I vividly remember studying for finals in May 1998 piled into one of those ridiculously comfortable $10 garage sale chairs that doubled for high-class livin' when the sun began to peak through the curtains and Good Morning America began its daily broadcast.
As I muddled through my notes for Psych 444 it became evident that this broadcast was to be Charlie Gibson's last on GMA. In no time I wielded my calling card/call-back service/10-10-220 or whatever we used for long distance calls before cell phones and had my mom on the other end of the line. Be it his Midwestern charm, all-around decent looks, or clever banter with Joan Lunden, something made Charlie Gibson a fetching and innocent beau for my mom. No doubt, the news of Charlie's departure would throw her world - or at least her morning routine - into a tizzy.
Flash forward to tonight and I'm watching President Gerald Ford's casket being placed in the rotunda of the Capitol building on ABC and good ole' Gibson - now a respectable Charles nee Charlie - is anchoring the coverage. He lilts out some word with midwestern pronunciation and it gets me wondering where Charlie set his roots. I do a quick flash to Wikipedia and discover he's from Evanston, Illinois. Well, there you go - that's a Midwest/Indiana phrase similar to the British "Bob's yur uncle." I'm sure Charlie says it all of the time.
Rolling down to the Trivia section of the Gibson entry brought about a hilarious/tragic revelation. Wikipedia editors want all of us to know that Charlie Gibson is "not related to Mel Gibson."
Is it more likely that Mel Gibson's anti-semitism has caused unsettling confusion around the ABC water cooler or that Wikipedia editors are on a crusade to preserve the reputation of heartthrobs for 60-year-old women everywhere?
Wikipedia, once again proving 100% of people are right some of the time.
After meeting the Hanson brothers in the immortal hockey chronicle Slap Shot, Reggie Dunlop is aghast that, "They brought their f*ckin' toys with 'em!"
Perhaps Tony Dungy should feel the same way.
Meer days after one of the most pitiful defeats in Colts history - a 27-24 undressing by the previously uber-defeatable Houston Texans - the Colts are in the Indianapolis Stargushing about their favorite Christmas gifts ever.
Of course, the calendar being what it is there aren't too many windows to fit into the local coverage how much safety Marlin Jackson loved the sh*t out of his Nintendo Game Boy. Yet, if I were the Colts and I had just given Ron Dayne his greatest Christmas present - a career best 153 rushing yards - I don't think I'd let it go to print that Dwight Freeney, Raheem Brock and Gary Brackett can't get enough of Voltron especially when they didn't sack David Carr once!
What's more depressing is that these gift stories illuminated heretofore unknown greatness...and the Colts organization ignored them. No one could stop three-year-old Dominic Rhodes or his Smurf big wheel which leaves me incredulous to why he would only carry twice for 15 yards and leave rookie Joseph Addai - who has no documented Big Wheel experience - to get the bulk of the workload...and almost a yard less per rush. (For the record 100 yards on 15 carries is officially studly. Nice work Joe.)
In all fairness, these interviews were most likely done well in advance of the Texans debacle so reporter Phillip B. Wilson might take a day off just like the Colts defense tends to do post week 10. Who am I to cast stones? Do all of the Blue Nation a favor though Colts. Beat Miami. And if you can't do it for your fans and yourselves, well...
Because I'm nothing if not a completist, I must encourage anyone who did not watch the culmination of the Stephen Colbert vs Decemberists feud to watch as soon as possible. The "Rock & Awe" challenge took up the entire episode, and featured an amazing cavalcade of guest stars including Morley Safer, Robert Schneider (of Apples in Stereo), Anthony DeCurtis of Rolling Stone, New York governor-elect Eliot Spitzer, Peter Frampton (and his vocoder), Rick Neilsen, and Henry Kissinger!
While the actual results of the shred-off will be debated for years to come, Henry Kissinger put it best when weighing in with his vote: The American people won.
We knew this was only a matter of time since most Europeans can't wait for the Rapture to settle the girding hostilities between good and evil. At the same time, the Vatican eleven can legitimately compete with the ever-present
fascist clubs, kick their ass and then absolve them of their sins.
Can't you just see their uniform kits now? Black shorts and shirts with a splash of white for the Roman collar. The keeper could don a blazing cardinal set complete with zuchetto (that's the pope beanie for you uninitiated). FIFA may need to adopt a new rule for players with rosaries dangling from their hips. Offsides is already a venial sin. And all missed headers will be officially notated as JTB's in deference to John the Baptist losing his header to Herod's daughter, Salome.
The possibilities are endless. Much like their nicknames: Papists, Fish-eaters, Re-Lent-less. I can already see them lining up for an infamous Sr. Alma Marie "Go Stand in the Corner" kick.
2006 provided some of the best and worst in music. Without further ado, here is my haphazard look back.
A Random List of the most bothersome musical aspects of 2006:
Jay-Z's apathetic comeback album, that only served to sully his legacy. He really is the Michael Jordan of rap!
Any journalist who at any point referred to the Dixie Chicks as "courageous."
James Blunt
Good bands that keep gettingtheirstuffstolen! Meanwhile, Hinder and Evanescence continue on with their gear unscathed. Where is the justice?
Me sitting in LA traffic, scanning through stations, and hearing a DJ say the words "I think that's the best song Nickelback has ever written."
1 chorus, 4 words: "This is our country."
The continued obliteration of the Black Eyed Peas former greatness, brought on by their abysmal frontwoman.
Songs from Grey's Anatomy.
Brandon Flowers' mustache.
But why reflect only on the negative when there were many positive stories as well.Many artists put out great albums, with a few of my favorites including The Twilight Singers, Silversun Pickups, Regina Spektor, Jenny Lewis, Band of Horses, Girl Talk, Bob Dylan, and many others. And a few arbitrary categories... Most Relieving Major Label Debut of the Year: "The Crane Wife" by the Decemberists
It had all the makings of a disaster - a heralded indie band jumping up to Capitol Records. A bigger studio and a bigger budget for Colin Meloy, who has constantly teetered the line of turning epic parables into self-indulgent sprawling messes. But to my surprise, Meloy did not take the overtly grandiose route. If anything, he scaled things back a bit, focusing on the songwriting and making the most consistent album the band has put out. And they still had time to take on Stephen Colbert.
In a year where Jay-Z's comeback album was eagerly anticipated (only to result in a huge letdown), it was Jay's signee Lupe Fiasco who created not only the best hip-hop album of the year, but also the best ever rap song about the trials and tribulations of skateboarders.
In a year when dozens of truly great videos were made, many utilizing state-of-the-art technology, shoestring budget camera tricks, and overall ingenuity, who would guess that the most lasting impression would a static one-take shot made by four guys on treadmills.
Best Video of the Year (that very few have seen):
The band (which has 29 members) is called I'm From Barcelona. The song is called "We're From Barcelona" and it will embed itself in your skull. The video is nearly as low-budget at OK Go's, and it features odd-looking Swedes with mustaches. Could you ask for more? I contend that you could not. I predict that this album (due out in March) will be one of the best of 2007 - put it in the paper.
Best Single of the Year: "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley
You've heard it dozens upon dozens of times by now, but don't let the saturation effect the essence of the song. Everyone who heard it for the first time was immediately intrigued, and that's something that just doesn't happen much in music any more. An unparalleled blend of neo-soul, funk, and pop music, every second of the 2:58 running time is perfect. And Cee-Lo's pipes are in killer form. This unique alternate version from Top of the Pops is epic as well.
Best Album of the Year: "Boys and Girls in America" by The Hold Steady
Much ado was made of The Killers aping Bruce Springsteen on their 2006 release, but The Hold Steady truly channeled the spirit of the E-Street Band here, while adding in some old-fashioned Midwestern sneer just for good measure. This album and band are clearly divisive in terms of critical acclaim, and they're not for everyone. Craig Finn's nasally rants are either embraced or reviled, but he actually took a shot at singing on a few songs, and his presence puts this album over the top. The track "Chillout Tent" will take its rightful place as the 21st century indie-rock "Summer Lovin'," and it features guest vocals from Dave Pirner to boot! God bless us all.
If you haven't checked out wiihaveaproblem.com yet, I can't recommend it enough. It's the number one source for checking out all forms of injuries and damage to personal property caused through using the Nintendo Wii. Of all the great wii-related videos I've seen recently, this one is by far my favorite. It features 60 seconds of heartwarming father-daughter bonding through video golf, with a truly outstanding line delivery at the end that makes it all worthwhile.
Dan Monson was forced out of the head coaching position at Minnesota last week after opening the season 2 - 5 with stunning defeats at the hands of teams like D-2 Winona State (The obvious matchup with Rider makes me thirsty for this season's Edward Scissorhands Invitational).
Monson, who took over the bench in 1999 following the great Clem Haskins farce, received a $1.1 million dollar buyout from his contract and turned over the reins to assistant coach Jim Molinari. It doesn't seem that Monson got rid of all of his duties though.
According to the latest USA Today/ESPN Coaches Top 25 poll, Monson is still a voting member of said poll. Big deal? I think so. The poll reflects the input of 31 coaches from Jim Boeheim at Syracuse to Ron "Fang" Mitchell at Coppin State. These coaches represent less than 10% of all Division 1 schools, and Monson isn't even officially coaching anymore!
Of course, I hope that I'm wrong and Monson's dismissal from his duties at Minnesota voided his poll chores. Yet, if Monson is still voting, what credence are we to give to these rankings? At some point Air Force (currently #23) will hear a chant of "O-ver-ra-ted" that they'll now deserve for so many more good reasons.
The Hawaii "Don't-call-me-rainbow" Warriors defeated the Purdue Boilermakers last weekend in a 42-35 slugfest. Hawaii gave up all 35 points in the second half after holding Purdue scoreless to that point. It took another strong-armed drive at the hands of stunning quarterback Colt Brennan to lock up the victory for the newly ranked Hawaii squad.
The game was broadcast in the Midwest via a ham radio hookup, descrambled through 1981 era cable technology complete with the Hawaii broadcast crew constantly tweaking Midwest ears with their Pacific pronunciation of "Ha-wa-ii" and Curtis "Pain-ter" who incidentally was named the player of the game for Purdue while being misnamed "Chris Pain-ter." The same broadcast crew couldn't say enough how a victory over Purdue - 18 point underdog Purdue - would be a win for the ages and solidify Hawaii's home amongst the football pantheon. As noted in Brian Neubert's article in Gold & Black Illustrated, "You'd have thought Purdue was the '85 Bears."
Following the victory, Hawaii head coach June Jones noted that "We beat [Michigan State in 2004] and we beat this team. If Ohio State came [to Hawaii] we'd probably beat them too."
Whah?
Hawaii has an electric quarterback in Brennan, yet the same Brennan will lose the Heisman to OSU's Troy Smith.
Hawaii is currently ranked 24th in the AP and 23rd in USA Today, while OSU is a definitive overall # 1.
Hawaii is lagging at 25th in the Sagarin rankings and a respectable, yet not perfect, 10 - 2.
Sweater vests always trump leis in awkward coach couture.
What are we to learn? Simply, June Jones is out of his mind. Pass the spam.
In the year that The Colbert Report has been on the air, Stephen Colbert's success has been quick and far reaching. He's confronted the dangers of bears, taken Stephen Hawking down a peg, and inspired twodifferent wikipedia biographies. Yet the times when Colbert truly reveals his inner nerd is when he may be at his most appealing. His encyclopedic knowledge of D&D and Lord of the Rings confirms his appealing geekiness.
"Indie rock outfit The Decemberists, who have shot a performance against a green screen and asked their fans to finish the video. Green screen? Hmmmmm ... where have I heard that before? Does THIS look familiar to anyone in the indie rock scene? Nation, we cannot take this lying down. So tonight, I'm announcing Stephen Colbert's Second Green Screen Challenge: to edit me into The Decemberists' Green Screen Challenge! Yeah, it's go time. You can find their footage at mtvu.com/reanimatethedecemberists and my clip, the original green screen footage, at colbertnation.com. Let's see how well they perform their trademark brand of hyper-literate prog rock when I'm slicing off their legs at the knee. [Pulls out light saber.] Oh yes. They will feel the pain."
"Furthermore, we'd like to announce the very first 'Decemberists vs Stephen Colbert Guitar Solo Challenge'. Put down the pen, Colbert, and pick up the axe! Let's see what kind of a man you really are-- let's SHRED. Let truth and good music prevail!!!"
Where the challenge goes from here is anyone's guess.
In honor of the upcoming holiday season, I will shortly be compiling my anxiously awaited Christmas mix playlist. While everyone waits for baited breath for that list to be revealed, it should go without saying that the best part of Christmas season is listening to "Fairytale of New York" by The Pogues, which is hands down the best Christmas song ever written. Seriously. If you don't love this song with every ounce of your being, then you are a terrible person. This is not up for debate. Observe the brilliance below:
p.s. Check out who's playing the cop hauling at the beginning of the video! Long live Dally.
If anybody is wearing Bad Idea Jeans this week, it's Michael Richards. 1994 was clearly a much simpler time for Kramer, although the lack of black people in this commercial is much more noticeable today.
I was sitting in the sports book at the Bellagio Sunday evening pissing away some money on races at Hoosier Park when I was struck by a few ideas: 1) Who bets on sprints? 2) How ironic is it that I fly hundreds of miles only to end up betting on horse races happening 25 minutes drive from my house? 3) Why aren't I watching the Bears vs. Giants game?
It didn't take too much time to realize what was at stake. This was much more than a game for home-field advantage in the playoffs. This was more than a surging Giants team running into a reeling Bears team. This was the Big Apple vs. the Second City. It was a good, old-fashioned, sports book mook off! There were requisite cheers for and against every play plus some guy who screamed for each snap to end in a touchdown. I kid you not, at one point the guy belts out, "Big Hit! Fumble! Touchdown! Arrghhhgh!"
It was a swing pass for about six yards.
After meer moments, I leaned over to my wife and proffered, "If you think this is nuts, wait till OSU and Michigan next week." This Saturday's matchup might prompt more security at sports books than the ill-fated Crips vs. Bloods Jone Off.
This 1 vs. 2 matchup is a slice of BCS heaven/hell depending on your allegiance to the Big East. I can't think of a bigger late season game in my life, and the coverage so far has backed that up. Polls and BCS rankings have been released and everyone's spewing stats and history all over the sports universe. Then it happened, and I knew it inevitably would. ESPN starts showing its "INSERT YOUR NOUN Lives Here" commercial complete with Desmond Howard's 93 yard return for a touchdown against Ohio St. in 1991. You know the one, Howard strides into the endzone and then in one of the most undercriticized dick-moves in sports history, strikes the Heisman pose. However, what so many people seem to conveniently overlook is the fact that Desmond Howard TOTALLY F*CKED UP THE POSE!
Try this: walk onto the nearest streetcorner in Whereeveryouare, America and ask someone to pose as the Statue of Liberty. They'll get it right; right hand up, left hand clutching an imaginary tablet, huddled masses at their feet. The Statue of Liberty is something most Americans identify with personally. It embodies ideals of excellence that most of them strive to display, much like the Heisman trophy might embody the football excellence college players strive toward. Desmond Howard totally screwed it up...and he had props.
Is no one willing to call out the legions of people who follow this sham and sully the legacy of Ricky Williams and Gino Torretta? The faux-pose has surfaced enough times since (from the 1992 Rose Bowl where big Blue got shellaced by Washington to Kyle Orton's paltry Heisman bid) to prompt action. Let's take a look at the dissimilarity between Howard's farce and the real deal.
1) Howard decides to pull his left leg off the ground at a rakish angle. The true Heisman keeps both feet grounded and in no way looks like he'spopping or locking. 2) Howard holds the ball in his right hand, Heisman tucks it away in his left. 3) Howard offers a flitty near wave with his left arm while Heisman is chucking out some dislocating, Kojak-yo-ass stiffarm. 4) Howard smiles a shit-eating grin while the trophy keeps all emotions under wraps, sneering until his post-game interview with someone fetching, say Rachel Nichols if she covered college ball, pulls out a slightly glinted grin.
It's quite true that this Saturday should go down in college football lore as well as being woven into the vicious tapestry that is the OSU/UM hatred. It will no doubt prompt something from the Dead Schembechlers. God willing though, barring any post-touchdown abominations, the game won't make John Heisman roll over in his grave yet another time.
I'm not telling you anything new when I say that if you see an Indiana Pacer out in public, there is a good chance that said Pacer may try to shoot you. It's inevitable, but those are the stakes.
And yet, according to an enlightening report from the Boston Globe, the only Pacers with guns (or at least licensed guns) were those that make up the infamous Club Rio Trio. A more surprising fact is that the Pacers have nothing on the Colts when it comes to packing heat. Check out the list of boys in blue who not only excel in putting Tom Brady in his place, but also in carrying firearms. You have to love the impressive, quiet dignity with which Marvin Harrison keeps his gun concealed. (P.S. Marvin, your license has expired!)
Truth be told, this only confirms what has been suspected for quite some time: You do NOT step to Jeff Saturday.
The better half and I will be trekking out to Vegas this weekend partially for a friend's 30th birthday party, but mostly to pray for a leather-slathered seat in the Bellagio's sports book from which we might revel in our first ever NCAA and NFL weekend. Seeing as I hit the exacta in the Breeders Cup, this seems to be my week for trying.
I began my research at bodog.com after seeing that my Purdue Boilermakers are a three point dog at Illinois this weekend. Now, I know that the Boilers have turned in some gut-wrenching defeats lately, but this is Illinois. I was ready to throw down my next paycheck on Purdue and at the same time dance that fateful dance of having good money riding on a team that perennially breaks my heart.
I don't get this though. How can Purdue be getting 3 points, yet not be the favorite as far as the money line? Currently Purdue is at -115 with the Illini at -105. What gives?
Truths are emerging: 1) I'll never catch a break nor find that gambling diamond in the rough and 2) The Bellagio chairs will be full of east coast mooks before my shuttle from The Orleans even gases up.
It's election day people, and I can't help but wonder where Puffy's "Vote or Die" campaign went. I suppose it's all fine and good to encourage voting in Presidential elections where your vote really doesn't matter, but midterm elections are just as important. Sure, you may not really know the candidates, or even know what their job entails (I'm not sure what the Warren Township constable does, but I'm pretty sure he has to perform all tasks while riding a horse.) Regardless, this is how democracy works people! And if I can't convince you, then I know of only one man who can. A man who always served his political office with honor and decorum. And that's my final thought for election day.
At one early point during Satuday's juvenile race at the Breeder's Cup, I'm pretty sure U D Ghetto was trailing by at least half a lap. He had the discipline and work ethic of a communication major, who half-way through the semester has yet to attend back-to-back classes of his required physics course and realizes that trying to keep pace by simply reading each session's powerpoint slides online is leading to certain failure.* Still, the horse was doing some things correctly (like running the right direction!) and fought off his senior-itis with equal parts vim and vigor, making up a huge distance down the backstretch to finish 7th! A lazy start, followed by a dizzying flurry of genius potential realized, culminating in a mediocre but less-than-embarassing showing. This horse is a true Flyer!
But I'm turning my ire to USA Today contributor Scott Finley. This chucklehead had the audacity to refer to America's favorite horse as "horribly named." Scott Finley, you clearly cannot be bothered to research where horse names come from, as a simple google news search of U D Ghetto would provide several stories leading to the inspiration of the name. Regardless of your confusion, it seems that you, Scott Finley, obviously must think that ghettos in general are horrible places - you elitist, racist, snob. Well let me you tell about about someone that I find to be horribly named. Scott Finley. What is that? It makes no earthly sense. Who would name a person that? Only someone who wishes for their child to grow up and become a hateful, ill-informed, vengeful USA Today contriubutor. Jerk.
* This comparison is completely hypothetical and in no way based on a former UD communication major currently writing this entry.
It's puzzling on a couple levels - the most basic level being that of wondering which executive greenlights the phrase "If I didn't hate it, then I wouldn't use it" when trying to sell a product? And are we supposed to believe that the narrator is ascending to the top of phone pole just to hand off a bottle of Listerine? Who can say for sure...
But none of that matters. All that matters is that the one using that ridiculous phrase is Morgan Freeman!
Get busy living or get busy dying. That's goddamn right. But whichever option you choose, try and do it while avoiding gingivitis.
From: Bodenheimer, George Sent: Tuesday, October 24, 2006 2:37 PM Subject: Monday Night Football
It's official: the record has fallen.
With a 12.8 rating, ESPN's Monday Night Football matchup last night between Dallas and New York delivered the largest audience in cable television history. We're only seven weeks into this new season, and already ESPN's MNF occupies seven of the top eight spots on cable's most-watched list. Clearly, fans are "ready for some football" on ESPN.
When we announced our new agreement, we envisioned serving fans like never before combining the 36-year tradition of Monday Night Football and the tremendous scope of ESPN's many assets. Today's news validates that vision and while we have only just begun, a milestone of this magnitude - underscored by incredible companywide teamwork - should be celebrated. Congratulations to all involved.
To mark this record-breaking performance, we will be offering a complimentary "MNF" coupon good toward the purchase of food or drink in any of our Connecticut-based cafeterias. This offer extends to any employee either working in or visiting our Connecticut offices over the next month. Details will be forthcoming.
Those promised forthcoming details came through today, in another internal e-mail. For the most part, the generosity of the Worldwide Leader knows no bounds. However in this case, the "bounds" in question is that of $5.
To: EES-ESPN Domestic Subject: Monday Night Football Employee Salute -- November 1st
As is often heard on Monday Night Football, "upon further review" the original MNF celebration meal coupon plan has raised a number of unanticipated, administrative issues. In an effort to ease the burden, the use of a meal coupon will not be necessary. Instead, we will provide an instant credit of up to $5.00 on the purchase of a single meal in any of our Connecticut cafeterias from noon to closing tomorrow. We recognize that this is not as expansive an effort as originally planned but it is still a great way to express our sincere thanks for the record-breaking performance and continued success of MNF on ESPN.
If anyone has any questions, please direct them to me. I apologize for any confusion this change in direction has caused. Thanks.
Put yourself in Brian's shoes. He's a die-hard Purdue fan in West Lafayette to watch his beloved Boilermakers lace 'em up against Penn State. Being a Purdue alum leaves a hankerin' in his heart for Breakfast Club, so he finds himself at Jake's Roadhouse at 7:30am Saturday morning.
Lo and behold! Sweet mother of all things holy, Brian lays eyes upon the prodigal Elf and commences to badger him and vomit heaps of praise and adulation on his elfness.
Brian discovers that the Elf in fact has not graduated yet, and has been performing at home games for the past three years. His identity is rock solid once the Elf performs the well-known digit extended victory dance. However, the Elf admits to having not made it to the last few games. Hold on here! The Boilers were 4 - 0 but now find themselves a paltry 5 - 4 and dreading the inevitable matchup with Indiana in a few short weeks. Coincidence? Brian and I think not.
Brian leaves Jake's with the above cell phone image and an assurance from the well-liquored Elf to be present for the ensuing ballgame. Brian then met his regular viewing crew in Ross-Ade Stadium and proceeded to muddle through the myth and folklore hoping to spot the Elf in the crowd and thereby cement another Boilermaker victory.
Quarter 1 passed as did Quarter 2. By halftime the smarting performance of the lifeless offense had us begging for one glimpse of Elf pointing precision, one romping Elf ping-ponging through the student section after a heroic Dorien Bryant reception. There was one kid in a great banana outfit, a pope, and an exceptionally sultry Dorothy kickin' it Wizard of Oz style, but nary an elf. The second half bled out like death by paper cuts and the Nittany Lions walked out victorious, 12 - 0.
No Elf. No victory. No rest for the weary.
We've found you, Elf. Please, drop the bottle and tune those overly large ears to the pleas of your alma mater. You are needed like the Knicks needed Willis Reed, Wellington needed the Prussians, and Red 5 needed Han.
An impassioned multitude cries out: "Say it ain't so, Elf."
***Update***
Check out the chick in the bustier over the Elf's shoulder. If that doesn't sell Breakfast Club, I don't know what will.
For a few reasons, I have never quite understood people who love horse racing. Maybe my confusion comes from the fact that I don't particularly consider it an actual sport, but rather a stock exchange with horses. It's a given fact that horse racing would not exist if it weren't for gambling. Granted, gambling is involved in every sport, but it's inherent to the mere existence of horse racing. To consider something an actual sport, the competition itself should be able to go off without needing a betting window present. Not only that, I also don't trust any sport where the subject of the race/game/contest has no idea whether they have won or lost. Maybe this is also why I don't like Bode Miller.
Nevertheless, what troubles me the most are people who consider horses to be "athletes." I remember watching Smarty Jones make a run at the Triple Crown a few years and seeing throngs of people in Philadelphia taking pride that Smarty Jones was from Philly. Seriously, people were going nuts because a hometown horse was winning races! They even had THREEseparateSmarty Jones days within a 5-week span in Philadelphia. I understand the desperate need to cling to any winner from the city, and Smarty Jones was a better shot at bringing glory before Donovan McNabb or Ryan Howard will probably ever be, but it's a horse!A horse, by the way, that has no idea where its hometown is. Still, the fans of Philly are nothing compared to the thousands upon thousands of people who sent Get Well cards (!)to a horse months ago. It's all pretty mind boggling when you think about it.
And yet, when the Breeder's Cup Juvenile race goes off a week from Saturday, I will find myself rooting for a horse. Not just any horse, but one with my all-time favorite name: UD Ghetto. He dominated the Kentucky Cup at a 17-1 underdog, and it's obvious from his trainer that the horse lives up to the spirit of his name.
"He's got a lot of talent (but is) a handful all the time," Reinstedler said. "You never know what he's going to do."
That statement can be copied verbatim to apply to any participant in a Ghetto 9-hole or Hairy Buff party.
So on November 4th, I will be rooting UD Ghetto, possibly with a Beast in hand just for old time's sake. I will be cheering with personal interest for a horse that couldn't care less about winning, and has no idea of the rich heritage that inspired his name. And God forbid, if that horse gets hurt, my get well card will be on the way.
It's very true. VD doesnt care if you play the violin or cut meat. It doesn't care if you're a teacher or if you're knocked up with Rosemary's Baby. The bottom line is that it's for everybody, and you WILL get VD at some point. Just accept it and enjoy the waltzing backbeat.
But what to do if you get VD? Luckily the ad provides an answer at the end.
"If you need help, see a doctor."
Oh, ok. I guess that's an answer. Thanks ad council!
Stalwart Elf-ites have dug up this image of an elf costume quite similar to THE Elf. While the Ross-Ade Stadium Elf is not as bedazzled as this one, you can get a better mental image.
Find The Elf, and I'll buy you and him a drink. And we're talking boilermakers here. That's a shot and a beer.
---YANKEES NEW CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT FEATURES SANTA CLAUS FLYING YANKEES PLANE; MLB CALLS TIMING "UNFORTUNATE" FOLLOWING CORY LIDLE DEATH---From the New York Post:
Talk about bad timing.
A new Yankee Christmas ornament sanctioned by Major League Baseball and bearing the team's official logo features a beaming Santa waving - as he pilots a plane.
"My reaction at first was, 'I don't believe it,' " said Midtown lawyer Denis Guerin, who yesterday received glossy literature touting the "Yankees Victory Plane" - "a limited-edition annual holiday treasure" - in the mail.
Guerin shuddered as he recalled the horrific events that unfolded Oct. 11, when Yankee pitcher Cory Lidle was killed after crashing his small plane into an Upper East Side high-rise.
Guerin said he and his wife were "shocked and dismayed" again when they opened the mailing featuring the Yankee Santa in a plane. He said the plane appears to be "going into a Christmas tree."
According to the advertisement, "The 2006 Annual Yankees Ornament makes the ideal gift for every New York fan on your Christmas list."
"Your team spirit will soar" with the plane on your tree, it says.
"We looked at it with our mouths open and said, 'How could this have happened?' It's very insensitive," Guerin said.
"I don't think it was intentional," the season-ticket holder added. "It's just a terrible mistake and terrible coincidence."
MLB honchos agreed.
"All I would say is, the timing's unfortunate," said spokesman Rich Levin. "I'm sure this was done well before the Cory Lidle incident."
Yankees officials refused comment.
"I'm not going to comment on it at all because it has nothing to do with us, it didn't originate with us," a spokesman said.
Officials of Danbury Mint in Norwalk, Conn. - the company peddling the $19.95 "fine porcelain" ornament under a licensing agreement with MLB - did not immediately return calls seeking comment.
A woman answering the phone in its sales department said the ornaments "are developed over three or four years.
"This actually was developed probably over a year ago," she said.
Still, Guerin and an expert on collectibles questioned how the ornament could have even been allowed to be marketed since Lidle's death.
"It's just awful," said Pete Siegel, owner of Gotta Have It Collectibles in Midtown.
He said the experience should be a lesson to organizations such as the Yankees that use licensing agreements.
Siegel said he expects Yankee fans to balk at buying the ornament.
"It's almost sacrilegious about the incident," he said.
Guerin said he couldn't imagine anyone buying it, either.
"You're going to have a Yankee plane on your Christmas tree?" he said. "Who's sanctioning this stuff?"
The Purdue Boilermakers turned in a listless performance this past weekend, losing to Wisconsin 24 - 3. Most hopes of a New Year's Day bowl fizzled with the lackluster offensive output. Some point to a resigned Coach Joe Tiller, while other nay sayers think the young team just doesn't have the chops to stand up to top competition. Theories for the lull abound, but I think I've out-thought them all.
This is the eleventh straight season where I've been privy to on-field action in-person (minus one season in the land of the rising sun listening to 4:00am kickoffs via Japanese DSL) and there are two institutions noticeably missing. First, the band seems to be dead-set against playing "Fighting Varsity," the official un-official fight song most commonly known for impromptu lyrics devoted to good friends and accident victims everywhere. Yet the band still manages to pipe out "Fighting Varsity" from time to time, leaving only one possibility for the current gridiron trough the Boilers find themselves in: Where's The Elf?
We here at Bad Idea Blue Jeans have hired noted MS Paint sketch artist Scibbly McDrawsalot to come up with the above composite of The Elf. Fans in the student section, north end zone, and especially Section 120 have delighted in both The Elf's post-score celebrations as well as his third down rallying calls when the Boilers have their backs to the wall.
An all points bulletin has been issued and can be found at the Smoking Gun, but we have the nitty-gritty already. Concerned citizens and football fans everywhere should be on the lookout for an elf that meets the following description:
Approximately 4' 6" tall, but well over 5' 9" with triangulated hat
Commonly wears green
Most likely earned a bachelor's in Organizational Leadership & Supervision, Marketing, or English Literature in the past 12 months
Minored in Psychology (but who didn't?)
Last seen in the 2005 season on the north fringes of the student section at Ross-Ade Stadium (tends to move rapidly and often, likely drawn to the cheers of appreciative fans)
Most likely aggressively pointing with extended index fingers in an even, back and forth, lateral motion
Presumed drunk
The current balance of Purdue football is askew, and sadly the future of college football may hang in the balance with The Elf. It is imperative that anyone with information concerning the whereabouts of The Elf, his handlers, costume, or former roommates post a reply to this item. Feel free to pass this information along to all concerned parties, but do not feel compelled to apprehend The Elf should you cross his path. He's quick and feisty and most likely could poke your eyes out with those fingers.
For the decency and spirit of the game, someone find The Elf. I'd love to buy him a drink.
Let's set the opening scene. You're a grown man who for one reason or another is standing in park shirtless. The obvious solution is the appropriately named "form fitting" Puritan clothing.
The vendor is really taking an interest in the eating habits of his customers, but that's neither here nor there. If anybody has any idea what that woman is using to apply condiments to her hot dog, please inform me. I have never seen a brush of any sort at a vendor cart, and I can say with relative confidence that whether one was available or not, I would have a reservation or two about repeatedly applying the remnants of a publicly used brush to something I'm about to eat. But what do I know?
I also enjoy the fact that Puritan clothing is apparently having a tough time filling up 30-seconds of ad space. There's no shame in running a 23-second ad and then just letting the piano fill over a black screen for 7 seconds, kids.
If you do nothing else today, you must check out SLAM online's cliffnotes of the Pacers/Club Rio/grown men named "Dino" and "Fingers" police report. The whole thing is golden, although #13 and #22 are my favorite on the list.
I'm watching Monday Night Football, and Joe Theisman just accurately and pointedly reenacted a so-called "hard count." Theisman detailed how the quarterback will raise his voice in an effort to enduce the opposing defensive players to jump early.
After this stirring rendition Theisman's boothmate Tony Kornheiser entreated Theisman to later explain "offsides and the 2-point conversion."
Silence and sarcasm then fought it out for presidence while Mike Tirico prayed for the next snap.
There are many things in live which simultaneously entertain and confound me. Recent examples include the unlikely marketability of Ok Go, anything Bob Dylan ever says in an interview, the 'comedy' sketches within "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip", and the absolute train wreck that is the NBC Sunday Night football highlight show (which I'll have to dedicate a post to in the future). Added to this list is the perverse joy I get from tracking where all our visitors come from is seeing how many people end up on the page through the magic of google search terms. Granted, most people who land here are looking for video of the "Bad Idea Jeans" sketch from SNL (and I'm guessing we just hooked a few more of you right there) but I'm continually amazed at the random ways that people stumble here.
Therefore, apropos of absolutely nothing, I present my favorite authentic google search terms. A few make sense. Most do not. But for one reason or another, all have led people to some of our greatest ramblings.
pat's girlfriend (NOTE: If you put this term into google, our page is the first hit, which seems odd for some reason. Maybe it made sense to whoever was doing the search.)
"I’m back to the humble Jack. I'm not one of the young guys no more. I'm one of the older guys on this team and I want to leave this game on a good note and leave a good impression on these guys."
As I've noted in a previous post, the Indiana Pacers are endeavoring to put a new profile on a team that limped lethargically to a 41 - 41 record last season, bowed out of the playoffs and left their collective fanbase clammoring for the likes of Rik Smits.
As of 3:00am this morning though, Larry Bird and Donnie Walsh now have to figure out how to spin a strip-clup shooting and yet another physical altercation involving the supposedly reborn Stephen Jackson. Looks like the front office is going to have to do more than cut J.O.'s hair.
This is going to be a tough one though.
You see, it seems from most media reports that the Pacers involved in the incident - Jamaal Tinsley, Marquis Daniels, Jimmie Hunter, and even Stephen Jackson - were for all intents and purposes working to get out of a bad situation. The altercation opened up inside Club Rio (not the classiest joints, and definitely not in the classiest neighborhood) and the Pacers did what all crisis interverntionist would initially suggest; remove yourself from the scene.
Whatever thuggish-ruggish folks were on the opposing side of the argument (initial reports say that Marquis Daniels insisted The Graduate was the best coming of age movie, only to be rebuffed by a yokel demanding he acknowledge the merits of Stand By Me) pursued the Pacers into the parking lot, hit Jackson upside his grill and knocked him onto the hood of his Bentley with one of their cars. As a matter of self-defense, who wouldn't fire five shots from a licensed 9mm in the air at that point?
Reggie Miller wouldn't.
Therein lies the rub. These are our Indiana Pacers. They're in strip clubs at 3:00am on a Thursday, armed with handguns (legally), and carrying the residue of a dime bag (but nothing of a criminal measure) in their Bentleys. As holy as Reggie was, he was still a party animal (the guy loves John Mellencamp for God's sake) and the Simons gave him a Bentley of his own upon his retirement. Reggie never drug himself into a hip-hop malaise though, and these four could be vilified for just being near this incident, let alone playing the part of some pissed-off middle eastern kid shooting into the air.
Pacers fans are not yet ready to wrap their arms around this team, and no matter how many criminal charges get lopped onto the jerks that perpetuated this incident and how many times we hear that Jackson was acting in self-defense (which seems to be 100% true at this point, although the Pacers' website is quite mum), Indianapolis is going to have a tough time forgiving Stephen Jackson...again.
Things have been rough in Pacer camp lately. The front office orchestrated a fire sale/line change bringing in young players/cartographers and hopefully assembling a team that the fans will be proud of.
The fans are still a bit skeptical, but the copious amount of newspaper and television ads along with reconcilatory billboards (two blocks from my house no doubt) have got the public hopeful for success.
Then comes this wee bit of man on man love. Shouldn't this be on the cover of some 6 hour DVD?
"You love me the way only a 6' 8" man with cornrows can."
Obscure 80's ads are all well and good, but sometimes you just feel like seeing something a little more familiar.
I should mention that I actually dialed 1-800-554-6100 just to see what would happen, but I got several rings without an answer. Try it yourself and report back to me if you get through to everyone.
Fortunately, the fun doesn't end there with the guy who had a report due on space. According to this guy's wikipedia entry (which Stephen Colbert will tell you should be taken as absolute truth) he didn't even have a name until he was five years old! He not only has a myspace page, but he also has 2 blogs - a clean one that hasn't been updated in nearly a year, and a bizarre, not safe for work one that feels like it should require a password of "Fidelio" to view.
Ahh Pitchfork. Such a quixotic collection of writers. Holier than thou in their reviews of all things rock, and yet the majority of time they know how write a review well, whether their berating you for not bowing at the altar of the Fiery Furnaces, or calling you names for having the audacity to like Nada Surf. I increasingly find myself more and more annoyed by the smugness.
And yet, I believe with the review of the new Jet album, the Pitchfork boys and girls have taken their trademark snarkiness to a new level. Enjoy.
After my fond farewell to woxy.com, and listening to their heartfelt signoff of the MC5's "Kick Out the Jams", it appears a white knight has been found! Bill Nguyen of Lala.com posted this on the woxy.com message boards:
Over the last week, I’ve seen the best parts of community online. While many websites describe themselves as a community, they’re no more than a bulletin board for folks to catch up. It doesn’t matter if it’s called GeoCities or MySpace, it’s just a big email account.
WOXY is dramatically different. Started by Doug and Linda and carried on the airwaves for more than two decades, WOXY became a place where people built memories and shared experiences through music.
While WOXY is broadcasted across the Internet to far reaching places, it always carries a bit of Cincinnati, OH and the incredible kind spirit of the people here. They’re independent and believe that music is more than just some form of content but it’s a part of their culture and their lives.
Over the next year, I’ll work to tell music fans across the States and the globe that independent music started in Oxford, OH and it foster in your city through WOXY.com. The music scene in San Francisco during the 60’s changed a generation and believe that what’s happening at WOXY could turn the tide of ‘one size fits all’ music.
What was started in Ohio may change music forever and define it’s future.
We’ll be providing some ideas for how you can help WOXY later this week and next week will be an amazing moment for WOXY and the future of Rock and Roll.
More than ever, I feel incredibly grateful for the opportunity to continue the tradition you’ve built.
BAM….
An amazing third life for an outstanding operation. And it comes on the same day that episodes of the "The State" are avaiable on iTunes! It's like an unofficial holiday. Go ahead, take the rest of the day off, America. You deserve it.
And now, a list of things that I have wondered about the past few days inbetween traveling to fish for sharks in San Diego:
- The "Dick Clark's American Bandstand Restaurant" in the Denver airport had 3 full bottle of Courvoisier sitting on the shelf. This seemed unnecessary. I'm sure a decent amount of people have indulged in Courvoisier while tearing through Dick's "wango tango nachos", but they could probably keep at least 2 of the bottles down below with the excess liquor. Or maybe they were just trying to impress me with all the bottles there? If so, color me impressed.
- Take a look at that boat in the picture. Doesn't it seem a little small to be fishing for sharks 20 miles out in the Pacific Ocean? Or is it just me? By the way, I'm the blob in the orange shirt and white hat trying not to throw up.
- After hearing Tim McGraw's version of "When the Stars Go Blue", I've come to the conclusion that country music radio would be well served if a Ryan Adams cover was played once an hour. Actually, I would recommend country radio stations actually play Ryan Adams songs, but we'll keep this suggestion realistic.
- The Dateline sting shows are still going on! What do you think Chris Hansen's parents tell their friends about what their son does for a living? There must be a nice way to sugar coat the phrase "self promoting journalistically retarded hack" when referring to your son, wouldn't you think?
- On my redeye flight back to Indy, I was reminded of a doctrine put forth by fellow BIBJ contributor Ross that there should be an upgrade option to fly on a baby-free flight. I'm not proud to admit that I was wondering if I should punch a screaming 2-year-old in the face, but I ultimately thought better of it and repressed those urges. I did, however, help security forcibly subdue a woman in her mid-70's trying to smuggle liquid lip balm onto a flight. These colors don't run, grandma! Take your liquid induced jihad somewhere else.
- When traveling alone, there are few things more entertaining than having a hotel bar chat with someone who has a foreign accent, especially Irish lasses who tell you to quit "having a laugh" when you make fun of them. Brilliant phrase, that one.
- If theseclips are any indication, the new season of Extras should be outstanding.
- I saw "The Last Kiss" and can sum it up with this review: Good director, great actors (I never thought I would be impressed with the acting chops of a Real World cast member), but an ungodly terrible script ruins everything (much like "Crash" - hey the same guy wrote both movies!) Yet the soundtrack seems to have gotten more hype than the film, as it follows "Garden State" in the catalogue of Zach Braff mixtapes. This is an amazing perk of being famous - your mixtapes win you Grammy awards. Grammy awards! Most music geeks would be happy if their mixtape got them an awkward handjob.
Is there anything more American than hamburgers? Yes there is - hamburger advertisements. McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King - their advertisements have become a part of the culture (And how about the Burger King laying out Torry Holt in the newest ad? You go, King!)
But does the work of Ronald, Dave Thomas, or the King hold up to some of the less famous burger joints? This 1971 ad from the Red Barn is second to none. Not only does it apparently feature the southern, less successful puppet brother of Sesame Street's Ernie, but it features my favorite staple of the advertising medium - testimonials given by actors playing real people. It a little disturbing how much larger the puppet's head is next to the blond kid, but the ad is saved from this logistical disaster with the end comment informing everybody that "for ladies and little people we'll cut it in half." Are they being condescending toward women? Or midgets? Or both? Regardless, The phrase just sounds disturbing on a few levels doesn't it?
Watching this ad made me immediately think of one of the greatest Mr. Show sketches ever. The 2:15 mark of the following video features a dead on satire of the Red Barn testimonials, but somehow the customers here just sell it a little bit better. (By the way, listen to this either by yourself, or with headphones if you're at the workplace)
A 2-for-1 bonus on the vintage commericals today! Take it from me. I love you!
After totally spacing on the Tuesday Vintage Commercial last week, I am back with a vengeance. This clip from the late 1980's is a commercial for Captain Ken's Beef Stew, which I'm guessing must have been a staple of Minnesota households of the era. It appears as if this product is no longer on the market, considering that google and wikipedia searches turned up no leads. This is a shame considering that the young boy in the commercial takes quite a shining to the stew (though he apparently hates every other product he gets his grubby little hands on. God bless.
What's the best part of the ad? The background extras staring at the camera? The old man in the fireman's helmet giving stew to random toddlers? The terrible overdub of the grandma's voice with the amazing accent? It's a perfect storm of entertainment. Godspeed, Captain Ken.
This quarter-page ad ran in today's Indianapolis Star, and quite frankly, it looks like Pacers CEO Donnie Walsh is "bringin' mea culpa back," a la Justin Timberlake.
Donnie notes that he's been around the longest and it's his duty to give the fans "a team that's fun, exciting and something to be proud of." Gee, you think the locals are a bit disgruntled after a brawl in Detroit (which still doesn't fall hard enough on Stephen Jackson, as Dirk Calloway will aptly note), the agonizingly protracted departure of Artest, and the lackluster performance this season punctuated with the listless get-me-out-of-here play of Peja Stojakovic?
Either way, I trust Donnie Walsh and I trust the promises from this ad. Why? First he's comforting an older woman that no doubt had season tickets back in the ABA barnstorming days at the Pepsi Coliseum. If she hasn't given up neither will I. Secondly, Donnie has brought back well-loved, get-me-back-to-Indiana Al Harrington. Lastly, you've got to trust any ad with Reggie Miller's face and name.
I still trust you Donnie, even though there are homers who think you should have drafted Steve Alford. Tell me though, isn't it a bit odd that a formal apology makes use of no current players? Can't we at least throw Jamaal Tinsley under the bus? Who cares. Reg-gie! Reg-gie! Reg-gie!
On a very steamy day in September 1997 I hugged a soaking wet and slightly disoriented Joe Tiller, head football coach at Purdue University, after having stormed the field at Ross-Ade Stadium. Tiller had led the Boilermakers to a 28-17 victory over Notre Dame, Purdue's first victory over the Irish in thirteen seasons. He was 1 - 1 at Purdue but already a god. Tiller went on to take the Boilers to a bowl that season and the subsequent seven that followed. Things were good.
Jump ahead to last season. Tiller has a highly regarded defense and a strong-armed quarterback, yet only manages a quite disappointing 5 - 6 year. The cavalcade of poor news begins: no bowl, off the field drama with a team increasingly sans chemistry, players leaving early for the NFL. Tiller does what any coach who still has a job after a season like that does: he shakes things up. The staff sees many new faces along with departures of stalwart assistants from the glory days. Lucky for us though, one member of the Boilermaker football organization survived the cut, and she just might hold the key to success this season.
Above is page 62 of the program to this year's season. Mixed in with ticket manager George Ade and Cheer and Mascot Coach Elvis Moya is a Football Secretary on the edge of the second row. Someone might want to check to see if her resume mentions any roles in Bond/Austin Powers movies. I hope the Boiler faithful are ready for another bowl jaunt, because there's no stopping Foxy Lafon.
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