Pour Some Out...

George Carlin died yesterday. And I won't dishonor him by attempting to write a eulogy. People far more capable and qualified have been doing that all day. I just want to say I'm sad that there's a world with out him. Carlin exemplified the sort of honesty I wish more people had. He was fearless, scathing and genuine. He called out the bullshit and hypocrisy in the world. In this little section of cyberspace, I hope I can be a millionth as thought provoking as he was at his best. Raise a forty and let a little flow for a legend.

Inspired Writing

I love the fact that at least 45% of all NFL players are completely insane. Bill Romanowski, Adam Jones (you're welcome Pacman), Nate Newton just to name a few. Honestly, what the fuck would would these morons do if they had to find real jobs? Anyway, Joey Porter is as crazy as they come. The year the Steelers won the Super Bowl they played Denver in Denver. Joey Porter went nuts about getting shot in Denver. Notice how everybody just rolls with crazy Joey. Well, somebody else think Joey is crazy and it's pretty damned funny. Enjoy.

Catching Up

As I write this, I'm spending time with an old friend - Donita Sparks. I'm listening to the new Donita Sparks & The Stellar Moments album Transmiticate. I loved, and I do mean LOVED L7. I had the pleasure of seeing them live and meeting them several times. (One time they all even signed the organ donor section of my driver's license.) Somewhere along the way, I acquired a schoolboy's crush on sweet, sweet Donita. (Her sweetness is up for debate. She did, after all, pull a tampon from her twat and hurl at a crowd at the Reading Festival. In her defense they were throwing mud at the band.) So Imagine my surprise when I found out she had a solo album. It seemed to be a no brainer purchase. Here are my thoughts:

If you liked L7, you'll dig Transmiticate. It's not as hard nor is it as in your face as L7, but it definitely comes from the same place. Donita's voice is front and center and L7's drummer Dee is there to hold things together. All in all, it's a lot like catching up with real old friend. You hang out catch up on what's new (Really, man I can't believe _____ is seven years old already) and then reminisce about the old times* (Remember, that time you body slammed that chick in Vegas?). In the end, you're happy for the time together and look forward to the next meeting. I've recently had the same kind of encounter with Black Francis and Kim Deal. And you know what? It's good to know that old friends won't let you down. Thanks, Donita. I hope to hear from you again soon.

*The memory I'll always have is of L7 playing The Other World in St. Louis. The Other World was the perfect place - A world-class shit hole before Washington Avenue went upscale. The type of place where you EXPECTED your car to be broken into and you were rarely disappointed. The type of place where you walked up five flights of stairs, past all of the shit that was unfit/unsafe for the public to get to the club that made you truly wonder how much worse the stuff you walked past could really be. Me, my boy Byington and Cassie Christian before she married Tim. (Not to mention Cassie's friend who really, really wanted to have sex with somebody.) Shitlist, Andres, Broomstick - Donita, Suzy, Dee and Gail ripped through a set. The crowd bounced like meth heads and at one point I thought the floor was going to cave in. That's not hyperbole. The floor was literally swaying in a building too old to have an elevator. It was November but is must have been 90 degrees in that place. Maybe a Tuesday or Wednesday night. The right band. The right venue. The right time - when downtown StL had edge. As one of my friends said, "None of this is fit for decent white people." Man , I miss those days.

This Kills Me

Sorry the old one didn't work. Try this.

Pay it forward

I grew up in St. Louis. And you know, it always seemed like a nice, friendly place. But I suppose most people in this country grew up in nice, friendly places. Don't get me wrong there were bad neighborhoods and dirtbags., but all in all, it seemed like a good place with good people. I'm sure if you look at where you grew up, you'd feel the same way.

So tell me when the world became populated with fucking assholes. You know who I'm talking about. Cell phone abusers, self-righteous aggro hippies, crybabies and every other kind of self-centered shit stain that makes every trip out of your house unpleasant. For a while now, I thought it was me. I thought that I scrutinized people too harshly. Because, honestly, I have very little tolerance for bullshit or its perpetrators. But imagine how relieved I was to find out it wasn't just me. And I've got to think the rest of the nice people from places are just as exasperated.

Ahh... kindred spirits.

Maybe we've reached critical mass. Maybe we've gotten to the point where people don't know how to be polite and considerate. Maybe it's perfectly acceptable to hold up the flight because you want to shove your steamer trunk in to the overhead. After all, fuck everybody else, the $25 to check it is coming out of YOUR pocket. That's means you're entitled to tell everybody on the way to Raleigh, NC and points beyond to kiss your royal irish ass.

But, what if we (you and I dear reader) decided to start calling people out for their indiscretions. Could we actually make people think about how their actions affect others? Imagine being in an express line at the grocery store.*

Lady At Grocery Store: That was marked $3.59 not $3.99.

Checker: Ma'am I'll need to find a stocker to check it.

(five minutes later a stocker arrives. three minutes later he comes back with $3.99 as the price)

Lady At Grocery Store: Okay, that's not how that was marked. I need to talk with your manager.

Checker: Yes, ma'am.

(stocker goes to find manager.)

You: Ma'am, I'll give you the 40 cents.

Lady At Grocery Store: It's not the money it's the principle. It was mis-marked.

You: That may be the case, but I'm on my way to the baseball game. I just stopped in to grab some beers. That's why I got in the express. Just trying to catch the opening pitch**

Lady At Grocery Store: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think about this being the express lane. You know what, I'll just pay for my groceries so I don't hold everyone up. I can talk to the manager after I check out. It is only 40 cents.***

You: Thanks. I really appreciate it.

Lady At Grocery Store: (smiles) Go Cards!

Wouldn't the world be a better place? So consider this your Project Mayhem homework. Start calling these inconsiderate fucks out. And just because I call them inconsiderate fucks doesn't mean you have to be rude. Hell, kill 'em with kindness, if you like. (I recommend an adaptive style. Calling some one a cocksucker because they didn't turn their phone off at a christening may be a little much. On the other hand it seems to work nicely at a bar.) Maybe we can make people's days a little brighter. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm an asshole too.

*This is based on actual events.

** In St. Louis, this is an acceptable excuse for anything short of first-degree murder.

*** In reality, she told me that wasn't her problem. (Which it wasn't) So then I audibly said "fucking unbelievable." And told the girl behind me "I couldn't believe this shit." This was followed by one of my buddies coming in for smokes observing the situation and declaring "this bitch is out of her mind." Not my finest hour. But we were on our way to the ballgame.

The Real Deal

(In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit I'm an unapologetically HUGE baseball fan. It is by far my favorite sport. I watch from opening day to the last out of the Series. Most people find the game boring. But most people don't read books either. So take their opinions for what they are worth. My Cards are are on the table.)

Everyone is entitled to their opinion no matter how stupid it is. But when it comes to sports I feel like people love to become narrow minded. Sports are very emotional and that means rational thinking goes straight out of the window. For example, people talk about how long baseball games are, but what they don't mention is football games are every bit as long. (Three hours. I swear. You can time it.) AND they have commercial breaks every four and half minutes. Watch a game with no prolonged drives. It's unbearable. Punt. Commercial. Three and out. Punt. Commercial. Repeat. But this is another post all together.

Anyway, if I were a better blogger, I would have told you 8 weeks ago about the best playoffs in all of sports - The Stanley Cup playoffs. I don't care if you're black or white, 8 or 80, blind, cripple or crazy you have to admit this. It is nonnegotiable and not up for argument. This is a time when you ARE NOT entitled to your ridiculous opinion. You stupidity would be a travesty akin to arguing who was the best Bond or the perfect temperature for a steak (medium rare - I don't give a fuck if you don't like blood.). It's only acceptable to have a differing opinion if you've never watched the Stanley Cup playoffs. Maybe reading this will get you in the spirit to watch next April. Or maybe it will inspire you to come up with an argument against this. If so, go ahead, we all know you can't fix stupid. Without further ado -

Why The Stanley Cup Playoffs Are The Shit

1. Lord Stanley's Cup
Every man to ever play on a team that has won the Cup has his name on the trophy. And they've been playing for it longer than there has been an NHL. It is the game's history. Not a championship they made up. (Hello, Super Bowl!) And every player gets the Cup for a day - to do whatever he wants. 'Nuff said.

2. You Get Knocked Down, You Get Up
No flopping in hockey. This is the sport with the Gordie Howe Hat Trick. Flopping would probably cause your teammates to beat that ass. Yeah you, Tony "Bitch Ass" Parker. You've been put on notice.

3. Picking Up Pace
Unlike other sports where the post season is status quo (you run what you brung, although, I admit, with higher intensity), the NHL speeds up. Less holding, fewer penalties and no fights. It's a skill game in the spring. Imagine the Lakers running nothing but fast breaks or the Giants throwing bombs exclusively. Welcome to playoff hockey! Speaking of pace, they play EVERY OTHER DAY for two months. Name another sport that has that kind of grind. The NBA playoffs start at the same time and last two weeks longer.

4. Playoff Beards
These guys are rocking busted teeth, black eyes and nappy beards - and proud of it. No GQ cover boys. No media circuses about sprained ankles or supermodel girlfriends. No pitchers banging Alyssa Milano. Beards, balls and business it's the hockey way.

5. No Crybabies Or Pussies
Hey Timmy Duncan, un-bug your eyes and play ball. T.O., shut the fuck up and run your fucking route. And Schilling, you pitched with a sore ankle - boo-hoo. All these guys do is skate and grind. No arguing calls. No histronics. This spring, I watched a guy with an already broken nose get hit in the face with a puck... and stay in the game. I mean he left the ice to stop the bleeding walking, like a man. Nothing like this. I'm just saying.

6. PRIDE
Most guys in the NHL never dreamt about being millionaires or superstars. I mean, they knew they could make a living playing a game they loved, but hockey is different. Most of the guys come from countries where hockey is the national pastime. And The two biggest things in hockey are the Stanley Cup and Olympic gold. Every great player plays for his nation. The NHL stops the season for the olympics. These guys consider it an honor to play for their countries, not a burden. And every guy want his name on Lord Stanley's Cup too. It's the greatest achievement in the game. And it's the best tournament in sports.