Tuesday, December 31, 2002

It was pointed out to me that my New Year's Resolution may not be feasible, as I will spend half my life screaming, and the other half unconscious.

Here are my New Year's Resolutions:

* I'll eat healthier.

* Read a little more.

* Stop Stalking David Letterman.

* Do More Hunting

* Learn to Tap Dance

* Speak Portugese fluently

* Run my own carpet cleaning business.

* Become the World's Best Trombone player.

* Become George Brett.

Happy New Year.

Monday, December 30, 2002

When people make me mad, do you know what I do?

Hold it in a little angry, maddening ball. Until I explode.

But no more.

Now, when somebody makes me mad, I'll just scream and scream at them until I'm no longer angry or until I pass out due to lack of precious oxygen.

Call it my New Year's Resolution.

Sunday, December 29, 2002

And they say Sports Fans are dumb. If you're so smart, you answer me this whole NFL playoff scenario. If the Jets win, and the Dolphins lose, and Warren Sapp goes the whole day without having to rearrange his package, then the Eagles don't have to play next weekend, unless the Steelers tie and George Steinbrenner sells the Yankees. My name is Big Stupid Tommy, and I have a hard time understanding this all.

The Jets and the Titans are the two hottest teams going into the playoffs. In the AFC, though, watch out for the Steelers. They'll screw somebody's world up. Over in the NFC, everybody seemed to have simply fallen into the playoffs. Absolutely nobody comes in with any momentum. In fact, the Packers and Falcons come off a drubbing, the Eagles lost a heartbreaker, the Giants won that heartbreaker, and the Bucs played the Bears.

A team consisting of me, my roommate Bill, George Steinbrenner, Billy Joel, Mira Sorvino and everybody who ever played James Bond in a movie would beat the Bears (in overtime) 17-14.

My picks right now are Eagles from the NFC and the Titans from the AFC. Especially if the Raiders can't get their defense healthy....

George Steinbrenner.

Did I mention George "Let's Have an 8-Man Rotation" Steinbrenner?

Aqua Teen Hunger Force is the funniest cartoon on TV.

Saturday, December 28, 2002

I almost got run over by a guy driving a truck today. I didn't care for it, though I'd imagine I'd have cared for it even less had he succeeded. Not that he was trying, necessarily, but he would have accomplished what many others have failed to do through a dumb luck spin of Fortuna's wheel. When he realized what his actions had caused, namely the spilling of the contents of my shopping bag to the ground, he was somewhat apologetic.

A joke:

What did the hat rack say to the hat?

You go on ahead, I'll stay right here.

Wokka, Wokka, Wokka.

Friday, December 27, 2002

A man walks into a bar, and clunks a chunk of asphalt onto the bar. "Gimme a beer," he says, "and another for the road...."

That's the worst joke I've ever heard. It's the only thing that made me smile today.

A couple of people have mentioned to me that the fish guy from the Muppets is named Lew Zealand. Thanks to those of you who entered. You both win. 4.2 million dollars. You'll be paid in 4.2 million equal yearly installments.

People are just assholes. That's the other thing. I won't bore you with the specific details. I'll just say: Give people a little time. Not everybody's trying to take advantage of you. It's not that person's fault you're in a big fucking hurry.

This group that's said they've cloned a human. The talk radio station here in town read a story about it during newsbreaks today. And the one thing 99.7 links onto is that the head of this group, apparently, thinks that human beings are the product of extraterrestrial genetic tinkering. But when Kevin Ingram from 99.7 reads this, he says this last part with a snotty, ironic tone that says "Aren't these people the craziest, most unbelievable, ridiculous cretins you've ever heard of?"

When you think about it...if you're big into the whole God creating the heavens, Earth and Human race....God being everything, he's certainly extraterrestrial if he wants to be. And he had to tinker, at least a little bit, to make the first human. And you know, he'd probably have to tinker a little bit more just to prevent all the inbreeding that would have to result from two people creating the entire human race.

And then there's the George Carlin stance: What's more ridiculous? Humans made by space aliens or by the invisible man in the sky?

On the other hand, the arrogance of calling the cloned child Eve gets in my craw, too. It's like the whole thing was done to throw up in somebody else's face. That doesn't make you a great scientist, or a pioneer in the world of genetics. Doing that makes you an asshole. It's spiteful and it's unnecessary. And if that's what cloning gets you, I'm pretty much all against that, then. I've said it before and I'll bring it up ad nauseum that there are quite enough assholes in the world, thank you very much.

Not that I think George Carlin or Kevin Ingram or the cooky cloners are all completely right.

The only person completely right about the human philosophical situation is Batman.

And possibly David Cross.

Though I'm not entirely incorrect nearly 70 percent of the time.

Thursday, December 26, 2002

Also: I've been informed that The Eleventh Day is Beauregard.

And he's not a janitor. He's a stagehand.

Pardon my ignorance. Of course, that goes without saying.
I'm watching "Insomniac," and Dave's in Nashville, at a live-action role-playing game. A girl I was in a bunch of English classes with bit Dave on the neck to initiate him into the Vampire Game Group.

I like when Dave's in places I know and understand. I know where Nashville is. After a fashion.

He was in Myrtle Beach a week or two ago. And I knew that place too.

But when he's in someplace like Pittsburgh, or Juneau, Alaska....forget that.

Wednesday, December 25, 2002

I had a really bad dream last night. That I had a fight with a customer at work. I bit the guy, he hit me with a sledgehammer.

Perhaps I'm watching a little too much professional wrestling.

The bad dream wasn't so much that I lost a fight to a customer (who was my childhood friend's father, by the way).

I hate dreaming about work. I'll do it once or twice a month, but here recently I've been dreaming about it nightly. For about a week.

I feel that they should pay me for that time. I'm a busy guy.

Failing that, I'll just stay home during my waking hours for the rest of the week. I'll go about my merry way, secure in the knowledge that I've already put in a day's (or night's) work.

Do you think they'd buy that?
I got a Dancing Homer Simpsons doll for Christmas. It's Homer standing on a base. There's a motion sensor, and when you walk by, Homer says something delightful, or he sings and dances along to "Boogie Fever" or "Rapper's Delight." It's really a wonderful toy.

One of the cats was, at first, mesmerized by its gyrations. Then, frightened out of its mind.

And I press the issue. With the rubber band shooting pistol that my sister got me for Christmas.

Big Stupid Tommy. Bane to cats.

Not cats. One particular cat. He's my archenemy.

Merry Christmas.

Tuesday, December 24, 2002

I'm on Eastern time right now, where things happen so much later and the sun comes up really late.

It's 10:30 PM.

Tomorrow's Christmas.

Season's Greetings. Make sure to do right by somebody. It's a rough world sometimes. Make it a better place.

(Firing Fireworks at somebody's home does not necessarily make the world a better place; just a note)

The news says Santa Claus is around the Maine/Canada border. Though I'm moved toward skepticism when it comes to the weatherman tracking Santa. John Boy and Billy's resident phone-in crank Mad Max says, rightly so, that the weather man can't spot a two-hour thundershower when it's right outside the window, so why should we trust them with tracking Santa?

But those fellers at NORAD, they have their stuff pretty much down. So trust them.

To everybody out there, and to anybody who may be reading....Do some good. Enjoy Yourself.

Have a Merry Christmas.

Big Stupid Jolly Tommy
I got home from dining with my good friend Steven and my mother's watching the Goonies. I've seen the Goonies approximately 100 times. At least. There was one summer vacation where my sister and I watched the Goonies every day.

You live in a house with no cable.

I've seen Star Wars at least as many times as I have the Goonies.

I'll watch Shawshank Redemption any time I see it on TV, even though I have it on DVD.

National Lampoon's European Vacation is another. I've seen it a couple of dozen times.

Back to the Future. Probably 25 times.

Police Academy II. But all I know is the version we taped off NBC in, like, 1988. I tried watching the tape this past summer, before it disintegrated inside the VCR. There was a Michael Winslow commercial for Suzuki (appropriate, since Michael Winslow made Police Academy II. There's also a McDonald's commercial where they had the moon singing for them. He was a guy wearing a headpiece the size of his body that looked like a crescent-moon. We actually have one of those Christmas ornaments floating around our house, somehwere.

Tim Burton's Batman. Actually, that was the first pre-recorded cassette I think we ever owned here in Casa de Big Stupid Tommy.
I hadn't watched it in a while, but Sci-Fi Channel ran the widescreen a month ago. I liked it. I saw Batman 5 times in the theater. If you count the twice I saw it at the Mid-Way Drive-In. I've seen it a bunch since then, but it's waned in recent years.


Animal House. I watch Animal House whenever I'm feeling down.


A couple of recent additions:

The Ocean's Eleven that came out in 2001, I've seen 5 times. Once in the theater. Four times on DVD (Twice regular, once with each commentary track).

Royal Tenenbaums. Four Times. I love that movie.

And Of course: Rugrats do Paris. It's a technical marvel.


Monday, December 23, 2002

The First Day of Christmas is John Denver
The Second Day of Christmas is Fozzie Bear
The Third Day of Christmas is Gonzo
The Fourth Day of Christmas is Robin, Kermit's Nephew
The Fifth Day of Christmas is Miss Piggy (Ba-Domp Bump Bump)
The Sixth Day of Christmas is Scooter
The Seventh Day of Christmas is The Fish Guy (Crazy Larry?)
The Eighth Day of Christmas is Rowlf
The Ninth Day of Christmas is Bunsen and Beaker
The Tenth Day of Christmas is Statler and Waldorf
The Eleventh Day of Christmas is...a mystery.
The Twelfth Day of Christmas is Kermit the Frog

The Eleventh Guy I see, but don't know his name. I think he's the janitor from the Muppet Theater. The brown guy...usually pushing a broom.

I need somebody with video of the event to verify this all for me.

Sunday, December 22, 2002

And folks, if you ignore Martin Lawrence, he'll go away. I honestly believe that.

The Titans secure a place in the playoffs, which proves to me that the world (at least the goings-on in the sports world) revolve around me and me alone. I root for the Titans, they go 1 and 4. I say that they'll have a hard time hitting .500, and they win 9 of 10 and win the AFC South.

Now if the Raiders lose, Tennessee has an inside track to home field throughout the playoffs.

I type my entries usually without a lot of thought. I don't go back and check grammar or spelling very much. I'm confident in my abilities. After all, I did attend Festus J. Wannamaker's School of Hair-Cutting and Grammar for almost three months.

But when I use the wrong version of "write" in a post, that bugs me. I said in a post that I was going to "right down a joke."

Yes, sir, I am from a rural county in the south.

I'm home for the holidays. I have a cat that has taken me as her own. She always has. And to be honest, I'm fairly protective of her, too. But when I'm home, she sleeps on me. I sleep on the bed, under the covers. She sleeps on top of me, on top of the covers. Usually up around the shoulder, since I sleep on my side.

The problem is, in the throes of my night terrors (Al Roker, and last night, Grimace, from McDonald's), I thrash about quite a lot. And nothing is worse than waking up from Grimace chasing you and trying to kill you for eating at a Long John Silver's because a cat is digging her little razor claws into your neck for leverage to hold on while you toss and turn. And when you wake up and get mad at the cat, the cat only gets indignant. Will take absolutely no blame on the matter.

Go to comics.com and read Arlo and Janis from Sat. December 21.

Saturday, December 21, 2002

I guess what I was trying to say with the Trent Lott thing yesterday was this: there are any number of things the man has done wrong in his life, but he's pressured to resign because of a slip of the tongue. An ill-timed statement used to make a 100-year old man happy. And the thing is, it had to be pointed out by several agencies before people started to take offense.

And the ball got rolling in Congress. His friends were on his side, until they saw which way the public was leaning.

It's all so fickle.

Moving on....

My father and I decided to go see the new Lord of the Ring movie this afternoon. We got to the theater, stood in line for a while before we could see the signs saying that the afternoon showings were sold out.

This movie is going to make a ton of money. Peter Jackson can eat Money Sandwiches if he wants.

Instead, we went to the dollar theater. We saw Ghost Ship, starring Julianna Margui...Margulee...Nurse Hathaway from E.R.

I enjoyed it. Lots of people dying. A really odd scene at the very beginning where everybody on the deck of a ship is sliced in half by a high-tension wire. It had its creepy moments. On a scale of 1 to 10, 3 being the highest and 14 being the lowest, I give it a 6 and a Half.

Friday, December 20, 2002

I wish that in America, instead of deer, we had a breed of ape that ran wild through our forests. But not one of those violent, strong and somewhat intelligent apes like you see on Animal Planet. Just stupid, jumpy apes that were as skittish around people as our deer are today.

In professional wrestling, they have a thing called cheap heat.

Heat is the negative reaction and relationship a bad guy (or sometimes a good guy) has with a crowd.

Cheap Heat is called such because it's easy to get.

Perhaps the most recognized way is to go into a town and run down the town's local sports team. For example, if I were wrestling in Tampa, and I wanted the fans to dislike me, I'd talk about how much the Tampa Bay Bucaneers suck.

There are lots of ways to get cheap heat. A more universal way would be to talk about how hick-like the fans in Huntsville, Alabama were, or how stupid the folks in the Valley in California are.

But the cheapest of the cheap. The absolute easiest way to get heat with a crowd, is to use the race card.

Wrestling has always used the race card for that reason. The WWF of the 80's is probably the biggest example. The Iron Sheik was Iranian, and therefore bad--he became Iraqi during the Gulf War. There were always evil Russians.

However, the Black stereotype has been shied away from in recent years. Volatility and unpredictablility being two reasons. The biggest reason though, it that it was so overdone back in the day, that it's hard to use now.

The race card is so cheap, nowadays, so overused, that rarely will it pop up overtly in the wrestling vernacular. Probably the most recent example was this past Monday night, when D-Lo Brown said the referee was ruling against him because he was black.

I didn't think about it at the time. I just changed the channel to see how the Titans were doing on Monday Night Football. But I turned the channel because it wasn't interesting to me. It's too easy to establish yourself as a heel (or a face) using the race card. It's not interesting to me. It's old.

Which has me up a barrel over this whole Trent Lott mess.

First, is anybody surprised that a old rich white guy from Mississippi makes a racist comment? I'd taken it as a given. It's not prejudicial for me to say that, is it? Am I succumbing to a stereotype? Probably. But as a white guy from the south, I think it says something that I thought this other white guy from the south was a racist. He's 40 years older than me, and comes from a much different time than me. I'd just taken it as a given. Seriously, you can almost hear the guy stopping himself from saying "Colored folk" when he talks. I'd taken him as a cartoon.

Second, if so many folks like us down at the low end of the spectrum as wrestling fans think a wrestling storyline is passe, why can't the rest of the world get around it concerning such a newsworthy and sophisticated arena as the United States Congress?

I'm serious. Explain this to me.

Not that I'm a Trent Lott fan. He's as two-faced as any politician out there, and I really had no use for that man. I was a Fred Thompson junkie. He was a hoss.

But it's not fair that the cheap heat mongers can get face time on news television and giving Trent Lott so much crap that he ends up stepping down from the Majority Leader's position.

I've not explained my position so well, I'm afraid. It would take a much more talented writer and a much better thinker than I.

In the end, it doesn't affect me one way or the other, I guess, if Trent Lott is majority leader or not.

It's just something that's been bugging me. That's all.
You know that hot dog eating contest they have a Coney Island every summer (July 4?)? I wonder who would win if lives were on the line? Only the one who eats the most hot dogs lives? Or only the one who comes in last dies?

I'll bet there's a psychological block that would be broken down if somebody was threatening you, or threatening your family.

If somebody told me they'd off my family, I'd bet I could eat a whole assload of hot dogs.

Do you think people ever throw those contests? Wouldn't that be a win/win situation? You get money from a bookie, and you only have to eat 42 hot dogs instead of 48?

Yes, we're talking about weiner-shaving scandal.

I saw the the Cubs signed Shawn Estes. He's quality starter, if not spectacular.

My friend Joe is in Wisconsin. God help him. The last I heard, Wisconsin was a savage, unsettled land besieged by Vikings and Tunnel Rats. And he flew!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, December 19, 2002

I'm not necessarily stupid all the time. Though I made a helluva bad decision today. In the backroom at work, they were listening to a station that was giving mega bucks away for answering an impossible trivia question. The clue was: It was invented in 1942 by GE, for Industrial Uses. I don't know why I knew the answer, but I did. And I tried calling the radio station. The phone was ringing. It rang for 20 minutes. Then a customer came in, and they needed help. I had to hang up. Bastards!!!!!!!!

The answer was Silly Putty. It (I learned when they had announced the answer) was developed as an insulator.

I must have read it somewhere.

Smart for facts. Big and Stupid Tommy for Decisions.

Last Night's NWA-TNA show was one of the promotion's strongest it's put together in its six-month history. I've always said it needs to rely on the X-Division as its signifying effort. Get guys like Jerry Lynn, A.J. Styles, Kid Kash and the Amazing Red who just get in there to wrestle, make the emphasis on competition instead of Entertainment (yes, I know it's pre-determined), and it'll make for a good show.

Once you have a solid portion of the show set aside for X-Division Competition, then do the storytelling.

The belief is: The more you care about the wrestlers, the more you care about the fighting. In the wake of the WWE running rampant over the wrestling world, many wrestling promotions thought wrongly that people cared more for the talking and less for the fighting.

And maybe do. I don't think I'm a typical wrestling fan.

But with TNA, if you get some decent, non-over-the-top storytelling going, then you'll have a super product. I believe TNA should by all means copy the story-telling style of ECW. I'm scared Russo will go completely hogwild, though.

Wednesday 12/18's show saw the return of Low-Ki and "the Fallen Angel" Chris Daniels. I'm looking forward to seeing a lot of Chris Daniels.

NWA-TNA returns January 8.

Wednesday, December 18, 2002

We're a week away from Christmas. I ask again: Did you buy me something good?

I went to Wal-Mart today. In Middle Tennessee, Wal Mart is the great meeting ground of all the races and tribes. It doesn't matter if they're white, black or Eskimo, they shop at Wal-Mart. I'm not going to Wal Mart again in 2002 if I can help.

I was going to write down this joke I heard on Bob and Tom this morning, but it's quite and aural joke, so I won't bore you with the details...only that it's terribly funny, and that you'd have enjoyed it.

Tuesday, December 17, 2002

Do you have any idea just how much I like Santa Claus? You should write him a letter.

I wish more people would put Christmas lights up around their houses. For those of you in Murfreesboro, there's a house over on Old Lascassas. It's not huge. But I appreciate their effort.
I had a dream last night that I worked at the White House for somebody called President Martin. Only I didn't really care for my job. In my dream, I was deciding to skip work. I went to a book store and to a play or a movie or something of the sort--something where I was sitting in a large crowd.

And the Secret Service kept trying to catch me and get me to come to work.

I would switch from first person to third person in the dream. I would see the stuff from my eyes, like the audience at the play, but when the Secret Service came to find me, it would go third person, and I would watch as I was able to outfox them.

They caught me when I came to the pit of snakes, not at all unlike the one in which they leave Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark (which I watched the other night on AMC).

It was kind of sad.

A couple of other notes:

If you write Scrooge enough, it starts to look funny to you.

And I never did make it up to the Winter Meetings in Nashville. I really wanted to harass a couple of baseball people. Just for fun.

Monday, December 16, 2002

I watched part of TNT's A Christmas Carol last night. It stars Captain Picard.

I did not like it so much. I couldn't decide if Stewart's Scrooge was supposed to be laughable--it was like that was the intent, instead of going for the traditional miser character. But he wasn't funny, either.

George C. Scott's portrayal of Ebenezer Scrooge is always quite good. But Ebenezer Scrooge, to my mind, was a little wiry, weasly guy. Scott was this big, gruff, intimidating, condescending fellow. "Scrooge" is probably the strongest all around of the Christmas Carol films, but the late-Mr. Scott's portrayal was not exactly what I want.

To my mind, the definitive Scrooge is the one portrayed in Mickey's Christmas Carol. He's a little wiry guy--albeit a duck. But he's gruff and sneering at the start, just like I envision whenever I read the Dickens book. And when he becomes all animated and happy-like toward the end of the film, he has the right level of joviality.

But mostly I like the fact that in no point during the movie does he wear pants.

Saturday, December 14, 2002

Bill can vouch for me. I didn't see this week's episode of South Park where Santa Claus lives in Superman's Fortress of Solitude until tonight. Coincidences are funny.

Here on Big Stupid Tommy, I try not to be too negative. I'm often pessimistic in real life--it's something I'm continually striving to change, with varying degrees of success.

Just a couple of not-so random thoughts:

Loss Prevention People are just scum by design, aren't they? They can't actually be thinking, feeling human beings like you and me, can they? Bill said that he couldn't do the job. Neither could I. As much as I claim to hate people, sometimes. Neither could I.

There are parts of my job that can get really, really crappy some times. I don't mind doing them because there are other parts of my job that are tremendously rewarding.

But every now and then the scales tip toward the slurm.
Now, Brought to you by the fine folks at Clem's House of Griddle Cakes and Cider:

An Ill-informed and unthought-about opinion by Big Stupid Tommy

Here's why Pete Rose will get into the Baseball Hall of Fame, sooner rather than later:

Because Allan "Bud" Selig is such a media dumbass, he will want to do whatever he can to try and lighten his image. In the past 10 years, the NBA and the NHL, and to an extent the NFL have become much more fan-friendly than good old Major League Baseball. The Strike in 94 was the start. But such little things as prohibitive television contract, televising national games to where the run late at night, letting the players run the asylum, letting the 2002 All Star Game end in a tie have combined with rising ticket costs and increased inaccessibility of the fans to the game.

The fans of the game stayed away quite a bit in 2002, shying away from both stadium and TV, come the post season.

Baseball, I think, is starting to notice the fact that dwindling fan support means fewer dollars.

USA Today had a poll in which 86 percent of those responding favored Pete either being reinstated completely, or at least let into the Hall.

ESPN's poll had a few more conditions, such as whether he should admit gambling on baseball, but the overwhelming majority of those responding (and the sheer number responding was remarkable) supported Rose in his attempts to be reinstated.

What I see is this. The majority of baseball fandom wants Pete Rose to be recognized officially for his accomplishments. I think Major League Baseball, in what is perhaps a shortsighted move, will go ahead and readmit Pete. It's good press.

Don't get me wrong. I think Pete deserves to be in the Hall of Fame. I'd like seeing him enshrined there, one day. He's just one of the greats. That's all there is to it.

Here's my problem. Pete signed a piece of paper saying that he would accept a lifetime ban. He signed it. Word has come out that he signed it with a private understanding with Bart Giamatti that in a year's time, he would be up for review.

Of course, Bart died 9 days later.

My problem is Pete trying to get back in the game after he signed a contract saying he wouldn't. If it was so important to him to be a part of the game, maybe he shouldn't have signed.

Or maybe he shouldn't have gambled on baseball. Which he did, I'm fairly sure.

Here's what I support: Recognize him in the Hall, but don't let him back in baseball.

What's more, quit using him. A couple of years back, when they recognized the Greatest Players, Pete was allowed back on the field (the same night Jim Grey ambushed him). This past year's World Series, they honored the greatest plays. They let Pete back in for that.

Quit using him. Give the man his due as a player. But quit using him.

I contradict myself, I'm sure. But I'm really quite sleepy.

Friday, December 13, 2002

Dear Superman:
This is what I want for Christmas.
The power to blow things up with my mind.
If this is too broad a thing to ask for, what I want then is the power to blow cars up with my mind.
Superman, if you could only do something about all these people that are driving (licensed by the state, apparently) then I would be ever so grateful.
Or maybe, you could give me some kind of radio signalling device. It would override the signal in their car whenever I pointed my transmitter at the offending car. One second, they'd be listening to "Pleasant Valley Sunday," and the next I would be talking (perhaps screaming) at them through their car's own speakers! Maybe they'd think that I was you, Superman. Maybe then they would listen.
Why is it, Superman, that every Friday every Bedouin Camel-Trader or Amish Vegetable Caravan or simply the Dirt Farmer Tractor Brigade has to be out on the roads--the ones that I drive on--and in my way? Couldn't you just simply designate Wednesday as Get Out and Drive Really Dangerously Day? And then Thursday would be Slowpoke Thursday?
For Christmas, Superman, instead of my previous list (mailed to you care of President George W. Bush in September of this year (2002), in which I asked for a Q-Bert Game, a kitten, a six-pack of Natty Light, that Dukes of Hazzard car you've owed me since 1983 and a mallet), I ask only for vengeance.
Although the point could be made that sweet vengeance could be obtained with a mallet.
I hope you have a good Christmas, Superman. I'll live a Swiss Cake Roll and a Coke out under the tree for you, and a bunch of carrots for your reindeers.
I love you, Superman.

Your buddy,
Big Stupid Tommy

Tuesday, December 10, 2002

Just a note to Madison Avenue:

I like what you've done in the way of humor in your commercials. That one Lycos.com commercial, where the guy becomes best friends with John Elway...that's classic. When John gets the cat out of the tree by hurling a football at it...that's genius. I should know. I was once hailed as a genius. For about five minutes. In the third grade.

And I'm strangely intrigued by these commercials for The Gap, where all the "pretty people" are singing "Love Train." It just sucks me in. I can't look away. I can't explain this, because I was never, ever hailed as a pretty person.

However, somebody has a lot to answer for these Old Navy commercials where they're playing what looks like Family Feud. And if the commercial isn't bad enough, it seems to run on every commercial break of every television show I watch. Whether it's Wrestling or Mama's Family, there are those bozos in Fleece Pullovers playing the Feud. Will it be enough if I burn down every Old Navy store?

Monday, December 09, 2002

No post yesterday. I was held hostage by a highly trained urban assault team made up entirely of Golden Retrievers. You think they want to play, but then they're calling your family saying "We need $4,229 and three big bags of Ol' Roy."

In the seventh hour of my captivity, I asked, "Can I please post to my website?"

Their leader, an older dog with flecks of gray littered about his muzzle, said "No."

And I asked "Why not, Hondo?" (Incidentally, his name was Hondrich Jameel Hornsweigler III...Hondo for short)

And he snarled "Because it would make you happy."

I asked, "Is that why you haven't let me go to the toilet?"

"No," he said, "we won't let you go to the bathroom because you don't have sense enough to go out in the woods to do it."

Saturday, December 07, 2002

Every town has its own set of injury lawyers. Nashville's is Bart Durham. He says: "We don't ask for justice; We Demand It!"

He had one great commercial chronicling his family's involvement in the legal field. It starts with Bart's father, and the commerical apparently takes place in the 1870's, for all the hoop skirts in the pit in the courtroom. Then, it moves on to young Bart, in the past. We know it's the past because everything Bart's doing is in black and white. Also, his hair is jet black. And he has sideburns down to his neck. But his face is still all wrinkly. And then we have modern Bart, and his son who's just entered the legal field.

It's heartwarming.

Bart's got other commercials more typical to the injury-lawyer field.

There's one, where a lady on a walker is scooting up to the grave of her husband. Now, I'm stupid, so I wasn't quite able to get the whole gist of what happened, but I gathered that a drunk motorcyclist drove in front of them, and as a result, her husband died. In the voiceover, the lady talks about Bart Durham getting her the millions of dollars she deserves.

I'm not going to rant about the whole thing, but the lady does NOT deserve millions of dollars.

That's the problem with this country. Everybody feels they're entitled to some kind of money somewhere.

Here's what I'd like. Say I'm an old woman, and my husband and I are driving, and a drunk motorcyclist drives in front of us, and my husband dies.

I think the drunk motorcyclist should then have to take my husband's place. He should provide for me. He should care for me. He should take care of me in every way. Do the yard work, pay the bills....everything.....including sex.

If nothing else, you could nag him to death.

Or possibly, you could be allowed to harass the motorcyclist literally to the point of insanity, and he would have no legal recourse. And you would be allowed to do so for a period of time equal to the amount of time left in your spouse's natural life span.

Say your spouse died at age 38. Life expectancy is up to what? 76 now? So for 38 years, the widow would be allowed to torment her husband's killer. And the husband's killer would have absolutely no legal recourse.

If your spouse was over the life expectancy, then set a statute of limitations. Four years?

Just think. You could call them at 3:45 in the morning and say "Know what? You killed my husband."

You could cause them to get fired. Visit them at work all the time.

But nothing that would cause them harm. I think that's got to be the rule. Nothing like loosening the lugnuts on their car or poisoning the food they're going to eat. Because then you'd be subjecting yourself to the nagging of their family.

It would be like a Wookiee life debt. Only in reverse.
I did forget to do laundry. Now I gots no clean shirts for the work. And who's fault is that America? I place the blame squarely on the Easter Bunny. What the hell's he doing right now?

Friday, December 06, 2002

A little bit of prognostication:

Today, I think I'll have 2 peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch.
Everybody will ask how my vacation was, and I'll roll my eyes and say "short."
I will forget that I need to do laundry after work.
For about 8 minutes, I'll think about the time Vance Goforth sneezed and stabbed himself in the forehead with his pencil.
I'll wish I was Neal Page from "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" constantly.
Nothing good will come in the mail.
We will re-enact the scene from "Driving Miss Daisy" at lunch, where Daisy tells Hoke he's her best friend.

Thursday, December 05, 2002

And really, folks, if you ignore Rob Schneider, he'll go away. I honestly believe that.
My favorite wrestler when I was a kid was a man by the name of Rowdy Roddy Piper. I knew him first as a bad guy, and the Wrestling Gods and the Hulkamania machine tried to make me dislike him. For some reason, though, I fought past it. I was the only kid in the third grade rooting for the Rowdy Scot in his boxing match against Mr. T at Wrestlemania II. He retired in a match against "Adorable" Adrian Adonais at Wrestlemania III, but has since made more comebacks that Michael Jordan.

Here's why I'm called Big Stupid Tommy.

A little bit of wintry weather hit the Nashville area on Wednesday night. My friendly neighborhood weatherman at channel 4 said that roads would be getting treacherous after dark, due to quickly falling temperatures and the high amount of rain we'd had over the course of the day.

Wednesday, all you wrasslin' fans know, is the night NWA-TNA holds its shows at the Shed, at the Nashville Fairgrounds. My intrepid roommate and I have hit nearly every show up in Nashville. It's a nice quality of technical wrestling and minimal talking--mostly--it's a trend that's reversed itself in recent weeks.

Upon consultation with Bill, we decided to stay in and watch the wrasslin sumbitch show on the Television.

And we've settled in. Eating pizza. Being guys.

The show comes on.

Whose music starts upon the show's opening?

Rowdy always had bagpipes. In WCW and part of his time in the WWF, he used Scotland the Brave as his theme music. The sound on the NWA telecast is not great. It may have been "Scotland the Brave" they used, but it sounded just like generic bagpipes. See, later in his WWF days, they had some copyrighted Piper music that WWF musicians wrote themselves. It was similar to "Scotland the Brave" but different enough to be unique. NWATNA may have opted for something different....but I digress.

Roddy Piper comes to the ring. A ring, mind you, that we would have been sitting 5 feet away from had Bill and I gone out like good wrestling fans.

Dammit!!!!!!!! I missed being 5 feet away from Rowdy Roddy Piper.

If I had been there, he would have seen me, recognized my devotion and loyalty, and he would have made me one of his knights against evil. He'd have given me his coat, his shirt and his kilt.

But noooooo. I'm a wussy and am afeard of the ice. Which didn't really hit that hard, by the way.

Big Stupid Tommy. Big Stupid Dumb Ignorant Ill-advised Tommy.

He spoke for about 15 minutes. He railed against Vince Russo (who's fast become the best heel the promotion's had in its six months). He was pretty good. Not great Piper. But good Piper.

And I missed him.

There's a moral here, Boys and Girls.

If there's wrasslin' nearby, go to it. Do NOT miss it.

I missed Rowdy Roddy Piper. I cannot believe it.

Stupid Big Stupid Tommy.

Wednesday, December 04, 2002

There are some news stories about acquisitions the Cubs are making. A couple good, one potentially good and another that's alright if....

Picking up Damian Miller is nothing but a good move, in my book. At any rate, it's an improvement. He calls a good game, and his bat is better than either Joe Girardi or Todd Hundley's. They guy he'll apparently be platooning with, Paul Bako, is decent, as well. He's good for a platoon. If I'm not mistaken, Bako was Maddux's personal catcher during Bako's days with the Braves. He's good for a platoon.

The one that is potentially good is Mike Remlinger. He's had a great run with the Braves over the last few seasons. I say this is a potentially good move simply for the track record the Cubs bullpen seems to have. But the guy's a lefty and he's good for 70+ appearances. I'd hope they'd think about cutting him back to 55 appearances or so, a stopper of sorts. A good setup for Farnsworth and whomever they get to close (if it's not Farnsworth).

The one that's got me thinking is this trade that hasn't quite gone through with the Dodgers.

Todd Hundley is expected to go to the Dodgers for Eric Karros and Mark Grudzielanek.

I'm all for dumping Todd Hundley's salary. I've actually liked the effort he's put in that I've seen. But his attitude, at least as portrayed on the television, always bothered me a bit. He's got that Paul O'Neill bitchy problem. Besides his problems at the plate, though, he never struck me as totally having the pitching staff under control. He often seemed at a loss. But then, I'm comparing him to Joe Girardi, who's one of the smartest catchers to play the game. You'll see Girardi managing before too long, methinks.

And picking up Grudzielanek doesn't bother me, if they intend on using him on the bench in a backup/pinch-hitting capacity.
I'm tired of the Cubs' picking up veterans to play in these positions. I want them to give Bobby Hill a chance. He's got crazy little man speed.

Eric Karros is something of a question.

Here's what I hope: They'll use Karros as further trade bait. Maybe pick up a couple of relievers for him.

The Cubs have Hee Seop Choi, and they've always been high on him. I hope this isn't some kind of swerve to put a veteran instead of a rookie in at first.

Just a thought: Can you teach a 35 year old Karros to play third base?


I'm sold on Mark Bellhorn for third base. He's a solid bat. Granted, last year was a career year for him, and he's not likely to repeat those kid of numbers. He's a solid glove, too.

And there was talk that Jeff Kent wanted to play for Dusty Baker. Could they talk Mr. Kent into playing third? Or perhaps Grudzielanek or Hill in order to let Kent play second?

I have to admit a lineup with Sosa and Kent looks nice.

A couple more thoughts before I move on:

Moises Alou must have a better year.
They need his bat. He needs to get somewhere close to 2001 levels. You could plug him in that two spot.


I will not get all optimistic over this season. I got optimistic last season, and look what happened.

Of course, these are the Cubs. What am I thinking of?

Moving forward:

Andy Richter Controls the Universe is back on Fox, Sundays at 8:30 Central. It was great last season. The first episode this year had funny parts, but I'm confident it'll be better. Andy Richter is one of the funniest guys on television. He made Conan O'Brien for me, and I haven't watched Conan regularly since Andy left. I'm watching Andy Richter Controls the Universe. You should too.

Tuesday, December 03, 2002

A momentary review:

Among the things I like is the inappropriate display of emotions over everyday occurrences.

Which is why I can't say no to a David Arquette movie.

I watched Eight Legged Freaks, which stars Mr. Arquette, and I enjoyed the movie.

I won't go in to much depth about the piece. It's rather light. Chemical waste causes spiders to grow really big. Then they attack people.

And David Arquette screams. Not as much as you might think, but he does scream.

It has a lot of the same light-hearted tone you might find in The Mummy. It doesn't bear much analysis or deep thought.

Rent it. Now! GO!!!!!!

Monday, December 02, 2002

My mother, regular reader, has pointed out to me that my first airplane flight was actually to Philadelphia. I was four months old at the time. I didn't count it due to my not remembering it, and because I was made to fly as luggage.

My earliest memory? I was two, sitting by the Christmas tree, ripping the hair out of my teddy bear Brownie with my teeth.

And then there was the big bee and the mud puddle.

Good times, good times.
And Now Big Stupid Tommy's People, News and Views....

Is there any better cereal than Boo Berry?....I was on last weeks SportsCenter Top 10 Plays of the Week...Chris Berman called me a butthole....Can we do something about all these crying babies?....The Best Show on Television: "In Search Of...." reruns on History Channel.....I counted my socks. I have 23 pair, and one extra....How do they know what it sounds like in the womb?...Charlie Sheen will pay! Oh! Will he Pay!....For my money, there is no better color, than blue.....Why does it warrant news coverage that Zsa Zsa Gabor is in the hospital?....Of all the animals I've eaten, my favorite is probably the chicken....the most entertaining website I've read in the past thirty minutes: Evil Hippy's Site....You'd better buy me something really good for Christmas....I slept 6.5 hours last night, but nearly 9 the night before, so IT'S ALL GOOD!!!!!!!!....Marge was buying Urkelo's at the Kwik-e-Mart last night....My first airplane flight was to Charlotte, North Carolina....Have a Smegly Week....

Larry King can kiss my butt.

"I's like Britney Spears, now!"

Sunday, December 01, 2002

This is the last time I talk about Star Wars for a while, I swear.

DVDReview.com has a list of Easter Eggs for several DVDs. I found the Episode II Easter Egg sheet.

Not as funny as the ones from Episode I, which included a lot of R2-D2 falling down.

Instead, it's a lot of Hayden Christensen falling down.

If he'd fallen down as much in the movie as he does acting, it would have made for quite a different movie. And as much as I like people falling down comedically, I think it would have improved the movie greatly.
It has been brought to my attention that perhaps I am the asshole for walking between a family at the mall on Friday. It may sound that way, but I heartily disagree. There was a good 5 feet between the mother passing me and where I'm walking. I had to walk that five feet before the father decides to shove his kids under my feet to be trampled. It's the pedestrian equivalent of that person who waits until you have a mile and a half of empty road behind you before pulling out 2 feet in front of you.
Mostly the misunderstanding is the result of lazy writing. Call Me Big Stupid Lazy Tommy.

Steven and I went out and farted around yesterday. I bought comic books and Homer Simpson action figures and baseball cards. Yes, I am indeed 25 years old. Steven's much older than I am, and he bought much the same kind of stuff.

Also, I should correct myself about my NWATNA statement from yesterday. Syxx-Pac Sean Waltman did not leave the company because of Russo's promo. He left the company after Russo inserted himself into the World Title. I write more hurriedly than I should, I think.

How's things in your world? Wife and kids alright? Stub your toe? Want me to know?
E-Mail me at atclown@yahoo.com