8.4.2k9
I remember speeding around South Phoenix and blasting the then-just-released "The Queen Is Dead" by The Smiths about as loud as it would go. "There Is A Light That Will Never Go Out" has a couple lines: "If a double-decker bus smashes into us / To die by your side would be such a heavenly way to die." Goddang as a teenager I thought that was a cool, dark and romantic lyric. I thought the same in my 20s. And the same here in my 30s. Everyone I ever met thought those lines were cool, dark and romantic. Then came K-Dub.
"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard," he said. Then he mocked ol' Morrissey's croon. Aghast, I nearly smashed K-Dub in the face for his blasphemy. "Yer a dick, K-Dub," I said. "Yeah, yr a dick, K-Dub," SJ said in agreement.
"That may be, but those lyrics are stupid and so is that song. I'll give you "Cemetary Gates," though, that's a good, well-written song.
I agreed with that statement.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
New Era
8.3.2k9
I really don't understand anyone anymore.
Being a fan of professional sports, I can't help but notice the team-related gear people I see around town wear. In Chicago, the norm was easy: Bear, Bulls and Blackhawks all throughout the area, Sox on the South Side, and Cubbies on the North Side. In SF it was more confused: As, giants, 9-ers, raiders, some Kings, some Sharks, some Kings (other Kings) and very few GS Warriors. More lakers caps and jerseys than GSWs, actually. And speaking of lakers, that's the only thing these jerks here in LA can agree on. Sure, there are loyal dodgers (lose, dodgers, lose) fans, and loyal Gels fans, but there is a huge number of people that wear the caps, tshirts and jerseys of WHATEVER TEAM IS WINNING and/or TRENDY. Case in point, a random sample on a short walk.
A pal and I walked the route on the map below from the blue dot in the south to the red dot straight up Main St. and back to blue. All told, it's just over a mile roundtrip.
On the walk, we saw one bloke wearing a dodgers (lose, dodgers, lose) cap. We saw FIVE people wearing boston motherfucking red sox caps. FIVE! I don't know what the hell is going on with these people. They aren't fans. They CAN'T be fans. And to prove my point, consider this totally-not-bullshit story:
I was on a beer run to the Rite Aid cheap-beeratorium. As I approached the door, a dumpy looking guy emerged: grubby flipflops, baggy bermudas, dirty blue tshirt, unbutttoned, untucked yellow "dress" shirt ... and a Cubs cap. As a real live legitimate (read: sucker) Cubs fan, it's my duty to offer a high-five to every Cubs fan I meet on the street. Or in this case, the drugstore parking lot. I got closer, got my high-fiver in position and the guy saw me and cringed. "Dude," I said, "up top! Go Cubs!" "No way," dude said, "I'm a Mets fan." Dumbfounded, I stammered, "wh ... why ... whythefuck are you wearing a goddamn Cubs cap then?" And here's the proof I mentioned earlier: "Cuz it goes with my outfit." º_º I resolved then to not high-five any more Cubs fans. er ... for a while at least.
So yeah! These people don't know what the fuck. They wear the bo-sux caps for bullshit reasons. I bet none of them could name five current or past bosox players. I can and I hate them. Crap!
Tonight - 500 Club.
Bring yr dogs. It's "dive bar" Thursday. Or something.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I really don't understand anyone anymore.
Being a fan of professional sports, I can't help but notice the team-related gear people I see around town wear. In Chicago, the norm was easy: Bear, Bulls and Blackhawks all throughout the area, Sox on the South Side, and Cubbies on the North Side. In SF it was more confused: As, giants, 9-ers, raiders, some Kings, some Sharks, some Kings (other Kings) and very few GS Warriors. More lakers caps and jerseys than GSWs, actually. And speaking of lakers, that's the only thing these jerks here in LA can agree on. Sure, there are loyal dodgers (lose, dodgers, lose) fans, and loyal Gels fans, but there is a huge number of people that wear the caps, tshirts and jerseys of WHATEVER TEAM IS WINNING and/or TRENDY. Case in point, a random sample on a short walk.
A pal and I walked the route on the map below from the blue dot in the south to the red dot straight up Main St. and back to blue. All told, it's just over a mile roundtrip.
On the walk, we saw one bloke wearing a dodgers (lose, dodgers, lose) cap. We saw FIVE people wearing boston motherfucking red sox caps. FIVE! I don't know what the hell is going on with these people. They aren't fans. They CAN'T be fans. And to prove my point, consider this totally-not-bullshit story:
I was on a beer run to the Rite Aid cheap-beeratorium. As I approached the door, a dumpy looking guy emerged: grubby flipflops, baggy bermudas, dirty blue tshirt, unbutttoned, untucked yellow "dress" shirt ... and a Cubs cap. As a real live legitimate (read: sucker) Cubs fan, it's my duty to offer a high-five to every Cubs fan I meet on the street. Or in this case, the drugstore parking lot. I got closer, got my high-fiver in position and the guy saw me and cringed. "Dude," I said, "up top! Go Cubs!" "No way," dude said, "I'm a Mets fan." Dumbfounded, I stammered, "wh ... why ... whythefuck are you wearing a goddamn Cubs cap then?" And here's the proof I mentioned earlier: "Cuz it goes with my outfit." º_º I resolved then to not high-five any more Cubs fans. er ... for a while at least.
So yeah! These people don't know what the fuck. They wear the bo-sux caps for bullshit reasons. I bet none of them could name five current or past bosox players. I can and I hate them. Crap!
Tonight - 500 Club.
Bring yr dogs. It's "dive bar" Thursday. Or something.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
From Her To Eternity
8.2.2k9
About a million years ago, Linkey-Loo Robot and I, along with several others attended a Soul Coughing show at Great American Music Hall and we enjoyed the hell out of it. At one point Mike Doughty brought out a pea green guitar, possibly a Fender Coronado, played a few chords, took off the shoulder strap and handed it to a waiting guitar tech. He said, "the hell with that! She sure is pretty, but she sounds like shit." I know the feeling ... I'm a Cubs fan, remember?
The Cubs look DAMN good on paper. If that paper is a stat sheet listing the players' and the team's pre-2009 season stats. If ya look today - LITERALLY TODAY - it's quite a different story. We don't hit, we don't steal, we don't score. We don't get many men on, and when we do, we usually leave them on. We haven't gotten the clutch hit, the needed strikeout or popup or grounder. Our off-season trades gutted our team leaders and have not panned out. Our mid-season acquisitions have been inconsistent. We've been plagued with injuries. And worst of all, we kid ourselves that the worm will turn. I'm almost ready to hang it up and see ya in March in Mesa. It's that bad. And then something happens when we're getting pounded 12 to 1 that makes ya think we deserve it.
Some asswipe in the bleachers dumped a beer onto the opposing team's center fielder as he was about to catch a sac fly. ESPN was covering the game and their cameras got it all, including the jubilant drunk celebrating his direct hit. That kinda shit is unacceptable. I truly hope the cops beat the shit out of him.
You can see the whole thing on YouTube. There's another video that comes up when searching "victorino & beer" on 'tube: It's some fuckin' kid who DESCRIBES the event. No screen grab, no hulu, not even a phone cam video ... no it's some jerkoff kid who just describes it. And worse, his description is terrible. And the lighting sucks. And there's too much headroom. And the camera's too low. And he's ugly. And he thinks the beer throwing is funny. ugh. I fear that -beyond the specifics of this particular video - YouTube will be filled with shitty videos by dumbass people just describing things instead of videoing the actual events.
You know, it probably already is.
Tonight - Club Deluxe.
Burlesque!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
About a million years ago, Linkey-Loo Robot and I, along with several others attended a Soul Coughing show at Great American Music Hall and we enjoyed the hell out of it. At one point Mike Doughty brought out a pea green guitar, possibly a Fender Coronado, played a few chords, took off the shoulder strap and handed it to a waiting guitar tech. He said, "the hell with that! She sure is pretty, but she sounds like shit." I know the feeling ... I'm a Cubs fan, remember?
The Cubs look DAMN good on paper. If that paper is a stat sheet listing the players' and the team's pre-2009 season stats. If ya look today - LITERALLY TODAY - it's quite a different story. We don't hit, we don't steal, we don't score. We don't get many men on, and when we do, we usually leave them on. We haven't gotten the clutch hit, the needed strikeout or popup or grounder. Our off-season trades gutted our team leaders and have not panned out. Our mid-season acquisitions have been inconsistent. We've been plagued with injuries. And worst of all, we kid ourselves that the worm will turn. I'm almost ready to hang it up and see ya in March in Mesa. It's that bad. And then something happens when we're getting pounded 12 to 1 that makes ya think we deserve it.
Some asswipe in the bleachers dumped a beer onto the opposing team's center fielder as he was about to catch a sac fly. ESPN was covering the game and their cameras got it all, including the jubilant drunk celebrating his direct hit. That kinda shit is unacceptable. I truly hope the cops beat the shit out of him.
You can see the whole thing on YouTube. There's another video that comes up when searching "victorino & beer" on 'tube: It's some fuckin' kid who DESCRIBES the event. No screen grab, no hulu, not even a phone cam video ... no it's some jerkoff kid who just describes it. And worse, his description is terrible. And the lighting sucks. And there's too much headroom. And the camera's too low. And he's ugly. And he thinks the beer throwing is funny. ugh. I fear that -beyond the specifics of this particular video - YouTube will be filled with shitty videos by dumbass people just describing things instead of videoing the actual events.
You know, it probably already is.
Tonight - Club Deluxe.
Burlesque!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Semper ubi ...
... sub ubi!
8.1.2k8
My love/hate relationship with basketball (Pro, College, PE class, watching, playing, etc.) went a little like this:
1970-1988 Hate (Couldn't play worth a shit / Suns sucked.)
1988-1993 Love (MJ / Bulls / Suns / Detroit loses / Lakers get beat.)
1993-present Hate (boring / organized cheating / Lakers win.)
Somewhere in the "Love" section above I worked at a post studio in Chicago so big that they had a full-service stage with a hard cyc, a light array and a giant loading dock. Of course somebody put a basketball net and backboard up so the grips could kill some time and, when the stage was not booked (or after hours), the studio staff could get drunk and play PIG.
PIG? Sure you know it. It's like HORSE, but with fewer letters so the game was mercifully short and jerks who can't shoot a basket can sit on the side, drink "for clients only" beer and watch. It was fun to watch because of the non-standard shots that we all attempted.
For example ... we had the "office rolly-chair triple-spin lay-up." Just as it might sound, the shooter would sit in a rolly office chair, get some speed, spin around thrice and lay the ball up. Fun. There was the "window of opportunity" shot, where one would stand in the loading dock, peer through the window of the door, hook an arm around the other, open door, and shoot a hook. And one day, there was the "drop trou" shot.
Mike was the initial shooter, and as some of the standard non-standard shots had become tiresome, he came up with a new one. He stood at the free throw line, dribbled twice, held the ball, un-did his shorts, dropped trou, dribbled once again and shot. He made it. I was next, followed by Roxy, then Salty.
As I have since, I was biking in to work back then and had black bike shorts on under my baggy bermudas, so I attempted the shot with the requisite dribbling and trou-dropping ... and missed. P I for me. Roxy looked really REALLY relieved. We asked why.
She said, "no, no ... it's not because I have a thong or no undies ... it's the opposite: I have super-wide granny-style undies on today. Laundry day, y'know."
Awesome. Haven't played PIG since.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
8.1.2k8
My love/hate relationship with basketball (Pro, College, PE class, watching, playing, etc.) went a little like this:
1970-1988 Hate (Couldn't play worth a shit / Suns sucked.)
1988-1993 Love (MJ / Bulls / Suns / Detroit loses / Lakers get beat.)
1993-present Hate (boring / organized cheating / Lakers win.)
Somewhere in the "Love" section above I worked at a post studio in Chicago so big that they had a full-service stage with a hard cyc, a light array and a giant loading dock. Of course somebody put a basketball net and backboard up so the grips could kill some time and, when the stage was not booked (or after hours), the studio staff could get drunk and play PIG.
PIG? Sure you know it. It's like HORSE, but with fewer letters so the game was mercifully short and jerks who can't shoot a basket can sit on the side, drink "for clients only" beer and watch. It was fun to watch because of the non-standard shots that we all attempted.
For example ... we had the "office rolly-chair triple-spin lay-up." Just as it might sound, the shooter would sit in a rolly office chair, get some speed, spin around thrice and lay the ball up. Fun. There was the "window of opportunity" shot, where one would stand in the loading dock, peer through the window of the door, hook an arm around the other, open door, and shoot a hook. And one day, there was the "drop trou" shot.
Mike was the initial shooter, and as some of the standard non-standard shots had become tiresome, he came up with a new one. He stood at the free throw line, dribbled twice, held the ball, un-did his shorts, dropped trou, dribbled once again and shot. He made it. I was next, followed by Roxy, then Salty.
As I have since, I was biking in to work back then and had black bike shorts on under my baggy bermudas, so I attempted the shot with the requisite dribbling and trou-dropping ... and missed. P I for me. Roxy looked really REALLY relieved. We asked why.
She said, "no, no ... it's not because I have a thong or no undies ... it's the opposite: I have super-wide granny-style undies on today. Laundry day, y'know."
Awesome. Haven't played PIG since.
Tonight - Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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