburg hipsters in American Apparel sweatshirts. How un-scary would that have been? I mean who the fuck is scared of whisper thing dudes wearing tight jeans and sporting scraggly, ironic facial hair? I’ll take on a zombie army of those douchebags any day of the week. All I’d have to do is put out an ultra rare, red vinyl, only 100 copies pressed Japanther 7” in the middle of the street. Then, while they were distracted, I’d pull out the heat, squeeze and bust, and send them all back to hell!

Exhibit D: Based on a True Story:

One sure fire way to scare the hell out of someone is to tell them that what they’re about to see is “based on a true story”. Upon hearing this, most people automatically assume that the corresponding events must all be totally true. Some will even claim to know, like, the guy that it, like happened to, totally. Most people are also fucking retarded.

“The Strangers” – The story behind the “based on a true story” is that the writer/director Bryan Bertino once had someone knock on his door asking for someone that didn’t live there. Later he found out a series of homes in his neighborhood had been burgled. Meanwhile the opening narration of the film states that “What you are about to see is inspired by true events…the brutal events that took place there are still not entirely known”. I’m guessing this is supposed to be some sort of homage to “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and its voice over narration intro, but in reality it’s just kind of lame

“Them” – The “based on true story” here is not quite as bad. The true story here involved a couple that was killed by 3 people at their vacation home in the Czech Republic. All of the characters, action and set pieces in “Them”, however, are fictional.

Exhibit E: The End (Beware Spoilers!)

“The Strangers” – What I liked about “The Strangers” is that ending was realistic, and therefore scary. Ultimately the 3 baddies wrangle Kristen and James, and tie them up. Hysterical Kristen asks “Why are you doing this to us?” To which the chick in the blonde mask replies “Because you were home”. Extremely chilling words that remind us that violence is brutal, swift and random. James and Kristen didn’t run over bag head’s dog, and now he’s out for revenge. They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. What James and Kristen endured could have easily happen to any of us With that the 3 take off their masks (though we never see their faces) and proceed to calmly and deliberately stab both James and Kristen to death. They didn’t go bonkers and stab them 57 times while maniacally laughing. For them it was more anti climactic; the fun was in the chase, the chase is over, now time for the logical conclusion. How terrifying must it be to see your significant other take a slow stab wound to the chest while you sit by, helpless? Watching it was beyond scary, it was disturbing. At the same time I appreciate the filmmakers not going for the easy, oh my god here comes the sheriff, who we totally thought was dead, at the last minute to save the pretty young couple. There was a book end involving two young boys discovering the body that I felt was completely unnecessary, but I’ll let it slide.

“Them” – Lucas (who has been hampered by a glass shard in his leg) and Clementine are chased from the house, through a nearby forest. When Lucas can’t climb over a fence the two get separated. Lucas hears Clementine’s cries and finds her just as she’s being dragged into a mysterious tunnel. Lucas follows the dimly lit, labyrinthine tunnel until he sees Clementine being assaulted by what turns out to be a couple of teenage boys! Lucas bashes one over the head with a rock, but refrains from harming the other one as he begs for his life. He tells them he’ll show them a way out, that he’s sorry and didn’t know things would get this out of control. The two follow the tunnel some more until they come to a ladder. As they climb the formerly repentant boy takes it on himself to yank Lucas down from the ladder, sending him crashing to the ground. Clementine looks down just in time to see her boyfriend being dragged away. Clementine presses on and sees a light at the end of the tunnel. She desperately moves toward it only to discover that it’s a barred drainage tunnel on the side of highway. She screams hoping someone will hear her, but her cries are drowned out by the white noise of the passing traffic. From the road we see her reaching out frantically through the bars, but after a couple cars pass in front of us, we see that she’s no longer there. The film concludes with a group of young boys emerging onto a dirt road from the woods, one carrying an old-timey noise maker. They laugh and goof around, running down the street to catch their bus as it pulls up to the stop.

Conclusion:

I have to say that on the surface it appears as if “The Strangers” was more than a little inspired by “Them”. Though the story isn’t lifted note-for-note, it certainly has a lot in common; young couple in remote location, fucked with, chased and ultimately murdered by unknown assailants. “The Strangers” was released in 2008, while “Them” was released in 2006 so this seems entirely possible. However, the release of “The Strangers” was delayed by the studio twice. The film actually began shooting in October, 2006. “Them” was only released in France and Europe in July, 2006 and wasn’t available in the U.S. until 2007. Considering that timeline, it seems impossible that “The Strangers” ripped off “Them”. However unlikely, two different writer/directors simply came up with similar ideas at around the same time.

If you’re a horror fan, or enjoy being scared I recommend both films. “The Strangers” offers a little more character details; seeing Kristen and James navigate their complex, conflicted feelings for one another while fending off masked murderers. “Them” is a stripped down, lean thrill ride. We don’t know much about Clementime and Lucas, but who cares? All we know is that they like each other, and that neither particularly enjoys stab wounds. Throw in some sinister baddies and what else do you need to know?

On a larger scale both films bring up interesting ideas about the nature of evil. “The Strangers” tells us that horrible things can happen to anyone at anytime. Just cause we’re not living in a war-torn sub-Saharan republic controlled by warlords, riding in a Humvee in Iraq, or slinging rocks on a corner doesn’t mean we’re safe. Evil is all around us, closer than we think. Just ask the neighbors of Kendall Francois or Dennis Rader and I’m sure they’ll tell you the same thing. In “Them” the reveal that Clementine and Lucas’ killers were nothing more than a group of teenagers reminds us that evil can assume many different forms. Sure it can be in plain sight like an Adolf Hitler or Idi Amin, or it can be in the guise of a group of 10-15 year old boys harassing a young couple because, as “Them” explains over the final shot of the young killers running for the bus, “They wouldn’t play with us”.

For more on this subject check out Alan Resnais’ outstanding 1955 documentary “Night and Fog” or consult your local library and check out “In Cold Blood”. But don’t take my word for it…

4 For the 4th

2008-07-04T16:53:00.002-04:00

Happy Independence Day everyone! Now, as we all remember from our U.S. History classes this great nation was founded when a group of freedom loving patriots, tired of the tyranny of high taxes and lack of representation in their government, decided they could take no more! They mobilized local militias, took to arms, defeated the mighty British empire and put the power in the hands of the people. And by people I mean white male land owners. See here’s the deal the American Revolution was actually started by a group of rich, white, privileged and extremely bright group of men who took advantage of a situation, and played it to their advantage. By 1760 the general populace was pretty pissed off. There had been a total of “18 uprisings, 6 slave rebellions and 40 riots of various origins” according to historian Howard Zinn. They weren’t pissed off because they were being oppressed by colonialism, or any other political reasons. Just like you and I, they were pissed off about life; they were sick of being poor and/or being a slave. For example, by the 1770’s, 49% of the city of Boston’s assets were controlled by the richest 5% of the city’s taxpayers.

Tension was already in the air. In addition many revolutionary ideas about government and economics were coming into the public’s consciousness; Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith, Two Treatises of Government by John Locke, The Social Contract by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, etc. So our founding fathers, who were all either large southern plantation owners or ivy league educated lawyers from the northeast, figured that if they eliminate the middle man (the British government) they could run shit themselves and make stupid dollars. But how to mobilize these angry poor people against the British? By co-opting all these new ideas that had been floating around, and making this fight not political, but personal and moral:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

What Thomas Jefferson, et al, are really saying is:

Hey you! Yeah you, are you gonna let some powdered wig sporting, pantaloon wearing limey all the way on the other side of the Atlantic push you around, and tell you what to do? Fuck no! So lets kick their asses and then you can totally do whatever you want, whenever you want!

So long story short; the rich, privileged people in charge (or the HNIC’s) bent the will of the poor and middle class through deception and rhetoric in order to protect their own interests. Also, when it came time to draft local militias, the rich could get out of serving by paying for a replacement. Hmmm…this all sounds so FAMILIAR. I can’t quite PUT MY FINGER ON IT, but I swear I’ve HEARD THIS STORY BEFORE somewhere.

How appropriate then, that on this July 4^th former 5 term U.S. Senator Jesse Helms passed away at the age of 86. I hate when politicians die because, no matter what they did, they are automatically lauded. Jesse Helms was a racist piece of shit. I have absolutely zero respect for the man, and he deserves no praise from any member of the mainstream media or otherwise. The fact that he served in the Senate for 30 years is testament to how fucked up North Carolina must be. Don’t believe me? Here’s some highlights of Mr. Helms’ career:

Once referred to the University of North Carolina or UNC as “the University of Negroes and Communists”. This isn’t a quote from the height of the Cold War/Civil Rights movement either. This was from 19 fucking 95!
Helms was an ardent supporter of late Chile dictator Augusto Pinochet.
“Crime rates and irresponsibility among Negroes are a fact of life which must be faced” – New York Times 2/8/81
Helms has called homosexuals “weak, morally sick wretches.” (Newsweek 12/5/94). In defense of his opposition to AIDS research funding he stated “There is not one single case of AIDS that cannot be traced in origin to sodomy” (State news Service 5/17/88).
Riding in an elevator with Carol Moseley-Braun, the first African American woman elected to Senate, he bragged to another colleague also in the elevator “I’m going to make her cry…” and proceeded to sing “Dixie”. (Chicago Sun Times 8/5/93)
Appearing on CNN’s Larry King Live show, a caller praised Mr. Helms for “everything you’ve done to help keep down the niggers” Helms response? Salute the camera and say “Well, thank you, I think.” (Wilmington Star-News 9/16/95).

So on behalf of anyone with half a brain in their head may I be the first to say “Fuck you”. You will not be missed, sir.

Now, enough of this political crap. Honestly I hate to get political because who the fuck cares? Jesse Helms dying, Obama or McCain getting elected will not change anything that truly matters to you and I. It will not put more money in your paycheck, make the price of gas or the cost of living go down. Instead let us focus on the simple pleasures in life. The 4^th of July offers us a much needed day off from work, blockbuster savings at various retail outlets, the opportunity to drink beer and eat barbeque this weekend, and of course take in the greatest 4^th of July tradition of them all: spending your 4^th of July in the 5^th dimension! That’s right, the annual 4^th of July “Twilight Zone” marathon is so on!

I remember back in the day when WPIX Channel 11 here in New York used to air the marathon, before the Sci-Fi channel took over. I used to stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning as a little kid just so I could try and catch every episode. Watching them now, yeah sure, they’re a little corny but they still take me back. Some of them are actually really good too! So I guess American isn’t all bad if it’s a place where I can get drunk while watching re-runs of “The Twilight Zone” on a day off from work, while also shitting all over the American myth of liberty and justice for all without getting thrown into the Gulag.

So on this 4^th of July remember that freedom isn’t free…

…nope, it costs a buck o’ five. Also, don’t forget…

…so lick my butt and suck on my balls. God bless Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

Feel Good Hit of the Summer

2008-06-25T17:30:00.003-04:00

Hey, it's officially Summer everyone! I hereby declare this to be the smash hit, chart busting jam of the season:

Should have been a #1. R.I.P. Joey, Johnny and Dee Dee

Deathwatch Part II: Murda Was the Case

2008-06-24T17:53:00.003-04:00

Every day for the past week or so, as I saunter home past the luxury condo being constructed next door to my office, the construction site REEKS of pot. It’s not just a faint “Oh I think someone’s smoking a bowl in there” either. It’s more like a “I think 37 steel workers are ripping 4 foot bong hits simultaneously” stench hovering around things like, uh, I don’t know cranes, steel beams, power tools, concrete, and a myriad of things that say, if dropped from 12 stories high and fell on my head, would make it look…a little something…like this…

I’ll admit, in my younger more careless days, I showed up to work drunk a few times. I even showed up to work stoned and/or got stoned at work a couple times too. No big deal, most everyone has done it at one time or another. One time in particular, while working in industrial lighting, my friend Tom and I worked the White Stripes/The Strokes show at Radio City Music Hall. This was back when everyone thought both bands were totally going to save rock n’ roll. Here’s a news flash for Jack White, Julian Casablancas, and all those music critics who were slobbin’ on their collective knobbin’ 5 years ago; CONTEMPORARY ROCK N’ ROLL STILL LICKS DOO-DOO STAINED BALLS! And not in a good way either, you know, incase you’re into that sort of thing. The sad, sad state of music aside, we had about a two hour break for dinner before the show. So instead of hanging out by Radio City and eating shitty, over priced food we hopped on a train back to our place in Long Island City, ordered delicious Chinese food, played some NBA 2K2, and got hammered. I was a little nervous showing up stinking of MSG and Becks, but no one really seemed to notice or care. I was so drunk and drowsy I passed out on a road box on the side of the stage about 15 feet from where the White Stripes were performing rather loudly. That should give you an idea of how scintillating Jack White’s stage presence is. Actually, he was fine, but G.G. Allin he was not!

So yes, in the interest of full discretion I am guilty of a similar crime, but here’s the difference:

a) The company I worked for was full of scum bags. I’m talking about guys who would take their paychecks (which we received Wednesday at lunch time), cash them and immediately blow it on booze, coke and/or crack. Seriously, the place was littered with ex-cons and crack heads. Needless to say they would not return from lunch, or show up to work on Thursdays most of the time. So drinking a few beers or sneaking in a couple hits during lunch was not even on the radar of insubordinate or criminal behavior at the workplace. In fact it was pretty much par for the course.

b) I never put anyone else’s life in danger, only my own.

c) Radio City Music Hall is a completely union run operation meaning Tom and I were not allowed to touch anything. We didn’t unload the trucks, we didn’t hang lights on the truss, we didn’t focus lights, patch or plug in dimmers. We literally did nothing. It was the easiest money I think I’ve ever made in my life. We knew full well we weren’t going to be asked to do any work, so getting drunk wasn’t going to affect our job performance. Quadruple amputees could have done our jobs, and done them better as I’m assuming they would not have been drunk.

Look I get it, construction, like just about any other job ever (save Bikini Inspector and the newly appointed cabinet position Secretary of Partying Down), is full of stress. At the end of a long, hard day occasionally one has to relieve said stress. My beer gut can certainly attest to that, but perhaps you could assuage my paralyzing fear of death by Cheechin’ it up somewhere that’s not your job site; a job site full of about 9,312,649 ways to murder me and other innocent bystanders. For Christ sake I only have one week of work left at my current job. I want to live, damn it! And if not for me, do it because a construction site that smells like Snoop Dogg’s braids is a little unconscionable considering the, uh, you know HORRIBLE TRAGEDIES that took place recently.

My Contract Rider Specifically States "No Green M & M's"

2008-06-23T18:11:00.002-04:00

It’s official. I’m big time. You know how I know I’m big time? Well, it’s nothing you can really put your finger on. You just know. It’s one of those “je ne c’est quoi” kind of things. But there are some tell tale signs. For example I get not one, but two large coffees from the deli across the street from my office during the course of the day. I don’t care. I just have money like that. If there’s one instance I can point to, though, that really let me know I had arrived it would be this: the other day I was checking my blog for comments. As is my wont, I usually do this, on average, 27 times a day. Hey, you don’t get to be big time without being a self absorbed, narcissistic, insecure, needy borderline sociopath with a gaping void in his soul that can only be filled with constant praise and validation, do you? I should think not. So I noticed that my latest masterpiece (seriously, did you read it? It makes “Hamlet” look as if Shakespeare wrote it with a quill pen full of broccoli farts.) had received a comment. Pleased, but not surprised in the least bit, I clicked to read it and saw this comment from a gentleman named Richard Jennings:

Willie - dont worry, there are many others jobs if you know where to look:
http://www.realmatch.com
http://www.monster.com
http://www.simplyhired.com
You will be back in the game in no time!

That’s right, I got my very first spam comment. Whatever devil spawn computer that sends out spam in all it’s incarnations decided my blog was big time enough that posting spam in the guise of a comment would be the perfect forum to send it’s timeless message of “please come to these career oriented web sites” to the masses. Don’t believe me? Take a look at this so called “Richard Jennings” blog. It contains two posts, both of which are over a year old and consist of no more than the post title. The second post is entitled “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Facts” which makes me laugh for some reason. Why? I don’t know, I think because it almost sounds like one of those Hollywood movie title porno spoofs like “Edward Penis Hands”, “2001: A Face Sitting Odyssey”, or, my favorite, “10 Things I Ate About Poo”. Either way it doesn’t matter. I’m big time now. I don’t have to explain what makes me laugh to you peons, and even if I did my explanation would be so complex it would be over all your heads.

It takes a special breed of person to receive spam comments on their blog. These people can only be described as big time. They eat big bloody raw steaks 3 times a day, drink a tub full of scotch for breakfast, and literally blow up toilets when they take shits. Now if you’ll excuse me, my manservant Honcho has returned with my dry cleaning…wait…what is this Honcho…WIRE HANGERS!?

No Crime Will Go Unpunished Here

2008-06-17T15:28:00.002-04:00

Last night I sat down to watch the Mets game around 11pm. As is my ritual these days, I let the game play for an hour before watching it on my DVR in order to fast forward through commercials or pitching changes. My original game plan was to watch the first 3 or 4 innings then head to bed, but the more I watched the game the more I got sucked in. On this night they got a 4^th solid outing in a row from Mike Pelfrey, which is a great sign for him and the future of the rotation. The Mets scored early and often with 2 runs in the first, and a run each in the 2^nd and 3^rd innings, as well as late with 4 runs in the 8^th inning. They also played good defense, plucking a couple of overaggressive Angel runners off the base paths. And when the Angels rallied for three runs in the bottom of the 8^th, not only did maligned reliever Aaron Heilman strike out the two batters he faced with runners on, the Mets added an insurance run in the top of the 9^th.

This was a Mets team that looked like the team I’d been waiting to see all year. I had been systematically trying to take less of a vested interest in the team. They had been driving me crazy all year and, it being June, I deduced that ultimately maybe this team just wasn’t that good. So why send my blood pressure soaring over a team that will likely be out of contention come September? Lately, though, it seemed that they could turn this thing around. Even though they got swept by the lowly Padres, at least the Mets were in those games and showed some fight. They showed some fight against the Rangers too, clawing back from an 8-2 deficit over the last 2 innings, falling just short in an 8-7 loss. They were showing signs of life, as opposed to earlier this year when, if the team fell behind at any point in the game, I knew immediately they were going to lose. They looked lazy, listless, complacent and made stupid mistake, after stupid mistake.

It was during these first two months of the season I first began to question whether Willie Randolph was the right guy for the job anymore. I thought he at least deserved another season, unless the Mets really went into a death spiral. With the way the team had been playing, as well as a new, looser even funny Willie at press conferences and fielding questions from reporters, I thought the stubborn Randolph had changed his style somehow and found a way to get his players to play for him again. I thought his job was safe…then I woke up this morning.

I was half asleep when I heard my girlfriend say “Adam…” I looked up at her, vision still blurry. “The Mets fired Willie Randolph.” I was shocked. The Mets won last night against a first place team after playing a solid game, had won 3 of 4, and seemed to have turned a corner. Why fire him now? Why make the man board a cross country flight Sunday night, and have him manage a game in Anaheim on Monday only to fire him early Tuesday morning? And why fire him at 3:15am EST/12:15am PST in a hotel room? You could have fired Willie Randolph at just about any other time and I wouldn’t have been surprised. I may not have agreed with it, but if he got canned after last season, or after the Wilpon/Minaya/Randolph pow-wow around Memorial Day I would have at least understood. The other thing, in hindsight, was that it seemed as if this was a decision that had already been made by upper management, according to Matthew Cerrone at Metsblog.com HERE. There had also been multiple reports that the Mets AAA affiliate had already been preparing for the loss of the coaches who ultimately replaced the vacancies left by the firing of Willie Randolph, Rick Peterson and Tom Nieto. They obviously knew they were going to fire him and soon. Why drag it out , keeping the fans and players in suspense, and ultimately humiliate the man?

This situation has already been, and continues to be dissected endlessly throughout the 24-hour sports news media, but it still needs to be said; the way the Mets organization handled this situation was absolutely fucking disgraceful. It makes them look like a bunch of incompetent, bumbling morons. They didn’t just handle the situation poorly; they handled it as poorly as you possibly could have. The only way they could have handled it worse is if Omar had sent Willie a text message that said:

“Awesome game dude. The Angels totally suck LOL. BTW you’re fired :( “

Then had Jeff Wilpon knock on his hotel room door and throw a baseball at his crotch.

Whether or not you agree with the decision, Willie Randolph did not deserve to be treated like this. The man was a 6 time all star, a patient hitter, an outstanding defender, and a career .280 hitter, which is phenomenal considering he played in an era when 2^nd basemen were light hitting defensive specialists. He won two World Championships as a player and four as a coach for the Yankees. He approached the game the right way both in attitude and as evidenced by his play on the field. He grew up in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in New York City; Brownsville, Brooklyn. A place where, if his mom gave him some money to buy some milk from the store for her, Willie would have to sprint to the store and back just to avoid getting mugged. The guy was a class act all the way, and I doubt there’s one person in or out of baseball that would have a bad word to say about Willie Randolph personally. Willie was not the best X’s and O’s manager on the planet, and he struggled to effectively manage his bullpen from time to time, but does a man with a reputation and resume like that deserve to be accosted by reporters upon leaving the team’s hotel in Anaheim this morning, on his way home for good? The Mets didn’t just embarrass themselves, they embarrassed Randolph; forcing him to take a walk of shame today in front of a throng of reporters, microphones and cameras, broadcast for the whole world to see.

I hope that I ultimately remember the Willie Randolph from the 2005 season; a stoic professional beaming before the press at his first and long awaited managerial position. He seemed like the perfect man to take the reigns of the “new” Mets, as dubbed by then free agent signee Carlos Beltran. I hope that I remember the Willie Randolph from 2006 when it seemed as if he and the team could do no wrong. There was truly a love affair between the team and fans that year, and it will be a season I won’t soon forget.

Maybe my hunch was right, and Willie was no longer the right man for the job. Only time will tell I suppose. There obviously some bad residual juju hovering around this team from last year’s collapse, and management decided that a change needed to be made. The removal of Randolph and two coaches will serve as that change. Will it exorcise the bad spirits, and send the Mets on a hot streak? Unless it also gets consistent production out of Carlos Delgado and Oliver Perez, and produce a healthy Pedro Martinez and Moises Alou I highly doubt it. The more important question now, is, even if the team does magically rattle off a winning streak of 18 out of 20 will I care?

Heeeeeeere's Ridiculously Unseasonably Warm Weather!

2008-06-10T11:14:00.002-04:00

	Johnny Carson: It is so hot out today…
	Audience: How hot is it?
	Johnny Carson: It is so hot…

Ed McMahon: Hey-O!