Sorry for the lack of posts this week, my 3 y/o stopped taking naps in the afternoon and it’s been quite a shock to my schedule. I’ve been unable to blog or work out and I’m about 13 weeks overdue for a haircut. When you have toddlers, afternoon naps are an oasis allowing you to clean call your parents read make dinner go to the bathroom by yourself and adjust fantasy football rosters. When they stop napping it’s like having to do double duty because your asshole coworker calls in sick EVERY DAY. Anyway, as my wife candidly observed, with my “wingy” hair I’m starting to look like a middle-aged, tranny Farrah Fawcett. On that delightful note, let’s get started:

Don't start making out with each other! GAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

1. Listen up Hollywood, enough with the incest storylines. First you traumatized us in Boardwalk Empire with Jimmy being seduced by his mom [my screams woke up my 2 kids making me feel like a TOTAL ASSHOLE]. And now Dexter and his sister are on the verge of getting frisky, making me want to give myself the Machine Gun Kelly treatment. Dexter’s killed roughly 10k people since the show premiered, but can’t he do something a little less scandalous, like eat a dead or burn down a nursing home? I don’t mean to get all Rick Perry on you, but what kind of country do we live in when a man can’t even sit on the couch at midnight in his boxers eating a sleeve of Ritz crackers watching a show about a serial killer without being subjected to offensive material? Anyway, I think we can all agree the two actors should get divorced in real life just to ease my sensibilities.

The one storyline I love this season is Batista’s 1978 Trans-Am, and not in a trendy, pretend-I-like-drinking-Pabst kind of way. I’ve always loved old cars, maybe it’s a lingering idea that guys who drive fast cars are TOUGH and KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THE LADIES. I distinctly remember hanging out in a Pizza Hut parking lot on a random evening in 1990 after a football game with some other freshmen dudes [in a related story, we were all single] when a guy pulled up in one of those mini trucks and parked so that he intentionally took up two spots. We all agreed that the guy, in his late 20s with lines shaved in the side of his hair, definitely got laid ALL THE TIME.

2. I’m a huge fan of Always Sunny, but the most physically-grotesque character on that show is not Frank Reynolds, but Dee. She always looks like she just returned from a 8 week heroin binge with Steven Tyler. FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST ON A STICK EAT A GOD DAMNED SANDWICH ONCE IN A WHILE YOU EMACIATED, ANDROGYNOUS PREYING MANTIS! Look, this is a serious issue and I hope someday to have the opportunity to address young women about eating disorders. Maybe I could go to different boarding schools on the East Coast and spread the message of my 10:1 rule (i.e., it’s better to be 10 lbs overweight than 1 under). Hooking up with Dee Reynolds and all the other chicks who look like they donated blood 40 days in a row would be awesome…if dudes who run cross country make you randy. [To the women reading this right now, why aren't you taking notes?!]

3. The Crossroads Classic

Given the Sandusky allegations isn't it a little tone deaf for Mike Brey to dress up like an Armenian porn wholesaler?

IU remained unbeaten on Saturday beating an Irish team that resembled a WNBA franchise headed for the draft lottery. At one point Notre Dame went over ten minutes without a field goal, it was like watching Larry Flynt trying to fuck the statue of Liberty. The Papacy cannot be happy with this collection of talent-less hacks in South Bend who, to be fair, look quite similar to the venerable ’09 IU team that lost to the likes of Lipscombe. After watching notably unskilled ND center Jack Cooley nearly concuss himself trying to secure a rebound, I think it’s fair to include tall men along with hot skanks in the DNA Lottery Club. If you’re a high school kid over 6′ 8″ tall, it’s a veritable lock that you’ll earn a college scholarship. [Similarly, attractive women are literally allowed to kill babies]  As someone who fantasizes about being both, I burn with envy seeing these gangly sasquatches earn BMOC rights merely by having over-active thyroid glands.

One quick note on America’s football team: apparently Urban Meyer is tearing it up on the recruiting front and making some great hires. It’s a sad reality of college sports that a grown-ass man such as myself has to obsess over the decisions of 18 year-old boys, but there it is. Anyway, what I find hilarious is this emerging storyline that it’s going to take Urban a long time to install his spread offense. This assumes we had one in the first place! Ohio State’s offense under Tressel/Bollman had three plays: (1) off-tackle right; (2) off-tackle left; and (3) stare down one primary receiver for 5 seconds and if he isn’t open, then run. Look, I’m sure it will be unfamiliar for OSU players to have to read an actual playbook, but it’s not like asking the ’00 Rams to run Navy’s offense. Okay? Good? NOW EVERYONE CALM DOWN GOD DAMMIT!

4. I can’t improve upon this article about the alleged “end” to the Iraq War. Oh, and it wasn’t even our choice to leave. Our Noble Peace Prize-winning President actually pressured Iraq to allow troops to remain past the withdrawal date. So if you’re keeping track, we lied about invading, lied about the horrors we unleashed AND lied about withdrawing. So it was kind of like all those times your spouse asks you how a business trip was, even though the whole thing was a made-up excuse to leave the State and score some meth & wager on dog fights and you fled the scene of an accident, drunk, after your rental car slammed into a school bus, killing three underage hookers in the back seat. On a serious note, just ponder for a moment that despite what an enormous, vile waste of lives & treasure this was, the only person in jail is that white trash Fred Savage-looking lady who photographed the naked prisoners at Abu Ghraib. Meanwhile, 3 NFL coaches were probably fired in the time it took me to write this post. Okay, I better change the subject before I get too depressed and hide in the garage next to the glue cannisters.

5. Time to update my People-Who-Deserve-To-Be-Kicked-In-The-Junk List! Here goes:

1. Mark Halperin (and everyone else on this list of media hacks)
2. Every hack sports pundit who writes hagiographic articles about Tebow.
3. Irrelevant bloggers who are too lazy to look up a synonym for the word “hack”.
4. Christopher Hitchens (posthumously) for his blood lust in propagandizing the Iraq war.
5. Caleb Hanie for being the worst person in Chicago since this guy.
6. The people who write those “grass roots” political chain emails.
7. All the animals who slept in their makeshift dens the last time I took my kids to the zoo. “Hey, wake up you lazy bastards! IT’S SHOW TIME!“
8. The zoo staffer who tried to tell me it was illegal to yell at monkeys.
9. Everyone who send out Xmas letters full of humblebrags.
10. The actors in Xmas commercials for jewelry stores. Hey, Kay Jewelers: you know what else “starts with K”? Kidney Stones, which are calcium deposits that make the act of peeing feel like you’re smuggling disposable razors in your genitals.

Would you like to pay $5 for some old masturbation jokes?

6. So I finally had to check out Louis CK’s comedy special last week, plunking down $5 to watch it online. On a related note, he was featured in a pretty cool Rolling Stone article that discussed why and how he set up the special to be downloaded (to avoid all the asshole middle men and their fees). I got a vicarious thrill reading about a seemingly regular guy who can finally call the shots after spending decades being screwed over by club managers, agents and producers. As for the show itself? I thought the jokes themselves were just okay, but overall it was still entertaining. I can’t really explain it, but when I have a history with someone who’s really funny, their future jokes/observations start from a higher plane. If one of my really funny friends or Larry David or Dave Chappelle walked in, looked at my shoddy appearance, and asked for a ride to the methadone clinic, I’d probably laugh. If Diane Sawyer made the same (only marginally funny joke), I’d probably cry and run upstairs to shave. But there was one joke from the special that nearly had me bust a rib from laughter. And that was when Louie talked about taking 1970s Bad Company hits from a joint and started singing “here come the jesters: 1, 2, 3!” For some reason it took me back to the first gym I ever worked out at when old school meatheads with their tight shorts and baggy shirts (the opposite of new school meatheads) would be in there rocking out to Bachman Turner Overdrive and Emerson Lake and Palmer, pausing only to admire their acne-scarred delts & traps in the mirror, high-fiving and urging each other to “TCB!”

On that classy/sexy note, have a good day.

[UPDATE]

Check out this article by Charles Pierce (who stands as a bastion of Hunter S. Thompson-caliber journalism amidst a sea of contrarian douchery that is Grantland) on Tebow and the culture war.

If this is a real beach, where are the disgusting old people?

As the world’s biggest misanthrope, it probably comes as no surprise that I think beaches are shit. I genuinely don’t understand the appeal. I enjoy watching the waves, but my view is always obscured by zombies old people walking by in their pastel sweatshirts or European tourists with their horrible skin. As for wildlife, seagulls are essentially loud, flying rats and you can always count on some dead thing washing ashore to attract flies. And the smell: like a bunch of fat guys having an orgy in a Red Lobster bathroom. Ever try to put sunscreen on toddlers? It’s like trying to feed someone on hunger strike. And the ratio of people who look hot/ghastly in bathing suits is literally 1:100,000 (seriously, there have been studies). And the only thing I like less than seeing other people in bathing suits is wearing one myself. Having to suck in my stomach for 9 straight hours? EXHAUSTING. So please dispense with the bullshit, Corona. You’re brewed in the murder capital of the world. You were rumored to contain urine. I’ve seen more people in east St. Louis riding clydesdales than hot people on beaches drinking Coronas.

2. TV Round-Up

I wish I had stopped watching at this exact moment.

It seems that Boardwalk Empire wanted to capitalize on the buzz generated by the Penn State/Sandusky crisis with an Oedipal scandal of its own. How will this be topped next week? Richard entering a rib eating contest? Nucky peeing on Jimmy and his mother while agent van Alden masturbates in a corner (while wearing a Garfield mask)? Seriously though, isn’t it weird seeing Irish Americans with Boston accents not wearing (replica) Red Sox jerseys and either scratching off Powerball tickets or hurling obscenities at tourists? FACK THE YANKEES YOUA BASTADS! Anyway, I’d write a recap of Homeland but I’m sure some other asshole beat me to it (and I kind of have to go to the bathroom).

3. I enjoyed this rant on parenting from Drew Magary since I can relate to anger management issues whenever my two kids give me the old Lord of The Flies treatment. The problem is that they know all of their punishments really end up penalizing me. I would of course never lay a finger on them (or pull a Tonya Harding and pay someone else to do it), but I clearly need to find a way to command some respect. Toward that end, I thought of a plan that involves my buddy Richard stopping by and acting like a huge asshole (NOT a stretch). And after a few hours of him giving me lip (despite threatening to take him to “time out”) I withdraw a starter’s pistol and pull the trigger 7-8 times (after which I carry his body outside and dump him in a trash can). Now, I know what you’re probably thinking: is your trash can big enough? Well, there’s always the car trunk. Anyway, my kids are 1 and 3, we dont’ need Oceans 11-style execution, so stop hassling me about details!

4. Some quick linkage: These Old Milwaukee ads featuring Will Ferrell are great.  And finally, some disturbing news from The Onion.

"What if she puts on that pointy bra and tries to adopt all of our children?! ARGHH, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!!!

1. Madonna has agreed to perform at Super Bowl XVIVLELCCCL so cue the outrage from locals: WHAT ABOUT JOHN COUGAR, A REAL HOOSIER?! Granted, a visit from Madonna would’ve been a bit more relevant 20 years ago, but are the pedophiles people clamoring for Justin Bieber being realistic? Despite our first-rate accommodations, it’s not like old Madge had to fight off U2 with a boxcutter for the privilege of visiting Indy in February. I mean, have you seen even non-celebrities departing airplanes in Indianapolis? It’s the same look of resignation that shelter dogs have after being returned to their cages. As for me, Neil Diamond could perform during a mass gay marriage while a bunch of controversial artists do weird stuff to crucifixes and I wouldn’t give a shit because, like 99.999999999% of the population I’ll either be eating, going to the bathroom or cracking jokes about Packers fans* (possibly all 3 at once). I’ve watched every Super Bowl for the past 30 years and I can’t recall a single halftime show, other than 3 years ago when Bruce Springsteen slammed his crotch into a camera and my (then pregnant) wife was awoken by my screams.

*You know how even in the dead of Winter you still have sort of a tan line? That nether region (the body’s Lambeau, if you will) are what Packers fans resemble: somehow whiter, fatter and hairier than everyone and everything else.

2. The outrage regarding the above item juxtaposed with the media silence over this tells you all you need to know about THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD [(c) Hacksaw Jim Duggan]. So we’re still killing tens of thousands of people from our last war to spread freedom prop up a brutal dictator who we later saw fit to oust …which supposedly ended 40 years ago. But at least we’ve learned our lesson about meddling in distant civil wars and the US is taking the lead in ensuring that the use of cluster bombs remains outlawed. Wait, I had that backwards. Funny how if those Vietnamese were killed by hurricanes we’d provide some half-assed relief, while deaths from US weapons will at most raise concern over local Nike factories. As usual, no one says it better than The Onion.

3. A depressing realization hit me as I was struggling like gangbusters to hit my Mendoza Line of 30 minutes on the stationary bike. Growing up, I desperately wanted to play football. When that failed (and several years went by), I realized my fitness ceiling was looking like someone who might’ve played football.  When that failed (and several years went by), my ceiling sank to resembling a professional tennis player. Now, at 36, my best-case scenario is a (retired) doubles player. It’s just humbling to acknowledge that IF I exercise regularly AND I don’t eat like an asshole (and never visit New Orleans) I’ll hopefully look like this. Perhaps I’m just being overly sensitive because yesterday my wife saw me naked in the daylight for the first time in about 9 years. Well, not totally naked. There was a wardrobe malfunction with my boxers and some business made an unsolicited cameo. For my wife, it was very much like seeing a mouse stuck in a trap: not totally unsurprising, but sad and unsightly nonetheless. So what should I do to bring the sexy back? Whiten my teeth? Skinny jeans? Please discuss in comments.

HAPPY PARENTING STORY OF THE WEEK

I’ve learned that parenting is a (hopefully) voluntary journey of a million indignities. Like a deranged prison warden you find yourself screaming things like “if you don’t stop putting batteries in the grocery cart then we’re not watching cartoons! THAT MEANS NO TEAM UMI ZOOMI!” (while a crowd of horrified shoppers look on). Anyway, this week my 3 y/o innocently pulled a stunt that turned our upstairs into a FEMA Superfund site. He’s been potty-trained for a while, but still wears a pull-up at night and is uniquely inefficient with toilet paper. And yesterday his penchant for waiting until the last possible moment to head for the toilet reared its ugly head.” I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say it involved washing bed sheets, plunging a toilet and feverishly scrubbing my hands like an OCD surgeon. Words fail. It made this scene from Silence of the Lambs look like a Thomas Kinkade painting. It’s days like that that make me genuinely wonder why/how those white trash Christian families make babies until their genitals practically fall off.

4. So I’m guessing those bumper stickers of Calvin peeing on a BCS logo are selling like HOT CAKES in Stillwater, OK. But since I’d rather burn myself with a car cigarette lighter than discuss the Bowl Championship Series (mainly since Ohio State is stuck in the colossally shitty and irrelevant Gator Bowl), we’ll leave that sordid story for another day.

Have a good day.

Peyton Manning wishes that just for once you weren't all such goddamned failures. Oh, and please donate to the PEYTON MANNING MEMORIAL CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL this Holiday season!

1. As a half-assed Colts fan, one of the few joys of the season is watching Manning’s openly-disgusted expressions whenever Curtis Painter sails a ball 10 yards over a receiver’s head. Reminds me of my dad watching me fold a newspaper/tie a tie/change a tire/load a dishwasher/start a grill. It’s the nonverbal equivalent of a girl telling you “hey, um, that felt great but why don’t you take a break for a while“. I’ve just never been a big Manning fan given my distrust of Southerners, his stint at Tennessee, the canned shots of his parents at every Colts/Giants game (the rest of the players must be orphans) and his petulant on-field demeanor. But since Comcast won’t make a deal with the NFL Network we’re subjected to every shitty Colts matchup, which is basically Comcast’s way of forcing me at gunpoint to interact with my family gamble.

"Herbie, remind me again which team is wearing yellow trousers."

2. Despite their seemingly cushy job duties, sports announcers age worse than porn stars. After a few years on the job, otherwise intelligent men are reduced to cliche-spewing morons who deliriously chuckle at every half-baked pun. Take Brent Musburger, who seems to have been hired to make Lee Corso seem witty. His folksy euphemisms (“Andrew Luck learned at his daddy’s knee…”) are enough to make me want to burn down a Cracker Barrel. Perhaps worst of all is saying a team got “taken to the woodshed”. First of all, nobody has woodsheds anymore. Even the meth trailers in Winter’s Bone had freaking gas pipes. And it’s been quite a few years since I took the bar exam, but isn’t beating your children illegal (even in the South)? I bet if I made some outdated reference to abusing kids (like threatening to ship my toddlers to a leper colony) nobody would think it was charming since I don’t have a Southern drawl. And don’t get me started on those creepy Gruden interviews on the tiny Monday Night Football RV that even the Colonel from Boogie Nights would find a little too cozy.

Gratuitous 80s Video of the Week

When I decided to be attracted to women in the early 1980s, videos like this was like that scene in Castaway when a starving Tom Hanks locates a buffet (I’ve never actually seen Castaway, I just assume something like this happened). But look at David Lee Roth in this video, what a showman! The jump kicks, the pelvic thrusts…you think some moody asshole like Chris Martin from Coldplay could pull this off? NOT A CHANCE!

3. Listening to a Pretenders song today made me realize that sometimes even people as compassionate as me have to be reminded that unattractive people can be talented. [I'm not saying I'm necessarily a hero for acknowledging this, just thought I'd try and go a good deed after seeing one of those Values.com billboards] Case in point: Chrissie Hynde. I’ve always had a thing for women who can sing (well, admittedly I pretty much have a thing for all women who aren’t bodybuilders). And Hynde’s no feast for the eyes, but she could sing me a diagnosis of testicular cancer and I’d swoon.

4. If you’re like me, you wait ALL DAY for the kids to go to bed so you can watch something that isn’t a cartoon or, worse, a cartoon of singers and dancers. Toward that end, let’s keep a ranking of the best shows on TV. Now, I’ll listen to your arguments but I’m really skeptical when someone recommends a show. My wife likes the show “How I Met Your Mother” which makes me want to gnaw through the cable line like a rat. Anyway, here’s the list:

• Boardwalk Empire (Stone-cold awesome. I’d watch ANYTHING by Scorcese: a show about mimes, my wife’s infidelity…anything)
• Homeland (A tour de force performance by Claire Danes! Okay, fine, I copied that from USA Today, big whup).
• American Horror Story (although now “gay men”, “girls with down syndrome” and “maids” have joined my fear index: sharks, public speaking, e coli, Carrot Top)
• Dexter (definitely not as good this season, but still enjoyable. Although the Dexter monologues are starting to feel like a Dodge commercial)
• Always Sunny in Philadelphia (I’d comment but 3 dudes in your office have probably already expressed dismay that you didn’t see last night’s episode)
• Southland (If this show goes off the air again I’m going to kick Ted Turner in the ding-a-ling)

Being a Mets fan is more embarrassing than appearing in "Rollerball".

7. Alright, time to do a quick top 10 list on the iPod. Quick note: I just figured out that Ryan Adams is a different guy than Bryan Adams. Thinking the latter was making a comeback, I thought “good for Bryan Adams, Canadians are nice people!” But instead it’s just another indistinguishable alt/folk artist destined to be played 24/7 in Starbucks nationwide. To ease our confusion, can we at least agree that Bryan and Ryan should fight to the death with swords? Anyway, here’s the list:

1. Aberdeen – Cage the Elephant (am I too old to like Cage the Elephant? Wait, don’t answer that)
2. Lonely Boy – The Black Keys (although radio stations are already playing it to death and I’ll probably hate it by Wednesday)
3. The King and All his Men – Wolf Gang
4. When the Levee Breaks – Led Zeppelin (they don’t all have to be new songs, do they? Okay fine, the remastered version)
5. Don’t Stop – Foster the People (and Nissan can eat a suitcase full of assholes for using this in their ads)
6. Polish Girl – Neon Indian
7. We Used to Wait – Arcade Fire (not a new tune, but I find it soothing, like stuffing a hot towel right out of the dryer into my pants)
8. Cuts Like a Knife – Bryan Adams (okay, just seeing if you were paying attention)
9. Helena Beat – Foster the People
10. Dark of the Matinee – Franz Ferdinand

8. Here is the least surprising headline you’ll ever read. And here’s the most frightening.

Anyway, have a great weekend. Check back later for updates.

[UPDATE]

Okay, I just watched last Sunday’s episode of Dexter and I may have to drop the show entirely off my list. This week’s plot twist requires a herculean suspension of disbelief. Look, we all have to give logic a hall pass while watching this show (attractive police detectives? NICE TRY HOLLYWOOD!), but putting Edward James Olmos in the church freezer the whole time?! Why not just have Dexter discover a trove of Miami Vice VHS cassettes that inspired Tom Hanks’ son to go on an apocalyptic killing spree? And while we’re on the subject of realism, this show takes place in Florida so where are the old people, con artists and Asian tourists that make up 99.9999999% of the Sunshine State’s population? You don’t actually see Floridians when you go to Florida, just like you don’t see Germans at Indy’s German Fest (just a bunch of Greek families serving SuperPretzles out of their shanty kiosks). Thanks for that 53 minutes of ass Showtime!

Anyway, here’s the backstory (via Indy Stary):

The Indianapolis Convention and Visitors Association billed the video as a marketing tactic aimed at Chicago meeting planners and business executives to build buzz ahead of the 2012 Super Bowl.

But what officials described as a cheesy video featuring tourism staffers and workers from seven downtown hotels in their own choreographed version of the 1985 Chicago Bears’ “Super Bowl Shuffle” quickly garnered hundreds of critical comments and even a petition and a Facebook page asking city officials to pull it down.

What a BULLET-PROOF PLAN! What a buzz-creator that video is! I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re awarded the ’16 Olympics, ’14 World Cup and every Super Bowl for the next 50 years! Who wouldn’t want to be a part of our zany shenanigans?! Anyway, now watch this video and tell me you can honestly distinguish which one is the parody. Not to belabor the point, but just ponder for a moment the time, $ and effort that must have gone into developing this atrocity: the choreography, uniforms and rehearsals. Short of a video capturing a drunken Peyton Manning brawling with a trannie escort over a (stolen) gas station sandwich, it’s genuinely difficult to imagine a film making us all look like a bigger bunch of dickheads. As an Indy resident, I find this whole episode genuinely appalling since now even those assholes in South Bend can enjoy a laugh at our expense.

So where does this rank on the all-time list of unintentionally videos? Does it knock Journey’s “Separate Ways” video off its pedestal? Please discuss in Comments.

Ohio State fans react to the news of Urban Meyer's hiring.

1. You’ve probably noticed how sports/politics coverage today seems to be a contest for who can be the biggest contrarian douche. To try and get noticed, aspiring assholes will invert logic to write something like “10 Reasons why Urban Meyer is Wrong for Ohio State”, or [Grantland version] “How Urban Meyer Destroyed his Family to Save the NCAA”. Well, I’m gonna give it to your straight, and I nearly LOST MY SHIT when I heard Meyer was going to Columbus. I reacted like one of those giant moms who gets selected to compete on the Showcase Showdown. For Buckeye fans, this season has been a nightmare: the ugly departure of star QB Terrell Pryor, the bungling of Jim Tressel’s termination, and worst of all was the damage done to the  program’s integrity losing 6 games to a dogshit Miami team and the weakest B10 field since players wore those flappy leather Cousin Eddie helmets.

At first, I was excited to see what a new coach could do with Braxton Miller and some talented (albeit, inexperienced) defensive players. But what started out so promising with a win versus Akron quickly fell into the old pattern of offensive ineptitude. It’s like when my dad used to promise to take me to the Tilt arcade in Glenbrook mall (in the early 80s, the older dudes at the arcade had mustaches, smoked AND could play Asteroids for hours, which was pretty much my 3-pronged test to see if someone was BAD-ASS). The day started out so promising! A trip to Wendy’s…a run through the car wash…but then we’d have to go to the post office…and then to his office (ostensibly to get a little work done, but mainly just so he could see if anyone left some stuff in the mini fridge)…and finally the inevitable decree that it was getting “really late”. Anyway, I feel bad for Luke Fickell, who in hindsight was given the task of mere custodian as evidenced by the fact that he had very limited control over the hiring of his own staff.

The entire B10 conference indirectly benefits from Meyer, one of the top 3 coaches in the nation. We are constantly reminded about the superiority of the SEC, which is often attributed to “Southern speed”. But what really separates the SEC from the B10 is the coaching disparity (and over-signing, and the absence of a conference championship ,which allows teams to continue practicing). Last year the SEC featured Urban Meyer, Les Miles, Nick Saban, Mark Richt, Steve Spurrier and Bobby Petrino. What B10 coaches match up? Do B10 fans really think Tressel, Rich Rodgriquez, Bret Bielema, Tom Bradley/Joe Paterno and Kirk Ferentz are on par? Bowl results don’t bear that out. Meyer is regarded as one of the best recruiters and most innovative minds in football. Hopefully he move OSU’s offense into the 21st century which will then force other B10 teams to raise their games in response. Beating a Meyer-coached OSU team will be a big deal. To anyone who doubts the conference needed a boost: on Saturday the B10′s inaugural championship game is between #13 Wisconsin and #15 Michigan State, and to say seats are still available is a giant understatement. So while Buckeye fans build their pepper spray tolerance back up in anticipation of future field-storming post-game celebrations, the conference as a whole will get a shot of innovation and relevance. Which leads me to…

2. Indiana basketball! For the past 5 seasons IU fans have felt like Joe Namath’s liver: beaten-down and attached to a program that hadn’t been fun or relevant in years. Subjected to endless seasons of ineptitude, NCAA violations and scores of the top players fleeing the State, the situation was bleak. But with super-freshmen Cody Zeller, a moderately-talented supporting cast and an assistant coach who looks like Pat Riley with AIDS, it’s refreshing to see the team playing hard and having fun. Speaking of Zeller, for such a storied program, it’s remarkable how few quality centers IU has had over the decades: Kent Benson, DJ White’s ’08 season, and…um, [still thinking] that’s it. Two quality big men in thirty-five years. Toward that end, are there any more Zeller boys in the pipeline? If not, can we book a suite for Mr. & Mrs. at the Sybaris? Anyway, with wins over Butler and NC State I’m cautiously optimistic about the direction of the program. I’m trying to stay realistic, like when your deadbeat relative who always needs $ “to take classes at the Learning Annex” suddenly shows up and he has a nice haircut and isn’t wearing a vinyl jacket with dragons on it. Expect the worst, hope for the best: it applies to watching IU basketball AND visiting gas station bathrooms.

3. Finally, a quick tip of my hat to Ohio State’s basketball team for beating Duke. Now, I’m no fan of that sweaty-dermatitis-gum-chomper Matta and his penchant for poaching Indiana’s best players, but an enemy-of-my-enemy-is-my-friend (a little something I picked up yesterday watching Steven Seagal’s masterpiece “Out for Justice”). It’s like when a seagull drops waste on your asshole neighbor. You don’t particularly care for seagulls (who does? they’re filthy and loud as SHIT), but anyone who hangs an L on basketball satan deserves praise.

Anyway, I’ll get back to a normal blogging schedule. In the meantime, check the Twitter feed you bastards. Have a good day.

Apparently too busy and important to reply to a few simple letters/videos requesting a locket of hair and/or tooth and undergarment.

But you know when your one senile grandparent sends you a Holiday card…in May, and instead of an actual card it’s a bunch of newspaper ads and Wendy’s napkins stuffed into an old jar? Well sometimes it’s just better to move on then go digging around for answers (How’d you get to Wendy’s? Did you steal that jar?). So without further ado:

Upon hearing the Casey Anthony verdict, old GW announced: "you know what? f--- you guys, we're movin' back to England. Martha, tell those tall fellows in the Wizards tunics to fetch my luggage"

1. I will always look back on the Casey Anthony trial with a mixture of sadness and shame, a day that will forever tarnish our national image. And it’s not solely because Ms. Anthony apparently got away with a grisly murder. Like most of you, I assume, I get all my news at the gym while occasionally watching the TVs (on mute). The first time I heard anything about this case Channel 13 was posting leaked photos of Ms. Anthony dancing in some seedy nightclub. And while my iPod was playing some old Radiohead concert albums (okay, fine, it was Warrant’s “Cherry Pie”, are you happy?!) and I remember thinking “she’s kind of cute, a little skanky, definitely someone who you could pick up at a State Fair, why’s she on TV?” and as the subtitles described the crime I was like “nooooOOOOOOOOO! I TAKE IT BACK” (I believe I said this out loud and the person biking next to me got up and moved). So that got me thinking, where does my gaffe rank on the scale of inappropriate check-outs (besides the obvious ones like relatives and Canadians)? Here’s my list, assuming you’re 35 years-old:

(a) Child murderers. Yeah, that tops the list. God I hate myself;  (b) Anyone between the ages of 18-24 or 45-55. This is a zero tolerance zone (and the reason they say you should always make a copy of the driver’s license of every woman you meet). You know why? Because eventually your’e going to drag me out on a “double date” and there’s going to be a time when you head to the bathroom and I’ll be stuck in one of those so-awkward-you-want-to-pour-lighter-fluid-on-your-crotch-and-jump-in-a-blast-furnace moments and I’ll either have to frantically pretend to be into whatever shitty Transformer/Fast & Furious movie is out or patronize some cougar about age being 90% attitude (“oh yeah, I’m sure none of the younger gals in your spin class can believe you’re old enough to have a daughter in College. CHECK PLEASE!“;

[I bet you thought I was going to say  retarded or obese people here. Well you know what? Go punch yourself in the groin, because (1) there's nothing morally wrong with finding a mate with some meat, and (2) I'm appalled that you think I just recycle the same fat jokes over-and-over. Apology accepted, let's just move on.]

(c) Dudes. Oh get off your high horse already! Like you’ve never been in a bar or some place and you see someone from a bad angle and then when they turn around you scream and run home and shower for 90 minutes?! It’ why men in the 1800s were forced to grow outlandish mustaches (it’s true!) and the reason guys should not be allowed to maintain long hair and wear skinny jeans or rollerblade (admittedly unrelated to this list, I just don’t like it); (d) You know what, on second thought I am going to include obese people on this list. I kept thinking about it and thinking about it and, you know what, those skinny/obese couples give me the creeps, like how the one does all the fetching and the other just sits there and tries not to be sweaty. Damn you nature for wiring freaky people this way! (e) Siblings of a friend. Fortunately, most of my friends have extremely unattractive families so I never had to worry about this. (f) Church skanks. Although let’s pin this one on god since maybe if the services weren’t so freaking boring we wouldn’t spend the whole time scanning the audience for attractive attendees and sick/boring people to avoid. Also receiving votes: dead people (like old photos of Elizabeth Taylor, not actual corpses you sick bastards!); mannequins; the cast of “Charmed”; cartoons/CGI (e.g., Avatar); corporate logos (e.g., Aunt Jemimah); voices (the OnStar lady); and finally, the Duchess of York (for my Brit friends only, show some decorum you bastards!).

There it is, the whole list. Everyone/thing else is safe to ogle. Until this list is committed to memory, you might want to carry a print-out in your wallet.

2. One final word on the Casey Anthony verdict: is it really that surprising? Think of some of the disgusting people you’ve encountered in Florida (aka, America’s Australia), all the seniors and ex-cons who loiter around gas stations in jean shorts and “big Johnson” tank tops (they still make those?) smoking discarded butts, trying to sneak into bathrooms whenever paying customers exit. Would you trust society’s wretched castoffs, a state where lotto scratch-offs are the primary source of income, to do anything competently, much less weigh the value of scientific testimony? On the bright side, this case may forever scare my kids from wanting to visit Universal Studios.

3. Before diving into a detailed discussion of the economy, unemployment and the budget deficit (see here), I wanted to first wanted to settle an argument I had with a buddy last week about whether it’s okay to eat a basket of discarded chips at a Mexican restaurant.

George Washington?! What is it now? Okay, okay, enough about the "Iberians", why don't you just lay back down for a while.

My thoughts, obviously, are that it’s ALWAYS okay to eat scraps, and the only downside is the possibility of getting charged if the previous diner forgot to pay. Unless of course the previous diners were kids (disgusting eaters), senior citizens (x2) or Asians (x5). The possibly-handled chips can’t be any more filthy than the menus, salt shakers, chairs, etc. And how long do germs survive, anyway? Based on the C- I got in Biology 101 (in 1994), I’d say not long. That’s why I always feel comfortable sharing toothbrushes and finishing half-eaten sandwiches out of my in-laws’ trash can. Anyway, I say throw the chips down the old hatch, it’ll only toughen the innards and loins.

Author: suck it, Editor, I've seen like 9 episodes of House! ”] ”]Sorry about that rant, it wasn’t particularly noteworthy or relevant, but it’s 9:30 in the morning and I’m already so hungry I just had to eat two handfuls of chips while finishing my coffee ["hey 7th grade gym teacher Mr. Miller, you said that with my "bad attitude" and "poor self image"  and "stupid shenanigans" and "sloppy physique"  I'd never amount to anything, we'll who's riding the high horse now?!"]

4. I just got the following rejection letter from Rolls Royce regarding a job I applied for last September:

We regret to inform you that the COUNSEL position you applied for has been filled. However, a job opening  for the position of Export Compliance Manager-00016305 has just been posted in our Career Section.  The job seems to match your profile and we thought it would be of interest to you. You can apply online or view Jobs to consult the list of other positions currently available. If you do not wish to receive further job posting notifications, unsubscribe now.  You can subscribe again later while applying for a position or reviewing your profile.

Thank you for your interest in Rolls-Royce.

The Rolls-Royce Resourcing Team

This is a system generated email.  Replies to this message are undeliverable. Please do not reply.

Shouldn’t there be a statute of limitations on rejections (whether for employment or mating)? In 1997 I asked out a girl named Meg out on a date and she never replied, can I now expect a form rejection letter now from her too? And is it really possible Rolls Royce just got around to making this decision, or isn’t it more likely the HR team kept my resume around like a permanent gag, like they’d make the new guy call me for references and then crack up laughing when I said I had to drive to Kinko’s to fax them a list (which would include some of the people I met at Kinko’s)?

5. Friend of the blog, and fellow REAL AMERICAN Xtian (of thehose.net), sent along this link about the upcoming Comedy Central Roast of Charlie Sheen. I guess it’s fitting that we’re going to roast a disgraced, washed-up star during Roger Clemens’ trial for perjury. Although as much as I love a good roast, this seems like the comedy equivalent of Usain Bolt racing Trigg Palin. The fun is knocking assholes off their pedestal, not kicking someone while they’re down and stealing their pants. My requirements for a good roast: (1) a relevant star(let); (2) who is retiring or embarking on a new gig; and (3) is at least a bit of an arrogant bastard. Thus, the benchmark will always be Stephen Colbert’s performance at the 2006 White House Press Correspondence Dinner. Colbert brilliantly took down Bush at at a time when people literally lost their jobs for criticizing the president. Anyway, here’s my list of people I’d like to see roasted: (1) the Pope; (2) Obama; (3) John McCain; (4) Tiger Woods; (5) Tom Cruise; (6) Robert DeNiro; and (7) Peyton Manning. I would sell the Statue of Liberty and one of the Dakotas to Canada to see anyone on this list get the full Jeffrey Ross treatment.

6. Alright, I have to make ANOTHER confession. It wasn’t “Cherry Pie” that I was listening to at the gym during the Casey Anthony footage, it was Warrant’s lesser known (and even less cool) song “Heaven”. You know what, maybe Mr. Miller was right. [Stop looking at me, I'm not crying, I have allergies and it's dusty in here!] Anyway, I’m off to polish off the rest of those chips. Have a good one. Here’s some parting motivational advice for you:

I look forward to college football more than every other sport, holiday and tv show combined. I love the pageantry, the traditions, the student sections and even the bands. I love attending OSU games so much I once hatched a plan to sneak into the Michigan game dressed as a National Guardsman. And as a grown man, I somewhat-ashamedly follow recruiting and beef when family or work interferes with my College football Saturdays. But as an unwavering fan, it’s become increasingly difficult to overlook the seedy underbelly of the sport.

First, there is the shameful exploitation of players by the NCAA, conferences and bowls which make $Billions from what is essentially a mandatory minor league for the NFL. [My feelings toward that esteemed institution are pretty much summed up by this South Park episode].

But what really saddens me is the way Pryor & co. are being vilified by fans and media alike. And for that, I think us fans deserve a lot of the blame. Many of the same fans who are blaming Pryor for Tressel’s undoing are the same ones who bought his jersey and begged for his autograph. As fans we prop them up on pedestals…and then stab them in the back when they act like divas. It’s always fun to see a blue-chip player select your school, but I always try to remind myself that I’m a 35 year-old man following the whims of 17 & 18 year-old boys. Part of the problem is simply that the players look like grown men. Another issue is that football has become our national past-time and a quasi-religious celebration of family and patriotism [if that sounds like a stretch, next time you watch a game note the prayers, anthem, soldiers, etc.].

Do Pryor & co. deserve the scorn and condemnation? First, I have to ask who the victims are of their alleged crimes. They aren’t alleged to have committed assault or driving under the influence. The victim is the nebulous concept of student-athletes that makes us feel all warm and fuzzy about college sports. But I sympathize with Pryor for two reasons. One, as a player he’s contributed more to the school than I ever will as a fan. I’ll never know what it’s like to have to study after getting my ass-kicked in practice. Two, he’s a freaking kid. There are a lot of rumors that Pryor is a bit of a prima donna. Even if true, so fucking what? As a 19 year-old I sometimes acted like a dickhead without any of the talent or fame to back it up. Meanwhile, Pryor broke the rules and he’ll pay his debts to the NCAA by serving a 5 game suspension. And after winning the Sugar Bowl, Pryor repeatedly apologized to fans for his actions. What more does he need to do for violating our fantasy of student athletics?

Meanwhile, Tressel is neither the criminal portrayed by media hacks nor the saint portrayed by diehard OSU fans. He’s simply a grown man who made tens of millions of dollars coaching in an ethically murky system that rewards uncurious supervision of players. Thus, I would like to see Tressel step up and condemn the fans who are blaming Pryor for his departure. Throughout his coaching tenure Tressel has consistently preached leadership and virtue and accountability, and I hope he stands by his words.

Finally, as Peter King might say while drinking a latte in a Hoboken strip club: I think I think that Luke Fickell will be a great coach. This could be the type of thing that galvanizes the team and leads to a great season. And if it doesn’t, and the NFL lockout holds up, I’ll be sure to post my mailing address for whatever rehab facility I’ll end up in.

"Bloodthirsty zombies have entered the studio, run for your lives!" Oh wait, sorry, it's only the Real Housewives of NY."

So I guess today is Oprah’s last show and unemployed middle-aged women fans are in a frenzy speculating on the identity of the surprise guests. She rented out the United Center and apparently Seinfeld, MJ and a manatee Aretha Franklin appeared on yesterday’s show. But even by mega-pretentious, self-congratulatory Hollywood standards, isn’t all this handwringing a bit much for a successful talk show host (with an admittedly popular book club)? Before we immortalize her as a combo of Rosa Parks, Billie Jean King and Betsy Ross (sorry, those are the only 3 famous historical women I’m aware of), this narcissistic spectacle begs for some classy satire and misdeeds. Toward that end, I’d like to imagine that I’m a man of power and influence (e.g., The Million Dollar Man Ted Dibiase) and I’d like to change things up a bit with the following guests:

I wish I could wager on things like Gary Busey vs. corn on the cob

(1) Gary Busey.  ”Oh, hey, it’s the star of…um….wait, hold on, let me think…[producer whispers in Oprah's ear]… 1991′s Point Break and current contestant on Celebrity Apprentice!!”.

It was a fantastic idea putting this man in charge of the world's 5th largest economy. Who could've guessed that electing a vainglorious Austrian politician could lead to disaster?

(2) Arnold Schwarzanegger. Just for the possible spectacle of hordes of ordinarily decent women descending upon Arnold like an angry mob of locusts (or whatever genus of insect travels in angry hordes).

I didn't have the heart to google an image of "testicle". My wife already finds my search history sufficiently horrifying.

(3) Lance Armstrong’s detached testicle. What’s it’s side of the story?

(4) Off-the-wagon Joe Namath. What could be more flattering than Broadway Joe trying to kiss you on the mouth (while holding a 16 oz can of MGD Light)?

(5) Lou Gossett Jr.  Oprah: “Oh, hey, it’s Montel Williams! [producer whispers in Oprah's ear]…I mean Lou Gossett Jr., the star of…um…wait, hold on, let me think…[producer whispers in Oprah's ear]…The Iron Eagle Trilogy and Blue Chips…[to producer] wait, Lou Gossett Jr. was in Blue Chips? Producer: “yes, he was in fucking Blue Chips!”

(6) 2011 Kentucky Derby winner Animal Kingdom [What? I like animals, does everything have to be a joke? You know what, fuck you guys!]

(7) Coolio. Just to settle a wager I made with my dad recently that Coolio probably now weighs 300+ pounds;

(8) Magic Johnson. We’ll need someone to fake laugh at my jokes and he’ll probably be in the studio anyway stealing food out of the break rooms;

(9) Chaz Bono (for the highjinx when off-the-wagon Joe Namath confuses her with Rex Ryan).

(10) Barry Bonds (for his contemptuous glare, and for Lance’s ball to have someone to sit with).

(11) a rotisserie chicken (for Gary Busey to snack on during commercial breaks);

(12) a Fathead poster of Richard Pryor because, let’s be honest, this looks like a real trainwreck of a dais and we’ll need all the laughs we can get. [On an unrelated note, I feel like Pryor could've released 2 CDs worth of material from this commercial alone].

More later…

Hmm, telling your worst secrets to a middle-aged stranger while a ghost eavesdrops? No wonder penance is such a hit with the pre-teens!

1. Okay, so my wife works with this old janitor who’s a partial owner for the horse (Macho Macho Man) who finished 3rd in the Kentucky Derby. And apparently this guy can basically retire now and he’s been running around the hospital celebrating like stoned Emilio Estevez in the Breakfast Club. How is this possible? I guess horses that place in a Triple Crown event are then bred about 200 times a year at almost $50k a session. Now, here’s where it gets weird: to breed the horse, owners use an apparatus that’s essentially the horse equivalent of a Japanese sex pillow and collect the DNA which is later shipped out to buyers. So to recap: at the tender age of 3, this mammal gets to retire, enjoy a lifetime of being bathed and groomed, is actually encouraged to take dumps on the floor, and is paid $50k every time it masturbates (all because he quickly carried some tiny Puerto Rican guy around a track). I don’t have a degree in Divinity, but is Seabiscuit what Buddhists aspire to be reincarnated as? That’s got to be the top job in the world, right? Maybe I’ll have to read some of that airport Hindu literature, although with my luck I’d come back as the mating mannequin.

2. Just a quick housekeeping note, but to anyone out there on Twitter who’s thinking of not “following” me, do you really want to have ANOTHER thing in common with Hitler? Seriously, I am sick and tired of your bullshit. No more of this “agree to disagree” crap, just check the Twitter feed every now and again. Alright?! Good, grand, wonderful!

3. And finally, Dear Reader, I must come clean with you. I haven’t always been the stylish, well-groomed alpha male I’ve held myself out to be (I don’t even own a comb – true story). I don’t necessarily have the respect of various street gangs, and all my toasts and commencement notes have been unsolicited. But in the interest of fairness, I intend to set the record straight regarding the following instance of truthiness:

I may have lead you to believe that I’m a patron of the arts, a real afficianado of canvases and frescas. Now, this isn’t entirely a bold-faced lie, but I should probably divulge the whole story. So remember when you were like 6 years-old and you were obsessed with seeing a naked [wo]man? There were always rumors about a friend knowing some kid he camped with who had satellite TV where you could allegedly unscramble the Playboy channel, but I’m pretty sure that was an urban legend. Anyway, as a kindergartner I was always the last person to get dropped off the bus. The 2nd to last guy was a dodgy high school kid named Randy. Randy was one of those unmonitored kids who could seemingly do anything he wanted: he had a mustache and an earring and he could smoke, start fires, watch R-rated movies, etc., basically all the cool stuff I was never allowed to do. Naturally, I thought he was the coolest guy in town and I believed every one of his stories (like how he could paralyze ninjas with a thumb gouge). So one day Randy was bragging about his usual schedule of ppv wrestling and fighting dudes with nunchucks at Glenbrook Mall, when he mentioned having a big stash of Playboys. Now, as a 6 year-old, I sought Playboys the same way Mormons covet Native American Jesus’ gold plates. It wasn’t even a sexual thing (I don’t recall if I even had an exterior penis at that time), I was just really curious. Now Randy, being an entrepreneur, saw an opportunity. He wouldn’t give me any of the magazines (assuming they existed), but for $30 he’d make a pencil drawing of a naked woman. I quickly surmised that this was a great investment opportunity, and the next day I handed over my entire savings ($23), which Randy readily accepted “as a favor to me”. Weeks went by, and still…no painting. Then finally, just when I had nearly forgotten about the whole shady episode, Randy stormed up to the front of the bus and handed me a frayed piece of notebook paper. I was now the owner of an anatomically-authentic, highly-detailed picture worthy of an OB/GYN’s office. Horrified (although trying not to appear uncool), I took the picture home and hid it in my dresser. Naturally, my parents later found the picture which necessitated an excruciating “rap session” about human bodies and money management. Anyway, that is the first (and last) time I ever commissioned a work of art.

Okay, that’s probably enough sex stories for the day. Have a good weekend!