In Hip-Hop, “beef” is fairly common. It goes back to the beginning of the genre. Originally, rappers used to compete directly. They’d trade insults and try to one up each other and it was all fun and games. It was like friends just teasing each other. At some point things took a turn for the worse. What always struck me as funny is here are these supposed badass thugs who don’t give a shit about anyone or anything. In fact they brag about how little they DON’T care about anyone or what anyone thinks, and this is one of the aspects of the music I enjoy so much. But the second someone disses them or makes them the butt of a joke, then all hell breaks loose. It’s gotten to the point that violence isn’t just a threat, it’s nearly a guarantee. Records are made in attempts to end careers. And sometime’s it’s successful, like when 50 Cent pretty much ended Ja Rules career.
Beef isn’t just a hip-hop phenomenon. Ask Axl and Cobain. There’s Toby and the Chicks or Van Zant and Neil Young. See Mariah and Whitney. Why do you think Harry Connick Jr got caught with a gun back in 92? He wanted to bust a cap in Michael Boltons ass for beating him out of a Grammy. The last example is pure speculation.
But no diss record or beef has done more damage than one pop song by a former boy band member. Justin Timberlake, “Cry Me a River,” not only ended Britney Spears’ career, it has totally turned her life upside down. The former pop princess is now walking firmly, or stumbling may be more accurate, in the hooker heels once worn by Anna Nicole. And it all stems from Justin outing her for cheating on him. She hasn’t been the same.
Hell, look her up on wikipedia.com. Her career is broken down like this with some highlights:
1998-2000: Early commercial success (
2001-2003: Career development (became first female artist to debut at #1 with her first 3 releases)
2004-2005: Great Hits. First sentence about this period of her life starts, “After her marriage to Keven Federline,”
And her personal life is broken down to pre-2004, and 2004-2006 “Marriage, children and divorce”
So maybe this explains why she passed on doing a duet with Justin, that might have been the final insult. To wreck a career, and then come back to them as their last hope is pure genius. Evil genius, but genius none the less. Justin did more for revenge than Michael Corelone.
The evidence is clear, well on to points. One, Justin killed her career. Secondly, I need serious fucking help.
----------------------------------------------
Last thought for the day. I got a new pair of sneakers a couple of weeks ago, New Balance. So fuck Air or any other gimmick they come up with, these sneakers have shoe laces that actually stay tied. That should be their selling point. I can’t fully express how happy I am to have low maintenance shoelaces.
August 31, 2007
Arsenio Hirp Show
Driving into work today, I was listening to “Mike and Mike in the Morning” on ESPN Radio. Wait a second I have two things to say before going forward. The beginning of the last sentence totally gave me an Arsenio Hall flashback. Remember when he was “driving in from Cleveland”? What happened to him? Shouldn’t he be hosting a reality television? Secondly, Mike & Mike is the highlight of my morning. It beats the shit out of any pooping.
Anyway, this morning the guys were responding to a listeners email. She, and the fact that this is worth noting will be apparent in just a second, was in a bit of a predicament because she has a dinner to attend Saturday night, in which she’s going to introduce her parents to her boyfriends’ parents. And she claims to be nuts about this guy. But at the same time her dinner is scheduled, so is her fantasy football draft. So she isn’t sure what to do. Let’s just take a second to acknowledge how cool it is that a chick is that serious about fantasy football, and it isn’t because it will give her three hours of quiet while her husband and friends huddle around a table in someone else’s basement.
She doesn’t know what to do, and so the fellas were debating what her options were. She could blow off the draft and drop out of the league, she could ask for a reschedule, she could send someone to draft in her place or she could skip the dinner. She’s having a tougher time with this than George W Bush had when deciding to invade Iraq or not. I understand the dilemma very well. I’ve been a fantasy baseball or football owner almost every year since I was 12. Scheduling a draft has becoming increasingly difficult. Thanks to the internet, it’s now possible to have owners spread across the country. But it’s a bitch to get everyone’s schedules lined up. To do so, then have something that in all honesty is more important pop up, is a real beyatch. And it happened to me this year.
My draft is actually set for tonight, but as life does sometimes, it sent me a curveball. After setting the draft date, a buddy of mine that lives in Chicago told me he was coming to KC. The irony is, one of his reasons for making the trip is to be apart of his fantasy draft in person. But he gets in a few hours after my draft starts, luckily we use the auction to pick our players, so I have it a little easier. My plan is to just blow my load early and get out of there. Sounds like the standard guy plan for a Friday night, right? But standard guy plans don’t exist in these situations. You haven’t seen ridicule till you’ve seen a guy leave either a poker game or draft early. But I told my buddy that he and his wife could stay at my apartment this weekend. So I have to be there to let them in and give them a key.
But technology has given us more than the internet as a draft aid. We have cell phones, and even more importantly, we have text messaging. Push comes to shove, I can draft as I drive up i35. Risks be damned, some things are just that important. Which brings us to the conflicted girls solution. She should text message her picks in. She can hide the phone under the table, take long multiple restroom breaks or just play the “work calls” card. His parents might be annoyed, but they’d also be impressed by her dedication. So what if they aren’t clear on what she’s so dedicated to. The dedication is what matters here. And isn’t that what they would want for their son? And in return, he might just be able to get her to try the one thing they hardly ever do, or the thing they never do. But if she isn’t able to get Bush that night, than I doubt he will either. Reggie Bush, you pervs.
Anyway, this morning the guys were responding to a listeners email. She, and the fact that this is worth noting will be apparent in just a second, was in a bit of a predicament because she has a dinner to attend Saturday night, in which she’s going to introduce her parents to her boyfriends’ parents. And she claims to be nuts about this guy. But at the same time her dinner is scheduled, so is her fantasy football draft. So she isn’t sure what to do. Let’s just take a second to acknowledge how cool it is that a chick is that serious about fantasy football, and it isn’t because it will give her three hours of quiet while her husband and friends huddle around a table in someone else’s basement.
She doesn’t know what to do, and so the fellas were debating what her options were. She could blow off the draft and drop out of the league, she could ask for a reschedule, she could send someone to draft in her place or she could skip the dinner. She’s having a tougher time with this than George W Bush had when deciding to invade Iraq or not. I understand the dilemma very well. I’ve been a fantasy baseball or football owner almost every year since I was 12. Scheduling a draft has becoming increasingly difficult. Thanks to the internet, it’s now possible to have owners spread across the country. But it’s a bitch to get everyone’s schedules lined up. To do so, then have something that in all honesty is more important pop up, is a real beyatch. And it happened to me this year.
My draft is actually set for tonight, but as life does sometimes, it sent me a curveball. After setting the draft date, a buddy of mine that lives in Chicago told me he was coming to KC. The irony is, one of his reasons for making the trip is to be apart of his fantasy draft in person. But he gets in a few hours after my draft starts, luckily we use the auction to pick our players, so I have it a little easier. My plan is to just blow my load early and get out of there. Sounds like the standard guy plan for a Friday night, right? But standard guy plans don’t exist in these situations. You haven’t seen ridicule till you’ve seen a guy leave either a poker game or draft early. But I told my buddy that he and his wife could stay at my apartment this weekend. So I have to be there to let them in and give them a key.
But technology has given us more than the internet as a draft aid. We have cell phones, and even more importantly, we have text messaging. Push comes to shove, I can draft as I drive up i35. Risks be damned, some things are just that important. Which brings us to the conflicted girls solution. She should text message her picks in. She can hide the phone under the table, take long multiple restroom breaks or just play the “work calls” card. His parents might be annoyed, but they’d also be impressed by her dedication. So what if they aren’t clear on what she’s so dedicated to. The dedication is what matters here. And isn’t that what they would want for their son? And in return, he might just be able to get her to try the one thing they hardly ever do, or the thing they never do. But if she isn’t able to get Bush that night, than I doubt he will either. Reggie Bush, you pervs.
August 28, 2007
Hirp On...
I’m wondering if Michael Vick’s people have already contacted the networks to set up his reality television show. Come on, I hate reality TV, but “Michael Vick: Redemption (or Salvation)” is a sure fire hit. He could go around apologizing to various groups, we could watch him work out, go through therapy, walk his dogs, interact with both his supporters and detractors and whatever else he needs to do to try and get his life in order after serving his time. Or maybe it’s best to wait till he’s nearing his release from prison to make this deal.
---------------------------------------------------------
Last night I watched “Californication” with my Shixa, have I mentioned you really need Showtime? Anyway, she hit the nail on the head with an observation. We were talking about how David Duchovny’s character and his sexual habits, and she mentioned that it’s interesting to see a guy portrayed as a male whore. She’s absolutely right. Typically, we see a guy sleeping around and we’re lead to believe that this makes him cool or a player. But here we see a guy doing it for the same reasons we always think women “whore” around. He hates himself. It isn’t to brag, or so he can add notches to his belt. He is so angry at himself for fucking up with the woman he loves and not being a good enough father, so he is self medicating. Sometimes he uses booze, sometimes he uses broads. There’s nothing cool about it, and you don’t envy him for it. It’s just sad. In a really dark and funny way, but it’s still just sad.
---------------------------------------------------------
Last night I watched “Californication” with my Shixa, have I mentioned you really need Showtime? Anyway, she hit the nail on the head with an observation. We were talking about how David Duchovny’s character and his sexual habits, and she mentioned that it’s interesting to see a guy portrayed as a male whore. She’s absolutely right. Typically, we see a guy sleeping around and we’re lead to believe that this makes him cool or a player. But here we see a guy doing it for the same reasons we always think women “whore” around. He hates himself. It isn’t to brag, or so he can add notches to his belt. He is so angry at himself for fucking up with the woman he loves and not being a good enough father, so he is self medicating. Sometimes he uses booze, sometimes he uses broads. There’s nothing cool about it, and you don’t envy him for it. It’s just sad. In a really dark and funny way, but it’s still just sad.
August 27, 2007
Hirpasms
I really need to step up my blog game, as the kids would say. I’m not sure what has happened. I tell myself that it’s normal, just a phase. I’m sure everyone has swings in their blogging frequency. I haven’t had the time, I’ve been tired, I just haven’t felt it lately. They are all excuses, I know this. It comes down to just making the effort and finding the time. It isn’t as if every entry requires a substantial amount of time, sometimes I can pound out a quick yet quality post in just a few moments. So I’m going to make an effort going forward. That’s the only promise I can make right now.
• I’m a bit bummed that I didn’t win the $314 million powerball this weekend. It isn’t like I was planning on spending every dime. I had a very well thought out plan for the money. I’m considering pressing charges against the winner, er, thief who stole my millions from me. Revenge will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.
• No one, not even a Powerball winner, has more luck than Vinnie Chase and the boys. Who else runs into Kanye West at an airport and bums a ride to Cannes? Can private jets really just change their flight plans like that? That should probably worry us right? Bin Laden supposedly has a bit of disposable income, why doesn’t he just charter his next terrorist attack?
I read that we will never hear Mrs. Ari Gold’s first name, but at some point we will find out Turtle’s real name. I’m guessing it’s not something as boring as Anthony, but something more like Anofrio or Salvatore.
• I love it, I just read that Michael Vick said, “through this situation, I’ve found Jesus.” He also apologized to his fans, the NFL and pretty much everyone else. Why can’t he just tell the truth? He’s sorry he just cost himself something like $80 million because he was a complete idiot? No need to talk about Jesus, or a fake apology to the kids. He’s sorry he’s going to be spending a nice portion of his life in a very cold cell. He’s sorry that instead of cashing checks, he has to write large checks to pay for his mistake. He’s sorry that he got caught, and that’s about it. I’d love to see an honest apology like that.
Really, what are we supposed to think? Oh, you’re sorry and on top of that you found Jesus. I guess that makes it all worth it. I think we would all be better off had he never found Jesus if that meant he also never found dog fighting. Apologizing after you cop a plea doesn’t mean shit. It’s like a kid apologizing for skipping class, only after getting caught. After the fact apologies have about as much value as shit in a paper bag.
• So Britney Spears turned down a duet with Justin that was to be produced by Timbaland. Basically, she’s drowning in the middle of the Pacific and when a 60’ yacht came to her rescue, she thought treading water was a better option. Those sharks nipping at her white trash heels must not be a concern for her. Seriously, she’s completely retarded. Everything he touches goes platinum right now, and everything she touches turns into litigation.
• I’m a bit bummed that I didn’t win the $314 million powerball this weekend. It isn’t like I was planning on spending every dime. I had a very well thought out plan for the money. I’m considering pressing charges against the winner, er, thief who stole my millions from me. Revenge will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.
• No one, not even a Powerball winner, has more luck than Vinnie Chase and the boys. Who else runs into Kanye West at an airport and bums a ride to Cannes? Can private jets really just change their flight plans like that? That should probably worry us right? Bin Laden supposedly has a bit of disposable income, why doesn’t he just charter his next terrorist attack?
I read that we will never hear Mrs. Ari Gold’s first name, but at some point we will find out Turtle’s real name. I’m guessing it’s not something as boring as Anthony, but something more like Anofrio or Salvatore.
• I love it, I just read that Michael Vick said, “through this situation, I’ve found Jesus.” He also apologized to his fans, the NFL and pretty much everyone else. Why can’t he just tell the truth? He’s sorry he just cost himself something like $80 million because he was a complete idiot? No need to talk about Jesus, or a fake apology to the kids. He’s sorry he’s going to be spending a nice portion of his life in a very cold cell. He’s sorry that instead of cashing checks, he has to write large checks to pay for his mistake. He’s sorry that he got caught, and that’s about it. I’d love to see an honest apology like that.
Really, what are we supposed to think? Oh, you’re sorry and on top of that you found Jesus. I guess that makes it all worth it. I think we would all be better off had he never found Jesus if that meant he also never found dog fighting. Apologizing after you cop a plea doesn’t mean shit. It’s like a kid apologizing for skipping class, only after getting caught. After the fact apologies have about as much value as shit in a paper bag.
• So Britney Spears turned down a duet with Justin that was to be produced by Timbaland. Basically, she’s drowning in the middle of the Pacific and when a 60’ yacht came to her rescue, she thought treading water was a better option. Those sharks nipping at her white trash heels must not be a concern for her. Seriously, she’s completely retarded. Everything he touches goes platinum right now, and everything she touches turns into litigation.
August 20, 2007
Hirpsonal
Every family has their own bag of crap deal with. This may not sound like some great revelation, but for me it kind of is. For years I felt I was related to what I described, both in jest and seriously, as the Jewish Kennedy’s. There’s aside of my family that I always felt could do no wrong. Even this blog is linked, literally, to their successes. As a kid I often bragged about their successes to the point one might have thought they hired a minor to handle their publicity. All my friends knew my Uncle designed their dad’s Z, and today my friends know when they are seeing an ad on television that my cousin did. Just as they know that my other cousin is both a published writer and a teacher in a small LA community, Beverly Hills. If I made anyone a mix CD, it certainly contained songs by both cousins.
But for me, their successes were deeper than just what I could brag about. When I see them, it’s almost like watching great friends hang out more than watching parents and kids. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Like many families, our events often included some competition: Water volleyball, touch football in a field on a cold Minnesota fall night, tennis (when Americans played), basketball and heated debates. Being that it’s our nature to be competitive; I couldn’t help but compare my side of the family against that side. It isn’t that I came up in a broken horrible family, but the contrast was apparent. Where they went to world class universities and left their marks, I struggled to graduate high school and spent less time in college than Lohan has spent in rehab. Where they have these exciting, dreams come true careers, I spend most of my days daydreaming at work. Their spouses are summer blockbusters with the rest of the family, the spouses my siblings choose were, um, acquired tastes.
But last night I was informed, without any real detail, that they aren’t without their own family business. And I found myself oddly relieved. The perception I had was unfair to both them, and my self. It reminded me that I do call them the Jewish Kennedy’s, and that Kennedy family was far from perfect. As successful, charming, engaging and impressive they are, they aren’t without their own flaws.
But for me, their successes were deeper than just what I could brag about. When I see them, it’s almost like watching great friends hang out more than watching parents and kids. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Like many families, our events often included some competition: Water volleyball, touch football in a field on a cold Minnesota fall night, tennis (when Americans played), basketball and heated debates. Being that it’s our nature to be competitive; I couldn’t help but compare my side of the family against that side. It isn’t that I came up in a broken horrible family, but the contrast was apparent. Where they went to world class universities and left their marks, I struggled to graduate high school and spent less time in college than Lohan has spent in rehab. Where they have these exciting, dreams come true careers, I spend most of my days daydreaming at work. Their spouses are summer blockbusters with the rest of the family, the spouses my siblings choose were, um, acquired tastes.
But last night I was informed, without any real detail, that they aren’t without their own family business. And I found myself oddly relieved. The perception I had was unfair to both them, and my self. It reminded me that I do call them the Jewish Kennedy’s, and that Kennedy family was far from perfect. As successful, charming, engaging and impressive they are, they aren’t without their own flaws.
August 14, 2007
Showtime
Found a new show kids. If you don’t have Showtime by now, you need to get it. Call Time Warner or your cable provider today and sign up. By now you should know I wouldn’t lead you astray. First of all, you’ve been missing out on “Weeds” which is on par with “Entourage,” I shit you not. Season three just kicked off last night, and after you call and order Showtime you should run out to Blockbuster and rent the first two seasons.
Here’s the premise of the show: Cute and sassy soccer mom with two boys starts selling weed in her suburban (very Johnson County) California town after her husband dies. Soccer mom played by Mary Louise Parker, whom I have a slight crush on after her time on “The West Wing.” Her timing is perfect, and she is equally charming when chewing on the straw of her frozen Starbucks drink, dealing her youngest and his gangsta rap song or home made terrorist video, or dealing dime bags to her neighbors. Kevin Nealon plays her accountant and number one customer, and he hits it out of the park. Also hitting homer runs is Romany Malco, who you’ll recognize from 40 Year Old Virgin, and Elizabeth Perkins. There’s a fantastic mix of interesting pot, I mean, plot twists, ichronic, er ironic, commentary about life in the ‘burbs and the highs of parenting. Damnit, I meant ups and downs. Okay, that really didn’t work as well as I had hoped. Basically, it’s a good damn show and you should be watching it.
Last night Showtime premired a new show, “Californication.” David Duchovny plays, tell me if you’ve heard this before, a struggling narcissistic writer trying to find the inspiration to reclaim his voice and spends his time drinking and bedding more women than Wilt Chamberlain in his prime. He’s separated from, yet very interested in his ex and mother of his 12 year old daughter. And evidently, he often smells like pussy. How much wishful thinking do you think goes in to the writing? You know all the writers on staff are wishing this was their life. That they really were these tortured souls, and even though they are complete assholes to everyone they know, gorgeous women just can’t wait to “defile” themselves for these pasty nerds who only have great conversations with their keyboards.
Let’s run down movies and shows that had a similar premise: Permanent Midnight, Basketball Diaries, “Studio 60,” Closer, Wonder Boys, Sideways, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Anyway, that’s just for those keeping score at home. “Californication” may not be the most original idea, but it’s well done. I’ve never really cared for Duchovny, but he plays a likeable jackass. He’s arrogant, un-apologetic and strangely sincere. After one episode, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing more, but it isn’t a “can’t miss.” I’d DVR it, but I as of now, I wouldn’t feel as if I have to watch it as soon as humanly possible. There’s just isn’t a “Sopranos” rule in effect, but that could change.
Here’s the premise of the show: Cute and sassy soccer mom with two boys starts selling weed in her suburban (very Johnson County) California town after her husband dies. Soccer mom played by Mary Louise Parker, whom I have a slight crush on after her time on “The West Wing.” Her timing is perfect, and she is equally charming when chewing on the straw of her frozen Starbucks drink, dealing her youngest and his gangsta rap song or home made terrorist video, or dealing dime bags to her neighbors. Kevin Nealon plays her accountant and number one customer, and he hits it out of the park. Also hitting homer runs is Romany Malco, who you’ll recognize from 40 Year Old Virgin, and Elizabeth Perkins. There’s a fantastic mix of interesting pot, I mean, plot twists, ichronic, er ironic, commentary about life in the ‘burbs and the highs of parenting. Damnit, I meant ups and downs. Okay, that really didn’t work as well as I had hoped. Basically, it’s a good damn show and you should be watching it.
Last night Showtime premired a new show, “Californication.” David Duchovny plays, tell me if you’ve heard this before, a struggling narcissistic writer trying to find the inspiration to reclaim his voice and spends his time drinking and bedding more women than Wilt Chamberlain in his prime. He’s separated from, yet very interested in his ex and mother of his 12 year old daughter. And evidently, he often smells like pussy. How much wishful thinking do you think goes in to the writing? You know all the writers on staff are wishing this was their life. That they really were these tortured souls, and even though they are complete assholes to everyone they know, gorgeous women just can’t wait to “defile” themselves for these pasty nerds who only have great conversations with their keyboards.
Let’s run down movies and shows that had a similar premise: Permanent Midnight, Basketball Diaries, “Studio 60,” Closer, Wonder Boys, Sideways, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Anyway, that’s just for those keeping score at home. “Californication” may not be the most original idea, but it’s well done. I’ve never really cared for Duchovny, but he plays a likeable jackass. He’s arrogant, un-apologetic and strangely sincere. After one episode, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing more, but it isn’t a “can’t miss.” I’d DVR it, but I as of now, I wouldn’t feel as if I have to watch it as soon as humanly possible. There’s just isn’t a “Sopranos” rule in effect, but that could change.
August 13, 2007
August 10, 2007
Trippy
Last week I made my annual trip to Chicago. It’s always a good time, but this trip was slightly different. Normally I go up there, meet my buddy Red and we stay at our friend Bum’s place with he and his wife. They have this badass pad, which is the perfect place to crash at. Lately, we’ve been scheduling the trip around the Mets-Cubs series, and this year was no different. Although we didn’t actually get to Wrigley to catch any of the games, it still played a significant role in the scheduling.
This year was different because Red now lives in Chicago, and he couldn’t be there for most of the festivities. The biggest difference was the newest attendee, and the fact that it was our first trip together. I won’t downplay this, it’s a pretty big deal in the world-o-Hirp. As expected, we had a great time. But the best part might be the fact that it’s directly opened the door to our next trip. See, our flight out Friday was delayed. First it was 30 minutes, than an hour. Right before the second delay was announced, they informed us the flight was overbooked and they were looking for volunteers to give up their seats.
We gave it some thought, being that we didn’t want to get into Chicago at some God awful time. But in the end we took the deal. In return for taking the next flight, we were given a voucher for $100 plus the cost of our ticket to Chicago. And the next flight was just an hour later. A phenomenal win for us. Almost immediately we began discussing our next trip, being that we now had free or nearly free airfare to just about anywhere worth going to.
Las Vegas, New York, Phoenix, LA, maybe Seattle or Austin. The possibilities seemed endless. In a perfect world, I’d have a bank account that could support regular trips to exciting locations. As we all know, it’s far from a perfect world. We talked about the pros and cons of each city, debated if we wanted to invite friends or go just ourselves. Did we want to go visit friends or family or bypass all that? I started emailing some of our friends who just so happen to have their own vouchers that are itching to be used, to gauge their interest in going someplace with us. Then it hit me, the perfect place for the next trip.
If it is good enough for Michael Corelone to relocate the family to Lake Tahoe, it’s good enough for me. Tahoe has it all. There’s gambling, site seeing, exploring a new area, and peace and quiet and it’s very affordable. I looked online for some hotels, and came across a place called MontBleu. It looks amazing, and being that it used to be Caesars, I’m pretty confident that it is. From what I’ve seen during my research, Tahoe and Reno seem to be more like the old Vegas. Just writing this makes me giddy.
This year was different because Red now lives in Chicago, and he couldn’t be there for most of the festivities. The biggest difference was the newest attendee, and the fact that it was our first trip together. I won’t downplay this, it’s a pretty big deal in the world-o-Hirp. As expected, we had a great time. But the best part might be the fact that it’s directly opened the door to our next trip. See, our flight out Friday was delayed. First it was 30 minutes, than an hour. Right before the second delay was announced, they informed us the flight was overbooked and they were looking for volunteers to give up their seats.
We gave it some thought, being that we didn’t want to get into Chicago at some God awful time. But in the end we took the deal. In return for taking the next flight, we were given a voucher for $100 plus the cost of our ticket to Chicago. And the next flight was just an hour later. A phenomenal win for us. Almost immediately we began discussing our next trip, being that we now had free or nearly free airfare to just about anywhere worth going to.
Las Vegas, New York, Phoenix, LA, maybe Seattle or Austin. The possibilities seemed endless. In a perfect world, I’d have a bank account that could support regular trips to exciting locations. As we all know, it’s far from a perfect world. We talked about the pros and cons of each city, debated if we wanted to invite friends or go just ourselves. Did we want to go visit friends or family or bypass all that? I started emailing some of our friends who just so happen to have their own vouchers that are itching to be used, to gauge their interest in going someplace with us. Then it hit me, the perfect place for the next trip.
If it is good enough for Michael Corelone to relocate the family to Lake Tahoe, it’s good enough for me. Tahoe has it all. There’s gambling, site seeing, exploring a new area, and peace and quiet and it’s very affordable. I looked online for some hotels, and came across a place called MontBleu. It looks amazing, and being that it used to be Caesars, I’m pretty confident that it is. From what I’ve seen during my research, Tahoe and Reno seem to be more like the old Vegas. Just writing this makes me giddy.
August 08, 2007
Hirp Diction
I’ve been a bad blogger, and I don’t mean that in the Jules Winnfield way. I make no excuses, I just ask for forgiveness. I hope to re-establish myself as the eForce you came to know, and I know I’m overstating things just a tad.
Enough of the sappy shit, lets do this thing.
Last night Barry Bonds finally hit the record breaking home run. We all knew it was coming, some of us were excited about the prospects, some anticipated the event like a trip to the dentist and some were just curious to see both the achievement and the reaction. I fit the description for all of the above. After he hit the record breaking home run, which I heard about from a chime on ESPN.com and my girlfriend suggested we put ESPN on (how cool is she?!) we flipped the channel in time to see the celebration. Hank Aaron was pure class, and his statement erased any criticism I had of him for not being there in person. In retrospect, he was absolutely right to not be there and to handle it the way he did. I also thought Bonds was dignified and classy in his thank you to the fans, if only he’d show that side of himself 51% of the time rather than 5%.
Later I laid in bed mulling over all that had happened in the game I love. It dawned on me that this “scandal” isn’t any different than most modern day scandals. Driving in to work this morning, Peter Gammons said it best on Mike & Mike in the Morning. He said that this isn’t the “steroid era” as everyone keeps referring it to as, but it’s the era of “whatever it takes.” Not just in sports, but in our society. We have Starbucks shutting down local coffee shops in every big city and small town. Target, Wal-Mart and megastores have replaced mom and pop shops. Our politicians are willing to say anything about their opponents. The Catholic Church pays millions and millions of dollars to deal with it’s skeletons. There’s no one taking the moral high road. But we want our sports to be different.
Truth of the matter is, as disgusting this situation with Bonds, baseball and steroids is, it’s really very similar to George Bush winning the 2000 election. In all likelihood it wasn’t achieved on the up and up. Even if it was, the level of suspicion surrounding it is so thick you can’t tell the difference between truth and theory. And in the end, even if George Bush really did steal the election, he’s still President. You may not have voted for him, it might piss you off and keep you up at night, but at the end of the day he’s in the Oval Office. Well, at the end of the day, the name Barry Bonds sits at the top of the all-time home run list. Perception, morality, and what you may want has very little to do with the reality of either situation.
Those who write books or columns, make jokes on late night television and sell clever bumper stickers aren’t as righteous as they fancy themselves. As much as they feel they are trying to shepherd the weak through valley of darkness, they’re capitalizing off these huge “injustices.” I have yet to hear Mike Lupica offer to return any income earned from his book about the summer McGwire and Sosa captured our imaginations. I haven’t heard any players, who have tried and convicted Bonds and others of crimes, suggest that any team forfeit their World Series titles earned in this era. Bud Selig has kept every dime he’s earned, even though his salary is directly affected by the level of popularity which is highly influenced by the home run and not by the chemicals in those that hit the home runs. Just like Bill Maher, Michael Moore, Keith Olberman and Dennis Miller.
And you will know my name is Hirp, when I lay my blog upon thee.
Enough of the sappy shit, lets do this thing.
Last night Barry Bonds finally hit the record breaking home run. We all knew it was coming, some of us were excited about the prospects, some anticipated the event like a trip to the dentist and some were just curious to see both the achievement and the reaction. I fit the description for all of the above. After he hit the record breaking home run, which I heard about from a chime on ESPN.com and my girlfriend suggested we put ESPN on (how cool is she?!) we flipped the channel in time to see the celebration. Hank Aaron was pure class, and his statement erased any criticism I had of him for not being there in person. In retrospect, he was absolutely right to not be there and to handle it the way he did. I also thought Bonds was dignified and classy in his thank you to the fans, if only he’d show that side of himself 51% of the time rather than 5%.
Later I laid in bed mulling over all that had happened in the game I love. It dawned on me that this “scandal” isn’t any different than most modern day scandals. Driving in to work this morning, Peter Gammons said it best on Mike & Mike in the Morning. He said that this isn’t the “steroid era” as everyone keeps referring it to as, but it’s the era of “whatever it takes.” Not just in sports, but in our society. We have Starbucks shutting down local coffee shops in every big city and small town. Target, Wal-Mart and megastores have replaced mom and pop shops. Our politicians are willing to say anything about their opponents. The Catholic Church pays millions and millions of dollars to deal with it’s skeletons. There’s no one taking the moral high road. But we want our sports to be different.
Truth of the matter is, as disgusting this situation with Bonds, baseball and steroids is, it’s really very similar to George Bush winning the 2000 election. In all likelihood it wasn’t achieved on the up and up. Even if it was, the level of suspicion surrounding it is so thick you can’t tell the difference between truth and theory. And in the end, even if George Bush really did steal the election, he’s still President. You may not have voted for him, it might piss you off and keep you up at night, but at the end of the day he’s in the Oval Office. Well, at the end of the day, the name Barry Bonds sits at the top of the all-time home run list. Perception, morality, and what you may want has very little to do with the reality of either situation.
Those who write books or columns, make jokes on late night television and sell clever bumper stickers aren’t as righteous as they fancy themselves. As much as they feel they are trying to shepherd the weak through valley of darkness, they’re capitalizing off these huge “injustices.” I have yet to hear Mike Lupica offer to return any income earned from his book about the summer McGwire and Sosa captured our imaginations. I haven’t heard any players, who have tried and convicted Bonds and others of crimes, suggest that any team forfeit their World Series titles earned in this era. Bud Selig has kept every dime he’s earned, even though his salary is directly affected by the level of popularity which is highly influenced by the home run and not by the chemicals in those that hit the home runs. Just like Bill Maher, Michael Moore, Keith Olberman and Dennis Miller.
And you will know my name is Hirp, when I lay my blog upon thee.
July 30, 2007
Take That
So I was out for a drive this weekend, when someone cut me off. Here's video of what I did to him and all his friends..
July 27, 2007
Killin' It
Let me perfectly clear here, I am not defending Michael Vick. I’ll get to my thoughts on his trial and the accusations in a few, but first I need to air out some people. And by some people, I mean the majority of this country. I want to know how dog fighting is more vicious or cruel than hunting. I’m appalled by the allegations just as everyone else is, however, I think a lot of the people who want to see justice served are just as guilty of being sick bastards.
Maybe I should sit and wait for a response, but instead I’m going to assume what the argument will be and respond accordingly. We all know what happens when you assume though right? I make an ass out of you.
So let me take a stab at what I think I’ll hear: Hunting is a game, it keeps the population of various animals under control, hunting and gathering is in our blood, it isn’t brutal, it’s legal, tradition, and they are killing wild animals. I think that touches on most of the responses I’ll hear.
Well, allow me to retort:
Game: As far as I know, a game takes place when all participants are fully aware they are playing and have an equal chance at victory. Dog fighting is more of a game than hunting.
Population control: Have you seen all the dogs in shelters that are eventually “put down” because they can’t find a home? Also, I think this country has a population problem with bad drivers. Can I start hunting them?
We’re hunters and gatherers by nature: We’re complete idiots by nature. We have big stores that sell food you can prepare or restaurants you can eat in, so you don’t need to kill anything to eat.
Hunting isn’t brutal: Tell me that if you’re neighbor was just out minding his business and caught a bullet in the back of his head that you wouldn’t call it brutal. Just because the killer gets covered in blood after the animal is dead, doesn’t make it any less brutal.
It’s legal: So it is. We have lots of dumb laws. In Columbia Mo, clotheslines are banned but its okay to hang clothes over a fence. (http://www.dumblaws.com/) How about the fact that some 13 year old kid in Oregon is facing the possibility of being branded a sexual predator because he slapped a friend of his, a female, on the butt. They should throw the book at the entire baseball and football team.
Tradition: My people love tradition so much, we have a song called “Tradition,” but that’s a pretty weak ass argument. Maybe I’ll start a new tradition, from here on out it’s tradition to slap a dumbass.
Wild animals: So Bambi isn’t a pet of yours and Cujo is. I’m still pretty sure you wouldn’t dog sit for Michael Vick if he asked you.
So tell me, why is dog fighting so much worse than hunting? Animals are being killed for the pleasure and entertainment of humans. This reminds me a lot of how so many “pro-choice” citizens are also in favor of the death penalty. It isn’t about morality, it’s about power. It’s who wants to say who can do what.
Maybe I should sit and wait for a response, but instead I’m going to assume what the argument will be and respond accordingly. We all know what happens when you assume though right? I make an ass out of you.
So let me take a stab at what I think I’ll hear: Hunting is a game, it keeps the population of various animals under control, hunting and gathering is in our blood, it isn’t brutal, it’s legal, tradition, and they are killing wild animals. I think that touches on most of the responses I’ll hear.
Well, allow me to retort:
Game: As far as I know, a game takes place when all participants are fully aware they are playing and have an equal chance at victory. Dog fighting is more of a game than hunting.
Population control: Have you seen all the dogs in shelters that are eventually “put down” because they can’t find a home? Also, I think this country has a population problem with bad drivers. Can I start hunting them?
We’re hunters and gatherers by nature: We’re complete idiots by nature. We have big stores that sell food you can prepare or restaurants you can eat in, so you don’t need to kill anything to eat.
Hunting isn’t brutal: Tell me that if you’re neighbor was just out minding his business and caught a bullet in the back of his head that you wouldn’t call it brutal. Just because the killer gets covered in blood after the animal is dead, doesn’t make it any less brutal.
It’s legal: So it is. We have lots of dumb laws. In Columbia Mo, clotheslines are banned but its okay to hang clothes over a fence. (http://www.dumblaws.com/) How about the fact that some 13 year old kid in Oregon is facing the possibility of being branded a sexual predator because he slapped a friend of his, a female, on the butt. They should throw the book at the entire baseball and football team.
Tradition: My people love tradition so much, we have a song called “Tradition,” but that’s a pretty weak ass argument. Maybe I’ll start a new tradition, from here on out it’s tradition to slap a dumbass.
Wild animals: So Bambi isn’t a pet of yours and Cujo is. I’m still pretty sure you wouldn’t dog sit for Michael Vick if he asked you.
So tell me, why is dog fighting so much worse than hunting? Animals are being killed for the pleasure and entertainment of humans. This reminds me a lot of how so many “pro-choice” citizens are also in favor of the death penalty. It isn’t about morality, it’s about power. It’s who wants to say who can do what.
July 23, 2007
No Joy in Hirpville
Watching Sports Center has become as depressing and upsetting as watching the news. It used to be that sports were a distraction from reality. The ballpark or arena was a place to cheer for larger than life personalities that did amazing things. We saw that the impossible was actually possible. Things sure done changed. The front page looks like a police blotter and a gossip column. The lead story is almost never about a game, and scores are an after thought.
The biggest stories in the big three should be much different. In baseball, it should be this fantastically symmetrical story. We have Barry Bonds, the son of a very good ball player who is also the Godson of perhaps the greatest player to ever play, Willie Mays, chasing down the most famous record in all of sports, 755, the home run record that belongs to Hank Aaron. In basketball, the story should be about the San Antonio Spurs winning their 4th championship in 9 years and their place in history. The main story in the NFL should be surrounding two great quarterbacks jockeying for their place among the all-time greats. With one we had a man defending the title that eluded him like an Oscar eluded Scoresese, and the other looking to recapture his crown.
Instead of stories about what actually takes place between the lines, we have scandal after scandal. And these aren’t run of the mill, someone was caught in a limo with a tranny and blow scandals. These aren’t scandals that just rip apart one athlete’s reputation, no these are much bigger. Two of the three scandals directly question the integrity of it all. In the NBA, the big scandal is a referee with a gambling problem that has been accused of point shaving. This referee just happens to have been working some of the biggest and ironical enough, most controversial games of the past season, including the post-season. Baseball has the well documented steroid scandal, which looks more like a witch hunt than a search for truth and justice. Bud Selig is acting like a jealous ex-boyfriend, determined to keep from moving forward with his life. Football has the one scandal that really doesn’t question the integrity of the game, just the humanity of one of its biggest stars. Michael Vick has been indicted for playing a major role in the underworld community of dog fighting. Did I mention that he allegedly killed dogs by electrocution, drowning, slamming against walls and the old reliable bullet to the brain?
(Also worth mentioning is a PGA vet has gone on record that steroids are now in golf, some of Nascar’s most popular drivers (these guys can make left turns all day long) have been caught with “illegal” cars and there was a wrestler that just took out himself and his family.)
All of this does takes our attention away from the very real possibility that we have five of the top 10 basketball players of all time, in various phases of their careers (Bryant, James, Wade, Shaq, Duncan). That we have the best baseball player (Bonds) and best pitcher of all-time (Clemens), nearing the ends of their careers, some of the brightest upcoming talents and another guy in his prime (Alex Rodriguez) who may end up as the best ever. Manning and Brady are in the mix for best quarterback ever, perhaps the best running back ever (Tomlinson) and one of the greatest coaches (Belichick) at the helm of an NFL dynasty.
So what does that leave for the kids, or any of us, to cheer for? I don’t believe, for a second, that any of these are isolated incidents. I think steroids are imbedded in every sport, and try as I might, I can’t believe that only one referee, umpire or player has used his influence to impact the outcome of a game to his own benefit. And I’m scared to find out how many of our “heroes” pass the time by placing bets on dogs killing each other.
It wasn’t like sports were scandal free when I was growing up. But most of the time they were stories of individuals that could win on the field but could never defeat their own demons. The papers said it was drugs, but it was really an internal battle more fierce than anything we saw between the lines. They’d come back, fail again and maybe get clean for good. Sometime’s they went to prison, but these events also made them human. They weren’t just a jersey with a name and stats any more. But now we have to question the validity of every game and every play. There may have been a slice of innocence left in sports when I was a kid, but that slice is long gone.
The story I’m waiting on now is, a big name athlete is caught using steroids. Turns out he was doing so to make more money so he can gamble on dog fights. His gambling spirals out of control and the mob gets involved, and soon he is throwing games. Oh, this is all revealed during his rape trial.
The biggest stories in the big three should be much different. In baseball, it should be this fantastically symmetrical story. We have Barry Bonds, the son of a very good ball player who is also the Godson of perhaps the greatest player to ever play, Willie Mays, chasing down the most famous record in all of sports, 755, the home run record that belongs to Hank Aaron. In basketball, the story should be about the San Antonio Spurs winning their 4th championship in 9 years and their place in history. The main story in the NFL should be surrounding two great quarterbacks jockeying for their place among the all-time greats. With one we had a man defending the title that eluded him like an Oscar eluded Scoresese, and the other looking to recapture his crown.
Instead of stories about what actually takes place between the lines, we have scandal after scandal. And these aren’t run of the mill, someone was caught in a limo with a tranny and blow scandals. These aren’t scandals that just rip apart one athlete’s reputation, no these are much bigger. Two of the three scandals directly question the integrity of it all. In the NBA, the big scandal is a referee with a gambling problem that has been accused of point shaving. This referee just happens to have been working some of the biggest and ironical enough, most controversial games of the past season, including the post-season. Baseball has the well documented steroid scandal, which looks more like a witch hunt than a search for truth and justice. Bud Selig is acting like a jealous ex-boyfriend, determined to keep from moving forward with his life. Football has the one scandal that really doesn’t question the integrity of the game, just the humanity of one of its biggest stars. Michael Vick has been indicted for playing a major role in the underworld community of dog fighting. Did I mention that he allegedly killed dogs by electrocution, drowning, slamming against walls and the old reliable bullet to the brain?
(Also worth mentioning is a PGA vet has gone on record that steroids are now in golf, some of Nascar’s most popular drivers (these guys can make left turns all day long) have been caught with “illegal” cars and there was a wrestler that just took out himself and his family.)
All of this does takes our attention away from the very real possibility that we have five of the top 10 basketball players of all time, in various phases of their careers (Bryant, James, Wade, Shaq, Duncan). That we have the best baseball player (Bonds) and best pitcher of all-time (Clemens), nearing the ends of their careers, some of the brightest upcoming talents and another guy in his prime (Alex Rodriguez) who may end up as the best ever. Manning and Brady are in the mix for best quarterback ever, perhaps the best running back ever (Tomlinson) and one of the greatest coaches (Belichick) at the helm of an NFL dynasty.
So what does that leave for the kids, or any of us, to cheer for? I don’t believe, for a second, that any of these are isolated incidents. I think steroids are imbedded in every sport, and try as I might, I can’t believe that only one referee, umpire or player has used his influence to impact the outcome of a game to his own benefit. And I’m scared to find out how many of our “heroes” pass the time by placing bets on dogs killing each other.
It wasn’t like sports were scandal free when I was growing up. But most of the time they were stories of individuals that could win on the field but could never defeat their own demons. The papers said it was drugs, but it was really an internal battle more fierce than anything we saw between the lines. They’d come back, fail again and maybe get clean for good. Sometime’s they went to prison, but these events also made them human. They weren’t just a jersey with a name and stats any more. But now we have to question the validity of every game and every play. There may have been a slice of innocence left in sports when I was a kid, but that slice is long gone.
The story I’m waiting on now is, a big name athlete is caught using steroids. Turns out he was doing so to make more money so he can gamble on dog fights. His gambling spirals out of control and the mob gets involved, and soon he is throwing games. Oh, this is all revealed during his rape trial.
July 16, 2007
Entourage Recap and Hirpasms
Entourage got its swagger back. As I said, I was a bit disappointed with the season thus far, but last night this show of ours returned to its winning ways. Like a baseball team bouncing back from a losing streak with a near perfectly played game, all cylinders were hitting last night. We had Ari and his high jinx, Lloyd in all his gayness, Drama doing his best window licker impression, Turtle seeing all the angels and Vince and E diving head first into a giant pile of shit and not smelling like roses, yet.
One of the highlights for me, was E decking the asshole director in the middle of Barneys. The awkward shove-punch heard ‘round the world, was one for all the vertically-challenged. Short guys: one, arrogant assholes: zero.
As for who leaked the trailer, well my theory is Walsh. He wanted to drive a wedge between Eric and Vince in retaliation for Eric being critical of his cut of the movie. Although I got there before it was stated, it did take me a second to figure out that Walsh would be replacing Hanson, but it’s a beautiful little twist. Although I really can’t stand Walsh, and is Vince trying to be the Indie-King or a big star? When does he work with J.J. Abrams or a Doug Liman? Actually, just realized, that this is very much Mark Whalberg. Basketball Diaries, Fear, Boogie Nights, Three Kings, Planet of the Apes, Four Brothers, and I Heart Huckabees were all directed by directors that made their names in independent or more artistic movies. His first movie with a well known director was The Departed, and he had a supporting role. How long till we see Vince find his own Departed?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
• Okay, right now someone sitting behind me is clipping their fingernails. Is it just me, or isn’t it just basic office etiquette to not do anything in your cube you’d do while sitting on your toilet? She isn’t even doing it over a trashcan; if any debris finds its way to my cube I’ll do my best impression of “Shock and awe.” Wonder how she’d react to coming back from lunch and finding a used square of TP on her keyboard. Let’s all hope it doesn’t come to that.
• Personal highlight for the weekend: breaking my friends’ Godfather cherry. How there are still people over the age of 25 that haven’t seen The Godfather yet, is beyond me. Bono, Jay-Z, George Clooney and Oprah are on a quest to make sure everyone has water. Well, I’m on a quest to make sure everyone see’s The Godfather. I’m honestly torn on which cause is more important.
• Personal lowlight: Another awful night of poker. At this point I’m not sure if I’d be better off paying someone $20 to just kick me in the stomach. It’d feel about the same, and actually be slightly less expensive. My patience is down to a pre-Ritalin level, and all I can come up with is the fact that I now have better things to do when I leave the poker table. But truth is, my awful play started before the rush of good fortune away from the table began.
One of the highlights for me, was E decking the asshole director in the middle of Barneys. The awkward shove-punch heard ‘round the world, was one for all the vertically-challenged. Short guys: one, arrogant assholes: zero.
As for who leaked the trailer, well my theory is Walsh. He wanted to drive a wedge between Eric and Vince in retaliation for Eric being critical of his cut of the movie. Although I got there before it was stated, it did take me a second to figure out that Walsh would be replacing Hanson, but it’s a beautiful little twist. Although I really can’t stand Walsh, and is Vince trying to be the Indie-King or a big star? When does he work with J.J. Abrams or a Doug Liman? Actually, just realized, that this is very much Mark Whalberg. Basketball Diaries, Fear, Boogie Nights, Three Kings, Planet of the Apes, Four Brothers, and I Heart Huckabees were all directed by directors that made their names in independent or more artistic movies. His first movie with a well known director was The Departed, and he had a supporting role. How long till we see Vince find his own Departed?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
• Okay, right now someone sitting behind me is clipping their fingernails. Is it just me, or isn’t it just basic office etiquette to not do anything in your cube you’d do while sitting on your toilet? She isn’t even doing it over a trashcan; if any debris finds its way to my cube I’ll do my best impression of “Shock and awe.” Wonder how she’d react to coming back from lunch and finding a used square of TP on her keyboard. Let’s all hope it doesn’t come to that.
• Personal highlight for the weekend: breaking my friends’ Godfather cherry. How there are still people over the age of 25 that haven’t seen The Godfather yet, is beyond me. Bono, Jay-Z, George Clooney and Oprah are on a quest to make sure everyone has water. Well, I’m on a quest to make sure everyone see’s The Godfather. I’m honestly torn on which cause is more important.
• Personal lowlight: Another awful night of poker. At this point I’m not sure if I’d be better off paying someone $20 to just kick me in the stomach. It’d feel about the same, and actually be slightly less expensive. My patience is down to a pre-Ritalin level, and all I can come up with is the fact that I now have better things to do when I leave the poker table. But truth is, my awful play started before the rush of good fortune away from the table began.
July 09, 2007
July 03, 2007
HirpTV
So you probably know by now how I really dislike reality television, but I’m not completely immune to wanting to capitalize off a fad. I tight-rolled my jeans back in the day too, so I have my own idea for the next big show. “Big Foot in Biggest Mouth: The Real Biggest Loser.” Starring: Mel Gibson, Michael Richards, Isaiah Washington, Paris Hilton, Bill O’Reilly, Tom Cruise and Rosie O’Donnell. Larry King, of course, would be the host.
Between putting the contestants through humiliating tasks, such as finding real work, each episode ends with another empty apology. You know the one, where we hear a heart felt sorry and how there’s simply no excuse for their stupid ass comments (no offense to ass’es) followed by an excuse in attempt to make it seem not so bad anymore. Never mind if its a blatant lie like “I’ve never done drugs,” when there’s video on the internet of Paris toking up.
The grand finale is a new movie that has Gibson playing a Jewish Holocaust survivor whose son was killed in Iraq and his daughter turned cop, was raped and killed on duty. Oh, and all of his lines are in subtitles. Mean while Michael Richards plays Washington’s boyfriend in a bi-racial homosexual relationship, and Bill O’Reilly plays dad to Hilton and O’Donnell. Meanwhile, O’Donnell is suffering from post-partum after giving birth to Cruise’s baby, and he actually has to be an understanding and supportive husband, who runs to the pharmacy to pick up anti-depressants’. Roman Polanski directs.
What scares me is this awful show would do better than “Studio 60,” and that’s a direct reflection of how dumb our country has become. I just watched the series finale of “Studio 60” last night, and I still can’t understand why it was cancelled. Well, I understand why it was cancelled, what I don’t get is why no one watched it. Yet 17 million people will routinely tune in to watch a glorified Karaoke contest. And why does it have to be on a prime TV night? The losers that watch Idol religiously aren’t going out on Friday night. Put the retarded shows on Friday night, use the middle of the week for quality television.
Between putting the contestants through humiliating tasks, such as finding real work, each episode ends with another empty apology. You know the one, where we hear a heart felt sorry and how there’s simply no excuse for their stupid ass comments (no offense to ass’es) followed by an excuse in attempt to make it seem not so bad anymore. Never mind if its a blatant lie like “I’ve never done drugs,” when there’s video on the internet of Paris toking up.
The grand finale is a new movie that has Gibson playing a Jewish Holocaust survivor whose son was killed in Iraq and his daughter turned cop, was raped and killed on duty. Oh, and all of his lines are in subtitles. Mean while Michael Richards plays Washington’s boyfriend in a bi-racial homosexual relationship, and Bill O’Reilly plays dad to Hilton and O’Donnell. Meanwhile, O’Donnell is suffering from post-partum after giving birth to Cruise’s baby, and he actually has to be an understanding and supportive husband, who runs to the pharmacy to pick up anti-depressants’. Roman Polanski directs.
What scares me is this awful show would do better than “Studio 60,” and that’s a direct reflection of how dumb our country has become. I just watched the series finale of “Studio 60” last night, and I still can’t understand why it was cancelled. Well, I understand why it was cancelled, what I don’t get is why no one watched it. Yet 17 million people will routinely tune in to watch a glorified Karaoke contest. And why does it have to be on a prime TV night? The losers that watch Idol religiously aren’t going out on Friday night. Put the retarded shows on Friday night, use the middle of the week for quality television.
June 29, 2007
Paris and Hoops
So I had this little debate with myself, would I or wouldn’t I say anything about Paris Hilton. I really didn’t want to, because at this point it’s all been said. I don’t have any unique observations and to be honest I really don’t give a shit. But it is entertaining to a point and the story is everywhere. So last night I found myself watching, not the interview itself, but a recap of the interview. There was a special on Headline News in which a panel of “experts” broke down her interview with Larry King like a group of commentators on ESPN.
This has to be a first. The OJ case launched the television careers of just about everyone on Fox News, because every night for a year they broke down every little detail about a murder trial involving one of the biggest names in sports history. So as much of a crock of shit that whole thing was, at least they were dealing with a crime that had victims and shed some light on the legal process. Last night journalism hit a new low. The OJ case did to journalism what the Zepplin blimp did to travel and the coverage of Paris will end up as the Titanic of journalism.
My favorite phenomena in this whole thing, has been watching the media cover their own coverage of this ridiculous story. How long till there’s a news channel that’s dedicated to nothing else but covering the media?
--------------------------------------------------------------------
So my 14 year old nephew is in town, and I promised him we’d play some one on one at some point. Truth is, I’m terrified. Not only is he taller than me, something he’s proud of but in all honesty, it isn’t that much of an accomplishment, but he’s probably going to kick my ass. I really don’t know how I’ll handle it. Odds are in favor of me cheating, maybe even playing down right dirty. We’ll see. If you don’t read about it in the near future, one of three things happened:
1. My back continued to spasm, not an excuse, it’s been killing me all week.
2. It rained even more, and we decided to build an arc.
3. Or I got my ass kicked and decided I didn’t want to share the story.
This has to be a first. The OJ case launched the television careers of just about everyone on Fox News, because every night for a year they broke down every little detail about a murder trial involving one of the biggest names in sports history. So as much of a crock of shit that whole thing was, at least they were dealing with a crime that had victims and shed some light on the legal process. Last night journalism hit a new low. The OJ case did to journalism what the Zepplin blimp did to travel and the coverage of Paris will end up as the Titanic of journalism.
My favorite phenomena in this whole thing, has been watching the media cover their own coverage of this ridiculous story. How long till there’s a news channel that’s dedicated to nothing else but covering the media?
--------------------------------------------------------------------
So my 14 year old nephew is in town, and I promised him we’d play some one on one at some point. Truth is, I’m terrified. Not only is he taller than me, something he’s proud of but in all honesty, it isn’t that much of an accomplishment, but he’s probably going to kick my ass. I really don’t know how I’ll handle it. Odds are in favor of me cheating, maybe even playing down right dirty. We’ll see. If you don’t read about it in the near future, one of three things happened:
1. My back continued to spasm, not an excuse, it’s been killing me all week.
2. It rained even more, and we decided to build an arc.
3. Or I got my ass kicked and decided I didn’t want to share the story.
June 27, 2007
I Wish..
Some of those that know me know that I sometimes day dream of being a screen writer. I haven’t ever attempted to write a screenplay, but I’ve flirted with a few ideas. Always making the promise to myself, that one day I’ll write something. I may never submit to a studio, an agent or even show it to a friend. But some day, I’ll pound the keyboard long enough to knock out my very own.
In the meantime I watch movies, and more than my share. Occasionally I see something and think to myself, “that’s the kind of movie I wish I would have written.” And it isn’t the classics. Sure, I’d consider selling my soul to have written The Godfather or Heat, or something like Shawshank or even American History X. But those aren’t the ones that send a surge of jealously through my bones. So I’ve decided to come up with a brief list of some of those movies that I just wish were written by me.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - You might notice that a solid number of these movies are more of the under the radar variety. This movie is just so clever and quick witted, and to be honest, I think it even sounds like me at times. The sarcasm and banter sounds exactly like me, only it’s the conversations I have in my head rather than those I utter aloud. Minor detail, I know.
Just Write - First, I’ll admit it. It’s a chick flick, and there’s no hiding it. So mock me if you want, but at least try to understand. It’s a Jeremy Piven vehicle (see, don’t I just sound like I know what I’m talking about? Who else says “vehicle”?) and I’ve owned the video tape for years. That’s my way of subtly telling you that I’ve been a fan of Pivens since before Entourage. Anyway, here’s the premise: Normal schmo who is 30 and has a love of movies, runs into his favorite actress who just happens to be the woman who would be #1 on his laminated list if he had one. This is Sherilyn Fenn, I have a thing for blue eyed brunettes and she’s still top 15 worthy. Anyway, to impress her he claims to be a screen writer, and then has to step up and actually write a screenplay for her. So it’s basically the same dream I had for some 13 years of meeting, and winning over, Jennifer Aniston.
True Romance - I’m picking a Tarantino-penned movie and it isn’t Pulp Fiction, I must be out of my mind right? Wrong. Look, I know Pulp is the superior movie. It’s nearly the perfect movie. If Pulp Fiction was an NBA player and his entire career, it would be Michael Jordan, near perfection almost every step of the way. Only Jordan retired a couple of times, and so did Pulp. The whole Bruce Willis-Fabienne sequence just bores me. True Romance doesn’t have peaks as high as Pulp, but it’s steady all the way through. More like Clyde Drexler. And you have to respect that kind of consistency. Plus, it’s a much more personal story than Pulp and that’s appealing to me.
Out of Sight - The most underrated movie of the 90’s. Clooney’s Jack Foley is the quintessential loveable loser. He is the Chicago Cubs. I don’t know why I make a sports analogy out of every thing, but I hope you don’t mind. He’s smooth, he’s cool, he fucks up every step of the way and he never gets fazed by it. He gets the girl, he loses the girl. He robs banks, he gets caught. A lot. Before he was Danny Ocean, and the epitamy of cool, he was smooth talking a pre-J.Lo, Jennifer Lopez in the trunk of a getaway car. The same girl he risked everything for, ended up shooting him and sending him back to prison. And it was exactly what he wanted. When I say I can relate to his character, I really mean that I wish I was him. That’s what I want to write, something so cool, that people wish they could live in my characters shoes.
Which brings me to Swingers - The most obvious movie on this list. I am Mikey, even if I don’t swing dance. You have a group of friends, a last second trip to Vegas, talking trash over a Sega Genesis, driving the wrong car, and even obsessively calling a girl all the way to getting the right girl in the end. It isn’t larger than life or cheesy, it’s funny and personal with conversations I know my friends and I have had.
In the meantime I watch movies, and more than my share. Occasionally I see something and think to myself, “that’s the kind of movie I wish I would have written.” And it isn’t the classics. Sure, I’d consider selling my soul to have written The Godfather or Heat, or something like Shawshank or even American History X. But those aren’t the ones that send a surge of jealously through my bones. So I’ve decided to come up with a brief list of some of those movies that I just wish were written by me.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - You might notice that a solid number of these movies are more of the under the radar variety. This movie is just so clever and quick witted, and to be honest, I think it even sounds like me at times. The sarcasm and banter sounds exactly like me, only it’s the conversations I have in my head rather than those I utter aloud. Minor detail, I know.
Just Write - First, I’ll admit it. It’s a chick flick, and there’s no hiding it. So mock me if you want, but at least try to understand. It’s a Jeremy Piven vehicle (see, don’t I just sound like I know what I’m talking about? Who else says “vehicle”?) and I’ve owned the video tape for years. That’s my way of subtly telling you that I’ve been a fan of Pivens since before Entourage. Anyway, here’s the premise: Normal schmo who is 30 and has a love of movies, runs into his favorite actress who just happens to be the woman who would be #1 on his laminated list if he had one. This is Sherilyn Fenn, I have a thing for blue eyed brunettes and she’s still top 15 worthy. Anyway, to impress her he claims to be a screen writer, and then has to step up and actually write a screenplay for her. So it’s basically the same dream I had for some 13 years of meeting, and winning over, Jennifer Aniston.
True Romance - I’m picking a Tarantino-penned movie and it isn’t Pulp Fiction, I must be out of my mind right? Wrong. Look, I know Pulp is the superior movie. It’s nearly the perfect movie. If Pulp Fiction was an NBA player and his entire career, it would be Michael Jordan, near perfection almost every step of the way. Only Jordan retired a couple of times, and so did Pulp. The whole Bruce Willis-Fabienne sequence just bores me. True Romance doesn’t have peaks as high as Pulp, but it’s steady all the way through. More like Clyde Drexler. And you have to respect that kind of consistency. Plus, it’s a much more personal story than Pulp and that’s appealing to me.
Out of Sight - The most underrated movie of the 90’s. Clooney’s Jack Foley is the quintessential loveable loser. He is the Chicago Cubs. I don’t know why I make a sports analogy out of every thing, but I hope you don’t mind. He’s smooth, he’s cool, he fucks up every step of the way and he never gets fazed by it. He gets the girl, he loses the girl. He robs banks, he gets caught. A lot. Before he was Danny Ocean, and the epitamy of cool, he was smooth talking a pre-J.Lo, Jennifer Lopez in the trunk of a getaway car. The same girl he risked everything for, ended up shooting him and sending him back to prison. And it was exactly what he wanted. When I say I can relate to his character, I really mean that I wish I was him. That’s what I want to write, something so cool, that people wish they could live in my characters shoes.
Which brings me to Swingers - The most obvious movie on this list. I am Mikey, even if I don’t swing dance. You have a group of friends, a last second trip to Vegas, talking trash over a Sega Genesis, driving the wrong car, and even obsessively calling a girl all the way to getting the right girl in the end. It isn’t larger than life or cheesy, it’s funny and personal with conversations I know my friends and I have had.
June 25, 2007
Hirp Doin Dallas, UNO
When I took this job last October a couple things happened that made me feel all growns up. There was the laptop and the business cards. To me, those marked major milestones in my life. They meant that I finally had a real big kid job. Well today marks another milestone, as today I took my first business trip. That’s right, corporate card, a per diem, a hotel and all those things my dad dreaded. So I’m in lovely Dallas, which has more strip clubs than any city on the face of the planet. Really, what else is there in Texas besides beer, steak, cowboys, Mexican food, Churches and strip clubs? Having the last two on the same list really cracks me up.
Anyway, funniest thing to happen thus far actually took place in Kansas City at around 6:20 this morning. We were taking the shuttle from the parking lot to the terminal, and of course someone had to get a call on their cell, and answer it. What makes it funny to me was the fact that it was a Middle-Eastern man, and he was speaking in another language. Funny for two reasons: 1, that has to be the quickest way to make a group of travelers nervous in this day and age. Aside from having a pre-flight beer next to a belligerent drunk who just happens to be your pilot. The second reason this stuck me as funny was, making up his conversation in my own head.
I’m pretty sure it went something like this, “Yep, I’m at the airport. You’re right, all these white people look nervous. Wow, this is funnier than I thought. I bet if I say Allah and Jihad in the same sentence they’ll ship me to Guantanamo Bay faster than a Saudi minute. Okay, I gotta go. I think they might actually hurt me. The guy in the camouflage hat is changing colors. Before I go, we’re still on for golf Thursday, right?”
I don’t care what you tell me, that was his conversation. Except for the “Allah and Jihad” parts, because, well because I would have understood those words. Like when the Mexicans say gringo and then laugh, I know they’re talking about me even if I don’t know what they’re saying.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
As many of you know, it’s not exactly rare for me to spend a Saturday night playing some cards with some friends. This weekend, however, there’s a slight twist. We didn’t start off with hold ‘em or even Omaha. No, it wasn’t seven card stud either. No, the first game of the night was a competitive bout of Candy Land. Oh, you think I was babysitting? No, it was a thirty-something crowd. And it was great fun. And it got even better. We only played one round of that, and then we realized there was a real pro at the table. We’ll call her “Coco.” She just had a knack for pulling the right cards.
After Candy Land we moved on to the most cut throat card game out there, Uno. If you or your friends are even a little bit passive aggressive, Uno will make you full on, balls to the wall aggressive. I seriously think ESPN should start Uno tournaments, and they should do so yesterday. I may give up poker all together, and just devote my energy to becoming a world class Uno player, much like Itchy Kitty.
Anyway, funniest thing to happen thus far actually took place in Kansas City at around 6:20 this morning. We were taking the shuttle from the parking lot to the terminal, and of course someone had to get a call on their cell, and answer it. What makes it funny to me was the fact that it was a Middle-Eastern man, and he was speaking in another language. Funny for two reasons: 1, that has to be the quickest way to make a group of travelers nervous in this day and age. Aside from having a pre-flight beer next to a belligerent drunk who just happens to be your pilot. The second reason this stuck me as funny was, making up his conversation in my own head.
I’m pretty sure it went something like this, “Yep, I’m at the airport. You’re right, all these white people look nervous. Wow, this is funnier than I thought. I bet if I say Allah and Jihad in the same sentence they’ll ship me to Guantanamo Bay faster than a Saudi minute. Okay, I gotta go. I think they might actually hurt me. The guy in the camouflage hat is changing colors. Before I go, we’re still on for golf Thursday, right?”
I don’t care what you tell me, that was his conversation. Except for the “Allah and Jihad” parts, because, well because I would have understood those words. Like when the Mexicans say gringo and then laugh, I know they’re talking about me even if I don’t know what they’re saying.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
As many of you know, it’s not exactly rare for me to spend a Saturday night playing some cards with some friends. This weekend, however, there’s a slight twist. We didn’t start off with hold ‘em or even Omaha. No, it wasn’t seven card stud either. No, the first game of the night was a competitive bout of Candy Land. Oh, you think I was babysitting? No, it was a thirty-something crowd. And it was great fun. And it got even better. We only played one round of that, and then we realized there was a real pro at the table. We’ll call her “Coco.” She just had a knack for pulling the right cards.
After Candy Land we moved on to the most cut throat card game out there, Uno. If you or your friends are even a little bit passive aggressive, Uno will make you full on, balls to the wall aggressive. I seriously think ESPN should start Uno tournaments, and they should do so yesterday. I may give up poker all together, and just devote my energy to becoming a world class Uno player, much like Itchy Kitty.
June 19, 2007
June 15, 2007
Hirp Gone Serious
I don’t remember the exact day it hit me, but there was a time that “growing up” hit me over the head like a C-Core. It wasn’t high school graduation, and it wasn’t going off to college. It wasn’t turning 21 and it wasn’t my first 401k plan. I worried about it when friends started moving away. It finally hit when I started to see friends get married. Even though I wasn’t even close to doing so myself, that’s when I first thought, “Shit, we’re like…adults now.” Panic set in soon after.
I grew accustomed to the feeling, and it was pretty cool. It didn’t really change anything, they had girlfriends or boyfriends before, and the only real change was in jewelry. Then they started buying houses, and that wasn’t exactly a blunt object to the head, more of a punch to the stomach that told me we aren’t kids any longer. Soon there were friends talking about starting families, some even giving the big news that included words like “expecting” and “trimester.” But I was used to baby talk, being that I became an uncle at 15, so the thought of my friends having kids just meant I had more nieces and nephews.
And so some kids appeared, and I soon went back to feeling like a kid myself. Why wouldn’t I? Being around them gave me not only an excuse to be immature, but a reason to be. Still does. Then the calendar changed and I was 30, I couldn’t still be a kid at 30. So I probably fought growing up as much as it fought me. But then the last straw appeared. Like someone emptied the box of straws, and there was just one left. And it wasn’t even one of the bendy ones, I love those. This happened when I first started hearing different friends talk about the big “D” word. There’s nothing more grown up than divorce. I had friends who had been divorced, but before I met them, so it didn’t really count.
Even though nothing official has happened with any of these couples I’m friends with, the writing is currently in the process from moving from the wall to legal documents. So now I finally consider myself an adult, even though I don’t really feel like one all the time. Not how I imagined it.
I grew accustomed to the feeling, and it was pretty cool. It didn’t really change anything, they had girlfriends or boyfriends before, and the only real change was in jewelry. Then they started buying houses, and that wasn’t exactly a blunt object to the head, more of a punch to the stomach that told me we aren’t kids any longer. Soon there were friends talking about starting families, some even giving the big news that included words like “expecting” and “trimester.” But I was used to baby talk, being that I became an uncle at 15, so the thought of my friends having kids just meant I had more nieces and nephews.
And so some kids appeared, and I soon went back to feeling like a kid myself. Why wouldn’t I? Being around them gave me not only an excuse to be immature, but a reason to be. Still does. Then the calendar changed and I was 30, I couldn’t still be a kid at 30. So I probably fought growing up as much as it fought me. But then the last straw appeared. Like someone emptied the box of straws, and there was just one left. And it wasn’t even one of the bendy ones, I love those. This happened when I first started hearing different friends talk about the big “D” word. There’s nothing more grown up than divorce. I had friends who had been divorced, but before I met them, so it didn’t really count.
Even though nothing official has happened with any of these couples I’m friends with, the writing is currently in the process from moving from the wall to legal documents. So now I finally consider myself an adult, even though I don’t really feel like one all the time. Not how I imagined it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)