I Love Chain-Mail

So I got an chain e-mail the other day....

Something Not To Laugh About

If they know of him at all, many folks think Ben Stein is just a quirky actor/comedian who talks in a monotone. He's also a very intelligent attorney who knows how to put ideas and words together in such a way as to sway juries and make people think clearly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary:

Herewith at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart: I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of People and Us constantly when I am buying my dog biscuits and kitty litter. I often ask the checkers at the grocery stores. They never know who Nick and Jessica are either. Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they have broken up? Why are they so important?

I don't know who Lindsay Lohan is either, and I do not care at all about Tom Cruise's wife.

Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I am a subversive? Maybe, but I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are. If this is what it means to be no longer young? It's not so bad.

Next confession:
I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don' t feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.
I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution, and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this Happen?" (regarding Katrina). Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"

In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about and we said OK.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell.
Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.
Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.
Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

Are you laughing?

Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.

Pass it on if you think it has merit. If not, then just discard it... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.

.......

Whenever I receive a chain e-mail that may or may be insightful, the first thing I do is go to www.snopes.com. It clears up the myths in the e-mail, such as Ben Stein wrote the whole thing or that Dr. Spock's son killed himself.

It separates the bullshit from the actually interesting pieces, such as Ben Stein's observations about the drawing of false idols like the pop stars of our generation.

What makes Stein's blurb so interesting is how easily he states an obvious fact that Religion and belief in general is being pushed out of our lives and replaced by vanity. Now I don't know if the America of 50 years ago or the America of today is better or not, but I know that belief mixed into today's America can't hurt. I'm not saying a bible-beater, you need to be, but having a faith center gives hope through the troughs and appreciation during the peaks.

For example, I was raised Catholic and, from my experience, Catholicism gives you a bit of a guilt complex. Although it has a negative connotation, this is not necessarily a bad thing. If anything, it's kept me from making the disastrous choices many around me have made.

Of course, my parents raised me right. But, I'm fairly certain the faith aspect of my life helped in my development. If anything, it taught me to be scared shitless of nuns.

Regardless, I think Stein does a nice job of trying to re-open our eyes to faith.

......

As for the rest, I just don't get how an intelligent human being could look at the dribble and think, "You know my friends would really get a kick out of this."

Overlooking the fact that the chain-mailer replaced 9-11 with Katrina, what sane person would ever equate a natural disaster to a resistance to God? Natural disasters have been going on since the dawn of man.

How about making the generalization that children have no conscience because of school shootings? Are you serious? This a message we need to be pass on?

If anything, the religious right in our country has become borderline fanatical and the message that they perpetrate falls right in with this chain. Preach fear and those who seek clarity will grasp at whatever they can.

I hope more can see through than not. Because if they can't, I do fear for the "world of hell" this mail proudly proclaims is already upon us.

What makes this Monday night crew special

Mike Tirico: Let's turn it over to Tony Kornheiser for some pre-game analysis...

Kornheiser: They called him Sexy Rexy, now he is Perplexy Rexy. People in Chicago don't know if they want to kiss this kid or kill this kid....Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, over to you Joe.

Theisman: Rex Grossman has got to step it up tonight if he want to prove he is not the worst quarterback in the NFL today, if not all time....Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman

Mike Tirico: And Hester back for a return.

Kornheiser: Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester, Devin Hester

Theisman: This Hester character should not only go to the pro bowl, but win rookie of the year and run for mayor of Chicago. I would sleep with him right now if he asked me, in front of thousands.

Kornheiser: I completely agree Joe, player of the decade in my eyes, but what do you think about the new punky QB?

Theisman: Rex Grossman is showing what he is really made of tonight, the stuff that will make him a future pro-bowler and NFL MVP....Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman, Rex Grossman (see, I'm making a joke about how much they talked about Rex Grossman last night.)

Tirico: Bulger drops back to pass....

Theisman: (After an incompletion) Marc Bulger could be the most accurate passer in the NFL. And, no, I don't completely over-react to every play that happens in a game. I mean look at Carson Palmer or Peyton Manning or the other guys in front of him in completion percentage this year, including Charlie Frye and David Carr. This guy puts the a in accuracy. And now over to Michele Tafoya for an update.

Tafoya: I spoke with REX GROSSMAN'S dad this morning and he said REX was not disturbed by the flaming bags of feces put on his front doorstep throughout the week. He said that REX calmly put out the bags with the use of a fire extinguisher and his timberlands. Asked where REEEX got said extinguisher and timberlands, his dad replied, "I think Dick's Sporting Goods." A truly heartfelt father/son story, back to you guys....

...

Oh, how I long for the days of Mike Patrick's, "are you kidding me('s)?" and Paul Maguire's "I want you to look at this. Look at that right there. Bam!"

I don't get it. I really don't get this form of sensational sports journalism that's carrying all over the country. Every player has to be the best ever or the worst ever; Every reaction is an over-reaction.

Rex Grossman has a good couple of games and nationwide sports outlets are anointing him. He has a bad couple of games and everyone is calling for his head.

Why don't we relax for a second? He's not the savior, he's not the goat yet. Give it time people. Brian Griese's been tossed from three teams for a reason. He's not Joe Montana.

Just ask this month's flavor Tony Romo how the media darling crown's feeling? One shit game and half turn their backs.

I guess it's what sells papers and gets ratings, but I don't think I'll ever get used to it or those Monday night clowns.

Back to you Planet Earth.

Consistency is King

"your blog

write something on it fuckface. i have checked every day for the last 12 days and counting...

you have a fucking BLOG. you emailed us (note the direction of who emailed who), and told us..read my blog. it's interesting, and i will ruminate on stupid shit, etc. etc.

but have you written anything? no. what do you do all day? u work6.5 hrs. a day (can we really call it work?) what do you do after?stare at the mirror and gripe at god for awhile? do it on your BLOG.

i hate you, but i want to read about you.

good day sir.

*****

p.s. what r u doing this wknd?"

You know it's hard. It's hard God damn work being consistent in life.

Take this blog for example. The viewing public screams, "I want more. I want more awesomeness. I want more purity. I want to feel special." The thing is Mr. Ultimate....I mean I just can't pick my spots like peaches. If I did, I'd be another sorry journalist taking opinions on every issue, probably not caring about half of them.

Look at a guy like Jay Marrioti. I can't fucking stand him. It doesn't matter that I've never said two words. I think he's an complete asshole. Why, you ask? Try reading his columns. He has to take stands everyday on issues he may or may not even care about. He's like a windsock, never caring about who he's offending. He's out to sell papers, make a name, and then go on Around the Horn and try not to blow his load on a cookie before three other guys.

The cookie thing, we've all been there, but I will never succumb to just writing because everybody wants me to.

L-I-E....I'm fucking hung-over at 10 on a Saturday writing dribble write now because a couple of my cohorts said they don't like my consistency....

...Suck it cohorts.

Though, I do have a couple of ideas wandering around....

So Friday night, I was talking to a lady friend of mine and we got to discussing the dating scene when you are approaching your thirties. I don't have to deal with this because I've had the same boo for years now, but it seems she was a little distraught about having to evaluate the person all the faster now that time was much like a ticking bomb of loneliness.

It's a pretty brutal situation. I mean I've been in a relationship for like fifteen years and I'm always learning something new. So, how do you learn enough in one date, in one hour, that you need to decide if this person is good enough to commit a decent chunk of your life? What if you make the commitment and six months down the road, you realize this person is a complete ass-face? Do you accept your fate of having this ass-face as you life partner?

I think one of the many, many problems with our culture is people have an obsession with settling down. This inevitably leads to settling. If you really take a good look around this world, I'm sure you'll see plenty of cases. The person who gets married for money, the person who has family members that are all married with kids and wants to live the dream too, the person who cannot be without someone in which to rely. It's a sad state and it's all around.

The problem is I don't have any answers. This has been going on for hundreds of years. Do you really think my 19 year old great grandmother really knew what she was getting into when she was married? How about your parents? Truthfully, nobody really knows what kind of pool they're jumping into: could be crystal clear, could have a little piss in it, could have sharks.

The only thought I have is that you really need to take a good look before taking that step because it could be bliss or it could be something all the worse.

.............

I have something that goes hand in hand with all of this. And with the risk of sounding like Carrie Bradshaw, it's something that must be said.

Diamonds are evil.

You've all seen the commercial, a couple is walking hand in hand in central park. The epic DeBeers music is playing in the background. They exchange glances with an older couple and the younger woman holds the man's arm tight. Cut to, the diamond on her hand.

Oh, I see diamonds keep the relationship strong and lasting.

Or, how about the one with some asshole on the steps of the louvre or sacre cur or somewhere in Paris screaming, "I love this woman." And she thinks he's completely insane until he pulls out a diamond and she gives him the "I love this man" back.

Diamonds make women love you back.

Does anyone realize where these diamonds come from? The blood shed over diamonds.

How many people know the only reason almost every person buys a diamond for their significant other is because of the most saturated marketing campaigns in history? Just watch the NFL on Sundays and you'll catch my drift. There are just as many diamond commercials as there are sports related ones.

Do yourself a favor and read The Heartless Stone. It's a good, quick read and will give you good perspective on what goes down with the diamond trade; How we buy into a system of brutality with every purchase.

It's kind of funny because it took my woman to open my eyes about the situation. I was sold on what DeBeers was feeding me and it took her saying, "I don't want a diamond and here's why..." to get me to really take a look at what I was buying into.

Lastly, do you know anyone who's tried to sell a diamond? See the beauty of having a cartel like Debeers does is that you control prices. You can sell a diamond for $12000 and buy back the exact same diamond one day later for half the price. There is no open market for buying and selling or even pricing diamonds. Pretty sweet deal if you ask me. Oh, you don't supply diamonds. Well then, you're fucked.

It's only two months, does your child really need to go to college?

Guess Who’s Back, Back Again

I know, I know, you missed me. But every great needs a break. Did Michelangelo waste half his life painting the Sistine Chapel? Ok, bad example, but I’ve had shit to do and awesomeness to spread.

My first order of business, as always, is ultimate.

So, the season was great success. We accomplished almost every goal set in the beginning of the year: put together a hungry, young, and athletic team(oh, and great hogs), made nationals, and shocked some people while we were there. I don’t know if a lot of people gave us a chance to do as well as we did, seeing our below par regional’s performance, but taking out the Florida boys and the Condors on the way proved we belonged and put us in a nice mindset for next year. The only goal we didn’t accomplish was making quarters, which I felt would have been in the bag if the game against Ring of Fire didn’t feature a lot of wind. But, as I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, life is not fair, and we’ve just got to suck it up and grow for next year and not whine like little bitches.

As for me, I’d like to play club again next year. The body feels surprisingly well and now I just hit the weights and the treadmill and that lame-ass ball. And, in my 11th year of playing, I should learn how to throw.

Anyway, that’s it for the season. I plan on doing an updated death-match list at some point, but that would require some thought on where to place these guys:



…and this fanoik



....and the list goes on



….and on



….and on



...wait a second, I bet those guys are cool! They like NAS-CAR, I like NAS-CAR! WHOOAA!

……...

.............

..................

As some of you know, we had an election recently. And, by no means am I a political aficionado, but something really bothered me. It seems the sole reason the democrats won the house and the senate is because our president and his party have proved themselves so incompetent that Americans didn’t have a choice.

This has been an accepted practice for years. One party doesn’t satisfy the voters, so they go the other route. Why is this fine? How do people just swing from one party to another with reckless abandon? These are two distinct parties with different candidates and views on all levels.

I guess it’s the lazy American thing to do. I just find it funny how we are fighting for “freedom”, all over the world, and we, as the land of the free, don’t even learn or care about the people running for these offices. I'm sure there is a minority that knows about all of people running and what their platforms are, but most of us would rather just research whether Brittany Spears got a new boob-job or if Lindsey Lohan ran somebody over today. I’m certainly included in that group.

Some inspiration before Sarasota...

...from the lips of Al Pacino




the link... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rT0jFp4c7o

I don't know what to say really.
Three minutes
to the biggest battle of our professional lives
all comes down to today.
Either
we heal
as a team
or we are going to crumble.
Inch by inch
play by play
till we're finished.
We are in hell right now, gentlemen
believe me
and
we can stay here
and get the shit kicked out of us
or
we can fight our way
back into the light.
We can climb out of hell.
One inch, at a time.

Now I can't do it for you.
I'm too old.
I look around and I see these young faces
and I think
I mean
I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make.
I uh....
I pissed away all my money
believe it or not.
I chased off
anyone who has ever loved me.
And lately,
I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror.

You know when you get old in life
things get taken from you.
That's, that's part of life.
But,
you only learn that when you start losing stuff.
You find out that life is just a game of inches.
So is football.
Because in either game
life or football
the margin for error is so small.
I mean
one half step too late or to early
you don't quite make it.
One half second too slow or too fast
and you don't quite catch it.
The inches we need are everywhere around us.
They are in ever break of the game
every minute, every second.

On this team, we fight for that inch
On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us
to pieces for that inch.
We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch.
Cause we know
when we add up all those inches
that's going to make the fucking difference
between WINNING and LOSING
between LIVING and DYING.

I'll tell you this
in any fight
it is the guy who is willing to die
who is going to win that inch.
And I know
if I am going to have any life anymore
it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch
because that is what LIVING is.
The six inches in front of your face.

Now I can't make you do it.
You gotta look at the guy next to you.
Look into his eyes.
Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you.
You are going to see a guy
who will sacrifice himself for this team
because he knows when it comes down to it,
you are gonna do the same thing for him.

That's a team, gentlemen
and either we heal now, as a team,
or we will die as individuals.
That's football guys.
That's all it is.
Now, whattaya gonna do?

Hoo Ha...

It's kind of funny. You find inspiration in the strangest places. And when we were about to start our last game at regionals, I could hear the background music to that clip in my head.

Nobody Can Take It Away from You

Last Sunday, Machine, my ultimate team, qualified for nationals.

On the ride home, after all the celebrating was done and congratulations were handed out, I found myself thinking back to the first time I ever won something important.

I had just won the Chicago park district Under 12 tennis title, which now seems kind of small, but to a kid who lived for Andre Agassi, Jim Courier, Michael Chang, and spent his every waking moment emulating them, this was the biggest stage. After I dispatched my last opponent and the trophy was handed out, something my dad said struck home. He proudly said, "nobody can take this away from you."

He's repeated the phrase throughout the years; Basically, whenever I've accomplished something he deems big: be it winning a wrestling tournament or doing well in school or even having a good year trading. But the first time he said it hit hardest and holds with me to this day.

Machine qualified and that is great, but I didn't flash to my father's adage because we qualified. It came to me because I had just been witness to 24 men becoming something better than they previously were, something that could be special. Through all the adversity, all the let-down, these men grew stronger. We could have folded. We could have called it a season when facing a team that had already handily beaten us. But we refused. I think we refused because we knew this wasn't a team of past let-downs. The character we were built upon would shine through at our darkest hour. And it did. We battled back game after game, growing stronger and stronger through the day. And when our last opponent was ferociously put down, something great rose to the surface. Machine became the team we had all envisioned from day 1 of tryouts, the team who's drive and determination match it's talent. We are ready and nobody can take that away from us.

Cause I Know What It Means, To Walk Around This Lonely Street of Dreams

So I was talking, drunk talking, to my buddy Chris tonight.

Chris is a bar owner and guy that isn't very happy with the female race thus far in life. Sure, he gets his in's and out's, but he can't find that special lady that makes his loins tingle and his little guy say,

"What you waitn' for fool? Go marry that shit."

Well, I have. And, with no disrespect to my boy, it's not half bad.

Anyway, on my semi-coherent drive home, I started reminiscing about high-school and college and how anytime I used to think of what I wanted in a perfect girl, a song popped into my head.

Be it "Release" or "Landslide" or "Frozen Lake," songs set the emotional tone for what I thought love should be.

On my half-bagged voyage, as I was syncing to "Black," it occurred to me. These songs now have no influence on how I feel about my respected other. It was like the lyrics and melodies that I grew up with, that molded my very, very, fragile adolescence, meant nothing in the grand scheme.

Maybe, all in all, that's really what love is...replacing those minutes or years when you're enamored in a killer lyric, with a contagious laugh or a perfect smile.

Or, as I read on a shirt in Wrigleyville tonight, maybe love is deciding who's sleeping on the heartshaped cum stain.

It could be that simple, right?

Brief Thoughts About the TV

"What are you doing here today?" "Why are you here"

If these phrases don't strike a cord, you are clearly missing one of the greatest comedians of our generation, Chris Hansen. He stars in a sitcom on NBC called "Dateline: To Catch a Predator."

Ok, it's not a sitcom, but I'll put "To Catch a Predator" up against any episode of friends. Hansen's unintentional comedy is off the charts. There is just something utterly ridiculous about a journalist cornering sex perverts in front of a TV camera crew and reading from their chat logs. Here are a couple of berries....

-Hansen (reading from chat): Yeah I'll be your bear and we bears like tasting honey.

-Hansen: It sounds like you truly wanted to based upon this. I can't control my horny level. You say during the conversation you just masturbated twice and it hasn't helped.

Come on, genius.

And, how about some of these log names, "sweetguy69", "bearinwolfsfur." Do you really need a Dateline investigation to figure out that these guys need to be tarred and feathered in the public square?

Lastly, I've seen about a half dozen of these shows and, almost everytime, the bait, some 18-40 year old playing a 12-16 year old, which is creepy enough on its own, offers the "predators" sweet tea or cookies or some kind of treat before moving off camera to "dry off" from a shower or change a load of laundry.

There is just something funny about that. This freakshow is planning on God knows what with an underage teen and the last thing that happens before they get their life completely ripped apart is have some sweet tea.
.....................

So part two also involves dateline. Yeah, I had a rockstar weekend. Where's the blow?

Anyway, there is some study about how people's names influence what kind of field they go into or where they live.

There are more women living in Georgia, named Georgia and named Caroline, living in one of the Carolina's.

What name is the most popular for Dentists? Dennis.

So, I'm watching the Iowa game and they have a guy, kyle schlicher. He's the fucking kicker...Unbelievable!

Anyway, you guys out there have any examples?
........................

Lastly, I was watching that new Nike commercial where a team, including the likes of Brian Urlacher, Michael Vick, Ladainian Tomlinson, and Troy Polamalu, plays a heated game against a bunch of highschoolers.

If I'm the alumni, I calling for coach Shula's head after Briscoe squeaks out a win on the final play, a RB option with the target being Ryon: Tomlison, Vick, Polamlu, Urlacher...Ryon?

Come on, Shula, utilize you jerk-off.

The Last Kiss

I was going to do a bla, bla NFL review, but felt compelled to write about Zach Braff's latest attempt to get laid by a up and coming Hollywood hottie.

Oh right, he didn't direct, produce, or cast anyone in this flick, but I know he somehow had a hand in landing that OC sweetheart in a major role, not to mention the chick from the real world as the "boring" girlfriend. We're on to you Braff and the next time we see you doing a romantic comedy with some Hollywood youngster, we're going to send the Shogun crew after you.

(Yeah, it's a shameless plug of The Last Dragon, but come on, you look up pictures for "Last Kiss" and get "Last Dragon", you run with it.)

Mr. Braff plays a man at the edge of thirty trying to find what he wants in life by choosing between the pregnant woman he loves and a college vixen. Because, life is as easy as choosing to get laid or to have a baby. The movie also storylines Braff's buddies that all have coming of age problems of their own: an unhappy married man with a kid, a guy who can't let go of his high-school sweetheart, and a commit-a-phobe.

I really thought it was going to hit home with me, being on the brink of thirty and dialoging my own mid-life crisis recently. But, it's not even close to my ballpark. This movie is well-written, well-scripted, and well-acted(except for the real world girl), but it's not about me or anyone I know. And, I'm not talking about my specific set of circumstances. I'm talking anyone I've ever met or known in this age bracket.

Real life is seldomly as dramatic as The Last Kiss or any movie this genre makes it out to be. And playing all four of Kiss's plot lines out within the same set of friends is about as realistic as those shaven box pics of Lindsey Lohan floating around. Wait, those were real. I'll be right back...www.thesuperfical.com....

...ahhhh, that's better. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I was expecting to see something along the lines of sets of friends and lovers growing up, older, and dealing with it. This is the drama my life and almost everyone I know, revolves around. Who's getting married? Who's having kids? Who doesn't hang-out anymore because of marriage or kids? How have significant others affected friends? Who will be our good friends when we are thirty-nine?

I guess the commit-a-phobe story line holds true for a whole bunch of people I know, but it was hardly touched upon. And the guy in the movie decides to spend his life savings of $5000 on a Winnebago and travel to South America? Who the fuck does that?!

I guess that is why I was let down. I was expecting more reality and less "movie magic" because of the subject matter and the age bracket.

I want to make a suggestion. If you are in the mood for a drama about moving forward in life, rent a movie called "Kicking and Screaming" (not the Ferrel version.) I liked The Last Kiss in general, but if you want a movie that delivers the whole growing up concept, that's the creme de la creme and one of my all-time favorites in general.

Lastly, if you do go and see Kiss, I want to know what the odds that a girl like Rachel Bilson seeks out a muppet looking Zach Braff to potentially start an affair, especially with girlfriend in tow? I'm guessing about the odds of a comet ending life on Earth. Take a peek at the picture below. It's like she found some kind of monster in her treehouse and now they are playpals.


That dude gets more more brutal to look at every year.

That was my view. I lived eight blocks away. I worked on the 105th floor. I moved home almost a year to the day.

It seems so long ago.

I remember walking into work one of my first days as a trader, just as CNBC cut to what seemed like a large fire in the south tower.

Then, it happened.

As surreal as it was, a plane flew right into the north tower: right into my old floor, right into my former co-workers, my friends, my old roommate who was so happy I got him a job brokering in the big city.

I couldn't speak.

For days I was glued to the TV just sitting there wondering what I could do. Feeling guilty that I wasn't taking advantage of opportunity this life had granted me.

I was going to change.

But, I, like so many others, let the moment pass. I skipped my roommate's funeral. I missed the memorial for all the people at Cantor. I was just a stupid kid that didn't realize what showing up might mean to the people that were cut so much deeper than I. Or maybe I was just too scared of facing situations so tragic?

Of course, I embraced the newfound sense of patriotism that everyone surrounding me seemed to have. But that, too, passed.

Do you remember how you felt? What you vowed?

Because even as I write this, the sense of fear and guilt returns. And maybe it's just the residual of the worst time in my life. But, I think it has to do with some unfulfilled promises I made through that period.

And I hope, in five, ten, fifty years, those promises fill the void that was left that day.

Little Dogs and The People that Own Them

What is going on with this world?

I live in the oh so trendy "west loop" and on any given morning, what seems like an army of leashed rats are released upon the world.

People, if it looks like a rat, sounds like a rat, and is the size of a rat....

IT IS A FUCKING RAT.

Why are people downsizing their dogs? The dog buried in my parent's backyard, the lovable Sharpe Wrinkles, was a hefty 50lbs bundle of energy. I could fight with her, take her on runs; She even had a nice hook shot.

And, I'm not talking about a little dog with spunk like my buddy Tim's 12lber Charlie. I'm talking about a dog that fits in a purse or a glove box or a glove.

Seriously what can you do with a 3lbs chiwawa that won't kill it? Wear it as earrings?

That's the other trend that's disturbing me. The owners of these dogs all seem to be women between 23-30, that seem happier that they are walking a new fashion accessory than owning a dog. These people need to be locked away.

One orange jump-suit please

So, if you're thinking of purchasing a dog, live by this rule I established when one of my former teammates brought their little foo-foo rat around one day...

Fill up a gallon water jug to the equivalent weight of the dog you are thinking about purchasing. If you can kick said jug over ten yards, that dog is not for you.

Napa, Fantasy Football, and Other Catching Up

Last week my girlfriend and I got to visit a lovely part of Kal-e-fornia called Napa Valley. You guys might be familiar with it after watching the most overrated movie of 2005.

That's me in the corner. And playing the part of my girlfriend, Kenzie, is the disheveled Lowell.

We were there celebrating her older sister's vow renewal after the lovely couple decided on a Vegas style eloping the first time around.

Scoreboard...Kenzie's sister 2 weddings Kenzie 0...mom's the scorekeeper and is not happy about the bagel.

Anyway, Napa is an extremely beautiful place and if you like going on a family style vacation where you ride around in a "tour van" and get shit-faced while swirling and sniffing a glass of wine every 5-10 minutes, Napa is your place. I guess if you like wine, it's ok also. And if you go, try to look pretentious, Napa has their standards

A couple of highlights/pics...

#1, super awesome highlight/pic:

This little guy wandered on to the dance floor ala Wedding Singer.

"Somebody puts some pants on that Kid!"

#2 (lowlight, but memorable) We stayed at a bed and breakfast, which sounds nice and quaint, especially since we are in wine country and all, but there was a couple factors hindering our relaxation, the wake-up call.

See this wasn't any normal wake-up call of ring, ring or knock, knock. Our wake-up call started at about 5:30am with a chorus of dogs that sounded like they were ripping each others limbs off. This situation is usually amended by the close of a window, but do windows ever close when you are stuck in a situation such as dogs barking or a rooster crowing? Did I mention a rooster crowing? Yeah, that came next. You may or may not have been on a farm growing up, but from what I learned last week, the rooster doesn't crow once like in Green Acres. He cocks his doodle do around 500 times, in a row. Now I'm a pretty sound sleeper, but this was trying my patience. My patience was folded up, kicked in the nuts, and thrown out the lovely colonial windows when the construction equipment started. They started the day in reverse and didn't go forward until around 3pm. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Ahhhh, wine county.

#3 People in Napa drive like pussies and it is awesome. Living in Chicago, I'm so used to getting cut off by cabs and keeping my middle finger in an extended "holding pattern." It was so refreshing not to hear a horn or a "hey you fucking dick" when I cut across three lanes.

A couple more pics....

The happy couple taking in a sunset before hitting the port-o-let.

Since we were on the ocean, I thought a bread sailboat might be appropriate for the big event. Kenzie looks displeased, but she wasn't. She never is when I'm around.

Notice something about this picture? Probably not, because white people are generally the majority at weddings I would attend, but at this particular affair, we were the minority to a Filipinian army from the groom's side. The mother of the groom called in all "white people" for this pic.

Wait a second, a couple of them snuck in. Relentless, that army was.

.............

My absence the last couple of weeks hasn't been solely due to vacationing. As, most of you know, football, or as my lovely lady calls it "fucking football" is right around the corner.

Football has been an obsession of mine since childhood. I think it really kicked into high gear after I pulled a Keyshawn Johnson on my fifth grade recess team by screaming at the Qb to "throw me the fucking ball." He didn't take kindly to it and I ended up prank calling his house daily with the aid of my new teammates.

Flash forward twenty-some years and the obsession isn't so much about playing, which I still enjoy, as much as it is about fantasy football.

Now my ideas about fantasy this year are a separate post all together, but I've spent the last week drinking around 30 cokes, yelling at my computer, and acting like an all out psycho because of a glorified computer game. I bet I'd make an awesome dungeons and dragons player.

"You think you're going to bring that weak-ass elf across my wizard line. Think again bitch."

Though, if you do play fantasy, I think this is the season that will cut the herd in terms of who can play and who is just throwing darts. More on that next time...

.............

Lastly, if you've ever watched tennis or was a fan of American tennis at one time, I implore you to watch Andre Agassi's second round match against Marcos Baghdatis whenever it is on again. It was one of the most moving sporting events I've seen. I used to play and watch every Agassi match I could catch and this was in the top 5 all-time in my books.

As I write this, Agassi has just lost his latest and last match. It's sad to see such an iconic figure go out looking like an withered old man, but I guess everything ends. I just hope I don't look like that when I'm done playing ultimate. Image is everything ya know.

We'll miss you AGASSI!

That's OK Johnny, Grow Up and Be Mediocre

I want to preface this by saying in know way, shape, or form will I be one of those psycho dads who break their kids mentally before they're old enough to spring wood in science class. I witnessed a close friend/first class eighth grade athlete crack first hand because his dad pushed him too hard: two hours in jumping shoes a night, a 1000 free throws a day, film sessions, beatings, etc. Currently, he resides in a trailer park somewhere in the great state of Missouri probably longing for the days he was dropping 15 on every Catholic league team in his path from Our Lady of Ransom to Mary Seat of Wisdom.

Anyway, what set me on this path was something I saw on ESPN a couple of days ago. The article is pasted below...

http://community.foxsports.com/blogs/newalbanymom/2006/08/04/LITTLE_LEAGUE_INTL_SCANDALCOVERUP

So, after this story became public knowledge, there was an uproar about how these two teams conspired to cheat to win and how this is setting a horrible example for future generations.

My take, life is not fucking fair and the sooner you get it embedded in your head the better off you'll be.

Before I start ranting, here's another link to some more injustice in our society(side note: Pay attention to how many times they display the kid in the article. I think there are around 6 of the same picture featuring the sad little guy. Think ESPN was going for the heartstrings?) ....

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/news/story?id=2549340

Does that bring a tear to your eye? Do you need a tissue?

I'll admit both those stories are on the way extreme end of the spectrum and in the most random of circumstances, but in no way do I have sympathy for any of the players. It sounds cruel, especially in Romney's case, but what is the first thing you should learn in sports? Well, what I learned is that the good guys(you) don't always win.

It's a hard lesson. I learned the lesson on the soccer field after getting 4 goals scored off me by the same 6'3" 9 year old Russian kid that I could swear was an extra in Rocky IV. That particular disaster is burned into my memory because it was also the first time I realized I cared for something so much it could bring me to tears.

A sob story, this is not. I'm glad it happened because the event was necessary for me to grow as an individual. It taught me that life wasn't fair. I could try my little heart off and pump my little legs as fast as I could and it might amount to nothing. But it didn't cause me to quit, it motivated me. Just like it will motivate all those poor little kids that were cheated from the LLWS and just like it will motivate this cutie....



....I'm not making light, beside maybe the W sweatshirt. What I'm trying to get across is that there is an overwhelming notion that today's children need to be coddled and all treated as equals. Well, how does that push them to be better? How will it prepare little Johnny or Romney for the stacked deck that is everyday life?

Let's Go Get the Terror

So, I heard through the grapevine I can't take a coke on a plane anymore. No biggie, I can handle that, I'm a big boy. I understand the war on terror has a new enemy that may or may not be a water bottle full of crystal light. But out of all the new aviation restrictions (the liquid ban, the hair gel ban, the carry-on little bitch dog ban) how did we miss one? How could we miss this?

How did all those snakes get on that motherfuckn' plane?

I know they weren't smuggled in shoes.

I've been to the airport in several pairs of footwear and, ever since the one asshole in the history of aviation tried to light a shoe bomb, which consisted of ground up blackjacks and rubbing alcohol, the fine security staff at the TSA make it abundantly clear that I have the "option" of removing my shoes for a screening.

"Oh, you'd rather not take off your shoes. Well, step this way sir and let me introduce you to 12" nightstick. He'll be conducting an advance search of your baggage, personal items, lower intestines, etc. Thanks for your time. We'll have a wheelchair waiting."

Come to think of it, there is no way they came through security at all.

Just take a look around at the airport staff. How could such a highly qualified, highly trained staff let hundreds, thousands of poisonous motherfuckn' snakes on that plane. Do you see how hard they look at your id and boarding pass? It's like Holmes had 10000 offspring and they all decided a $7.50/hr job was their life's calling. And forget about packing them in a carry-on. Those little green bitches wouldn't stand a chance against the three sets of eyes looking at a glorified x-ray machine. "What is that a dildo or a snake? Fuck it, I've got a break in 10 minutes and I need me a double quarter pounder with cheese."

So, how, how did these snakes get on this plane?

Maybe our government can help?

"Mr. President, you've got a well deserved patriot act passed. Why are you hesitant to use it to find all those snakes?"

"Well, see, eh, there's terror. We saw that with 9-11. But we just, we just can't go wasting terror finders on a bunch, a bunch of snakes. 9-11 was a terrible tragedy and we honor those men and women by going after terror, not a bunch of snakes."

"But you know they're on a plane. This could be much worse than any liquid explosion."

"Liquid explosion, funny."

"Mr. President these snakes pose a threat much bigger than Iraq posed to us and you're choosing to ignore this? Why?"

"No more questions, I've got to go clear some brush on daddy's ranch....9-11"

I guess when push comes to shove, it's up to us to find how those snakes got on that plane. Because after all the restrictions, regulations, inconvenience in our lives, if we don't find out how those mother fuckn' snakes got on that motherfuckn' plane, it's only going to get worse.