Patrick Ogle
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Why We Can, All Of Us, Always Use A Little Christmas

12/24/2014

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Most of my Christmas Eve's (and early Christmas mornings) are spent wrapping presents; usually I watch some Christmas movies or music while I do this task. I try to take care at it but the packages always look like a troop of monkeys had been at them.

This year I have been thinking, not just on this night, but over the past few days--weeks even-- about the resonance of this holiday with so many of us. We hear again and again about commercialism and how it is all about sales and greed and the like.

I disagree rather strongly with this notion; there is something else about Christmas that strikes our collective psyche. It does not matter if you are a believer, an unbeliever or amongst that group who fall somewhere in between the story of Christmas reaches us.

"For God so loved the world, as to give his only-begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting."

Even an atheist (one of those capable of thinking in the hypothetical anyway) might read those words and think; if there were a God, that is the sort I would want, a god who cares enough to try to save human beings rather to punish them or turn them into playthings or servants of some inconceivable will. This god sends his son, as a baby, into the world! This shows not only care and concern but trust--his only son, helpless comes amongst the people he is trying to save, this group who NEED saving. It is a powerful notion that I believe gets at something in many of us frail human beings.

They might even compare that god to other gods in other belief systems from the ancient world. The Roman and Greek gods were petty in ways even the most awful of humans would consider outside the pale. The Norse gods were bloody in a way only a Viking could truly get behind since their ways would justify his (or her) own cultural path. Even the god of the Old Testament had a certain bloody handedness in dealing with even his chosen people (and there was a big problem if you were a Philistine or an Egyptian!).

He sent his only son...

The story isn't all sugar and spice; there are those who want the child, the King of the Jews, dead. Herod, who was more culturally of the Greco-roman than a Jew and who was also one of four brother ruling as clients of the Romans during this time, would have felt anyone who might be referred to as "King of the Jews" as something of a problem. And since the Herod family routinely murdered one another it is fairly easy to figure the reaction to even a baby king.

But there are always villains in any story.

Then there is the rest of the story, angels appear to shepherds, people come to see the babe, some from afar bearing gifts (possibly taking years to arrive) but really it is that first line, "For God so loved the world he sent his only begotten son..."

You don't have to believe to love the story and in the memory of the story, at the very least, take comfort that someone, whether simply human or divine, felt that we humans were worthy of saving, and worthy of such trust.

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Curing Concert Douchebagery, One Douchebag At A Time

8/6/2013

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Have you been to a concert or festival?  Have you become irritated by the people around you? Or, even worse, have you realized; in a moment of clarity, that maybe YOU were irritating the people around you?

In the former case you have met and in the latter case you may BE a concert douchebag.

Some would use the phrase “these days” when talking about concert douchebags but really this sort of behavior has always—or at least for the place 30 or so years—been with us. There are many sorts who can disrupt a concert. Here are some of these. More important, here are some solutions for the irritating behavior.

The Wanderer


The wanderer believes, with metaphysical certainty, that that place over THERE is WAY better to stand in than HERE. He or she has to get there—at any cost. Once there they determine that, in fact, by some quirk of fate this new spot is as, if not more, defective than the previous spot. Then they move again. This is repeated at least 30 times in the course of an average concert. In the process they spill at least half a dozen drinks, step on a couple of dozen feet and cause various fans to miss all or part of their favorite song(s).

Solution-Since there really is no actual reason for their motion, it serves no coherent purpose and follows no pattern, a solution is difficult to discern. Maybe cut off their feet?

Gigantor

Gigantor really isn’t a “douchebag.” He or she is just 7 feet tall and weighs 400 pounds.  If they were at the beach they would block the sun.  The problem is that they always seem to stand in front of ME.

Solution-There is no real solution to this in the current generation. But all you extremely large and tall people? Do your best to stunt the growth of your children; make them drink coffee and smoke cigarettes.  This will help improve the concert going experience of medium sized people for generations. It will, unfortunately, fuck up the NBA.

The Beer Sponge

The Beer Sponge is similar to The Wanderer but there is a purpose to their motion. They move from the concert to the bar and back (and also sometimes to the restroom).  They often weave through the crowd, beer held precariously in front of them, up high, spilling it on everyone they pass. When they get to their final location three-quarters of the glass is now on the floor, in people’s hair etc. This necessitates a return to the bar to get another warm, flat eight-dollar beer. Some Beer Sponge types are clever. They buy three or four beers to carry back with them. Of course, they spill most of these too. Beer Sponges seem to feel they have to stand REALLY close to the stage. They also are usually in the company of other Beer Sponges.

Solutions-

a)  Stand near the bar
b)  Maybe drink a little less?
c)  Get really drunk before the show, pass out at home
d)  Have drinks before or maybe after the show?
e)  Alcoholics Anonymous.


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The Yammerer

The Yammer cannot stop talking. They begin talking as they walk up behind you and do not stop for the entire concert. They may be talking to a friend or trying, in the midst of the show, to talk to someone on their cell phone at the top of their lungs. I once saw a sold out show by an acoustic artist where a group of young people (yammerers are not, by definition, young) talked so loud the artist stopped in the set several times to tell them to shut the hell up. When confronted, after the show, one of the young geniuses pointed out that THEY had paid to get in so they could talk as loud as they wanted. The logic is pretty hard to counter. I mean if you pay to go to a restaurant it is perfectly acceptable to take a shit on the table.

Solution- A pair of pliers and a sharp knife can be used to remove the tongue.

Mr. Festival Entitlement


Festivals provide a whole new sort of douchebag. Many festivals go on all day and some people stand near the stage or in the case of Lollapalooza in the VIP area right in the front for hours to secure a spot to see their band. There is a real live example of Mr. Festival Entitlement in the photo below. He staggered in front of a 5 foot tall woman and her kid's seats. What is more bizarre is he stood in front of a six foot seven inch behemoth of a man that could have popped his head like the big zit on the side of his mouth.  He said the zit attracted the ladies (slurring his speech) but oddly there seemed to be no ladies present or even any male friends. He didn’t even seem to have any imaginary friends.

But Mr. (or Mrs. But it is usually Mr.) Festival Entitlement knows that normal people are not going to physically hurt him. They are the sort of people who, in middle school, used to talk tough when there was a teacher standing near enough to save them. As soon as they had bullied someone to the point of punching them they skitter away to safety.

The guy in the photo WAS helpful. He gave this sort of concert douchebag its name. As he stumbled off he mumbled something about “entitlement.”  I.E. people who waited in the sun for three hours felt “entitled” and were oppressing him by not meekly letting him stand in front of them. Beer is often involved in this sort of douche's decision making process.

Solution--Severe head trauma is what will generally happen to this sort of douchebag at some point. When it comes to that  he may save himself by peeing himself and crying. But a better solution is to tell him that you love him and ask him to be friends. Since he likely has none this will frighten and confuse him. He will skitter away like he did in middle school.

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Mr. Festival Entitlement Douchebag
The “I Love YOU”

These folks are not really douchebags. They are just sort of sad. IF they shout“I love you” only once that is fine. If they feel the need to shout it repeatedly, however, they tread into douchebag territory.  This would go for any incessant bellowing but it is somehow more annoying when someone feels the need to publicly profess their love for someone they’ve never met because that person plays the guitar.

Solution--Travel back in time and convince their mom that they are worthy of her love.

Mr. “I Must Get Out Of Here Early”

These are folks who feel that they have to beat the crowd out the door—even at the cost of missing half the concert. They also seem to feel that they have to stand right up front. After about five songs they realize that in another 8 to 15 songs (depending on the band) the show is going to END and there will be NO way for them to be the first to exit the building. They will not WIN. They will have to WAIT and slowly walk to the door BEHIND people. That is UNMANLY.  Note, this is always Mr. “I Must Get Out Of Here Early.” Although he always seems to be dragging an a) docile b) pissed off looking woman with him

Solution--

a) Stand in the back?
b) Leave before show starts, it is the only way to be really sure.

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These are just a handful of the possible concert douchebags. Many more exist, as do variations on the themes above. These are just SOME of the possible solutions. Please feel free to offer your own.
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Ways For Both Political Parties To Capitalize On Clint Eastwood's Speech

8/31/2012

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Ways for Republicans to capitalize on Clint Eastwood’s speech to  the Republican National Convention;


-Forgo all campaign advertising, pay networks to show an endless loop of Any Which Way You Can and Pink Cadillac.

-Make VP candidate Paul Ryan wear chaps and cowboy hat at all public events. This not only channels Eastwood, it covers his protruding ears.

-Tell people that if Romney loses. The new White House Press Secretary will be Michael Moore. And taxpayers will have to pay for all his donuts.

- Two words “Rawhide.” Oh, wait, that is one word.

-Press release announcing that, at Romney’s suggestion, Eastwood has stopped production of Dirty Harry and the Bedpan.

-A revised version of Hereafter, with new footage of Jesus riding a dinosaur due out the second week of
November, 2012.

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Ways for the Democrats to counteract Clint Eastwood’s speech at the Republican National Convention;

-Get Charlie Sheen to give a speech where he talks to an empty Vicodin prescription bottle.

-Spread rumor Eastwood is to be the next head of FEMA in any Romney Administration.

-Reveal that it was not “invisible Obama” in the chair but
“invisible Ronald Reagan.”

-Indict Eastwood on negligent homicide charges related to plot of Million Dollar Baby.

-Have Geneviève Bujold discuss how Eastwood’s character in Tightrope was so fucked up it led to Jeremy Irons’ character in Dead Ringers.

-Have Sondra Loche explain how Eastwood’s abusive behavior led her to take a job on the Planet of the Apes
TV series. Also, before Eastwood—Oscar nomination. After? Ratboy.

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Predictions For The Next GOP Debate

11/10/2011

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Now that the Presidential election is a year away it seems that the time is ripe to actually pay attention to the Republican debates. Didn't they start debating a little early this time?

I suppose since the Christmas season now starts in July they might as well.

After watching the recent debate I came up with some ideas on how the next debate is likely to come out. These are below.


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"Man, thankk GOD I don't work HERE anymore."
_ PREDICTIONS

Rick Perry-Gov. Perry will pee himself and then forget he did it.

Herman Cain-The self help guru and pizza businessman will put his hand up Michelle Bachmann’s dress and then deny it, saying he just needed change for the soda machine. He will then speak about himself in the third person and say a bunch of nonsensical gobbledygook.

Michelle Bachmann-The enigmatic Representative from the great state of Minnesota will blame Socialists and President Obama for Cain’s hand being up her dress.  She will then scream “Socialismmmm” over and over again.

Mitt Romney- Romney will discuss, at length, a plan to essentially end Medicare and Social Security as we know it, saving billions and devastating millions of seniors. No one will pay attention however because he is so BORING. He will then show everyone his magic underpants.

Newt Gingrich- Gingrich’s phone keeps going off with calls from various mistresses and bankrupt financial giants he has lobbied for. He will repeatedly shush the moderator saying “Shh I am giving Freddie Mac more good advice. I was hired to give advice, not be a shill, really, I was…sometimes I get hired to be a marriage counselor too.”  When asked about being in third place he’ll state; “Really? Are you SERIOUS?” He will then discuss at length why it would be a bad idea for anyone named “Newt” to be in a position of authority.

Ron Paul- Paul will say something that makes you think he makes sense and then immediately follow it up with something that makes him sound like Louis Farrakhan does his debate prep.

Rick Santorum-Santorum (how can you say his name without a smile if you read Dan Savage?) will say something about God being good and most everything else bad but by that time everyone will have left the building and the lights will be off.

John Huntsman-Huntsman will quietly sob, off to the side, whispering; ”My GOD how am I trailing these nitwits by double digits.”

Gary Johnson-The candidate, himself, will try to figure out who he is and if he is really a candidate while he waits outside for a pizza (but not from Godfather’s).


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SEE, Gary Johnson REALLY exists.
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AND he IS running for President. He has a sign and everything.

He even has a WEBSITE.

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Everybody Hates Congress, What We Really Need Is Some Old-Fashioned Self-Loathing

8/10/2011

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After the past three years the financial roller coaster the United States (and indeed the world) has been on has resembled the Six Flags Scream Machine; if the scream machine mostly went downward and the screams were of people losing their life savings, not their pocket change. This has led to a great deal of anger. It was first aimed at anyone who wore a suit. But then it seemed to sort of..vanish.

We, oddly, no longer aim this anger at the financial geniuses on Wall Street or the insurance and mortgage industries. This is especially odd since basically none of them have been held to account for their actions. Some may have had to get a smaller yacht, which I suppose is pretty harsh punishment. Hell, even loud mouthed television, “financial experts” who were predicting never ending prosperity and a constant supply of free beer got to keep their jobs.


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It isn't all about the money. It is also about the stupidity.
So who to blame? Whose door can we lay it at? How about Congress?

Everyone ALWAYS hates Congress. We shriek and prattle on about how awful our Representatives and Senators are and lament there is not a cannon with the range to fire them all directly into the sun.

Yes, everyone hates Congress, except their own representative, who they re-elect until they die of old age or get caught riding a greased donkey with an underage hooker while snorting cocaine with a rolled up copy of the constitution.  Even then, if they get born again they still stand a coin-toss chance of re-election.

Think I am full of shit? I may be but in 2010, an especially hard year for incumbents, 85 percent of the House were re-elected. It is a little harder to get re-elected to the Senate. In that tough year of 2010 they were only re-elected at a rate of 84 percent (if you go back 31 years you can find a year where only 55 percent were re-elected to the Senate).

So, if these people are such a bunch of jabbering mandrills who is really at fault for them getting their damned job? If I went to the dentist and left with fangs I would get a new dentist. If I brought my Mercedes to a mechanic and was given back a Pinto I would go home for my pistol. Yet we get the same thing over and over and we re-elect them and then do it again until they need adult diapers or figure out they can make more cash as a lobbyist.

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The Gerrymander, the original monster looks cuddly compared to the Shogoths out there now.
Try this out if you have some spare time. Go down to the mall and poll people using this question:

Which of the following would you most trust with the financial future of the United States?

A)    Mussolini (or Michelle Bachmann)

B)    Bernie Madoff

C)    Johnny “Itchy” Jones (local junkie)

D)    Congress

If you asked a thousand people something like four of them would answer “Congress.” Yet eight and a half of these nitwits for every ten running for re-election will return to office in 2012.

But ultimately this isn’t about ragging on Congress. It is about ragging on US, every single Kardashian-watching-Palin-obsessed-GlennBeckBillMaherRachelMaddowRushLimbaugh-loving ONE of us. We are responsible because we could, easily, chuck all of them out.  But we don’t. Then we whine about it and post something on Facebook. Sure makes you FEEL lots better doesn't it? I am sure Mark Zuckerberg shares your anger on HIS yacht.

Sure sometimes the alternatives are less than attractive. David Duke and Al Sharpton seem REASONABLE by today’s standards so the choices can sometimes be stark. And "sending a message" often leads to lunatics being in the Congress. BUT, there have already been lunatics in Congress. In the Early Republic the House was made up largely of alcoholics and inveterate racists. If you get rid of a crook and elect a lunatic? You can vote OUT the lunatic in 2 years.

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Whether you agree with him or not, Bernie Sanders isn't full of shit.
So how does this happen? Check the list below.

1-Money

2-Gerrymandering (look it up, Google “Elbridge Gerry”)

3-Stupidity

4-Money

5-Extreme stupidity

And money wouldn't matter so much if WE didn't watch their damned ADS. I want to encourage everyone, whenever you hear a political ad on the radio? Change the station? On TV? Hit the mute button. Don't listen or watch ANY of them.

But wouldn’t it be neat if one of them, just ONE, would tell us the complete truth? Tell us all the shit we didn’t want to hear?

“Umm, yeah, forget about that Social Security shit kids. When you get old the retirement age is going to be 89.” or “Health care? You fuckers are going to be lucky to have FOOD next month.” or “Umm..just a tip….learn Mandarin.”

But back to self loathing. We elect the politicians. It is like if you had a maid who took a dump on the dining room table every morning and you couldn’t bring yourself to fire her out of fear. You would have every reason to loath yourself. SO, unless you can point to a veritable laundry list of consistent action, straight talking  and general coherence (Bernie Sanders I suppose) vote them OUT.

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Jethro Tull & How Music Older Than You Can Still Be Good Music

6/30/2011

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After the first two songs, Ian Anderson noted that those tracks were from '68 & '69. He then noted they were going to play an entirely more modern song...from 1972.
Jethro Tull inspired me to write something about appreciating music. Yes, Jethro Tull. That monster of rock n roll and prog rock from the 70s. There are a lot of reasons as to why; one is that I saw them play live a few days back. Another reason is that, many years ago, I really liked the band. I had their records and, in some cases (Aqualung, Stormwatch, Heavy Horses), I listened to them in that crazy way only a kid can.

I would have never disowned them totally even though by the time I was 15 or 16 I was listening to punk rock. One of the sillier things about punk rock was that you were just NOT supposed to appreciate the music that came before. For one, they had long hair, which of course really matters a lot in judging talent and songwriting ability. Another issue was that they could really PLAY. I mean punks weren’t supposed to be able to play (although, let’s face it, a lot of them could-The Clash’s Paul Simonon, Siouxsie and The Banshee’s Budgee spring readily to mind). It was all silly crap to market music to kids. Don’t listen to what those OLD 29 year olds listen to!

And then they sell you a new wardrobe, then everyone figures out it is bullshit and they come up with the next bullshit to sell to the next group of teenagers. 

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Uh huh...complete anarchy...in that totally oppressive state of Great Britain....
Some bands survive this and some don’t. Jethro Tull survived up to a point and remained big venue viable into the 80s. But then something odd happened, in the late 90s they won the first ever Grammy for heavy metal. As Anderson said in explanation; they didn’t win a Grammy for being metal. They won a Grammy be for being a bunch of nice guys who had never won a Grammy before. And I think that metal Grammy brought them back into the limelight in a negative way (even though the presupposed winner, Metallica, had a good humor about it).

But anyway, that is also a bit after the fact. The sort of hard rock, meets prog, meets folk that Jethro Tull play is all over the place and distinct and hard to pigeonhole. It isn’t like the blues stealing Led Zeppelin or the fiscal machine that is the Rolling Stones. It is, kind of unique. Name ONE other rock band, and one that did rock pretty hard, who featured, consistently, the FLUTE.

Ian Anderson’s voice is no longer what it was. No doubt about it. But he plays guitar and flute still with perfection and ferocity. And it is still obvious this music means something to him and he MEANS what he plays. He has a sense of humor about himself and is a master story teller and joker, sort of a court jester in a way. He poked fun at the brief emergence of prog rock in the early 70s, listing bands like ELP, Genesis, King Crimson and others who, for a two year period had “their heads up their asses”. He then admitted that he did as well suggesting “it was quite cozy up there.” Next they broke into the second song of the evening, a great version of the sprawling Thick As A Brick.

The evening was mostly older material obviously, as the tour is, in part, a tribute to the 40th anniversary of the classic record Aqualung (an extended version with alternate takes, 11 of them, comes out in September). And Aqualung is truly a classic. Leave aside, for a second, the two most often played tracks, the title and Locomotive Breath, the rest of the record has such songs as Mother Goose, Wind Up (regrettably not played the other evening) and the profound—lyrically and musically, My God. The song was arguably the best of this evening and may be the best on this record. It is a lambasting of organized religion, without being totally dismissive of the basic concept of God (the same could be said of Wind Up). It is an angry young man’s castigation of old men in robes, oppressing as they burn incense and make moral pronouncements based on nothing. The other night it was an old man singing it.

Sometimes you forget how good some music is. There are a lot of reasons why this happens. One is just time, you forget the details. You may forget the songs and then, years later, you hear them again and something clicks. You remember how good they were, what they meant to you. A missing part of your life floods back into your conscious mind.

And there is something strange about this. I am certain the mostly older crowd may have been radicals in their day. Today they are probably Episcopalians who, were the show on the other side of the Atlantic, might shift uncomfortably in their seats at “and the bloody Church of England, in chains of history, request your earthly presence in the vicarage for tea” To say nothing of how the remaining non-lapsed Catholics would react.

The music comes alive again and brings back a part of your life. You get how it moved you again. You can, if you let yourself, get past the jadedness that settles on you as you get older. You can also free yourself from that bizarre adolescent self definition with a style of music that made it yours and helped you identify who you were. You shouldn’t as a grown up, need that nonsense anymore. You can like a band with old guys in it, even if it makes you feel old. You can still like the latest music too. Hell, you should, but it is ok to get excited when you hear; “Sitting on a park bench….”

This is a rare non-humor piece. I just felt inspired to write it. SO deal with it, and go listen to Aqualung.

One of two audio interviews with Ian Anderson at Gearwire.com

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An Irrefutable Guide To Being A Sports Fan

1/21/2011

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Correct Team To Root For...

Years ago I was in a bar. I know this, in and of itself, is not terribly shocking, but in this case I was actually paying attention to a conversation going on at the table next to me.

“I am a big Twins fan and a 49ers fan.” said one guy.

“I HATE that, when people pick random teams to like.” said another guy.

“I am from ATLANTA. What am I going to be a loser for the rest of my life?” said first guy.

At the time the Atlanta teams did not seem poised for greatness. But does this mean you can just randomly PICK someone to be a fan of? Even if they are winners?

In any sport, you can only be a fan of a team you have some connection to: you lived there, your family lived there or you spent summers there when you were in juvenile detention. You cannot be a Yankee fan who has never set foot in NYC, or whose family has never set foot in NYC. There are exceptions, if Reggie Jackson visited you in the hospital when you were a kid and had your legs amputated? Sure, YOU can be a Yankee fan. Never been near Pittsburgh? If Mean Joe tossed YOU his jersey? Ok, exception granted.

This said there is another issue to consider in the USA. Alexis de Tocqueville noted, in the Early Republic, that Americans move a great deal. Therefore you might move to a place and gradually change allegiances or ADD an allegiance.  This, over time, is acceptable. You might move to Miami from NYC and decide, rightly, that the Jets suck and you want to be a Dolphin fan. This is not a qualitative discussion. It has nothing to do with wins and losses. “Suckiness” is a more ethereal and elusive matter than simple “wins and losses.”. You might want to ask yourself; Does the coach of my team possibly suck on strangers toes at bus stations? If you answer yes and have moved you might want to get a new team.

There is a limit. In any given sport you can only have three teams and they must be clearly delineated as 1, 2 and 3. You can never root for 3 over 2 or 2 over one or, GOD FORBID, 3 over 1.  The only exception is when all teams have been eliminated from the playoffs and draft standing is in question. Then losing is winning. You can change the order, maybe once or twice but if you do it more than that? You cannot watch the sport anymore.

For example, I grew up in South Florida but my family is from Pittsburgh. I grew up a Steeler fan and spent many summers in Pittsburgh being brainwashed my relatives (like in The Manchurian Candidate). Over the years I did, gradually, develop a liking for the Dolphins as well (with the Steelers remaining #1). Then I moved to Chicago, where I lived, off and on, for 11 years. I developed a liking for the Bears.

Different sports can indeed have teams from different cities but there should be some continuity. I don’t care about the Chicago baseball teams much, rooting for the Pirates or Marlins (a team that didn’t exist when I first left Florida but that has managed to win two more World Series in the past hundred years than one of the Chicago teams has). Rooting for the Pirates, when you do not live IN Pittsburgh can, however, be considered a form of insanity. When you grow up in Florida you do not have a favorite hockey team while you live there, even if you have Panthers season tickets. You are just waiting for the Blackhawks, Red Wings or Penguins to come to town.

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But then we come to another matter, mass hysteria; when I arrived in Chicago Michael Jordan was still with the Bulls. YOU had NO choice in the matter. As soon as you arrived here, you had a Chicago Bulls chip implanted which caused excruciating pain should you root against them (even if you watched every single, miserable game of the Miami Heat’s first season). You can be excused for succumbing to this mass hysteria. It is something written into our human DNA to follow the herd.

In some cases you might be murdered if you are a fan of the wrong team. In this case it is unacceptable to turn on your team simply for your own safety. This is America, buy a gun and carry it under the offending sport jersey at all times. If you are in one of those states where they don’t let you carry guns openly then you can settle matters with a slap fight.

College sports, especially football, are more complicated and beyond the purview of this article. But there are a few things that must be noted; You may root for a team from your region if you didn’t go the school. You may root for other teams to beat a hated rival. You cannot root for Notre Dame, even if you go there. And if you didn’t go there and have the Fighting Irish symbol tattooed on you, that appendage should be hacked off. You also should not root for any team coached by USC’s Lane Kiffin.

Keep in mind, these are a loose set of rules, made up by me off the top of my head. Therefore you should take them to be absolute, irrefutable truth. You should be willing to kill over these pronouncements. If anyone doubts the veracity of these words simply tell them you read them on the internet, ergo meaning they are true.

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Does Mary Louise Parker Have Rabies?

10/29/2010

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Recently, my prelude to a discussion of the film Paranormal Activity 2, had a brief allusion to the film Red and discussed how the primary reason I was able to even try to care about the movie was the presence of Mary Louise Parker. I have just adored Ms. Parker since she was on The West Wing, so imagine my concern when I receive a comment on that piece saying that Parker was “batshit crazy" (specifically  the "one of the nastiest, most bat-shit crazy people in Hollywood”).  This, of course, let to me pondering the origins of the phrase “batshit crazy” and wondering where such a, if not common certainly not rare, epithet might have its origins.  The last sentence of the comment gave me pause. It asserted, clearly referring to the Weeds actress, as follows; “I think she has rabies.”

I found this alarming.

Rabies is a contagious disease. Beyond the potential rabidness of the exquisite, if surgically altered, Ms. Parker, there are other concerns.  If Parker had rabies then Bruce Willis, almost certainly, would have contracted it.  I tremble to think about what a monkey wrench that might throw into the development to the shooting schedule of Die Hard 5, Will You Just Fucking DIE Already.   Even more alarming, the lovely Parker also had scenes in close proximity to Dame Helen Mirren and John Malkovich. If Mirren, like Willis, went rapid there would be absolutely NO chance of a Caligula 2 Electric Boogaloo. If Malkovich were to fall victim plans for Being John Malkovich Again might well be scotched. Let’s not even get into the potential issues faced by the cast of Weeds.

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But back to “batshit crazy.”

I have to assume that given my interlocutors’ placing this description so near the notion that the talented and stunning Ms. Parker might be rapid implies a connection between “batshit crazy” and “rabies.” Many believe that bats are a primary vector for the spread of dread hydrophobia, ergot inhaling dried bat droppings might make a person, left untreated, “bat shit crazy.”

Years ago writing for a real publication I contacted the Bat Conservation International in Austin, Texas to ask them a couple of questions about the flying mammals and the spread of rabies. They told me back then, if I recall correctly, that all mammals could theoretically carry rabies. Bats, however, are small; a bat that gets bitten is unlikely to survive long enough to spread hydrophobia. However, if one bat gets rabies, being very social animals, they might well spread it to their entire colony.  A CDC report concurs stating, “For example, even among bats submitted for rabies testing because they could be captured, were obviously weak or sick, or had been captured by a cat, only about 6% had rabies.”

My ultimate aim here is to prove, at least beyond a reasonable doubt, that Parker is NOT rabid and remove a great deal of worry from my mind about the potential damage to the film and television industry.

First of all, although we have already dispensed with the misguided thought that Parker contracted rabies from a bat, let us look into bats of Southern California and the spread of rabies. I have no idea where Ms. Parker lives. I am just assuming California (she is originally from South Carolina and may also have previous rabies experience, which makes it even less likely she would approach a rabid animal). There is  an alarming notice about how most California wild animal cases are in bats and skunks. Nonetheless I posit that it is unlikely Parker handled either species, even if she lived in West Hollywood.

Without quoting statistics human rabies cases in the United States are rare and even in wild animals the disease is fairly well controlled. Another way to, at least circumstantially, show Parker is not rabid is to examine symptoms.

The symptoms of rabies vary and can apparently be different in humans and other animals. For our purposes we need only concern ourselves with human symptoms. One of the obvious symptoms of rabies comes from the diseases medical name, hydrophobia. Those afflicted with rabies fear water. There are at least two scenes, one in a bathtub and another in a swimming pool wherein Ms. Parker demonstrates no fear whatever of water (see above video).

Humans afflicted with rabies also have headaches, pain, irritability, itching near where the infection site and later music spasms in the throat that lead the foaming at the mouth symptom alluded to earlier. While such "irritability" might well be a reason my commenter referred to Parker being one of the "nastiest" people in Hollywood it is hardly conclusive proof of rabies infection.

In later stages those with rabies have hallucinations, seizures, paralysis and death. We will assume the commenter is asserting Ms. Parker is in the early stages of rabies therefore we will not deal with these later stages. Such advanced rabies would make it difficult to act in even a Jerry Bruckheimer film.  After examining numerous episodes of Weeds (especially scenes in bathtubs), I can state unequivocally that I observed no undue itching, spasms or mouth foaming. Ms Parker did not seem to be in inordinate pain from a headache, although that is difficult to gauge. Irritability is likewise difficult to gauge and it appeared Ms Parker’s characters seem to exhibit neither more, nor less, irritability than was required in a given scene.

While there are scenes in Weeds where the actress did become unhinged it appears to have been the intent of the writers of that scene.  In one case Ms. Parker leaps into a pool in the final moments of the scene. It would take a both skilled and forceful director to coax such a performance out of a rabid actress. I doubt even Alfred Hitchcock could have managed it. Maybe John Derek.

I believe I have shown it, at the very least, highly unlikely that Ms. Parker is afflicted with rabies in either the early or latter stages of the disease. I would further suggest that if anyone, even tangentially associated with the sultry Ms. Parker, might be rabid it is those who wrote the screenplay for Red.

 

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Not Necessarily SILLY Love Songs

8/26/2010

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Love songs, you know the ones that always come onto the radio right after you get dumped, have always been a staple of popular music. When minstrels roamed the land many of the songs were about love. Every genre, everywhere, has a preponderance of songs about love. They may be sappy, they may be heart wrenching and they may be just plain dumb. All that is ok. But then there are the songs that are just plain offensive.

Often what offends me is complete disregard for reality. Take for instance the 70s hit, The Pina Colada Song.

Any woman, ANY woman, who showed up for an illicit liaison with another man and found out that the man in question was her husband would not, for a moment, think about her own behavior. She might reflect on that later but initially? Not a chance.

“I didn’t think about my lady…” says the song.

Well, buddy, you will have plenty of time to think about her in the emergency room. The only question is which utensil she would emasculate you with. Pray she grabs the seafood fork.

Anyone remember the song Afternoon Delight?  I do not care what decade it is: 1970s, 2010s, 1840s, all you have to do to assure you are not getting laid is play this song. Just writing about it is like thinking about baseball or your grandma. It makes me think of an orgy of the cast of “Up With People” (come on, if you remember Afternoon Delight you remember “Up With People”).

Which brings us to a song that just HAS to be part of the discussion: All the Girls I've Loved Before. Of course, we ALL know how much any woman will appreciate being lumped into a group with other girls you've "loved" before. This song was made popular as a duet by Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias.Now THAT would be an eclectic collection of women, to say nothing of a unique collection of the varying species of crabs.

A friend of mine recently commented; Everything I Do, I Do It For You, by Bryan Adams "makes me want to punch someone.”

Me too, Bryan Adams. But really it isn’t offensive.

But lets get more modern.

Akon’s Sexy Bitch may not qualify as a love song by Afternoon Delight-standards but it is a solid modern example. I mean I was cruising Youtube for songs and there were a lot like this. I was far more offended personally by the liberal use of pitch correction than the lyrics myself. But then, I am not sure most women (women who are not likely to give you crabs)  will find lines like “She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood hoe” endearing. In defense of Akon, he then states he wants to describe said woman without being “disrespectful.”

Fair enough. How does  he do this?

Dam girl
Dam you'se a sexy bitch
A sexy bitch
Dam you'se a sexy bitch
Dam girl

That is, by most standards, pretty respectful. And I mean he does say she CANNOT be compared to a neighborhood whore (although whether that is a positive or negative is a matter of conjecture).

When looking for offensive love songs it appears to always be productive to have a listen to anything by Usher. I gave a listen to his track Hey Daddy.

This song is wrong on so many levels it is hard to approach. The entire concept of a woman calling her significant other “Daddy” is exhibit A. Creepy right? And when the song tells you to shake your booty in front of the neighbors so they can watch, I am believe said woman is getting pretty near justifiable homicide should she decided to light the man in question on fire while he is sleeping.

And women singers are not getting off the hook. Around 15 years ago the then teenage Alanis Morissette appeared on the scene with You Oughta Know. This song immediately became the theme song of every late teen/early 20s woman who felt they had been wronged by a man. In other words-- ALL of them.

 I am sure it especially struck a nerve with those cheating with married men.

“I’m here to remind you…of the mess you left when you went away…”

Ok and I am here to remind you about the restraining order. It says you have to stay 500 feet away from me and my wife.

Cher's Believe is another, similar, tune. I actually felt good for Cher that she got a hit when no one would sign her or put out her record. And the song itself is, to me, most offensive for its pitch correction cranked up to vocal distortion heights on purpose. After all these years I am sure Cher can sing in tune if she wants to and takes some time. Maybe she had to get to an infomercial taping.

ANYWAY this song immediately became the theme song of every middle aged woman and gay man who felt wronged (again, ALL of them).

“Do you believe in life after LOOOOVE BZZZZ”

No, after love there is only certain death.

The list of painful, offensive love songs is unending. I may have to write about nothing but this and do it starting in the late 1800s. I am sure John Phillips Sousa wrote something about women inappropriately shaking their booty but I need to look into it before detailed analysis.

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How Can You Tell When Your Favorite Sitcom Is Running Out Of Creative Gas?

7/16/2010

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-They have a “big wedding”. These are always dull and maudlin and appeal to middle aged women who sit around in their living rooms, alone, wearing their old wedding gowns (or possibly one they bought at a thrift store). The show will corner this very important demographic and might even get renewed. Of course, it only works once and only with main characters.

-The main character leaves. Remember the guy who replaced Topher Grace on That 70s Show? No? Neither does anyone else.

-They introduce a baby. Even shows that are still good sometimes do this as they feel the icy claw of cancellation. Remember way back in the days of yore to the one-joke show, Mork & Mindy? (“Nanu, nanu!” isn’t that HILARIOUS…man and people say TV sucks NOW). They introduced Jonathan Winters as Robin Williams’ baby. At least there was some sort of comedic karma in Robin William’s helping Winters get a job.. Usually it is just a pair of twins (child labor laws) for those same, barren, lonely, crazy cat-women to “coo, coo” over for a few episodes. Still, show is usually canceled within the year.

-Character moves to a new city, gets a new job or a completely new set of friends. It happens a lot in real life but when it happens on a sitcom? It is over.

-They bring in an aging star to bolster the cast. Eric Idle was on Suddenly Susan. Now I am actually FOR this theoretically. I would love to see Mickey Rourke added to the cast of  Two and a Half Men, for instance. Or, perhaps, Rutger Hauer to the cast of Parks & Recreation.

-Someone sees and communicates with a “ghost” on a show that has never had any supernatural plot in its history.

-Characters, who have been on the show for years, and had nothing to do with one another are suddenly in bed. Before they added that anonymous guy who replaced Topher Grace (who is pretty good in Predators by the way), That 70s Show had the cute dark haired girl date everyone except Tommy Chong.

-Guest stars, complete with colostomy bags and liver spots, begin to appear who last worked on Fantasy Island or The Love Boat. I suspect this usually indicates some aging Hollywood money-man is giving his old friends last ditch jobs.

-An actor who died on the show returns as a long lost brother, cousin or clone.

-Someone wakes up and determines inconvenient or convoluted plot developments were actually “a dream.”

-The show is moved to the old Walker Texas Ranger slot. Then the show is moved to Sunday and the old  Punky Brewster spot. The next appearance will be at 1:30 a.m. after old MASH reruns.

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