Sunday, September 30, 2007

A Music Meme, this late evening....

A Music Meme, this late evening....

When I close at work, I end up getting home around 12:30 or so. I usually need a couple hours to wind down. Usually, it'll consist of me watching the teevee and playing with the interweb, hence all the posts that come at 01:13 or thereabouts.

Memes are great for that, the winding down thing. They make you think about stuff somewhat different than what's been in my head all day.

Distraction, as it were.

Anyway, Erica tagged me with this music meme, and I liked the way she did it, finding video examples to go along with her answers....

What music are you currently grooving to?

I don't know if I'm grooving to it, but I've had two or three Robert Earl Keen CD's trading places in my truck CD player, lately.

What, if push comes to shove, is your all-time favourite album?

Today, I'm going to say the first Johnny Cash American Recordings.

That could change tomorow. But today, that's what I'll say.

What was the first record you ever bought? And where did you buy it?

I don't remember which came first. It was either

"Crushin'" by the Fat Boys, which was bought for $5 at a Flea Market here in Athens


"Then and Now: the Best of the Monkees," up at West Town Mall in Knoxville, for eight or nine dollars. On casette. I'm as floored as you. Still, I know all the words, and I think the following is a cool song.

Which musician have you ever wanted to be?

You know, I waffled. Part of me said Henry Rollins. To be funny and a badass.

Then, I went with Gene Simmons. With the women, and the Scrooge McDuck vault full of Kiss cash.

But then, I got to thinking about the reckless abandon that is Angus Young. I dunno. Just watching the energy he expends doing what he just seems like there's something tremendously fulfilling in all that....

What do you sing in the shower?

I don't really sing in the shower. But I figure I'll post this compilation of Ted's Band from Scrubs. Because sometimes I do sing along. Just not in the shower.

What is your favourite Saturday night record?

I don't know what that means. Because I've posted mostly music, I'll post this, a classic. As for records, Occupation: Foole is my favorite, but this clip is from later on....Good ol' George:

And your Sunday morning record?

This Sunday?

The song grew on me. Like a fungus.

Holy Crap.

I don't tag people often. But let's tag Tish, because she's tagged me so much. Bill, because he doesn't post enough. Coma, to distract her. Shyam, because she doesn't post enough. And whomever wants to follow along...

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Best Spam Subject-heading Ever

Best Spam Subject-heading, Ever.

The Subject: "That Butthat--It is Extraordinary..."

What a disappointment. No Butthat. Just spam for a medical site.


As if inundating my mailbox with crap isn't enough, you have to taunt me with the prospects of an Extraordinary Butthat.

Fart Story, volume MCVIII

Fart Story, volume MCVIII

Erica had a fun feature on flatulence over on her fine, fine blog this morning, and I'd like this post to serve as rebuttal and as a launching point for a fine fart story of my own.

I have only a couple points to make in rebuttal.

First, I laughed at the description of Erica's personal emissions as "SBSLRP: Silent, but smells like rose petals..." Mostly because my own, especially here lately, are either OIBSAS: Obnoxious in both sound and smell, or alternatively, LASLATF: Loud, and smells like a tire fire.

If I eat a lot of chicken, that tends to happen.

I would like to post this video that Erica posts.

And I'd like to tell this story.

When I was in college, I took an Astronomy course. I took it as an elective, mostly because I was interested in the subject, and everybody who'd taken the class from the professor teaching raved about it. And it was a good class. Learned a lot of interesting stuff in there, none of which I've used in my life since college.

The professor in question, Dr. White, was a helluva a guy. Funny, entertaining. Set the world on fire smart.

You know the old George Carlin bit about talking to somebody, and realizing halfway through that they're full of crap? It was pretty much the opposite with Dr. White--you not only realized how blindingly smart this guy is, but you also came to realize just how full of shit you are.....

The building they held the class in was the old science building on MTSU's campus, and the toilets held a particular fascination for me. I can't even really describe my fascination with the flushing process, except to say that the sheer power of these commodes was astounding to behold. I never experimented much beyond what you usually put in a commode, but I had a feeling that I could probably put a 20 lb. bag of compost, and the suction on this commode (which flushed with a sound akin to a jet taking off) would have happily wisked the entire mess away and asked for more.

Anyway, these toilets fascinated me so that if I was anywhere near that building and had to lay a deuce, I'd go to those bathrooms.

Maybe it's needless to say that I always made a spare 15 minutes to see if I could take the kids to the pool before my Astronomy class.

Well, one fateful morning, the various foods and potent potables I'd consumed had combined to form a noxious, gaseous stew in my guts. I went to the restroom, not really sure what was going to happen when I sat.

I sat, and proceeded to emit some of the most powerful "bangers" ever put forth on the campus of Middle Tennessee State University. Some lasted a good four seconds in duration, and they seemed to come from deep within the recesses of my body. Like my guts had become a backlog warehouse for flatulence, or something.

After about the fifth or sixth such spurt, each amplified by the shape of the porcelain bowl, I heard from another stall, three or four stalls down, this:

A muffled giggle.

I clench up. I'm not the type that needs silence when crapping in public, but laughter at my attempts unsettled me to a degree.

But the monster in my bowels wasn't to be denied. Without much warning, I turned loose again.

Another giggle, verging on full-out laughter.

At this point, I let a quiet laugh out myself.

Another small explosion.

And within seconds, there are two guys on opposite ends of a men's room in the bottom of the Science building at MTSU, laughing about a series of loud farts one of them is letting loose.

Well, I finish my business. I do the paperwork, and leave the stall to wash up.

Who walks out of that other stall, as I'm getting ready to leave the rest room?

That damn-near genius Astronomy Professor I spoke of earlier. For extra credit, please write a 3-5 page report on Tommy's ham-handed use of foreshadowing in this post. Compare and Contrast with your favorite episode of Golden Girls.

I have no real way to end this post, except to say that this is much funnier than my second-place funniest fart story, which mostly revolves around the mystery fart that was the cause of much debate one Sunday. The other ushers and I (at the church I went to growing up) were subject to somebody's fart, when handing the collections plates to the minister.

There was no way to collect on the bet, but I was betting money that it was the preacher who'd let go.

Can you use bleach to get a tiger stripe out of a preacher's robes? That's probably neither here nor there.

Anyway. I think I've done enough good. Y'all go have a good day.



Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

And all is well.

Now, let me get out my slide rule and my graphing calculator to figure out what's going on with the rest of the National League playoff picture....

Thursday, September 27, 2007



Dear Jeebus,

You know, Jeebus?

When you get right down to it, the subtlety of that whole "alternating between which nostril is plugged up?" That's pretty fly. Funny, and astounding in its intricacy.

I'm rather annoyed by it, at this point, if you want to know the truth.

But you're the Almighty, and I'm the one with an alternately stuffy nose. I'm sure there's something about this whole mess that my human brain can't quite comprehend.

Thought I will say "Thank you" for presenting me with the half-full/half-empty metaphorical equivalent.

I can either half-breathe, or half-not-breathe. Am I an optimist, or a pessimist?

The philosophical ramifications are less-than-staggering.

One question: If I pull the sinuses out of my head, in a scene not unlike Arnold Scharzenegger pulling the probe out of his noggin in Total Recall, does it hurt my chances of getting into heaven?

Any more than any of the other crap I've done?

This week?

Just let me know.

Your Pal,

Abdullah the Butcher

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Price is Right

Price is Right

Because I know you're all like me, and God help you for it:

First, I was wondering when the heck Drew Carey will take over for Bob Barker on the show. The new season begins October 15. That's when you'll see him.

Also, I've been wondering about a couple logistical issues with the show Price is Right. Namely, how do the people who win prizes on the show get their loot home? I mean, how exactly does Jolene from Bum's Rush, Indiana get her Gentleman's Chest and upright Galaga video game machine home to Indiana from sunny Southern California? What about a new car? Does Bobby Jean from Fartknocker, Kansas get to drive her brand new Ford Mustang across the country?

I'd assumed either they'd ship the junk, or deliver locally. Though I enjoyed the image of a recreational vehicle packed full of Price is Right merchandise.

Lastly, I'd assumed there are tax issues. It's why Wheel of Fortune had to stop having contestants bid on prizes at the end of each round, because people were going broke paying the taxes on their winnings.

Well, Price is Right's FAQ list answers all the questions. In short, turns out prizes are either shipped or picked up at a local dealer, if you live out in Buttface, Virginia.

And yeah, the folks are responsible for the taxes. I wonder if Clem from Peckerhead, Texas realizes that, when he's won a pool table, hot tub and a trip to Puerto Vallarta. I wonder how many folks have gone bankrupt.

I wonder if Bob Barker actually had to retire, for fear that a bankrupt old geezer from Dirty Underwear, Vermont, was going to come after him because he had to use his nest egg on the taxes for his Jeep Comanche.

I have no real way to close this post, but I enjoyed making town names up so much, I'll just write a few more:

Redd Foxx, Mississippi
Cameltoe, Colorado
Stinktown, Missouri
Flamula, Illinois
Derstrichtenberg, Pennsylvania
Helicopter, New Mexico
Wrongway, Oregon
Juanberenguerville, Michigan
Canada, Tennessee
Hepatitiston, Nebraska
Astrovan, New York
Cletus, Georgia
New Northeast Lower Faberbrook Metro, Ilinois



You know, the 14-year-old me would have spent hours on this, a visual scale comparison of the different ships from the annals of Science Fiction.

I just spent 15 minutes.

As a grownup, I now have to occupy my time with more important matters.

Like Quantum Leap recaps.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

In lieu of content....

In lieu of content...

This amused me, this cottony, sneezy morning.

Sneezing Panda

Thoughts on a Sunday

Thoughts on a Sunday

Been muddling through the past couple of days with a cold I picked up at work. I don't know if everybody's workplace is like mine, but it seems like if one person gets sick, sooner or later, everybody's going to get sick with it. Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that we all wash out of one communal bowl. I got the idea from the movie Thirteenth Warrior. I thought it would increase camaraderie, but to this point, it's only increased the amount of illness and herpes.

Despite the cold, I headed down to Atlanta last night. Had a surprise Saturday off, and decided that it's so close to the end of the baseball season, might as well take advantage of the day.

Plus, the game had some divisional and playoff implications for the N.L. Central. The Brewers were in town, and any time they lose is of great help to another team whose name cannot be mentioned here.

Anyway. Got to see John Smoltz go into the sixth with a no-no. He ended up giving up two runs in eight innings, only to take home a no decision. I gotta wonder, even at 40 years old, with 20 years of professional baseball under his belt, if he doesn't sometimes watch the developing game in the hands of the bullpen, and have some small part of his brain just go completely insane....

Still, the Braves won in 11 innings. Good game. Enjoyed myself.

Gotta head to work later this afternoon, which doesn't please me so much.

Ever get that person who says to you "You should be happy you have a job?"

Want to punch that person in the mush? Or is that just me?

Yeah, working beats not working, I suppose, but only because Not Working's bullpen lets them down when it counts.

Anyway. Should get a couple more Quantum Leap posts up. Sheila's got a guide to where we both are at this point. I may watch a third episode this morning...

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Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Apes Would Clash With the Drapes

Apes Would Clash With the Drapes

To the Straight White Guy, I'll see your Cake earworm, and raise you a Tim Cavanagh parody.

Haven't thought of this in months.

I don't much get the animation, though. I'm sure there's something I'm missing.

What a happy snorkelling device.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Quantum Leap, episode 2: Star Crossed

Quantum Leap, episode 2: Star Crossed

Remember what I said in the post on the first episode? What's the deal with "the Big Guy with the Remote Control," as Sam puts it, changing channels in the middle of things? I understand that he's leaping as soon as his mission is completed, but there's something really rather cruel about not letting Sam bask in the moment, even for a second. Were he a lesser man, he might view his journey of Quantum Leaping a little darkly: you work and work, and you accomplish the job, but you don't get a second to bask in the moment. As soon as you complete your task, you're jetted through the gulf of space and time to your next mission.

In this case, Sam's just won the game for Ken Cox and the Bombers, at the tail end of the "Genesis" episode, and as soon as he's crossed home plate, he's leapt into another time, another place.

This just being the third in a series of leaps, it might not be on Sam's mind. But over time, if it were me leaping, it'd be a major, major bummer every time you turn around.

One last ruminition on leaping, and it's something I think I'll discuss from time to time: What is the world like for the person Sam's leapt in to, after Sam leaps out of his body, and that person leaps in? I ask, because Sam is living a while in these people's bodies, and doing things and living experiences with people. When Sam leaps to his next mission, and the other person regains control of his or her body, what then?

I don't remember the mythology of the show as well as maybe I could. Doesn't the other person go to the "Leap Chamber," while Sam is in their body? There's an episode later on where the person Sam's leapt into comes into Al's Imaging Chamber, and gives Sam the words to testify.

I guess my question is this (he said, hoping not to shoot his wad midway through the first season): How does the person whose life it belongs to deal with that missing week (or however long) that Dr. Sam Beckett was controlling their life, putting right what once went wrong?

That's a question I want to deal with specifically with this episode, Star Crossed:

Without giving too much away by way of recap, here's the general premise: Sam leaps from having just won the game for the Bombers, into the life of Dr. Gerald Bryant, an English Lit professor at Lawrence College, in June of 1972. He leaps into the middle of a lecture Dr. Bryant is giving on "obsession," and his class is filled with doe-eyed hippie chicks.

He is met with the unrequited love, of one of those students, Jamie Lee (protrayed by Leslie Sachs, who I swear I recognize from somewhere, though her IMDB file shows nothing besides a few TV appearances, and nothing that rushes to my memory). Jamie Lee has just pronounced her love for Dr. Bryant to her father. Al appears, and lets Sam know that he's got to keep Dr. Bryant and Jamie Lee from ending up together.

Sam disagrees. I've left out one important fact. Sam, in his first few disoriented moments as Gerald Bryant, sees an important person from his own past. Here, we learn that Sam was once left at the altar by his own love. He has seen her here at Lawrence College, some 12 years before he would even meet her in his past.

Sam believes he is here to give himself a second, better chance at love with Donna, here played by a very young Teri Hatcher.

Not to give too much away, but there's a discussion of Quantum Physics, Sam gets thrown around by an Ox named Oscar, we learn that Sam has doctorates in medicine and ancient languages on top of everything else (but not psychiatry), and a trip to Washington that gives the show its first real "Kiss with History," as Sam takes a trip to the Watergate Hotel....

Just a few bullet points from the episode....
  • This "in media res" way of leaping into a life? Just want to reiterate: How absolutely tiresome has that got to be? You work your ass off to set right what once went wrong, and you don't get a moment to bask in the glory, maybe drink a celebration beer? Instead, you're thrust headlong into another uncomfortable situation.
  • Good thing Sam doesn't seem to have Public Speaking issues. How rough would that be? He's got no problem leaping into a Quantum Accelerator, but he could have devastating public speaking issues. Luckily, not here.
  • I have trouble with Jamie Lee's character. It's like she's a cartoon. I'm watching and I'm saying to myself "How can she be for real?" She serves her purpose, though, and nobody else seems to have trouble with her, outside of the problems I just mentioned. They all seem to ask themselves, from time to time, "Is she for real?"
  • I ask again my question about "how do leapees feel when they get back to their bodies?" Sam's just spent a week tailing Donna Elesee around campus, looking as though he were talking to himself and acting most likely how Dr. Gerry Bryant would not. What happens when Bryant gets back to his body, and people ask "Hey, what was up last week when you were talking to yourself about some project out on the Quad?"
  • What happens when Donna Elesee comes to him a few months down the road and asks the English Lit professor about another Quantum Physics problem?
  • What happens to Gerry when he leaps back into his body, and he's standing in a stairwell in the Watergate hotel, a few hundred miles from his Ohio home?
  • One positive of Quantum Leaping is that you can probably eat whatever the heck you want. Sam, as Gerry, goes into the campus restaurant and orders up a cheeseburger and fries. You know, if you felt like it, you could leap into somebody's life, and if you felt like it, eat nothing but banana splits for every meal, and let that person deal with the consequences.
  • Although I'd hate to have to leap back into Dr. Gerry Bryant's life, and correct the wrong that I gave him diabetes from eating all the sugar. That one would be tough.
  • I love a good Double Take. And Dean Stockwell, as Al, gives one of the best during his conversation with Sam. It's brief, and you might miss it if you aren't paying attention. But I love a good Double Take.
  • Sam gives the cheesiest voiceover in the short history of the show when he opines that the bunsen burner "is the common denominator that makes all science departments equal." It's either cheesy, or I can't wrap my mind around somebody being romantic toward the propane smell of a bunsen burner.
  • I'd forgotten that Al's wardrobe choice plays a practical function this early in the game. I even said "What the hell is he wearing," when he meets Sam wearing his kimono thingamajig.
  • I had a brief thought about a possible anachronism in the song American Pie. For some reason, Ihad it in my head that it didn't come out until the mid 70's. But it was #1 on the charts around the time this episode takes place. So, Writers of Quantum Leap 1, Tommy 0.
  • The whole bit around how Al gets himself "unfired" is great. I liked Al's discussion about "a woman to get fired over..." It's further indicative that Al's character is pretty close to set, even at this early juncture of the show. IT's a spoiler, but he sets Tina, who figures from time to time in the show, up with Weitzman, the unseen antagonist of the episode. Al blackmails him, and gets his job back. Unscrupulous, but Effective. I like that.
  • The whole "Kiss with History," where Sam and Donna visit the Watergate the night of the infamous break-in? It's a convention of the show, and they do it from time to time. It's borderline cheesy, but it goes back to something I wrote in the first episode's thoughts. S.F. stuff has a hard time maintaining an audience, at least as the conventional wisdom goes. And though Quantum Leap would go on to build a pretty sturdy loyal fanbase, the writers fashioned this show around the lifetimes of the Baby Boomers. Little things like Sam being at the Watergate the night of the break-in, put in for that Baby Boomer audience, kinda wear me out. I'm glad they actually keep those things to a low ebb for the show. If it were constant, I think the show might not have been so successful, and if memory serves, it's why the show sort of lost its magic for me toward the end of its run.

Wow. For a couple of thoughts, these things are stretching out.

Sheila's got her first couple of entries up. Her overview of the series as a whole, and the first part of her review of the Genesis episode. Go check it out....

A Meme from the Ass End of the Night

A Meme from the Ass End of the Night

Can't sleep. Same old story. Woke up to shake the dew off the lily, and then couldn't go back to sleep. I blame the Democrats.

Here's a meme that's wandering around the blogoverse, seen here, and here, and here:

1. Is your second toe longer than your first?

No, it is not. It is shorter by probably a half an inch.

2. Do you have a favorite type of pen?

Yeah. The kind you write with.

3. Look at your planner for March 14, what are you doing?

Nothing planned. Want to hang out?

4. What color are your toenails usually?

Kind of a fleshy color that I like to call "toenail."

5. What was the last thing you highlighted?

Probaby some fucking movement report from work. Those are fun, and meaningful.

6. What color are your bedroom curtains?

The room I sleep in doesn't actually have windows. It's part of why I like the place. If I see even a hint of daylight, there's no going back to sleep. No windows=no daylight. Plus, I gotsta keep my complexion pasty.

7. What color are the seats in your car?


8. Have you ever had a black and white cat?

We had one called Petunia, who was a sexually ambiguous animal. He was called Petunia because for the bulk of his life, we thought he was a girl. And then the vet said "He's male, only his testicles never descended." He never acted like a Tom. Never sprayed, or caroused. Mostly, he walked around confused about his relations to other animals. Most of the time, he kept to himself.

9. What is the last thing you put a stamp on?

My electric bill. I either mail it in, or pay it in person. I'm saving up $2 bills, because I'm waiting for either Comcast or the Athens Utility Board to piss me off, so I can go pay my bill in 2's. You know, the 4 o'clock in the morning me doesn't think it'll piss them off nearly as much as the middle of the day me does.

10. Do you know anyone who lives in Wyoming?

No. Thank God.

11. Why did you withdraw cash from the ATM the last time?

So's I could have "the pocket money," to purchase any vittles and play-pretties I might find over the course of the week.

12. Whose is the last baby that you held?

One of the girls at work had a baby. I've held all of three in my life, all of them coming in the past couple of years.

13. Unlucky #?

I don't like round numbers.

14. Do you like Cinnamon toothpaste?

Take it or leave it.

15. What kind of car were you driving 2 years ago?

A black Chevy pickup that I'd been driving for a decade.

16. Pick one: Miami Hurricanes or Florida Gators?

What am I picking them for? To be hurled headlong into chopper blades? Then, I pick the latter.

17. Last time you went to Six Flags?

High school, unless I'm misremembering. The Physics class got to go, and work out problems having to do with certain rides. I wasn't in the physics class (Tommy chose chorus, instead). But they let me go, anyway. Which was awfully nice of them.

18. Do you have any wallpaper in your house?

The bathroom has a wonderfully mesmerizing Ivy pattern. When you've left your reading material behind, it's great to fall into.

19. Closest thing to you that is yellow?

A yellow legal pad. It is where I scrawl my ideas, baseball statistics, addresses, Quantum Leap notes, Jeopardy Scores, phone numbers, lists of inane things and any other thing that needs to escape from my head and be set to paper.

20. Last person to give you a business card?

No idea. It might be a cop.

21. Who is the last person you wrote a check to?

The aforementioned Electric Company. Owing to that I likes my internets on, and my foods kept cold.

22. Closest framed picture to you?

Does a poster of O Brother Where Art Thou count?

Yes, the judges say. Yes it does.

23. Last time you had someone cook for you?

My friend Jill cooked chicken, potatoes, zucchini and spinach salad the other night. It was very, very good.

24. Have you ever applied for welfare?

Heavens no.

25. How many emails do you have?

Who knows? Too many.

26. Last time you received flowers?

I've never recieved flowers. You bastards.

27. Do you think the sanctity of marriage is meant for only a man & woman?

No (and now we see that the intent of this little bastard meme is to start an argument...)

28. Do you play air guitar?

No. I used to, but I smashed my air guitar against my air amp late last year, in an air concert in air Kansas City, destroying both, as well as much of air Kansas City.

29. Has anyone ever proposed to you?

Once, in college, I was helping a girl I really, really liked. When I was done, she said "Marry Me!" and I said "Okay." And then there was an uncomfortable silence that has lasted ever since.

30. Do you take anything in your coffee?

I take my coffee as black as my soul.

31. Do you have any Willow Tree figurines?

I don't know what that is. I won't tell you no, but I really don't think so.

32. What is/was your high school's rival mascot?

Allow me to edit this sentence at 4:20 in the morning: What is rival describing? The mascot, or the high school? The sentence would better read: What is your rival high school's mascot?

In this case, I reckon I'll say "A Charger" since that's what McMinn Central's mascot was. Kind of a ram, I think.

33. Last person you spoke to from high school?

The aforementioned Jill. We have known each other 16 years this fall.

34. Last time you used hand sanitizer?

After shaking hands with a particularly rough looking, inenebriated man whom I'd refused to sell beer to at my store. I wanted to take a bath in sanitizer after he talked and breathed and coughed on me.

35. Would you like to learn to play the drums?

Who's asking?

36. What color are the blinds in your living room?

Kind of an off-white.

38. Last thing you read in the newspaper?

Probably box scores. It's been a few days.

39. What was the last pageant you attended?

The McMinn County Beautiful Teen Miss Pig-Whoopin' Pageant and Pie Eating Contest. In June of this year.

40. What is the last place you bought pizza from?

Probably The Gondolier. Maybe Papa John's.

41. Have you ever worn a crown?

Aside from one of those Burger King crowns? Not but three or four. There was a small skirmish over my wearing of one crown. Two words for you: Vietnam War.

42. What is the last thing you stapled?

Probably the aforementioned Movement Reports, that I was highlighting.

43. Did you ever drink clear Pepsi?

Yeah. I never knew if it had a lemon-y taste because it actually had the taste, or because my mind was projecting that memory, because clear sodas had to taste lemon-y

44. Are you ticklish?

A little. I've been known to fight over it, though. So watch out.

45. Last time you saw fireworks?

The last time I know that I definitely saw them were at the Great American Ballpark, back in August. The Reds won.

46. Last time you had a Krispy Kreme doughnut?

Do the little Crullers count? I had a couple of those at work last week.

But a real, warm, Krispy Kreme donut? It's actually been a long time. More than a year. There was drinking involved, and for some reason, late that evening, a Krispy Kreme donut seemed like the perfect thing to put on top of a stomach full of beer. How I didn't ralph, I'll never guess. Stupid is as stupid does.

47. Who is the last person that left you a message & you actually returned it?

My boss.

48. Last time you parked under a carport?

Whenever I go to my folks' house.

49. Do you have a black dog?

My parents have a black lab mix named Sally. She's a pretty girl, and she needs to have her belly rubbed at least once a day.

50 . Have you had your mid life crisis yet?

Not yet. It's tentatively scheduled for 2022.

51. Are you an aunt or uncle?


52. Who has the prettiest eyes that you know of?

My friend Julie has very pretty eyes. I never could think of a way to say so without it being kind of awkward.

53. What kind of soap or body wash do you use?

I enjoy being Zestfully clean.

54. Do you remember Ugly Kid Joe?

Do you mean the band, which I remember only because of the name? Or Joe Thomas, who graduated high school with me?

In either case, yes. Vaguely.

55. Do you have a little black dress?

This interview is over!

Monday, September 17, 2007

In Which Tommy Cannot Read

In Which Tommy Cannot Read

So, I'm done with my chores, and I'm reading through Fark, and I run across this entry, in which the New York Yankees' Shelley Duncan signed an autograph for a Red Sox fan in a way that's upset the kids' parents.

My first issue is that I misread Fark's headline, and even part of the story before I finally caught up. When I clicked the story, I had to ask:

"Why the hell is a kid asking for Sandy Duncan's autograph?"


"Why would Sandy Duncan do that? She was Peter Pan, and the star of The Hogan Family. What the heck would she have against the Sox? Is she that big a Yankee fan?"

But, it's Shelley Duncan. Son of pitching coach Dave, not the star of an NBC sitcom.

Anyway. I have no real way to close this little bemusing anecdote of my inability to read, except to say that while I would not normally consider such an incident newsworthy. Rather, such inappropriate autographs are often sources of advice--Avoid the Clap, wrote one Jimmy Dugan, a truism and good advice, even to this day. However, the fact that it is a New York Yankee perpetrating this act makes it a worthy entry in the annals of "Stuff that proves the New York Yankees are a Giant Conglomeration of Shit."

Although, if the kid gets anything more than a free ticket to a Sox game, or perhaps a ball signed by everybody on the roster, I'll be forced to change my stance on the subject.

(Unless that anything more is the dissolution of the New York Yankees Franchise. Because that would be really cool.)

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Quantum Leap: Genesis

Quantum Leap: Genesis

The idea of the wardrobe was Don's. And I thought it was terrific. I don't know if anybody ever said, "Why does he ever dress like that?" Nobody ever asked, "Why does he dress like that?" It was just accepted. And it really worked, without any explanation. Where would he get those clothes? My God, where would you find stuff like that?--Dean Stockwell

Sheila posted that quote in a series of thoughts from Quantum Leap's creators and cast, September 14. Go check those out. I point that one out because it's one of the first things you notice as the series Quantum Leap begins. Our show, the first in the series, opens with Al jetting across the desert, somewhere in the mid 1990's (Wikipedia lists the date as 1995), in a futuristic speedster, festooned in a tuxedo. In the very first moments of the show, our libidinous friend is leaning, wolflike, both arms on the open window of the speedster, lamenting the fact that he cannot help a beautiful woman with her flat tire, because of his state of dress.

Let me take a second to comment on the woman's state of dress...I remember 1995 in a vague sort of way. I've never been on the cutting edge of fashion (if you had to place me, I'm somewhere around the dull, blunt end), but I can't remember any point outside of a rave, where light-up shoes and ear-rings were the required dress of the day. And neither Al Calavicci nor our beautiful breakdown seem much like rave material....

I want to comment on it only briefly, because future technologies are impossibly hard to portray and project in a way that is accurate, pragmatic and entertaining. The first is impossible, and really, aren't the second two what matters? We gotta somehow build a bridge to cover the leap of faith the viewer has to make in order to buy into the whole idea that these guys less than a decade in the future have created technology that allows a guy to travel through time. Somehow, shiny clothing and light-up earrings are maybe a little easier to jump to than the idea of a guy stepping into a "Quantum Leap Accelerator..."

But that doesn't mean I can't be amused by futuristic speedsters and Al's (and the breakdown's) wardrobe choices.

I also should note that, I think Al's wardrobe choice became less and less a sign of the times, over the course of the show, and more an indication of the eccentricity of the man wearing the fur coat and babushka.

A few notes on the first episode, entitled Genesis:
  • Sam Beckett's journey begins in earnest with a leap into the life of Tom Stratton, an Air Force test pilot living in 1956. They say that the writer is a sadist, and if that's the case, thrusting a guy with holes in his memory, into a time he remembers only from his very, very early childhood, into a situation (both as a parent and a pilot) he has no experience of knowledge of, then that makes Donald Bellisario as sadistic as they come.
  • It is in the first few minutes of Sam waking up in the life of Tom Stratton that we are introduced to one of my favorite conventions of the show, and it may be the most jarring of Sam's whole journey. He's woken up in bed with a very pregnant wife, in a home that is not his. He's negotiating his way through showering, and it's then that he catches Tom Stratton's reflection in the mirror. I always dug this portion of the show, for the minute bit of choreography it entails, the idea that the "mirror image" must mimic Scott Bakula as Sam Beckett's movements, as closely as possible. I wonder if there's a bonus feature or interview that sheds light on that little part of the process, just how they choreograph Sam looking at a reflection not his own.
  • Sam's ride into the base illustrates a small point. I could be wrong about this, but if somebody I flew with, worked closely with (or was married to, when you think about his wife) was acting as disoriented as Sam is acting in Tom's body?
  • This example doesn't pertain to this episode necessarily, but wouldn't you notice if somebody you'd known for 20 years suddenly started referring to soda as "pop." when he'd be calling it "soda" for as long as you'd known him. If only to say "why the hell are you calling it 'pop?'' It's gotta be a similar thing for Sam, as many anachronisms as he throws in--the one that stands out is his asking for the area code. I'd have to raise a few more questions than get raised over the course of the episode (and series). Why is _x_ acting this way? Call it another leap, I guess, but the whole "Stratton's a goofball" thing can only work so much.
  • Bruce McGill shows up as Weird Ernie. He's one of my favorite character actors, and he does a good job in just about everything he does. As character types go, he never had "that guy" status with me, where I knew his face but not his name. I can't see him without saying "D-Day!" to myself.
  • Al,hung over and in his pajamas, while Sam is fishing? Classic, and probably my favorite scene from this episode. I just like the whole thing where Al Calavicci is dealing with what could be the most groundbreaking development in history and science, with the Quantum Leap technology. Add to that the whole deal where his friend is trapped in history, quite possibly in great peril. But Al, at times, looks at the whole thing as something of a hindrance to his social agenda. I enjoy that idea, that the whole "Save Sam" thing might just fall to second or third on Al's social agenda, from time to time. Al personifies the whole "work to live, not live to work" mindset.
  • There's a whole "higher power" thing at work with Sam's leaping. After righting what once went wrong with Tom Stratton's life, he leaps into the life of Ken Fox, a baseball player, right in the middle of a game. Why can't that higher power leap Sam into Fox when he's asleep, the night before? Or at breakfast? Why's he gotta do that leaping mess when he's in the middle of the big game? Of course, it all goes back to that "the writer is sadistic" thing, so we know which higher power is working here....
  • The pajama scene may be my favorite Al moment, but it's not too far ahead of Al revealing to Sam his personal information. I like that about Al. He's enough about "duty" to get to the rank of Rear Admiral. But he's human first. I really dig that about Al.

These are just a few things I gleamed from my notes on my yellow Staples legal pad.

The last thing I want to note is how Al's character seems to be set, even here in the pilot episode. A lot of shows, it takes time before the writers and the actor jive as to who the character. Sometimes, it's a couple episodes. Sometimes, it's several episodes, or even seasons. Sometimes, that synergy never comes. Dean Stockwell and the writers were spot on from the start. That's testament to Stockwell's talent, as I've come to appreciate thanks to Sheila, and to the strong writing of Donald Bellisario and the rest of the show's staff.

Having said that, I was not surprised to find this quote, that I'd missed when Sheila did her rundown Friday: "A lot of Al was Don Bellisario. You know, the lecherous, the checking out the girls." Scott Bakula, in reference to the character and the creator of the show.

Makes me think of Randall, from Clerks. Kevin Smith wrote that script with himself in mind to play Randall--hence, the best lines, and the demeanor that most matches Kevin Smith, the persona.

Now we know, a lot of Bellisario in Al.

Whew. Looks a lot different from legal pad to computer screen....

Quantum Leap: A small project

Quantum Leap: A small project

Hobby: an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation

So, a couple months ago, Sheila gave voice to an obsession that had popped up in her life: Dean Stockwell. I like Sheila's site very much: she's well-spoken and funny, and she writes so accessibly about her obsessions, no matter how off-the-wall they may seem to start with, that they become instantly interesting to the reader.

I commented on an early Dean Stockwell post that if I'd spun the big wheel of things to think about a million times, I doubt that I'd have come up with Dean Stockwell even once.

Well, Sheila's been on a Dean Stockwell kick for a while (most of the summer, I'd reckon). Her fascination has been the subject of much blogging the past few months. If you'd told me I'd be reading fairly regularly about Dean Stockwell a few months back, I'd have been dubious. But, here I was, at least a couple times a week, reading about Dean Stockwell's rise as an actor, his friendship with Dennis Hopper, the lean times he went through in the 70's and 80's, and his re-emergence in the 80's as a personality in the public eye.

See, to be honest, I'd known Dean Stockwell through just a few projects. I knew him from movies (Married to the Mob came to mind, as did that Mr. Wrong movie, and believe it or not, Tucker: a man and a dream). Sheila reminded me that I'd seen him once upon a time, late at night, in the movie Werewolf of Washington, which made me consider the possibility of World War III possibly beginning because a werewolf eats the leader of a foreign power....

But mostly, I knew of the man through the teevee show Quantum Leap. The character of "Al Calavicci" was actually one of my favorites, and to be honest, when I thought of the actor Dean Stockwell, that was the role I most associated him with. Cigar-smoking, crazily-dressed, overly-(and comically-)libidinous Al.

I watched Quantum Leap during its original run, almost weekly. I enjoyed the show very much, and at the time had made it one of my weekly watches. I enjoyed the S.F. concept, and I was hooked by the series' optimism. I appreciated the interplay between Sam and Al, who despite coming from different backgrounds and times both seemed to have an inherent knowledge of right and wrong (though neither was without temptation or failure through the run of the series)

Since its original run, I have to admit that I've caught a just a handful of episodes since then. Re-runs here and there, most of them coming one under-the-weather afternoon when I caught several episodes in a row during a Sci-Fi channel marathon.

To make a long story even longer, Sheila's fascination with Mr. Stockwell rekindled my desire to see the show again. I was able to get a hold on the first couple of seasons of the show on DVD.

It was right around the same time that Sheila expressed her intentions to do an episode-by-episode series of posts.

An e-mail was sent along. "Mind if I play along?" I asked.

"Sounds like fun," she said.

Sheila sounded the clarion here. Starting here in a few minutes, just after I get the thing written, we'll be going point/counter on the teevee show Quantum Leap.

We'll call it a hobby. It's weird. Life's been hectic, for longer than I can remember now. But I sat down and watched the first couple episodes of Quantum Leap, a yellow pad in hand and a beer by my side. I'd never have expected it, but I got more out that little bit of distraction than I've gotten out of most in the past few months. So, we're gonna ride this sucker all the way into shore.

Away we go. Oh, boy....

(One last administrative note: These things have a way of morphing as I find a way that better suits my mood and methods. To start with, my thoughts will be a little disjointed, I reckon. As I find themes and forms, I may adjust my writing style to accommodate them. But for now, I may start with just bullet points....)



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Friday, September 14, 2007

Notes from the Ass End of the Night

Notes from the Ass End of the Night

There are three things in life I hate:

1.) Wet Toilet Paper
2.) Cold Coffee
3.) Working till I'm stupid, because somebody else can't do their job.

And racism. I also hate racism.

Four things.

But mostly those first three things.

Especially number three.


By the time it's said and done at 5 PM, some 16 hours from now, I'll have worked something like 37 hours in a 60 hour span.

And you wonder why the site's called Big Stupid Tommy.

It oughta be called Big Working Like a Botard Tommy.

BTW, I don't know what "Working Like a Botard" means. But, By Gum!, I say it a lot.


Whenever I see the acronym "LOL", I think of one word: Sloey.

There may be 2 (two) people who read this blog who get that last joke.

Maybe just one.


Tommy needum sleep.

By the way: Here's a morbid thought. A full on 2/3 of my Sophomore year high school teachers are now dead. My English and Speech teacher (she taught two classes) passed away a few days ago. My Chemistry teacher and Chorus director both in the summer.

Should my Latin teacher and Geometry teacher be concerned?

Now that I think about it, only two of my senior year teachers are currently surviving, as well.


I really should write something about my chorus director, though. Dr. Manley was a good guy who helped bring me out of my shell a little bit. Maybe that's a post for another day. I'll say that I was really bummed that I didn't find out he'd passed until it was too late to go to the funeral. That was a real shame.


Let's go find more sleep. Gotta get up in 5 hours to go back to stupid work.

Thursday, September 13, 2007



Dear Online Nerd Diary,

Today was a real buttfuck of a day.


From start to finish.

Well, no. That hamburger I had for lunch was pretty good.

So, it wasn't a total loss.

Rest of it?

Greasy Turds in a Tupperware Bowl.

And that papercut underneath my middle finger's fingernail?

Merely proof that there is a higher power, and he's got a messed up sense of humor.


Going to find some sleep now.

I hope it's right where I left it.


Tuesday, September 11, 2007



First, the joke:

A miner wanders down into town with a year's worth of gold. He cashes his haul in, heads to the saloon, and orders a bottle of whiskey.

After he's gotten a few in him, he motions the bartender over.

"Bartender," he whispers, "have you got any ladies around here who might be intimate, you know, for money?"

"Naw," says the bartender. "But we got Ol' Joe out back!"

"I don't go for that stuff!" the miner says, and storms off.

A year later, he wanders back into town with another year's gold. He heads to the same saloon, and orders another bottle of whiskey. After he gets a few in him, he again motions to the bartender.

"Bartender," he asks, "did you get any ladies since last year?"

"Naw," the bartender says, "but we still got Ol' Joe out back."

"I told you I don't go for that stuff," he miner says. He gets up to leave, but gives his two year lack of intimacy thought.

"Let me ask," he says quietly, "if I went out back with Ol' Joe, who'd have to know about it?"

"Well," says the bartender, "you, and me. And Ol' Joe, of course. And Billy Bob and Red and Slim."

"Billy Bob, Red and Slim," says the miner. "Who the hell are they?"

"Well they gotta hold Ol' Joe down. He don't go for that, either...."

I heard this joke a long time ago. I even posted it here a while back.

I heard it again the other day. And I noticed something.

Maybe it's a sign of a classic, but I got something different out of it this time.

See, it's never said exactly what Ol' Joe is. When I first heard the joke, my mind formed the image of three guys having to hold a horse or mule down. And it's funny enough, because I don't expect a horse or a mule would appreciate or enjoy the amorous intentions of a miner, no matter how much he paid.

But when I heard it this time around, a new image popped into my head. Like I said, it's never mentioned just who or what Ol' Joe is. My imagination took over, and for some reason, it popped into my head the idea that Ol' Joe is not an old mule or horse.

Instead, in this new concoction, Ol' Joe is a grizzled old miner himself, too beaten down by life to go out and mine anymore. Indeed, he's too old and decrepit to flee the town and the hellish existence that seems to entail the guys from the bar chasing him down and raping him from time to time.

Or maybe he's got something that keeps him there in town. Because he's got enough fight in him that three guys have to hold him down while the other miners get their business done.

For some reason, that struck me as funny, though. I can't explain why the idea of forced relations with a grizzled old miner is funnier than relations with a horse, but on this day, it is.

Letterman & Stewart

Letterman & Stewart

You know, any time I try to write about September 11th, it comes off trite. I always get a few paragraphs in, and end up deleting it.

So instead, I'll just post a couple videos.

The first is Dave Letterman's response, when his show returned the next week.

The second is just a link, since Viacom made such a stink over Comedy Central videos, and I can't embed. But I think this second is even more important. It's Jon Stewart's response. (That link's up and down...keep trying...)

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Bad Things to Find in a Pinata

Bad Things to Find in a Pinata

A topic of much discussion at work. This is a pretty self-explanatory list. Instead of candy, or toys, upon breaking, you find it filled with:

  • celery
  • raisins
  • carrots
  • apples
  • applesauce
  • oranges
  • orange juice
  • bees
  • flies
  • pincer beetles
  • mice
  • rats
  • possums
  • worms
  • thousands of writhing snakes
  • one very big pissed-off snake
  • a bear (in this scenario, the pinata is in the form of a bear...and upon breaking the paper mache, we find that hiding within the pinata form of a bear is an actual bear, pissed off over the fact that you've been hitting him with a stick).
  • a tiger (same scenario)
  • a cheetah (same scenario, except that he'll run you down even if you're Thomas Magnum jumping in Robin Masters' Lamborghini)
  • hundreds of inch-high, screaming Irishmen.
  • A ghost
  • Many Ghosts
  • The Holy Ghost (a'la Raiders of the Lost Ark)
  • Pennies (there was discussion about this one. My reasoning: ever filled a sock with pennies? or had a jar of them? remember how heavy? well, imagine a pinata that had managed to bely the weight and mass of the coin money within. then imagine hitting that sumbitch with a stick)
  • Jello
  • Syrup
  • Soup
  • Dishwater
  • Very Dirty Dishwater
  • Raw Hamburger Meat
  • Pork Chops (a pinata in the hot sun, filled with pork chops? Welcome to Trichinosis. Population: You)
  • Beef eyes
  • Indeed, any manner of eyes.
  • Beef Tongue.
  • Indeed, any manner of tongue.
  • Pork Knowledge (although, Pork Knowledge Pinata is a very cool name for a band, or a race horse)
  • Shards of broken glass
  • The dry'em stuff they put on vomit when you were in grade school. Stuff stand worse than the puke.
  • Vomit
  • A guy with a bat who starts hitting you
  • Another universe (one that sucks you in to it)
  • Another universe (one that expands outward, at the speed of light, i.e. another Big Bang)
  • Hair
  • Toenail Clippings
  • Scabs
  • Nose Droppings
  • Toaster Crumbs
  • Your Parents
  • My Parents
  • Scorpions
  • Fish
  • Crabs
  • A thousand screaming monkeys
  • Dick Cheney
  • Al Gore
  • Hillary Clinton
  • Cuba Gooding, Jr.
  • Teeth
  • Your Teeth
  • Nothing But Anger
  • Proof that we might be alone in the universe, after all
  • Steak
  • A self inflating inflatable raft (i don't know why, but it was universally agreed that an inflatable raft would not be good in a pinata. At most and at best it would be confusing)
  • Jerky from an animal not quite identified
  • Nuts and Bolts
  • Washers (maybe not as tightly packed as the pennies. This would be bad because you would get excited at all the silver money falling down. Then you would see that it's just metal slugs with holes in them)
  • Mosquitos
  • Mosquito Spray
  • Spiders
  • One Very Large Spider
  • Clowns
  • Mimes
  • Jehovah's Witnesses
  • Used Cooking Oil
  • Baked Beans
  • Pinto Beans
  • Rocky Mountain Oysters
  • Another Pinata
  • Ping Pong Balls Cut in Half
  • Eggs
  • Eggs other than the ones you just thought of
  • Bacon (see pork chops)
  • Nacho Cheese
  • Underwear
  • Dirty Underwear

The war is not over....

Friday, September 07, 2007



Rough week. This, with a little Rob Zombie in my earphones loud enough to give me brain damage, made me laugh.


Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Serious Question

A Serious Question

Semi serious, anyway, concerning the upcoming Presidential Primary Season. I heard this question today, and having worked like a botard the past couple of days, I could neither come up with a satisfactory answer, nor did I hear one.

I want to ask:

In this day and age, with states rushing to be First, is there any particular reason we can't simply have "A Primary Day" some time in February (or any month) where all the states hold a primary election?

Is there a particular reason we don't?

Is there a particular reason we shouldn't?

I ask in part because my particular choice for president has been out of the running, so to speak, by the time Tennessee reached its primary. It was one of those "my vote doesn't really matter" moments....

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

A glimpse into my universe....

A glimpse into my universe....

(It might do you well to look at the post that immediately follows this one on the page before reading this one....)

It was a quiet yet nagging paranoia that followed me last evening, like an accusing spectre child.

There was a brief discussion at work, where I referenced Captain Caveman. Actually, the discussion was whether I could suddenly scream my name at the top of my lungs, and then have a brief spurt of superpowers. I finished my statement with the phrase "just like Captain Caveman."

"Who?" they said.

I was flustered.

Who the heck hasn't heard of Captain Caveman? I mean, it's one thing for these kids at work (and I do mean kids...there's a gaggle of them now born after the first Gulf War) to not get an A-Team reference, or an Alf reference, or even a Beavis and Butthead reference. But Captain Caveman? What self-respecting child hasn't sat through an afternoon of Cartoon Network and caught the Very First Superhero?

I mean, I know there are no such things as Saturday morning cartoons, anymore. And I know that the interweb and cable television have splintered the consciousness and attention of today's youth to the point that creating any cross-cultural experience anymore is muchly akin to herding cats.

But Who Hasn't Heard of Captain Caveman?

As I travelled through the evening, for whatever reason, my mind was gripped with that accusatory paranoia. It's a narcissistic thing, I grant you. Damn near solipsistic, I'd say. This singular thought popped into my head as I walked the store checking locks:

"What if there really isn't such a thing as Captain Caveman?"

What if somehow, I'd imagined the whole thing?

Fact of the matter is, I'd directed the person to this blog, to give an example of the said hairyman. I was sure that when I got home, I could simply go to Youtube and some nice folks there would have helped me out before even I could ask.

But the sudden, completely irrational thought hit me. And then, it was ever-constant in me.

It wasn't a drowning, smothering thought, something that I couldn't push away to take care of all the things you have to do in doing your job. But, truth be told, my job is not necessarily one that demands thought all the time--perhaps something of my recent irritation with it can be derived from that, but that's really neither here nor there. Point is, I'm not having to think all the time at my job, so there are those spare moments where my brain can suddenly return to the neurosis at hand:

What if there's no such thing as Captain Caveman, and this cultural icon that I've referenced actually is only and merely a figment of my imagination? What if my reference to Captain Caveman was like to referencing a deep conversation I had with an imaginary friend who's a spy for MI6? Or talking about a made-up girlfriend I'd had in another town? What if my mention of Captain Caveman was something blatantly obvious as untrue, yet it held as something I seemed to cling to as a pivotal and essential truth in life?

So now, I'm left with a mission. I get home. I get online. I check baseball scores, and curse. I check my e-mail. I then wander to youtube.

Now, don't get me wrong. I was 99.98 percent sure of Captain Caveman's existance, as least in the realm of cartoons and/or popular culture. I knew that I'd watched the cartoons. I knew that there was indeed such a thing as Captain Caveman.

And Youtube proved me right. I found not just the opening of Captain Caveman's television program. I found entire episodes online. I posted one, and even watched another. They're entertaining in that Scooby-Doo kind of way. Very much in that Scooby-Doo kind of way.

But in that two or three seconds it took for Youtube to perform its search, my mind was already coming up with excuses as to why I couldn't post proof of my search. Something along the lines of "I just went to bed," and "I forgot." I figured I could ride that "I forgot" line for a few days, and hope that the issue was dropped.

But that doesn't mean the other window of my internet connection didn't hold all the information pertaining to a move to Butte, Montana, and all the info pertaining to starting a new life under a new name....

But no. Captain Caveman was real.

Moving onward, and upward....



Somebody at work didn't get the reference.

And, a whole hoggin' episode.

I keep a hammer in my pocket for very much the same reason Capt. Caveman does in this episode.

Also, I have to ask: At what point did it leave our condition, the ability to eat such things as safes, cameras and ketchup bottles? From a pragmatic standpoint, it seems like it would be much more to our advantage to derive nourishment from eating trees, or rocks, or cameras or safes or ketchup bottles.

Just saying.

Monday, September 03, 2007

A sporting rerun

A Sporting ReRun

Somebody did a google search on the guy in the story. I like to think that it was the guy who got his nuts ripped off.

From September of 2005:


Ya gotta want it. That's all I can say.

Well, that, and Soccer Players are just about the stupidest people on the planet. I mean, honestly, who wants to run up and down a field for an hour and a friggin' half to end a ballgame in a tie?!?!?

But that's not why I'm here tonight.

I'm here to link to the story from Fark, where a soccer player named Chavdar Yankow had a pretty rough day at the ballpark. I'll just quote the whole shebang:

A footballer had to have six stitches in his penis after it was ripped open in a tackle.

Chavdar Yankow, 21, sustained a three-inch gash playing for Hamburg 96 in Germany.

His shorts were "soaked with blood" but team doctors managed to patch Yankow up.

Amazingly, after the painful incident Yankow returned to the pitch and played on.

And the German went on to score in his side's 2-0 win over Frankfurt.
You know, I've never been an athlete outside of your beer softball league, so I'm not the best person to ask about the psyche of the athlete.

But I will say this: Outside of me stitching it up to pitch in the seventh game of the World Series for the Chicago Cubs, if I've taken an injury serious enough to need stitches in the manhood, you can probably count me out.

You'll see this line in the preview:

Tommy...Doubtful (Privates)

Still, Chavdar's made himself a helluva reputation, now. If you can take a slash to the junk and get back up and play, more power to you. I'm staying out of his way. Chavdar certainly can't take anything I'm going to dish out, and I'm not slashing privates.

Let me also say this: I don't know much about soccer. Like I said, to me, it's either a bunch of suburban kids running off a sugar buzz, or it's crazy Europeans who were too drunk to learn to swing a cricket bat, running around for an hour and a half, under the pretense of kicking a ball in one direction or the other, and then going home, drinking and (I would assume) collapsing. But I do know that nearly cutting a guy's pecker off is not how you play the game.

I hope the guy who tackled him got some kind of foul. He deserves a punch in the face, at the very least.

As if the running weren't enough to keep me away from the game....


Sunday, September 02, 2007

Wake the heck up

Wake the heck up

Got a phone call this morning at 7:15. On a Sunday. After I closed the stupid store. And since it was sunshiny outside (even if it was just the first hints of the day's sunshine), I couldn't fall back to sleep.

Still, that doesn't mean I'm awake. After a couple cups of coffee and a bottle of Diet Mt. Dew, I'm still just kinda groggy. I'll probably fall asleep while reading for class this afternoon, with the Cub game on in the background.

Here's a Meme I'll do while I try to jog my brain back into wakefulness. I stole it from Tish. I have to answer with one word:

Where is your cell phone? Truck
Relationship? Nonexistant
Your hair? short
Work? overly
Your sister? Chattamanooga
Your favorite thing? peace
Your dream last night? conversation
Your favorite drink? Forty
Your dream car? Bigfoot
The room you’re in? Quiet
Your Shoes? Barefoot
Your fears? snakes
What do you want to be in 10 years? Tommy
Who did you hang out with this weekend? worked
What are you not good at? people
Muffin? Blackberry
One of your wish list items? Sopranos
Where you grew up? Barn
Last thing you did? Toilet
What are you wearing? Shorts
What aren’t you wearing? Popehat
Your pet? none
Your computer? dying
Your life? frustrating
Your mood? calm
Missing? toenail
What are you thinking about right now? Meme
Your car? Truck
Your kitchen? Empty
Your summer? Hot
Your favorite color? Green
Last time you laughed? Earlier
Last time you cried? movie
School? necessary
Love? hopeful

I did want to say that the one-word rule was somewhat limiting. I had to change answers a little to fit.

Bigfoot is actually my #3 choice for dream car. The General Lee is my first, followed closely by B.A.'s van from The A-Team.

I am missing the second toenail on my left foot. Dropped a case on my toes at work a week ago. That toenail gruesomely gave up the ghost when I was sliding my sock on the other day. I'll just say that Thursday was just a shitty day.

And my favorite drink is not A Forty. Everybody knows that I like to consume my malt liquor out of my official Old English 0800 Malt Liquor Trough.

Saturday, September 01, 2007



I wasn't sure I saw when it scrolled across the bottom of the screen on ESPN. I was sure I'd read it wrong. The Cubs picked up Steve Trachsel. Again.

Which, to my mind, is proof that the organization is either part of or the head of a plot to drive me completely insane.

What's next?

Trading for Sammy?

Bringing back Shawn "Losing Pitcher" Estes?

Finding Leon Durham to back up D-Lee?

Actually, Trachsel wasn't so bad, as a way to bolster the staff for what's going to be the ugliest dogfight ever, fighting for the lead in the last month of the season in the N.L. Central.

Plus, he did actually win the first game I ever saw at Wrigley.

He was just so ever-loving slow, working on the mound. For a Cubs team that always seemed to lack energy in the late 90's, I hated knowing Trachsel was going to be pitching. The last guy they needed on the mound was somebody to make the game slower.

And when push came to shove, he seemed more about blaming his teammates than taking any real accountability.

So, you understand that there's a part of me that's quite a bit dubious....