Now You're All In Big, BIG Trouble...

[SLAP]

Didn't expect that, did you? I've been gone for a while. You probably thought I was gone for good, huh? Probably hoped I was. Here you were, enjoying your day, having gone the better part of 3 months without one significant post in sight. Well I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, punk. Because funtime is over.

You never realize how important the internet is to you until it is no longer available to you. When I moved out of my old place, I tried to get my Roadrunner hooked up to my old computer (that I got in 1999) and I found out during a late-night call to tech support that it wasn't working because I was still rocking Windows 98 (O.G. version) and I needed a new operating system for the drivers to work.

I naturally went through all the phases of grief: the denial, the self-loathing, the hunger, the itchy scalp. All the signs were there. I had no idea what to do. Then it occurred to me: why don't I just go down to Staples and drop the c-note on Windows XP? I done did it, and finally I'm back in the 21st Century. Miss me?

The worst part about not having the internet is having to sit silent, depriving all of you of my rapier's wit and searing insight with all the events of the world going on. This must be how people in a coma feel. It's no picnic.

So here is your boilerplate Bill Shannon Recap of what has been going on in my world over the last three months. I'll try to keep it brief:

• I moved to a new residence. It's the bottom half of a house about 1.3 miles from my old house. I threw away roughly half of my belongings, and the place is actually looking decent. Not too cluttery, and it feels homey. (And not just because I am a "homey." Get it?) My mom would actually be somewhat proud of how this slovenly fool can actually keep up on manually washing the dishes and sweeping up every once in a while.
  
• My job changed because my partner at work got a new job, so I've been under a ton of pressure at work, only because I'm the only one with experience. My heart rate and blood pressure are shooting right through the roof. But I don't take my job home with me, even though I wish I could sometimes to get some work done. My job is one of those things where you can get no momentum. As soon as you start something, like 15 other people call me or IM me to ask me to do something. It's nice to be wanted, but this is ridiculous!
  
• I tried out for the World Series of Pop Culture in New York in mid-January. We got past the first "written" round but then didn't hear anything after that. I got to see my New Jersey cousins, though, which was great.
  
• I lost and then gained back a few lbs. I was doing really well for a while and then just started eating like shit and stopped exercising. I'm planning on getting back on the horse pretty soon. And let's face it, even a couple pounds heavier, I'm still like a total hunk. Ironic note: I stopped drinking beer for a few days because I was feeling bloated and had some bad stuff going on in the gastro-intestinal area. Finally I had a beer and suddenly everything is kosher again. Jackpot! I heard a line from the show "Scrubs" that said something to the effect of, "It may be too early to drink, but it's never too early to start thinking about it." Amen to that. But moderation, folks. Always moderation.
  
• I have been going psychotic with my beer intake, but not in that way. In other words, I don't get drunk a lot. But I have been going to the Party Source on Erie Blvd and picking up all sorts of mixed six-packs of exotic beers. That way I always have a nice stockpile of them. I try to have like 2 a night, because they are so delicious. And just like Javen once told me, I am getting into those dark, coffee-flavored porters for the cold, winter season. Ironically, I have decided that I hate winter ales. What a country! IPAs are still my main squeeze, of course, but I don't mind throwing in something a little darker every once in a while. I think it shows my tolerance.
  
• A skunk died under my porch last week, and caused my entire apartment to reek alternately of a skunk's exploded anal gland and sour onions (that's what it smells like when it ages). The smell just left this afternoon. Here's some more irony for that ass: I have always had trouble smelling skunks. I don't know why. People would always say, "I smell a skunk" and I'd be all "Not me." But this was pretty unmistakeable. It's cold as shit out, too, and I had to leave windows open to get the stank outta there. It's finally safe, so stop on by.
  
• I've been using a new shampoo that supposedly makes hair grow thicker, and I've heard from a couple different sources that it might actually be working. I'm very skeptical of those things, but who knows. Maybe it'll make the passage of time seem somewhat slower on my shiny melon.
  
• I've been attempting the art of cooking lately, with pretty good results. I made a peanut butter pie the other day which I must say was off the hook like not guilty. Most stuff I make is out of a box but I'm at least getting into the flow of cooking a little more, and I think if I experiment, I might get good. I have a neat little dining area in my kitchen with stools in it and it's kind of cool to just eat there and crank some of my rap tapes. Oh yeah, since I live alone now, I can pretty much listen to whatever music I want to at full blast (or at least so it doesn't bug my landlords and crazy-bitch next door neighbor). I have been catching up on some of my old rap tapes that I haven't heard in a long time. Mixed results. I'm sure that blog's coming later.
  
• The giving away of many of my clothes and possessions was kind of a weird thing. It was one of those things where I got rid of any questionable clothes, or ones that I either don't like anymore, or know don't fit me. This sounds like a no-brainer to most, but since I have no-brain, it's not for me. I am a notorious clutterbug-slash-packrat. Getting rid of clothes is tantamount to putting my kids in an orphanage. But I done did it. I had to; my place is way too small not to. I'm getting there. Slowly, but it's happening.
  

Okay, now that you have the lowdown, let me just give you a few things that have been up in my head over the last three months:

• Has you seen the Bruce Campbell "Old Spice" commercial? The one about "experience"? I can't stop watching it. Not only does it star cult movie hero Bruce Campbell, but the words are great. It might not be that impressive out of context, but I was watching the Giants-Eagles game at Will's with Jaime, Phelps and Toast, and it came on to a reverentially hushed response. One of those moments, you know? It was the perfect absurdist non-sequitur to throw my football mojo off just a little bit. Well done, Old Spice!
  
• Here are some albums I like that I've heard recently: Ghostface Killah's "More Fish" (quite good) The Shins' "Wincing the Night Away" (not great, but good), Metal Fingers' "Special Herbs Box Set" (amazing), Ray LaMontagne's "Till the Sun Turns Black" (almost sounds like early Van Morrison). There are others I can't think of right now. I haven't bought many CD's lately.
  
• Best TV shows right now: "How I Met Your Mother" (caught a marathon Christmas weekend and love it), "The Office" (the most consistently laugh-out-loud funny show on TV), "30 Rock" (has really grown on me), "The Wire" (like a novel), "American Idol" (obviously, although the judges are real assholes this year, more than usual), "Extras" ("Are you havin' a laugh?" is my new catchphrase), "The Colbert Report" (Stephen is an amazing comedian), "SNL" (always hit-or-miss, but the Jeremy Piven and Alec Baldwin episodes were suprisingly good), "Wonder Showzen" (hard to find, but goddammit I love it), "5 Reasons You Can't Blame..." (now that ESPN Classic is ceasing original programming -- RIP "Cheap Seats" -- this one will probably go out the door), "Stella" and "The State" (my sister let me watch these on her video iPod and I forgot how hilarious those shows were), "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" (my sister just introduced me to this show and I really like it, like half "Curb Your Enthusiasm," half "Stella"), "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" (only 15-mins long, and sometimes very crude, but it always makes me laugh out loud).
  
• Javen and The Hoff and I went to see the Chargers and Bills in Buffalo in December, and although the Bills lost, it was a good time. Since I've been on hiatus, I haven't been able to go over the fun sports stuff. I think J.P. Losman is going to be a very good QB for the Bills. The light turned on about halfway through the season. He still makes mistakes, but I'm so much more confident in him now. I think the AFC Championship game between the Colts and Patriots is one of the best second halves of football I've seen in a long time. (Sorry, that last sentence was very Peter King of me.) Syracuse basketball sucks, and they will be lucky to make the tourney this year. They don't have a leader and lack character. No one is stepping up. I'm rooting for them, but the outlook is grim.
  
• I am currently obsessed with Crossword puzzles. And not the easy ones in the back of the TV Guide, but the big bastards in the Sunday New York Times. I'm still not very good, and still have to cheat by looking in the back or in a crossword dictionary, but I enjoy the mental challenge. I think it's making me smarter.
  
• Since I've been out for so long, I haven't gotten the chance to express my love for Opie & Anthony. A few months ago, I could only hear them on XM (which is the greatest as well, to be continued in a future blog), but now they are on regular radio in Syracuse, too. I still like getting the "dirty" feed when they are done with their free-radio broadcast, but in my opinion, they are like ten times better than Stern, as least how he was over the last 5 years or so. (I haven't heard his Sirius show.) I really like their sensibility, and plus, you have to give respect to a radio show that frequently has Brian Regan (aka the greatest stand up comic in the world) on their show. Listen to it for like a week, and I think you will like it. I don't have any stake or interest in them getting popular, I just think they are a really good listen.
  

Okay, so this has been the most meandering, poorly constructed blog in the history of blogs. Fine, I admit it. I had a lot pent up, and now it's out of my system. The next posts you see will be of the high quality to which you are accustomed. I have held this site up as the apogee of internet prose, and dammit, I won't let you down. Well, yeah I probably will.

Until later. I have to get back to cooking my falafel.

One Class Act

[Note: I meant to post this Monday, but only got internet access today.]

I want to kiss LaDainian Tomlinson. (And for all you non-football fans out there, that's a man. And no, my hiatus is not because I've just come back from a month in Fire Island.) I've always admired his style of play and his humble, workmanlike style. He has been arguably the best player in the NFL over the last 5 seasons, and clearly the best running back.

Imagine this: imagine a soft-spoken, polite NFL player, with hardly ever a bad word to say about anyone. He is unusually humble -- which must be hard given how incredibly gifted he is -- and tends to have a smile on his boyish face.

If it sounds like I have a slight hetero man-crush, it's because I think I do.

Now imagine that this mild-mannered Superman actually decided, completely against his character, to voice his opinion about an opposing team. Well he did, and he did it about a team that sports media perpetually assures us is one of the "classiest" organizations in sports.

Here's what happened: After the game was over, and New England had beaten (or rather escaped) the mistake-prone and unprepared San Diego Chargers by three points, many of the Patriots' players went to the middle of the field and began doing a mockery of the Chargers? Shawne "Lights-Out" Merriman by imitating his "electrocution dance" that he performs after recording a big tackle. Tomlinson saw this and tried to go to the middle of the field to address some of the Patriots' players. He was clearly angry. This is what L.T. had to say after the game.

"I would never react in that way. I was very upset," Tomlinson said. "When you go to the middle of our field and start doing the dance Shawne Merriman is known for, that is disrespectful. They showed no class and maybe that comes from the head coach."

That's your MVP speaking, folks. I love the fact that L.T. spoke up.

First of all, the guy never says a bad word -- or any word for that matter. So you know that when he says something, it's well thought out. It's not like this is Terrell Owens or Joey Porter or Warren Sapp or some other loudmouthed bag of douche crying "disrespect wolf!" after the game. This is one of the players who is as known for his class and integrity as he is for his touchdowns. So hopefully, this will give L.T.'s observation the merit it deserves.

I will admit that I think most celebration dances -- such as Merriman's, the Giants' "jump-shot" and that Dog Crawling on the Ground thing the Bears do -- are idiotic, especially when performed after a non-touchdown. And Merriman himself has proven to be a man of questionable character, getting busted for 'roids and mailing a remote and popcorn to the Dolphins' Jason Taylor, telling him to enjoy watching him in the playoffs. But for a team that was so very lucky to come out on top (anyone who watched the game knows that the Pats got completely outplayed, but just got the benefit of about a dozen Charger f-ckups), to start showing up the other team by gathering around and cackling while shaking their bodies in spasmodic glee.

The Patriots have long been an organization whose class has been severely overestimated. Everyone in the sports media has labeled them with the "classy" tag. This makes no sense to me. Bill Belichick has long been known as a bad person who cheats. (I will never forget him ordering Giants LB Harry Reasons to kick the ball that had been spotted in Super Bowl XXV while the Bills were driving. I have it on tape.) He is known for alienating numerous former allies (Bill Parcells, Lawyer Milloy, Eric Mangini), and being a crybaby to criticism, like the time he told Tom
Jackson to "go f-ck [him]self" when he tried to shake his hand after criticizing him.

Here is a list of things that the Patriots have done during Belichick's tenure:

• Bill Belichick's behavior toward other coaches (Parcells, Mangini)
  
• Belichick's comments about (the admittedly loud-mouthed) Freddy
  Mitchell after the Pats-Eagles Super Bowl
  
• The Patriots waving Terrible Towels after beating Pittsburgh in the AFC
  title game in 2004
  
• Mike Vrabel doing the Eagles' arm-flap in that Super Bowl after scoring
  
• Tom Brady calling out Marty Schottenheimer (incorrectly) after the last
  Chargers/Patriots game, with no recourse
  
• Yesterday's antics at midfield of the Chargers game, which New England
  was lucky to win
  

Yes, the mark of a champion. A smug, assholish champion.

Yet for some reason, the sports media, from Peter King to Phil "Brady's Fluffer" Simms to Dick Vitale, consider the Patriots to be completely above reproach. That somehow, everything they do is justified "because they win." How come the same praise has never been afforded to the Bad Boy Detroit Pistons, or the White-House-era Dallas Cowboys, or the Miami Hurricanes of the 1990s? Is it because they keep their disdain for other teams covert, while the others are more brash and outspoken? Because they praise the teams they are about to play the week before a game, but then trash them
the week after? I find it interesting that former Dolphins/current Alabama coach Nick Saban was trashed for his lack of character in his deal to go to the Crimson Tide, yet not once was it mentioned ? as it had been so many times before ? that he is part of the Belichick "Coaching Tree." Hmmmm...

This has extended to Beantown fans as well. The Patriots (and other Boston fans) had long garned the sympathy of otherwise neutral sports fans due to their suffering and self-deprecation. I personally rooted for the Red Sox when they played the Yankees in 2004, because I felt that Yankees fans had (and still have) a sense of entitlement. That somehow they are above reproach. But interestingly, many Boston/New England fans have taken all the goodwill that had been afforded them and squandered it, choosing not to win with grace, but with all the arrogance of the worst Yankee fan.

Yes, Red Sox Nation, you are just as bad as Yankee fans. And I never thought it was possible. You always wore humility so much better.

Here's hoping that LaDainian Tomlinson's observation does not fall on deaf ears, and that sports fans will finally realize that the emperor has no clothes. Or at least that the Emperor himself dresses like a homeless guy.

Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays

I have emerged from the dark cave in which I have been living for a few months, sans internet, and I thought I would use the opportunity to give a special Merry Christmas (or whatever holiday you might be celebrating) to everyone who might be reading this.

Christmas used to be my favorite time of year. When I was a kid, Christmas Day was always bittersweet, because although it was the day I had most waited for all year long, I knew that on Christmas evening, I was a full year away from the next one. There are so many great Christmases in my past that kind of blend together into one long strand of great memories, like a string of pearls. And though when I was a kid it was about the presents each Christmas morning, I realized long ago that it's really about spending time with your family. And though the people who used to be here have come and gone (I still always half-expect my grandpa to walk through the door every year), they are always going to be a part of the lifelong Christmas experience.

The exciting thing is that I know that my Christmas tradition is only going to grow. In the last few years, we have added a lot of people to our extended family that have been part of the fun. And down the road we are only going to add more. I am thankful that I have my family here in Monroe county, and my extended family back home in Syracuse and elsewhere.

As much as I complain about how Christmas season starts way too early, and that I can't stand that there are really only maybe 20 Christmas songs (fine, Phelps, you convinced me there are more than just 8) that are played over and over, I am not a bah-humbug guy. I guess I just prefer to squeeze all my Christmas spirit into about 3 or 4 days.

So I will try to enjoy those I have this year. For those I won't get to see for Christmas this year, you are with me in my heart, and I hope that maybe down the road we will be able to find ways of sharing part of our Christmas together. Christmas isn't about gifts, it's about surrounding yourself with those whom you care about.

Even if you don't celebrate Christmas, celebrate the holiday, and each other.

Happy holidays!

I Have Writer's Block: Here is my Christmas List

I was thinking of posting something about how I love Christmas, but how over the last 15 years or so they have started so early that it wears me down, blah blah blah. I will probably get to this point at a later date, after I hear the phrase "puhhh-rumpa-pum-pum" for the 492nd time.

For now, I'm going to get into the holiday spirit, in an albeit selfish way. I'm putting out my Christmas list. Here goes:

Things I need:

• button up shirts (the kind you would wear with a tie), 16 1/2, thin vertical stripes are good, i'm about 32/33 right now
  
• sweaters, but thin ones, not the bulky kind ... something i could wear under a jacket
  
• everyone knows i look good in blue
  
• fleeces and/or winter vests (i'm a Large)
  
• a pair of nice, trendy sneakers (i wear a 12) .. they can be cheap
  
• Rogaine
  
• bookshelves that you can nail to a wall
  
• a coffee maker (simple, doesn't have to be all fancypants)
  
• some fancy pants
  
• something that can go up on a wall, but not like a poster. something that could go in a living room.
  
• a handgun and a bottle of pills
  
• gift cards to just about anywhere
  
• cookbooks (with simple recipes, nothing i wouldn't eat in it)
  
• books are always good; you guys know what kind of thing i like (football, movies, beer)
  
• a pint glass
  
• my iPod to be fixed
  
• (fill in the blank)
  
  Things I don't need:
  
• knick-knacks
  
• things that take up surface area or are for decoration only
  
• tools ... i have plenty
  
• your lip, sassymouth

Actually I'm a pretty simple boy. I don't need much this year. There's only really one gift I want and Santa can't bring it. Who knows, maybe the Easter Bunny will.

I miss you all, my friends. And in case I don't get another chance to talk to you until then, sincerely, have a Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays. 2007 is right around the corner and it could be a very exciting year. I am looking forward with excited apprehension, or maybe it's apprehensive excitement. The snows will thaw, the sun will come back out, and we will all find that pot of gold we've been looking for. I can feel it. After all, '07 is my lucky number.

Let's make it happen.

Kicking Down the Door (or, A Housecleaning)

I am kicking down the door, baby! Well, I'm opening it a crack to peek my head in for about three minutes since I'm at Will and Jaime's computer (I don't have my cable or internet up yet) and I just wanted to drop a note to all my cult members that I am doing fine. I have moved into my new place and am getting ready to commence the Mother of All Housecleaning.

For those who don't know me, I am what we call a "pack rat." Imagine a person who collects item they have ever accumulated throughout the course of their life and has not thrown out a damn thing.

Imagine that person has done so for a full three decades and can't throw anything out. That's me. And there are two reasons I can't get rid of anything:

1) Sentimental value. I always say to myself, "What if I get rid of that Wegman's receipt from the day in 1999 when I got that postcard in the mail from my doctor confirming my follow up to my first prostate exam? What if I miss it?" I am realizing that I will not miss these things.

2) The What-If-I-Need-It Factor. That wallet I got in 9th grade? The one with the cigarette burn holes and that mildewy smell? What if I need that someday? I won't. I'm starting to get it.

So what you have here is a massive undertaking. Taking 30 years of little knick-knacks, all packed into shoeboxes and plastic grocery bags, and weeding out the things I know I will never need again, but thinking that someday I may. It's daunting, but dammit I am gonna do it. My new place just doesn't have enough room to not do it.

Speaking of cleaning house (yes, this is the greatest segue in the history of segues), I also must make a brief comment on the Midterm Elections. I am incredibly proud of this country for the first time in a long time. People saw that the country was/is going to hell in a handbasket and decided to oust the majority. Yes, I did go straight down the line for Democrats. And no matter if John McCain or Abraham Lincoln had run, I would still have voted Democrat. This election was that important. The hubris of the Republican Party and President Bush in particular was brought crashing to earth. The wanton misuse of government and the bullying of the Neo-Conservatives was roundly rejected. Religious people finally figured out that the Republicans are using them. People who supported the war in Iraq initially (yours truly included) swallowed their/our pride and decided that we were led down a path that was untrue.

Now, it's time for the Democrats to earn what we've given to them. I hope to God they don't screw it up. It's time to rebuild this great house that has been trashed by an erstwhile cokehead frat boy who has used the country as his own personal Barbie Doll House. It's time that the adults took over, Dubya. Maybe we can finally start to get some semblance of national pride back.

Okay, that's all. See you in a few weeks.

Zing!

Dave's still got it.

Movin' Out

I am moving to a new place this weekend, and since my computer/internet situation is a bit tentative, this may be the last time you see me for a while. I'm hoping that I can continue my streak of at least one blog per month, so hopefully November will allow me to get in at least one entry until things get situated.

Until then, please feel free to go back through the archives. I think you'll find that my words of the past ring as true today as they did way back in 2004. I know. It seems like we were different people then. We were young and full of hope (until that year's election, that is). It was an age of innocence. When the Miami Heat had not yet won a championship, and we would still count on Horatio Sanz making us laugh for hours upon end every Saturday night.

But it's a new era. Nothing is promised anymore. Will I ever blog again? Who knows. Will I survive the arduous trek 0.6 miles away from my current house to my new apartment? Doubtful, especially on a shitty, rainy day like today. But if I don't make it, you'll always have this: my manifesto, my doctrine. You can always count on my glorious, shining, sesquipedalian prose. Combinations of letters and sometimes numbers and some punctuation, meticulously cobbled together to form stunning words. Those words arranged in an orchestral menagerie of compelling thoughts and ideas -- known as "sentences" -- that burst forth with such gusto that the monitor can barely contain them.

No, dear reader, twas not some bad cathode ray tube that ruined your monitor: it was me.

So in my absence, please go back in time through the years and marvel at what verbosity, wit and, yes, brilliance I have provided for not only you, but for anyone with a computer and a broadband and/or dial up internet service provider. You don't have to say thanks.

You are welcome.

The Opposite of Sluggish

Say what you want about the new Sabres' uniforms (I like the colors, the logo is still way too abstract for me) but the Buffalo Sabres tied an NHL record tonight by winning their first ten games of the season. Now, granted, this might not be quite as impressive as the 1993-94 Toronto Maple Leafs (whose record they tied, but who lose points for bad grammar) because it's not possible to have a tie game anymore, and the Erie County Assassins have won a few games in shootouts.

But this team -- named after a blade from the city where William McKinley was assassinated in 1901 -- are dominating all their opponents. It's only 1/8 of the way through the season, but they have it all. Four solid lines on offense and defense. Speed. Finesse. Toughness. Penalty killing. And a solid one-two punch at goaltender. Goalie Ryan Miller is becoming a breakout star. And he's an American for Pete's sake!

They are so deep. They don't have one major star (although Chris Drury should be one and Maxim Afinogenov is possibly the most electrifying player in the league at the moment), but they are so full of talent that they could be hard to stop if they stay healthy. According to today's ESPN Fantasy Hockey tracker, they have 5 players in the top 40 in the league. (#6 Miller, #13 Drury, #29 Thomas Vanek, #32 Daniel Briere and #37 Afinogenov).

It just makes me that much sadder that their entire defense went down in the Eastern Conference Finals this past summer. I'm hoping they bring the City of Good Neighbors (and those of us fans in the Flower City and the Salt City) a sorely needed championship.

Personally, I have led sort of a sad-sack life. I know, I know. You would think that I'd be on top of the world. Well, it's true that many areas of my life along the way have been lacking. But the area that has been the most bone-dry is my sports teams. There have only been three championships that any of my teams have won in my waking memory: the 1986-87 and '95-96 Rochester Amerks, who won the Calder Cup, and the 2003 Syracuse Orange(men), who won the NCAA Tournament. The Bills will clearly never win one in my lifetime, no matter how hard I hope and pray for them to.

But this year, the Sabres actually have a shot. Let's bring home the hardware, gents...

Random Videos (Malkmus, Zero 7, The Shins)

Here are a couple of cool videos...all of them computer-generated it turns out.

"Destiny" by Zero 7 is one of my all-time favorite songs. I could literally listen to it over and over and never get sick of it (and I have). And the video (with the rotoscope/rotoshop visuals) just sells the sadness and otherworldliness of the song. It's one of the saddest and yet most hopeful songs I know.



I don't understand any of the lyrics of "So Says I" by the Shins, nor do I completely get the cold war/penguin imagery. But I think it's an awesome video and I love how rollicking the song is.



This is an awesome video for "Jo Jo's Jacket" by Stephen Malkmus (formerly of the über-indie band Pavement). Is it about Yul Brynner or Moby? The song is kinda poppy, but the video is just cool and wacked out.

Sick T.O. Death

I have fucking had it with Terrell Owens.

Enough already. What once was a skilled NFL wide receiver has become a punchline. He is a silly, pathetic nothing. He is a cipher. A shallow, sad, lonesome man who would probably kill himself if it weren't for the national spotlight. (And some still contend he tried.)

Athletes with super-sized egos are nothing new. For every Barry Sanders or David Robinson, there are twenty Deion Sanderses and Ricky Hendersons. Athletes often make the mistake of reading their own press, believing that just because they make large salaries and have their names in the newspaper, they can be assholes to everyone they meet. It's not a new phenomenon.

And the wide receiver position in football has become a hotbed of super-sized egos of late. They go from the fun-loving (Steve Smith, Chad Johnson) to the megalomaniacal (Keyshawn Johnson, Randy Moss). But none can touch the man cleverly nicknamed "T.O."

Terrell Owens is everything I hate. Not only in sports, but in humanity. There is nothing redeeming about him. He is a stupid, inarticulate, arrogant prick with six-pack abs and mediocre hands. He parlayed one great play (The Catch II, video here), some semi-creative touchdown celebrations and a heap of offensive stats into a "persona" that transcends football and puts him in the mainstream media.

But why? Why is Owens (I refuse to cave to his lame "T.O." self-moniker) so popular? Is it because he's a great intellect? Because he is witty? Because there is something fascinating about his character? He would certainly like you to think so. But the truth is, he's a dumb hillbilly who hoots and hollers. And simple-minded sports media like ESPN positively eat it up.

Owens has a penchant for hijacking the news. Whenever things are too quiet around the "T.O." camp, you can count on him doing something outrageous! Though he is widely regarded as being one of the elite receivers in the NFL (despite a season and a half of mediocrity), he constantly claims disrespect. Yet, this man who commands respect for himself everywhere he goes is so quick to act disrespectfully to everyone who dares not kowtow to his every self-promoting act. The man who once stood mockingly on the Cowboys' star in the middle of Texas Stadium yearns for all the respect he wouldn't pay to any other human being.

Greg Knapp. Donovan McNabb. Jeff Garcia. Andy Reid. Hugh Douglas. Steve Mariucci. You could start an expansion football team with the roster of people Owens has crossed in his 10.5 seasons in the league.

There are three things you need to know about Owens, and thereby demystify him.

1) He grew up a lonely child. Boo hoo. Oh poor little Terrell. He grew up in Alabama to a strict grandmother who made him come straight hom from school. She didn't show him love or affection. Put on your fucking helmet and get over it. Does Owens think he's the only one to grow up through a lonely childhood? Is he the only one who ever got beaten? Is he the only one whose parents were strict? Most people learn from this and grow out of their woe-is-me phase and learn to live. Besides, Owens's grandmother, Alice, is the one who made his life a living hell. Yet to this day he swears by what a great grandmother she was and that he would do anything for her. Pick one, Terrell, pick one. Not all of us who felt lonesome as children have thousand-dollar bills to dab away the tears. You poor, poor sad little bitch. Oh, and not all of us make our childhood traumas national media events when we feel we are not getting enough attention.

2) His so-called "T.O." persona was created by ESPN and other sports media. How many of us remember our first real glimpse at Owens being that time he was miked up and kept yelling "Who can make a play? I CAN!" and "LET'S GO, T.O.! LET'S GO T.O.!" When I saw those videos, I realized that this wasn't just someone who is beating his chest. This man is pathological. Whether it is the phony suicide attempt (and yes, I sincerely believe he wanted it to look like a suicide attempt so he would be on the front page of the papers again) or exercising in his driveway while shouting "no comment," the man is simply miserable if he doesn't have a camera on him. But rather than being an interesting outspoken athlete like, say Jim Brown, Muhammed Ali or even, say, Darren Daulton, Owens comes off like an ignorant negro, keeping stereotypes of chest-thumping, collar-popping young black men alive. He has never offered a shred of insight, intelligence or non-Owens related commentary to the national dialogue. He is an empty vessel, and yet sports media constantly spelunks through his psyche, searching for wisdom, finding cobwebs and tired cliches.

3) He's not even that good. Yes, I said it. He's good, don't get me wrong. But he's not a modern day Christ. Here is a list of receivers that I would take over him right now: Marvin Harrison, Steve Smith, T.J. Houshmanzadeh, Lavernues Coles, Torry Holt, Andre Johnson, Jerricho Cotchery, Roy Williams. Owens (as of this writing) is ranked 28th in the NFL in both receptions and receiving yards. That is not an elite ranking.

And put stats to the side for a moment; he is simply just not as incredible as they say. Just last night in the Cowboys' loss to the Giants, Owens dropped a crucial fourth down pass. Before this play, Owens was visibly berating his teammates, coaches and everyone else within earshot because he wasn't getting the ball (a common custom with this idiot). But on a key play where they needed him, he dropped it. And then proceeded -- after that pathetic drop -- to laugh it up on the sidelines as if to say, "Well, we all make mistakes." Meanwhile if he were open and the pass wasn't thrown directly into his solar plexus, smoke surely would have puffed out of his ears.

Even on his best days, he can't quite get it right. In Super Bowl 39, Owens had an excellent statistical game, but proceeded after the game to thump his chest a little more, chastising those who didn't think he could do it. You would expect him to be sad for losing the Super Bowl, but he was just glad he proved his doubters wrong. Even in his best game, where he caught 20 receptions against the Bears in 2001, his defining play was the pass that bounced off his shoulder pad in overtime, causing the Bears to intercept the ball and return it for a game-winning touchdown. A statistical machine he is (or was); a champion he is not.

I'll bet Owens doesn't have five friends in this world. So calculated, so self-conscious is he that I'll bet he can't trust anyone, save for his beloved grandmama who locked him in a closet and beat him with a belt. Anyone who has taken a chance on him has paid for it (you're next, Jerry Jones). He is the poster boy for the spoiled, arrogant athlete. I'm sure he worked very hard to get to where he is now, but he has burned more bridges, and used up more goodwill along the way than our current presidential administration. And he will never win a championship. Write it down.

So much potential. So much opportunity to be great. Instead, he's a walking tabloid. And after this stop in Dallas, he may have used up his chances.

Get walkin' Terrell. We've had enough of you.

Herbdome: Enjoy Your Baseball While It Lasts, Suckers

It was quite a week. And by quite a week, I guess I could mean quite a shitty week. But I hope it wasn't shitty for you. Don't let my shittiness somehow reflect shittily upon you. Aw shit, let's just see what my crew is up to...

Sports:

• The Landlord thinks if you think Dennis Green's meltdown after performing the choke of all chokes, you should check out Lee Elia's infamous meltdown when he was with the Cubs in the 1980s. Nothing quite compares. Danny even included a transcript!
  
• Willie Moe previews Week 7 of the NFL. Take a drink every time you see the word "Kitna."
  
  
  The Arts:
  
• Electric City Paul digs deep to find his inner Keanu. (And a fine 53-week anniversay to you sir!)
  
• Call him Willie Swordplay, cuz he's bringing some Silly Wordplay. Willie Moe brings some class to this motley bunch with his '80s Baseball Book Club.
  
• And looks like Danny is doing some writing of his own. And getting paid for it????!?!?!?!?!!!!??!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
  
• Don C. takes on Boogie Down Productions and Mobb Deep for lyrical content.
  
  Beer:
  Both Danny and Javen wrote of delicious beer.
  
• Danny speaks of the Flossmoor Station Brewing Company in Illinois, and boy does it sound like a great place to derail. I haven't taken a "derailment day" off from work in a while.
  
• Bojangles continues the Midwestern theme with a post from the Chicago Tribune (aka. The Trib) about Wisconsin brew road trips. I'll bring the High Life!
  

Just a note, completely off-topic. As of today, I am getting about 97 hits a day on this very website, which is an ungodly, astronomical number considering I update it maybe once every two weeks, can't write and don't even own a computer. Anyway, the search words that have been leading people to my blog are "Buffalo Sabres" and -- for some reason -- "Cat Stevens." In fact, I would say that "Cat Stevens" gets more readers to me than anyone. This is fascinating to me for three reasons.

First, I only have a small picture of Cat Stevens in the sidebar on this blog, and I don't think I've ever mentioned anything about him elsewhere.

Second, isn't his name Yusef Islam now?

Third, when the hell did Cat Stevens make a comeback among internet users? I have at least four of his albums and even I never look up his name.

I made a mix cd tonight. Below is the track listing. I don't have a name for it yet. It might be my most eccentric CD yet, due to the fact that there is no theme and I added a bunch of weird-ass songs. Here's the track listing. I know this is not at all intersting, but I'm doing it for posterity.

1. "Pro Football In America" by John Facenda (NFL Films)
   
2. "The Beast and Dragon, Adored" by Spoon
   
3. "Los Angeles" by the Rosewood Thieves
   
4. "Everybody is Someone" by Lifehouse
   
5. "You Can Bring Me Flowers" by Ray LaMontagne
   
6. "Never Did No Wanderin'" by the New Main Street Singers (from A Mighty Wind)
   
7. "Blue Diamonds" by the Long Winters
   
8. "My Heart" by The Blow
   
9. "Scenes From an Italian Restaurant" by Billy Joel
   
10. "The Avalanche" by Sufjan Stevens
    
11. "What To Do With Michael" by Mike Viola/Candy Butchers
    
12. "Pyramid Song" by Radiohead
    
13. "Learn to Live With What You Are" by Ben Folds
    
14. "Holiday In Cambodia" by the Dead Kennedys
    
15. "Canadian Railroad Trilogy" by Gordon Lightfoot
    
16. "Lonesome Road" by the Rosewood Thieves
    
17. "Superstar" from the Jesus Christ Superstar Original Recording
    
18. "Winding Road" by Bonnie Somerville

Maybe some of the songs do have thematic similarities. Huh, go figure.

I just watched the Cardinals beat the Mets in the NLCS. I want to send out my sincere condolences to my Metsfan friends. Tough loss. I would have liked to see them in the World Series again. But now I will root whole-heartedly for Detroit.

Dear Departed

I haven't used this forum in quite a long time in praise of a movie I've seen, but I have to put something out there about The Departed, the newest Martin Scorsese film that is drawing rave reviews for its dark, hard-boiled plot, deep cast and nuanced performances. I love this movie so much, and it's possibly the best movie since The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

Let me just throw out a couple of tidbits about my thoughts on the man himself. I consider Scorsese to be probably the greatest American director, and I'm pretty sure the greatest living director. When it comes to intensity, use of dialogue and violence, I'm not sure any director comes close. (Only Stanley Kubrick, Joel & Ethan Coen and Quentin Tarantino, respectively, can compare in each category.) In my very humble opinion, you could make the case that Marty made the best movie of the 1970s (Taxi Driver), the best movie of the '80s (Raging Bull) and the best movie of the '90s (GoodFellas, which I think might be the best American movie I've ever seen).

The last decade hasn't been as transcendent to Marty, as he's contributed flawed (but still often compelling) cinema like Bringing Out the Dead, Kundun, Gangs of New York and The Aviator. All the films were interesting, and some had some exhilarating moments (the opening of Gangs of New York, the flight scenes in The Aviator), but none felt like a Scorsese flick. The last true Scorsese movie was Casino.

I can say with authority that The Departed is a Scorsese movie. It has all the elements. Of course, for those of us who know and love old Marty, those elements are:

• A blazing rock soundtrack (usually involving the Rolling Stones for some reason)
  
• Crackling, profane, vulgar dialogue
  
• Lots of bloody violence
  
• A sweeping cinematic scope, both in visual presentation and in narrative
  
• A flawed (blonde) female protagonist
  
• Slow motion, freeze-frame and tracking shots

It's the movie Scorsese fans have been waiting for. Instead of New York's Little Italy, it takes place in the Irish neighborhoods of Boston. In the great tradition of Scorsese villains (Jimmy the Gent, Nicky Santoro, Max Cady, etc), Jack Nicolson's Frank Costello might be the most terrifying yet. He oozes nihilistic power, a portrait of someone with nothing to lose, but the bloodlust to get everything he wants. He is funny, but horrifying; repellent, but charming. I think it's one of Jack's five best performances, and that's saying something.



The movie does what the best Scorsese movies do: it grabs you by the throat in the first five minutes and never lets go. The first scene shows Frank Costello recruiting a young Boston boy to learn the ropes of his gang. Costello is a menacing, intense presence, and you could see how a working class boy could easily be sucked in. But there is no let-up. The movie doesn't simply have a riveting beginning and then settle in (like Infernal Affairs, the excellent but slightly inferior Hong Kong movie upon which The Departed is based). It starts intensely, and then just builds upon the intensity, with no break, no pause, no indication that "we are going to start the real movie now." It's simply relentless.

If you don't know, the plot of the movie in a nutshell is this: Matt Damon is a member of an Irish gang who goes through cop school to become a mole for Costello's Irish gang. Leo DiCaprio is a straight-arrow cop from a working class (i.e. violent) family who is coerced by the cops to become a plainclothes undercover cop. Neither young cop knows about the other, and the film is a cat and mouse game wherein each cop must try to not get caught.



Scorsese's brilliance is exhibited in the contrast between the ivory-tower, white-collar police big shots, and the dirty, low-level Irish hoods. The cops live in high rise apartments with balconies, and work in pristine metal buildings with views of the entire city. The hoods hang out in townie bars, burst into unsuspecting drug dealers' filthy apartments, and kill with impunity. In some ways, they couldn't be more different. But in other ways, they are identical. Both groups go through ethical crises, yet both have a certain working integrity about them.

Something has to be said about the acting in this movie as well. Every single performance is perfect. Matt Damon is a flawless mix of detached malice and conflict. DiCaprio's character falls apart at the seams but in some ways relishes his role as a good guy who has to play a bad guy; as if somehow his "id" is allowed to sneak out a little at a time. Mark Wahlberg and Alec Baldwin steal the scenes they are in. Every performance is essentially flawless. And Scorsese, the virtuoso that he is, somehow finds a way to mix the horror and the humor of death in several scenes, many of which are both shocking and funny simultaneously.

Essentially, if you love Marty Scorsese's movies, you will love this one. It's a return to his days of glory. And while I'm not quite ready to anoint it as the best movie of the 2000s yet, it's possibly the best movie of the year, and certainly merits attention as a prime example of excellent movie making for the decade.

Welcome back Marty.

By the way, here are Scorsese's ten best movies, in order:

1. GoodFellas
   
2. Raging Bull
   
3. Taxi Driver
   
4. The Departed (I don't care if this is premature)
   
5. Casino
   
6. The Last Temptation of Christ
   
7. Mean Streets
   
8. The Aviator
   
9. Gangs of New York
   
10. The King of Comedy

Rent all of them.

Herbdome: Baseball and Such

I am totally stealing this from Deadspin, (which, bee-tee-doubleyou, is the best site on the internet) and I readily admit it. It's a cross section of some of the topics some of my boys have been blogging about. Most of it is baseball related. Ick.

Sports

• Red Sox fans are assholes. Of course, most Yankees fans are assholes too.
  
• Willie weighs in on the Terrell Owens faux suicide. Actions speak louder than words, pussy!
  
• Two posts about the late Buck O'Neil, by Mike "Don" Cialini and "Electric City" Paul.
  
• E.C.P. also loves the Mets.
  
• Willie Moe breaks down Week 6 of the NFL. (You can also check out weeks Five and Four.
  
  Beer
  
• Mister Bohall channels Lew Bryson and the hype that Imperials cause.
  
• I throw my own two-cents in about my love of all things brewed.
  
  Politics
  
• E.C.P. gets loose on Kim-Jong Il and his stupid haircut and his stupid face.
  
• The landlord hates Newsweek and dammit I don't blame him.
  
  Music
  
• Don C. tackles A Tribe Called Quest, Busta Rhymes, Wu-Tang Clan and Tim Dog.
  
• I bust out classics from Bo$$, Young Black Teenagers and D-Nice, as well as Luke, Nas and the Wu.
  

Beer Enlightenment

I don't have any beer, and it makes me sad.

There was never a time in my youth that I thought I would ever become what I am, which is a Beer Advocate. I never thought that I would ever even like beer, let alone love it. Let alone find not only a sense of community, but an unusual serenity in enjoying it.

It used to be that when I thought of beer, I thought of a foul smelling mug of some foamy, malty concoction that my dad would drink at one of his parties which I could scarcely bear to look at. It was usually Genny Cream Ale, the flagship brew of the commonwealth of Rochester, New York, the jewel of the Genesee River.

My father, while not strictly a drunk, was a fan of the alcohol. He has been sans-spirts for about 6-7 years now, and though I still love him, I miss the nights he would come home from work and gently drift away on the couch after work with a deep snore and a divine calmness on his face. In his later years, he was a screwdriver man, but early on he was a fan of beer, as I remember. In fact, there were many times when my parents would host a Casino Night or some such spectacle, and a beer-ball would be present. (In this case of course, "casino night" meant a night my mom and dad would invite a bunch of their friends over and dad would somehow always end the night wearing nothing but an undershirt and holding a handgun. I miss those nights.) Ah, the beer ball, what a relic of the 1980s.

But given this pandering to mass consumption, my first and formative impression of beer was of a stale and smelly yellow liquid, bitter to the taste buds and nearly impossible to choke down. (I think my dad snuck me a Genny Cream back when I was about 7 or so. Sorry mom. I didn't want you to find out this way.) But given the questionable element with which my father was associating at the time, I assumed beer was for nothing but low-lifes and hooligans. At any rate, my initial impression of beer was unimpressive.

But things change. And when one goes away to college to live on ones own, one tends to experiment. So one William H. ended up going to school and was exposed to beer. The beer, I believe, was Keystone. Or maybe Rolling Rock. What do I remember about it? I remember that I had to choke it down and that it had almost no redeeming qualities other than it made my face feel numb and made me all giggly. Its qualities as a social lubricant far outweighed its qualities as a delicious elixr. Many of my best male friends have been gained with the assistance of beer.

But even to this point, beer was the means to an end. It was never something consumed for pure enjoyment; it was a conduit through which to get inebriated. Sloshed, bombed, ripped, tanked, wasted. It was a vessel by which you would start slurring your words and end eating Doritos at 3AM and watching some crappy late night movie back at the dorm with a dozen of your most wasted friends. Beer was not the destination, it was just the path.

For years I treated beer as such. It was a fizzy yellow liquid, about $15 for a case. It was usually about 5.5-5.9% alcohol, with little deviation between the Buds, Millers and Coorses (or BMC as we Beer Advocates call it). Basically, back then, I would look at the choices available to me in the local Wegmans, and then maybe look at the unit price of each one, and decide which was the best value. Whatever would give me the most beer for my buck would be my selection.

Brief aside: it is amazing how the palate operates. On one hand, most people can identify great food vs. mediocre food. When we are babies, we eat whatever we are given, but when we grow older, we can tell the difference between good beef and mediocre beef. We can tell if the food at a restaurant is simply passable, or mouth-watering. We do not have the same sophistication with beer. Maybe it's the fact that we are not "allowed" to enjoy beer until we are 21, but many people tend to stunt their growth beer-wise early on.

One day -- and I'm not sure what day it was -- I grew up. I realized that all beer was not the same. I realized that the purpose of beer was not to get tanked, but to drink beer. I realized that I had been drinking the beer version of McDonald's my whole life, but had been missing out on the gourmet beers on the menu.

It was an awakening.

Because now, and over the last year, I no longer drink to get drunk (which, let's face it, was the only reason to do it in the first place). Now I drink to enjoy. I drink to find out whether a beer has dominant malt or hops. Whether beer has a fruity flavor or if it's bitter. Whether it's smooth or "chewy." Just tasting a beer and immediately identifying the style is a strangely satisfying sensation. Being able to tell the difference between a Belgian White and a Hefeweizen, or between a Pale Ale and an IPA, is such a pleasure. Yes, I do make notes of the different properties of beers as I drink them. Yes, I do sniff the inside of the pint glass. Yes, you could consider me a bit of a "nerd" when it comes to beer. I've been called worse.

But much as a hungry man has a hankering for a porterhouse, I too have the almost constant yearning for delicious beer. This does not, I submit, make me an alcoholic. Because whether or not I actually get drunk off of beer is purely inconsequential. (Although try telling that to a State Trooper.) The beer is now the thing. If it should happen to give me a slightly light-headed sense of euphoria, so be it. I could do without it. If you put ten delicious beers in front of me and told me I would not feel the slightest buzz, I would gladly sip each one down with the exuberance of Ray Milland in The Lost Weekend, but with the fervor and meticulous eye of Paul Giamatti in Sideways.

Mr Bohall and I have had this discussion, and I would have to agree with him. Though wine has its place, with its foreign names and fancy looking vineyards, beer is just as majestic, just as refined, and just as well-crafted. Wine, with its sweet or dry fruitiness, may be a more palatable to delicate or uninitiated taste buds, but beer (in my experience) has just as many various styles, just as many deviations in ingredients, and is made with just as much care. (Plus, President Jimmy Carter made it legal again to brew beer at home in November 1978. No wonder he's considered our greatest president!) Beer also ages, just like wine; it's just usually better to let the heavy-alcohol beers age longer.

Yes, I have drank beer with a pen and a pad. Yes, I know what IBUs are. Yes, dammit, I do believe in the tenets of the Reinheitsgebot! Well, plus yeast, and other stylistic exceptions. (And no, that doesn't mean I'm a white supremist.)

We are in the midst of an American brewing revolution. In the last decade alone, the United States microbrewing industry has given us some of the finest beers in the world. I would have to say that to my taste, Americans are leading the way in high quality beermaking. If we could only get people to shell out the extra couple bucks for a six pack of Dogfish Head (instead of a half-case of Bud) or a 22-oz of Middle Ages 10th Anniversary. Even the middlebrow selections, like Magic Hat, Long Trail or J.W. Dundees are a good step up.

Even if you are a person who doesn't like beer (a.k.a. a "wuss"... just kidding), there is at least one beer style for everyone. Once American society starts embracing beer as a dignified beverage, and not just an excuse to show stupid Bud Light commercials, we may finally pull ourselves out of this lowest-common-denominator culture and into an age of true enlightenment. Of course we'll have to add fine arts, good music, thought-provoking literature, innovative humor, important films, appreciation for history, political awareness, work ethic, conservation and dexterity in math and science. But beer's a start.

Finally, a Shannon Kid Makes Good

Many congratulations and 'nuff respect go out to my little sister, Eileen, who just got her first "real" (her words) job. She will be teaching a communications course at RIT this coming Winter Semester. By a stroke of good luck, she will be finally using that damn Master's degree she is always talking about. (Don't worry, the other three of us won't let it go to her head.)

Good job, Beans. Now finally you might be able to beat me in Trivial Pursuit: College Communications Course Edition. Maybe.

9/11: Loose Change

This is long, but totally worth it.

It's about 1 hour and 20 minutes, and it's a blow-by-blow analysis of why 9/11 may have been an inside job, used to instill fear in Americans and give our president and his co-consipirators power. I am not one who usually falls prey to conspiracy theories, but this is one of the most compelling and convincing documentaries I've ever seen.

If you have the time, I highly recommend it.

Three Quarters Through 2006

In this, my 31st year on this planet (yes, I am only 30, but I am currently in the midst of my 31st year), a lot has occurred in my life. But how do I assess it? I think I would say that things have gone down in the same manner as why my dentist told me I should brush my gums.

My dentist, Dr Sveen -- thanks for the straight teeth, and my parents say "you're welcome" for the yacht -- told me that I should always floss and brush my gums. Because, you see, if you brush your gums, they will bleed a bit at first, but in the long run, they will be stronger and provide a better foundation in which one's teeth could rest comfortably. Now, I am not a vain person, but I must say that with the exception of a small gap between my right maxillary second premolar and my right maxillary first molar, my teeth are breathtakingly straight. Due to the uncertainties of life, I am very much aware that I am one fistfight or car accident or corn on the cob hazard away from having my stellar fronts removed from their status of quasi-perfection. But boy am I beside the point.

My point was this: though we go through some hard times and rough changes, we learn to be stronger. And not in a calloused, cynical way, but rather in a way that makes us stronger and more apt to handle all the twists and turns that life gives us. And I have found more twists and turns in my life in the last half-year than ever before.

2006 has been a year of transition for me, and though I may have bled a bit at first, I am finding that it is only making me stronger. I have found that I am capable of existing in a plane that is befitting me. I have rediscovered the importance of friendship, my appreciation for delicious craft beer, the importance of introspection, and perhaps something even more special. I have allowed a lot of special people into my life, and though they might not realize it, they have all left a trace of themselves upon me.

I'm in a good place right now. I have been able to travel to visit some old friends with which I have had varying degrees of contact, but keep a solid home base. Though I have left Syracuse several times in the last few months, my heart is always back here waiting for me when I return. I have learned that it is better to put myself "out there" rather than be safe all the time.

I have been able to explore my inner self. (Yes, I know this all sounds very Buddhist, but it's the truth.) I am finding that certain flaws I have are not really flaws at all. And that the flaws I do have are not all my fault. I am at a point where I can pinpoint the negativity that has befell me over the last several years and overcome it. I have rediscovered my self-worth and realized that yes, dammit, I am a good person, and worthwhile. And that my flaws, while numerous, do not relegate me to second-class status. I know that I have a lot to offer anyone willing to look hard enough. Sure, you have to look really really really hard to see it, but I am worth the effort.

I've dropped over 20 lbs since April. Not bragging, just a numerical fact.

Most importantly, I have learned that sometimes the unknown -- while terrifying at times -- can be wonderfully exciting as well. Unlike before, I would rather take a chance on something and fail than never explore it at all. But I will continue to try my best to make everything fall into place.

No matter what the following weeks, months and years bring, I know that I am on the right path. I am supported by a wonderful group of people who have all unwittingly banded together to lift me up like a crowd surfer of a decade ago. To all 143,000 of you that have been there to hold me up, I say thank you. You know who you all are, and you have helped me rediscover the Me that was missing for so long.

Things are looking up. And maybe happiness isn't so far away after all.

David Brent: Microsoft Management Consultant

This is a promotional video that Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant (creators of the original British version of The Office) created for Microsoft. I think these two are brilliant, but you have to like British humor to get it. The first video is 20 mins, the second video is 17 minutes. And it's gold.

They actually showed these videos at a Microsoft employee meeting. If only my company could pull these guys to make corporate training videos.

Buffalo Bills 2006: Good Lord Could They Actually Be Any Good?

Cautious optimism be damned! This video got me so pumped up for the Bills this season. Even if they tank, I am feeling pretty good about them right now.



LET THE GREAT EXPERIMENT BEGIN!

I Have Nothing to Blog About

My copious fan base has been begging me to come up with some sort of topic to blog about, but let's face it, I have nothing. And no one gives a shit what I have to say anyway (to paraphrase the title of this very blog you hold in your hand).

So I'm going to simply spout out some arbitrary type stuff that I've been thinking of. Wanna hear it here it go...

• I think it's kind of hilarious that Muslims are getting all bent out of shape about the Pope reciting a 600 year old bit of text by Manuel II Paleologus, that Pope Benedict XVI recited. Let's remember folks: Muslims refuse to take any of these Islamofascist terrorists to task for carbombing, suicide bombing, and hijacking. Oh but Allah forbid that the Pope recite something from six centuries ago, or that someone draw a picture of the prophet. Oh, then suddenly the protests come out hot and heavy. (Come on, do these people have anything better to do with their time than stand in crowds and burn things? Do they????) These people who stand up against words, images and dialogue, yet refuse to condemn carnage and the loss of innocent civilian lives at the hands of their terrorist brethren are simply cowards. Take a look in the mirror and the culture that those who have hijacked your religion has brought you.
  
  
• I am a little leery of people who are dead-set against all immigration to this country. To me, it is a form of racism, due to the fact that it is mostly people with brown skin who are moving into our country through the southern border. These are the same people who embrace California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and want to actually add a constitutional amendment to make him -- A FOREIGNER -- eligible to run for president. Oh I get it: it's okay for a white person to come into our country and lead the nation, but if someone with brown skin wants to come in and clean toilets for a living, that's not okay? Makes perfect sense.
  
  I'm not saying we should have all-out barnstorming through our borders, but let's look at the people who are so adamant against these laws. Most of them are white Republicans. And they hold onto this ideal of some pure American way. Do you know what they are really afraid of? They are really afraid of Mexican (or other Latino cultures) infiltrating their pure southern ways of life. They are afraid of races combining. That is the truth; but they won't say it. They don't give a shit about jobs; these migrant workers do jobs that none of us would be willing to do. It's a matter of wanting to keep the brown people out of our country, plain and simple.
  
  
• I love beer. I love beer so much. And it's not because I'm some stupid fratboy who just loves to get drunk. I love knowing about beer. I love being a beer "snob." I love being able to take a sip of a beer and identify what style it is. I love paying over $8 for a six-pack. I love calling Javen and Bruce and asking them to give me suggestions. I love seeing a wall of beer at a beer store and being totally overwhelmed by what to get. It's the same feeling I used to get at record stores when I was in high school. I love rating beers at Beer Advocate. I love looking in my fridge and seeing an IPA, an ale, a Wit, a double IPA, a bitter, a winter ale, a stout and a porter, and knowing I can choose any one I like. But why? I can't quite figure it out.
  
  
• I watched that show Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip the other night and I have such mixed feelings. (It's that show about a Saturday Night Live-type show where everything goes haywire and they have to revamp everything.) The show started off with such a bullshit, ripped-off premise: the head of a late night sketch show goes crazy one night and starts ranting about how horrible television is, how bad networks have gotten, art vs. commerce. It's a total rip-off of the movie Network, directed by Sidney Lumet. In fact, in the pilot, all the so-called news organizations reporting the exec-producer's meltdown all mention Network and the movie's screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky. As if simply knowing that reference puts the show in some rarified air. (Yes we have resorted to TV shows referencing other movies.)
  
  The creator of the show, Aaron Sorkin, is a thorn in my side. I want to like his stuff. He wrote the movies A Few Good Men and The American President, as well as created the TV shows "Sports Night" and "The West Wing." On one hand, I really want to like his material. He really seems to want to advance the art of dialogue. But every time I sit down and watch any of his shows or movies, they turn into the same preachy, didactic drivel that I hate. He wants so badly to teach all of us how to think and how to be. And also, all his shows are fraught with all this high-falutin' dialogue, and then someone saying something so dramatic that everyone else in the room has to stop and stare in awe, and then those same people being inspired to do something important and great.
  
  Listen folks, I don't need Aaron fucking Sorking to tell me how to think. If I want someone to tell me how to think, I will look to David Mamet, Paul Thomas Anderson, Charlie Kaufman, Richard Price, Mitchell Hurwitz, Matt Groenig, Marshall Rawson Thurber, Joel and Ethan Coen, Billy Wilder, Larry David and/or Vincent Gallo. These people can set me straight. Aaron Sorkin is a hack.
  
  Oh, and by the way, the best show on TV right now is "How I Met Your Mother." It's the best show now that "Arrested Development" is off the air. Although they ARE showing it on the cable channel G4! Check it out! In a way, maybe it's good for me that "Arrested D" got cancelled. When it was on, every other show looked like crap by comparison. Now that I am forced to try out other shows, it's making me a little more tolerant.
  
  
• I am very happy that my Bills are 1-1 right now, considering most preseason "experts" (notice the ironic use of quotations marks) picked them to win a maximum of like four games. But if there is anything we football fans know, it's that you don't know a goddamn thing at the end of Week Two. I would love to see my Herd rip through the next fourteen games and come out with a winning record and [gasp] make the playoffs. And some people have noticed that "our" defense is playing really well. It's true, but let's not forget back in 2003 when Buffalo started 2-0, and everyone was calling them the best team in the league, before they shit the bed and ended the season 6-10. I am all about unearned optimism, but we have a lot of season left; let's not get carried away. (However, I must confess that if they do win the Super Bowl, it will probably wipe away 30 years of heartache across the board. I don't think any one player on that team can possibly fathom how much their successs means to me, psychologically.)
  
  
• I wonder if there has ever been an epidemic I have been less worried about than the E.Coli/Spinach situation.
  
  
• Your boy "W" will go down as one of the five worst presidents in our country's history. Put it on the board. I trust our government so little that when I hear that they condemned the recent coup d'etat in Thailand, I'm starting to wonder if it's a good idea.
  
  
• Here is a list of people I currently hate: Terrell Owens, Oprah, Pete Dougherty, Drew Rosenhaus, Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reilly, Hugo Chavez, director Kevin Smith, Paris Hilton, Dick Vitale. Add your own!
  

So that's about all I got. I hope you enjoyed the smattering of bullcrap that I was able to spit out there. I'm sure you don't give two shits about it, but it's the best I can do.

Buffalo 16, Miami 6

Pretty much the only thing that's made me smile since Tuesday afternoon...

One of Culpooper's multiple fumbles

LB Angelo Crowell with a huge "inner" before halftime

T.McGee denying Dolphins asshole receiver Randy McMichael

Willis pounding away

Oh, and thank you boys, for rockin the white pants with the blue jerseys, instead of that monochrome eye-sore bullshit. It looks so much better.

Buffalo Slugs?

Few on this earth can hang with my love of the Buffalo Sabres. Javen for one. My little brother Mike is another. But other than that, not many.

I am not so sure, however, about my feelings on the new logo they are going to be unveiling. [Note: they say this is only one aspect of the new logo, which they are unveiling on September 16, so this may be a tad premature, but you know I'm always on the cutting edge.]


It would be a cool secondary logo, actually, as it is indicative of a certain style. But as a primary logo -- the one to be worn on the front of the jersey and on all the merchandise, the identity of the team -- it is a bit too abstract and doesn't actually look like a buffalo. People on certain message boards are calling it the Buffaslug.

What makes things even harder to swallow is that the logo below has been floating around for about three years.

It was proposed by a guy named John Slabyk who is a logo designer. He brought the idea to Tom Golisano and the Sabres organization, and they balked for whatever reason. I think this design is great. It's classy, has a nice color scheme, and is a sharp update of their classic uniform from 1970-1995, shown here:


I have mixed feelings about their last uniform, known to many of us as the "Goat Head."

Ultimately, though, it became a symbol of a team that was very good for a long time (except for a few years) and nearly made the Stanley Cup Finals last year.

One thing I do like about the new logo is that they keep the buffalo/buffaslug's trademark red eye, which all the logos have had. I'm not sure why I like that, but there's something nice about the continuity there.

It's not like I'm gonna stop rooting for the Sabres if their uniforms suck, but with all the great concepts and options I've seen out there, I would think that they would think long and hard about it, and hopefully listen to the fans. It's worked before, when the Islanders got rid of their Gorton's fisherman logo after one season due to fan complaints, and the 49ers scrapped their infamous and godawful "One Day Helmet" after (take a guess) only one day, due to public outrage. Tom Golisano, who is a billionaire and owns the Sabres, did not become a billionaire by being unsavvy. I am hoping that he does the right thing and makes the jerseys and logo aesthetically pleasing.

[Update: There is video of the ice rink painted with the new logo below.]

Horatio Show-Blower

I read on Wikipedia today that Horatio Sanz will probably not be returning to Saturday Night Live this year. And I have to say, I am thrilled.

A lot of people think SNL sucks, and I can kind of see why sometimes. A lot of the skits are less than hilarious, and some entire shows are just subpar beyond belief. There are too many recurring characters, too many impressions of famous people. I've heard it all. But I have always had a bit of a soft spot in my heart for Saturday Night Live. Just when you think it's past its prime, it will reinvent itself, usually with a massive talent like Eddie Murphy, Dana Carvey (and yes, he was amazing on that show) or Will Ferrell.

It's still hit or miss; any 90-minute live show is going to be. But they will evenutally pull something hilarious out like "Lazy Sunday" [Note: sorry for the link, NBC took it off the internet, greedy bastards] or "Bill Brasky" that will be really great and transcendent. Remember, the history of SNL writers includes Conan O'Brien, Bob Odenkirk, Robert Smigel (aka Triumph the Insult Comic Dog), Stephen Colbert and Adam McKay (writer/director of Anchorman). So the show is still a breeding ground for talent.

Also, I think they have really upgraded the talent (if not the writing) over the last few years. I think that the four newbies from last year (Jason Sudeikis, Andy Samberg, Bill Hader and Rochester native Kristen Wiig) are all very talented performers. The writing was definitely not up to snuff last year overall, but there were really funny moments here and there.

But for the life of me I have never understood why they kept Horatio Sanz around. I don't know if it was a diversity thing, being that Horatio was the first Latino cast member of the show, or that he's just such a nice guy and they couldn't bear to let him go. Those are the only two options I can think of.

Horatio -- and how can I put this lightly -- is the single unfunniest comic actor I have ever seen. And I have seen a lot of bad comedy. I have a very high threshold for comedy, because I know how hard it could be. But Horatio took bad comedy to a high art form. His performances are so one-note, with very little actual humor accompanying his acting. There are so many elements that contribute to his startling mediocrity.

Firstly, he is always laughing at himself and his own jokes. This is not like The Carol Burnett Show where the cast members were genuinely trying not to crack up; this is a case of Horatio mugging for the camera and trying to act extra "wacky" to get the other cast members -- notably the since-disappeared Jimmy Fallon -- to just laugh it up during the skits. This became such an epidemic that it ruined nearly any skit that Sanz and his tittering monkey-boy Fallon were in together. It even seemed to me (with no confirmation) that exec-producer Lorne Michaels even separated the two of them, or moved their skits to the end of the night (when they are usually sub par anyway). But it was such a predictable and forced diversion that it smacked of desperation. Whenever Jimmy Fallon and Horatio were the two main players in a skit, you could bet that there would be some unplanned giggling. Oh how amusing! To see people crack each other up by smiling at each other!

Horatio's diversity as a comic actor is also limited. He typically plays one of two characters: a waddling fat stone-faced (or stoner) type (Chubb Hotty, Frankie) or the over-the-top screamer who would often laugh at himself in character (Carol, Gobi). He rarely deviates from these types. If they wanted a fat guy to basically play two characters, they could have hired me. I could use the money.

In addition, Horatio is a mediocre-to-poor impressionist. The main reason for this is that he is so fat. Not that I am against fat folks, I count myself among them. But how can you do an impression of Elton John or Ozzy Osbourne or Saddam Hussein or (one of his worst) Billy Joel when you are 300+ lbs? You can't exactly disappear into character when you have five chins. When SNL had Chris Farley, they at least gave him characters of fat guys and limited his impressions. Chris Farley was a bit limited too in his comedy, but he had a lot more authenticity.

Horatio to me is like the guy or gal at work who is lazy and generally incompetent, yet keeps getting promoted. In the course of the show, they let go much more compelling talents than Horatio (notably Robert Riggle and Jeff Richards) and yet made Horatio a featured performer. But the guy single-handedly ruined more skits than I can even count.

There are lots of rumors saying that Horatio may or may not be gone. Lorne Michaels has confirmed that he is firing four cast members, and I swear to all that is holy that if he gets rid of Fred Armisen or Will Forte and keeps Horatio Sanz I will boycott the show for at least like five episodes. (I'll catch them in reruns.)

Mr. Show - Founding Fathers

From one of the great comedies of our time.

Ever wonder why it's impossible to defecate on the flag? Swearing in the video, might not be safe for work. Or "NSFW" in internet geek talk. Also, the guy who plays Lincoln in the video is Syracuse native Tom Kenney, whom many of you may know as the voice of Spongebob Squarepants.

Gym-Nauseum

Okay, this sounds like a really pretentious and stupid thing for a fat guy to say but ...

I joined a gym.

I got tired of being round and would rather be oblong and I decided that if I was paying actual money, it would motivate me to use the facilities and equipment I paid for. It's a very modest gym, close to my work. And it's nice because it's nothing but old guys and teenagers just looking to work up a sweat. No vain people just trying to get checked out or pick up chicks or whatever. At least not that I've seen. So it's great, I run in, I run a little, I lift a little, I check out some CNN to see what went to hell today, I shower and I'm out. Oh, and then of course I blow it on the weekends by eating my face off, but that's beside the point. I am not posting this to brag about being in a gym.

Mostly my experiences in the gym have been positive, but let me just relay two negative things, and maybe they are minor, but they are irritating.

1) Old guys walking around naked. Now, maybe I am just weird about this. Maybe I should be at the age where it's not abnormal to see another grown man in the nude. But I am still freaked out by it. I don't know why. It's not like I'm some prude or afraid I'll turn gay or anything. It's just off-putting and disorienting to be in a common area, and suddenly see some overweight 60-year old's wrinkly man-parts dangling in plain sight, all while he pretends there's nothing weird about it. (Mind you, I have never made direct eye contact with anyone in the locker room, nor will I ever. And I certainly haven't checked out any dude's wedding tackle. But dammit, I know it's there.)

What ever happened to towels? Do you know what I do? I will wear the sweaty boxers that I wore to work out in allll the way to the shower, carrying my towel and clean boxers. Then, right at the very precipice of the shower area, I will then remove the sweaty unmentionables, put them on the bench outside, then walk into the shower area and mastur....uh shower myself. Shower myself off and get clean and all that. Then I dry myself, reach around and grab the clean boxers, and walk into the common area with my dignity intact. It's the least I can do.

2) Talky gym rats. It seems that every time I go into the locker room area, there is some old dude there just talking and talking and talking. It's usually a situation where some poor guy is trying to change and get the hell out of there, and another older guy is just yapping away about something or other. All the while, the talker just blathers, and the talkee just says "mm-hmmm" and "yup" and other dismissive responses, all while trying to not feel violated by the talker's uncomfortable proximity.

Most of these guys are just good-natured old timers who just like to chat and it's all very harmless, although it's one of the reasons I am loathe to befriend anyone there. I don't need to be talked-at. There was, however, an incident today where a guy was very boorish and irritating. First of all, I walked into the locker room, and there is a big biker-looking guy, probably about 58 years old, long hair, beard, denim vest, bandana on his head. He is just standing around, blocking walkways, in front of the mirror, and in front of the old-school scale, which I like to check to see how much weight I haven't lost.

I am ready to get changed and get a move on, but this guy starts talking and is very rude. He's complaining about something to some other poor guy who couldn't care less, and everything out of his mouth is "fucking-this-fucking-that." I get it, you're a big tough biker guy who likes to swear. Tough guy. Don't wanna mess with you. Message received. Now shut the "fuck" up and get away from the hair dryer. (I can dream, can't I?)

Moreover, the guy is just sitting on a bench. He is not changing. He is not getting ready to work out. He is not in exercise clothes. He is just walking and standing in a men's locker room. I almost said something to the effect of "Hey, how can a homeless guy afford a gym membership?" but then I ran the risk of getting into a scuffle where I would have inevitably been picked up and thrown directly into some senior citizen's testicles. Wisely I kept my witty barb to myself.

So I go and do my workout for about an hour (y'know, run 15 miles, 10 sets of 30 reps, 400-lb dead-lift, the usual), and when I come back into the locker room, biker-boy is still there. And this time he's complaining about something totally different. ("Those fucking people at the fucking fair are so fucking rude. I'm not gonna be fucking pushing and shoving to get on a fucking bus to the fucking fair. They don't have any fucking class." I swear that last sentence is a direct quote.) Does this guy have his head so far up his ass that he doesn't realize what a buffoon he sounds like? Or is he doing it for effect? To exhibit some sort of oratory dominance? I don't know and I don't want to find out. I just don't want him to be there next time. At least he wasn't naked.

Tossin' Around the Pretend Pigskin

There is a difference between fantasy and life. Fantasy football is fantasy, and football is life.

This is why I am a little scared to enter my first foray in about five years into Fantasy Football. I have played before, but this year I think I am going to get sucked into it more than usual. My friend D. Blakes invited me to join a fantasy football league, and at press time the kinks are still being worked out. (Three teams in the league have a bye week every week, which means they don't play, which means they can't win. But we'll get it all worked out, don't worry Willie.)

I have always like fantasy football, because it gives me a reason to follow games I would not normally watch. For example, if for some reason I end up watching the Atlanta/Carolina game this Sunday (the opening day of the football season, i.e. my own personal Christmas), I normally would not have a vested interest. But with fantasy football, I have Alge Crumpler on Atlanta, and both Steve Smith and DeShaun Foster from Carolina, so I have a lot riding on it. Points-wise.

I have always kept fantasy football at arm's length, and that is where I'm a little scared. I have what doctor's call an "obsessive personality" which means that when I find interest in something, I tend to become completely attached to it for several weeks, often overloading. (See previous examples with blogging, Star Wars, Arrested Development, Iron & Wine, craft beer, etc.) I am the poster child for why people say there are "gateway drugs." Luckily, NyQuil is still as hardcore as I get, and that's only if I'm on vacation. Regardless, this lack of perspective and control is not something I want fantasy football to elicit from me.

And it's not that I don't want to get into it; I really do. But my problem is that I don't want to lose the forest for the proverbial trees. I am a football fan, first and foremost. I have been watching football for about twenty years, mostly following my star-crossed Bills through every wretched miserable season. But I always want to be a fan of football, not of "my players." I do not want to switch allegiances every year. Perennially, there will always be teams I will hate (Dallas, Miami, New York Giants) and teams that I kind of like (Philly, Seattle, Kansas City). And with each year, those teams, and the players on those teams, will have a firm place in my own personal universe of football.

But that's where fantasy football clouds the senses. For example, what if the Bills are playing the Dolphins, but I have the Dolphins defense on my fantasy team (this is strictly hypothetical as I would never pick the Miami Defense or any player from Miami ever). When game time comes, what do I want? Do I want my Bills to roll up yards and light up the scoreboard? Or do I take some sort of solace in the event of a defeat that at least the Bills lost, but hey, I got 6 fantasy points out of it!

Bullshit! Never! There will never be any joy in losing (especially to the goddamn Dolphins). And certainly no measly amount of points in a fantasy game should take away the sting of a loss. If I ever catch myself saying, "Well, the Bills lost, but at least the four interceptions that Losman threw are good for my fantasy D," I will repeatedly open a window and then slam it down on my own head. That's a Bill Shannon promise.

Quick story: A few years ago, I was at work, and there was this guy who worked in my department (he was canned shortly thereafter). And this guy was fat, I'm talking Orca fat. So anyway, I am walking around and I notice that this guy has a Buffalo Bills helmet on his computer. So I figure, hey this guy's alright. So I asked him, "Hey, you like Buffalo, huh?" to which he replied in the affirmative. So I said to him, "Big game this weekend huh?" I still remember, they were playing the Raiders. And this fat house of a man said, "Yeah, but I need them to lose because I have [Raiders quarterback] Rich Gannon on my fantasy team." It took all my inner strength to keep from taking his head and repeatedly slamming a window down on top of it.

Bottom line: if I ever turn against the Bills -- no matter how unrequited my love for them may be -- because of a fantasy player, please get me some help.