If there is one thing that a Democrat knows about, it's how to screw up a good thing.
While the year is still young and the 2008 Presidential Election is still five months away, the Democratic Party has done almost everything it could to self-destruct this first half of the year. I grew up a Democrat, but turned in my card about a decade ago, and nearly everything that has happened in the last ten years has reinforced my decision. [Note: I'm not a Republican, in case you were wondering. If you know me personally, this is readily apparent.]
And while there are a lot of people who could be blamed for taking what appeared to be a slam-dunk Democratic win in November and turning it into more of a question mark, I blame one person, one remarkable lady.
I think you know who I'm talking about. Her husband's first name is the same as mine.
Hillary. Oh Hillary. Every shred of respect that I ever had for this woman has evaporated in the last 6 months. I have never been a Hillary hater. I voted for her in 2000 when she was running for Senator in my state. (Granted, she was running against Rick Lazio, a terrible Republican candidate.) I blamed much of the rancor and vitriol with which she was met during her First Lady years on partisan bile and veiled sexism. (I still blame much of that on her.)
But in the last several months, I have seen why so many people cannot stand her. Now before you start in on me, I am not bothered by the fact that she is a "strong woman." I have tons of strong women in my life -- ones that retain far more integrity than Ms. Clinton -- and am not bothered by her accomplishments.
What I find abhorrent about this woman is the same thing that I would find despicable about any other man: she will do anything to be President. She doesn't care about the country. She doesn't care about the Democratic Party. She doesn't care about being a good person. And if she does care one iota about any of these, they are dwarfed by her drive to become the first female president, and by her sense of entitlement.
Why does this have to be? Is this her way of completing her own "I Will Survive" story after being publicly cuckolded by her husband? Is it some sort of destiny she feels she's fulfilling? Does she just want to stick it to the Republicans?
Frankly, I don't give a shit.
What she has done is taken a once-in-a-lifetime presidential candidate (that would be the future HNIC Barack Obama) and pulled him from his lofty perch. She has used innuendo (that he could be a Muslim, who knows!), outright racism (using aging wackjob Geraldine Ferraro to make racist comment after racist comment, and ended up becoming a contributor to Faux News) and inauthentic outrage.
Hillary has made things so bad that her menopausal female constituency are now threatening to vote for John McCain rather than support Obama. (Any female Democrat who does this not only relinquishes their right to accuse blacks of playing the "race card," but should probably also have their future votes halved.)
I think the day I turned was when that picture of Obama in a silly sort of African garb came out, and came (as most sources have said) from Hillary's campaign. This implication that Obama was possibly a Muslim in the past is the worst kind of racist pandering. The fact that she said in a 60 Minutes interview (paraphrasing), "Obama is not a Muslim ... as far as I know," shows that she really, sincerely is nothing but politics-as-usual.
Just because you have a donkey instead of an elephant backing you doesn't mean that these tactics are any less stomach-churning. If Karl Rove had employed this exact same tactic against a Democratic candidate, Hillary would be the first person to condemn them. Yet she and her supporters tried to practice the same old Republican fear tactics that we've been hearing for the last 7 1/2 years.
I really did think Hillary was better than that, but it turns out that she become so myopic toward a presidential nomination that she lost her soul in the process. This kind of behavior would fit right into a Bush White House. It's shameful behavior.
I do have to say one thing about the female support base that Hillary has; it is remarkable how so many women have so blindly followed Hillary throughout the last few months. Is it because they just want a female president? Would it be some kind of vicarious victory for all women? Do these women really believe in Hillary and her underhanded tactics, or do they just "relate" to her? If Hillary had all the same qualities and "accomplishments" (35 or so years of it), but were a male, would these female voters still take to her? How much of this is a belief in Hillary herself as the nation's Chief Executive, and how much of it is a recognition of similar genitalia? In my opinion, this tunnel-vision by some female voters has been petty, and in my mind has really set the feminist movement back, because if these so-called feminists are so ready to overlook major ethical lapses (Hillary's campaign called it "the Kitchen Sink"), then how are we to believe that their movement itself is in support of what's right, rather than just being in support of A Woman.
The irony is that, although I previously thought the whole idea of "Superdelegates" was idiotic, it may have done its job in saving the Democratic party from itself by thwarting Hillary's runaway momentum. I think to those observers who saw both sides, they could see that Obama -- for his shortcomings -- is a man with far more integrity than his rival. While Hillary brags of her 35 years of "accomplishments," Obama had quietly made his own changes in this country, and not in hallowed political buildings with speeches and grandstanding, but in [gasp!] real life. I hold out a slight bit of hope for the Democrats that they could see through Hillary's monotonous facade and reject her Rovian political tricks.
The fact that Hillary plans to "fight on" rather than hand the torch over to Obama shows me that she is far more interested in her own victories than the victories of her party, or in the interests of the nation. I sincerely hope that Obama shuts her completely out of the Vice-Presidential "Veepstakes" in the coming months. Hillary should not be rewarded for being disingenuous at best, and dishonest at worst.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
American Idol - SEASON 7 LIVEBLOG!
I know that liveblogging is rather passe these days. Or is it, I'm not even sure. I've been without a computer for along time and I'm woefully out of touch. But now, I'm back up online -- and with a laptop no less -- so I figure why the heck not try it.
And what should I liveblog? Well, of course, American Idol. Not only do I have a love/hate relationship with this show, but it is such wonderfully fertile fodder for snarky quips and salient observations. This season, my feeling for the show has been much more hate than love. The contestants have been (although arguably the most talented) certainly the most bland, the songs and celebrity mentors have been mostly lame-o (although they did mercifully not subject us to the wax-faced Barry Manilow again this year), and my hatred for the mush-mouthed Randy Jackson has reached a fever pitch. Combine that with the fact that last night's Idol finale between David Cook and David Archleta was the worst on record (not in terms of the singing but in terms of the show's production value), and I think I'm ready to finally release a torrent of cathartic venom on this capsizing ship. Lord forgive me (or at least Javen forgive me).
Plus, I am going to drink while I'm doing it. Times are Eastern Standard.
Let's blog it out.
Well, whoever won, they are both winners in my book. I hope you enjoyed taking this little journey with me. I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to watch next year. Not without a ton of alcohol. Oh well, it's onto Beer #6, The Duke of Winship. See ya next year!
And what should I liveblog? Well, of course, American Idol. Not only do I have a love/hate relationship with this show, but it is such wonderfully fertile fodder for snarky quips and salient observations. This season, my feeling for the show has been much more hate than love. The contestants have been (although arguably the most talented) certainly the most bland, the songs and celebrity mentors have been mostly lame-o (although they did mercifully not subject us to the wax-faced Barry Manilow again this year), and my hatred for the mush-mouthed Randy Jackson has reached a fever pitch. Combine that with the fact that last night's Idol finale between David Cook and David Archleta was the worst on record (not in terms of the singing but in terms of the show's production value), and I think I'm ready to finally release a torrent of cathartic venom on this capsizing ship. Lord forgive me (or at least Javen forgive me).
Plus, I am going to drink while I'm doing it. Times are Eastern Standard.
Let's blog it out.
Beer #1: Ommegang Abbey Ale out of a tulip glass. Yes, a tulip glass. Oh how I love to put my lips on a tulip glass. Despite the fact that I am liveblogging American Idol, I am still heterosexual. But then again, the show is two hours long, and who knows what could happen.
8:00. Okay, this boxing/gladitator/Rocky IV thing has got to stop already. Last night it was Jim Lampley and Michael Buffer speaking in lame-ass boxing metaphors. Tonight, the show opens on the Davids both dressed in pure white, staring each other down under a hot spotlight. Don't they realize that these two are both colossal pussbags and can't look intimidating not matter how hard they stare at each other? Give it a rest, Idol; Jon Heder looked more intimidating in "Blades of Glory."
It seems like they are going to do a repeat of last night, where it was less a celebration of music and the contestants -- as it had been in the past -- and this attempt to make it more "confrontational," even though I've seen more machismo in "The Birdcage." If this was between Syesha and either of the Davids, at least we would have been spared this faux-intensity.
8:01. Was that Lori Laughlin in the audience??? Have mercy! Wait, how the hell did she score tickets?
8:02. Randy Jackson is dressed like Austin Powers, Paula looks pretty good. Simon still dresses like Tom Jones (the singer or the Albert Finney character, take your pick). Randy is the king of false jocularity, shouting "Boo!" when they announce Simon's name. He's so playful and not at all forced.
8:03. Mikayla Gordon and Matt Rogers are reporting from Kansas City Moe and Salt Lake City, respectively. The one in SLC looks like an Aryan youth rally. Relax, I only mean because there are so many white people there. And they probably do all hate black people. Except Karl Malone of course.
8:04. The Idols come out in matching white outfits and perform "Get Ready" by either the Four Tops or the Temptations. I am totally gay for these performances, even though they always end up looking like an Up With People performance. I see Syesha is pulling a Haley Scarnato and showing off her legs. Too little too late, Syeesh.
It is weird to see all the Idols who got booted off. I had just assumed they all went into some sort of exile. It's nice to Brooke White back, dancing incredibly awkwardly. I've seen a more natural arm motion on Rick Allen.
8:10. Fine, so I'm actually digging the version of "Hero" that the Davids are doing. Their harmonics are actually working for me. Maybe all the song really ever needed was less Chad Kroeger. If Cook sang this last night, he would have won for sure. (Current Gay-O-Meter: 7/10) Jesus, they are really gonna milk the shit outta this show aren't they? It's only ten after.
8:12. I can already tell this Guru Pitka business is going to be a Mike Myers mug-fest. Ok the Sitar Hero thing kinda made me laugh. Crap, that was actually kind of amusing. I hate laughing at corny shit. Archuleta said that he didn't have any idea what the Guru was talking about; I just realized he was born in 1991 or 1992 (Wikipedia says just a few days before New Year's of 1991). Holy shit I am old; certainly too old to be liveblogging American Idol. Well, either way, within the next few days Archuleta will be swimming in teenaged ass.
8:18. Syesha and Seal. Syesha looks hot. So does Seal! I've moved on to Beer #2 Middle Ages ImPaled Ale. It looks like Syesha has really tried to shed the Bohemian look in the last few weeks, letting her curly hair go straight. It's gettin' the job done, although I still don't like her self-satisfied smirk. I just saw Joel McHale from The Soup. How can he make fun of this show if he's there?
8:21. So Jessica Alba is in that "Love Guru" movie eh? And Stephen Colbert?? And Jim GAFFIGAN??? I'm so effing there.
8:25. Seacrest says that interviewing Jason Castro was "lit'rally like pulling teeth." Was it? Really? Jason's version of "Hallelujah" is actually pretty good. Come to think of it, he could do pretty well putting out albums that sound like Jeff Buckley. Hopefully he doesn't jump into Wolf River and drown.
8:28. The obligatory "best-of" the behind the scenes of the Idols just havin' fun on the sets of all their Ford commercials. Just pallin' around, making faces and having a wonderful time.
8:29. These two pricks each get a hybrid car? Got-dammit. Archuleta's mom is not bad looking for whatever her age might be.
8:30. No human being has ever looked more out of place than Amanda Overmeyer looks singing Donna Summer. That little 4'6" Ramiele Malubay is so damn cute; I just wanna put her in my pocket like one of those little Tamagotchi pets. Donna Summer not looking too awful for her age, although she does look pregnant. Better than Gloria Gaynor at least. Eesh. Good lord Seacrest was just dancing. I have moved onto Beer #3, Middle Ages Swallow Wit Belgian White. Paula stands and claps, and I think I just saw Fantasia Barrino with fire-truck red hair; and I thought she couldn't get less attractive.
8:36. The preview for "The Incredible Hulk" is showing. Okay, here's my main issue. They improved a lot it seems: better actor playing Bruce Banner (Edward Norton this time, although Eric Bana is no slouch), looks like more action and less brooding psychobabble. But they have the SAME STUPID-LOOKING CARTOON HULK. They couldn't find a way to make the Hulk have a realistic-looking face this time?! It's like they took the same damn special effects and just shifted them over to this movie. The Hulk from the Ang Lee version didn't work because the Hulk -- the actual creature -- never felt real. It looks like a CGI graphic with a cartoon face. If you are gonna reboot the damn franchise, reboot the damn avatar while you're at it too. No wonder Ed Norton isn't doing any promotions for the movie. Pee break!
8:39. Angering Lou Dobbs, Pat Buchanan and xenophobes everywhere, here's Carly Smithson and Michael Johns! Singing, "The Letter." These goddamnm foreigners are stealing our Vietnam anthems now? They're probably too hopped-up on Vegemite and Guinness to notice. They can sure both belt it out though.
8:43. Why does Jimmy Kimmel always look like the sun is directly in his face? I mean I'm a squinter too but I'm not on national TV. I like that they at least let him do a mini-roast, although it would have been nice to see him skewer Randy's stupid ass.
8:45. Goody, it's time to "rock out." With .... fucking Bryan Adams?? Die...all of you just die with this sentimental "I got my first real six-string" poppycock. I guess for American Idol, Bryan Adams is as close to "rocking out" as they can get. Oh. I get it. He's actually there at the theater. Well this song he's singing is garbage, must be from his new album. He must be making a comeback, since they mentioned him on "HIMYM" the other night. I need Beer #4, Middle Ages Beast Bitter. You may soon witness this normally-erudite blog's descent into incoherency.
8:53. I kinda liked that Joe Torre State Farm commercial, if only for the fact that I don't have to hate him anymore now that he's with a boring, inoffensive team. Boy, Grady Little must hate him for so many reasons.
8:55. Jordin Sparks talking about The American Idol Experience at Disney World. Oy. And no, David Cook, performing with Z.Z. Top still doesn't take the focus off of your horribly unkempt facial hair. (I know, I know, pot-kettle-black and all that. Quiet Tracie.)
8:59. Wow, Graham Nash and Brooke White singing "Teach Your Children." This song always reminds me of my mom. Their harmonics aren't quite up to CSNY-snuff, but not horrible. Brooke White should have at least put on shoes, because her protruding right foot looks as if she's been walking across hot coals and it's frankly distracting me. I want to know what the hell Crosby and Stills were too busy doing to be here for this joyous and momentous occasion. Brooke remembered all the words which is a bonus.
9:03. Oh good, the "Sex & the City" movie. A film about four aging sluts. My hatred just brought my gay level back to normal. (Gay-O-Meter: 3/10.) Pee break!
9:06. Seacrest said, "They need no intro, here's [inaudible female fan screaming]." Apparently they do need intro because I have no idea who the fuck they are. Is it Menudo? Wait, let me take a guess. [Wild guess on Wikipedia.] Yup, the Jonas Brothers. I'm glad there are kids here to pick up the mantle that Blink-182 left behind. The floppy-haired super-Menudo-looking one is wearing the shiniest silver suit I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot. I'm sure that song will really hold up a few years from now. I just saw Justin Guarini.
9:09. A "worst-of" montage from this season. Some of the freakshows of the early rounds, including the "Let my pipple GO-O-O-O!" guy. Also, the "I Am Your Brother" guy in the plush Mercury hat. Please show Milo Turk, please show Milo Turk... The USC marching band comes on for the "I Am Your Brother" guy. I would have much preferred to hear "No Sex Allowed." Wow that Marching band fiasco got so bad they had to give it the Bill Conti "play off" music and go to commercial.
9:18. Wander Republic? Juan's Republic? I have no idea who this is. Okay, I guess it's OneRepublic. Since I only listen to space radio, I have no idea who this is but I'm sure they will be a huge, Coldplay-level band within the next 6 months based on this appearance. It worked for Rascal Flats. This song isn't terrible, but definitely fits into the Keane /Coldplay /Aqualung /James Blunt motif. This is the kind of music Archuleta is going to be making. This or Josh Groban.
9:21. Former Idol contestant (and current hair-regrowth pitchman) Matt Rogers says "the biggest party in Utah is happening right here." That's like saying, "The biggest orgy in the Vatican...." Archuleta's dad is there; seems like a sweet old man but he clearly raised a real prick for a son.
9:23. Jordin Sparks singing in a large shiny gold dress. I'm sure this song is popular but it sounds like any crappy Kelly Rowland song and she is way the crap off-key. At least I don't have to look up Blake Lewis's nose for this portion of the show. Speaking of which, I wonder if all the previous six Idol winners will be there. So far I've seen Reuben, Jordin and Fantasia. Kelly, Carrie and Taylor Hicks are heretofore conspicuously absent.
9:27. Wow, another manchild Adam Sandler movie. Glad to see how much he's evolved as an ACK-tor. I wonder if he will beat up someone in the movie who was mean to him earlier in the movie.
9:31. Ben Stiller, Jack Black and Robert Downey Jr. as the Pips. I'm not sure how funny this actually is, but there is something great about seeing a method actor like Robert Downey, Jr. slumming it. He looks amazing in that new "Tropic Thunder" movie, by the way.
9:35. Ahh, here comes Carrie Underwood. And speaking of showing a little leg! I hope TMZ has a cameraman standing in the front row. You gotta hand it to Carrie for staying loyal to Idol. I know why Kelly Clarkson has beef with the show, but for pete's sake, just show up once a year. For the fans, Kelly, the fans! Like ME! (Gay-O-Meter: 10/10.) Pee break!
(On to Beer #5, Southern Tier Uber Sun. I am representin' Upstate New York tonight, my friends!)
9:42. A cool preview for a TV show upcoming, apparently on Fox. I just saw Lt. Daniels from "The Wire" (ie. the greatest show in the history of television). Apparently it's called "Fringe" and it looks kind of awesome.
9:43. "Faith" by George Michael. Huh. How 'bout that. And Kristi Lee Cook leading it off no less. It's about time she started shaking her moneymaker. Amanda Overmeyer's voice sounds like when Maya Rudolph used to be that character on Saturday Night Live who called a Hyundai a "Hy-UN-Die-ay." Uh-oh, Michael Johns is singing "Father Figure." Could George Michael (the singer-songwriter) be in the house????
9:44. Wait for it..........
9:45. Here comes "Freedom '90." (Gay-O-Meter: still 10/10.)
9:46. Oh please, George Michael, be there. You were on the "Extras" Christmas Special, surely you can slum it for just a few minutes.
9:47. BOO-YAA! He's still a ladies man! Although he's dressed strangely like a cross between Bono and a priest. Boy his voice sure sounds off though. Paula is crying. PAULA IS CRYING!
9:53. Okay, we have the new American Idol coming up.... after the break. Break out the confetti and tears and Paula's arhythmic clapping.
9:57. Final thoughts of the year by the judges. Randy: you dudes brought it down to the wire, you're both winners. Paula: I'm honored, you two are truly amazing. It's the beginning of the destiny of your career. Simon: It wasn't so clear cut as we called it. I don't really care who wins, I think you've both done terrific.
9:58. The pencil-pusher with the results. And the winner is...
10:00. Of course, my DVR stops about 5 seconds before they announce the winner. Goddamn fucking Fox. Oh well, I guess there's no way to find out now.
Well, whoever won, they are both winners in my book. I hope you enjoyed taking this little journey with me. I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to watch next year. Not without a ton of alcohol. Oh well, it's onto Beer #6, The Duke of Winship. See ya next year!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Right-Wing Blowhard Gets Pwned
Chris Matthews is kind of a dick sometimes...
But this is one of the greatest things I've ever seen on one of these pundit shows ever ever ever ever.
This Kevin James douchehole (not the King of Queens, don't worry) tried to defend his hero Dubya, calling my man Barack an "appeaser," using the example of Britain's Neville Chamberlain giving away the store to Hitler in the early 1930s.
When Matthews asks this dumbfuck, what DID Neville Chamberlain do, the guy simply could not answer. He stammers and stutters and says the word "appeaser" over and over again, when it's clear he has no idea what the fuck he's talking about.
Watch and cringe....
This is the epitome of brainless, knee-jerk punditry. If you hear a fucking stupid idiot spouting off bullshit in the defense of his or her party, call them out. And remember dear readers, negotiating isn't fucking appeasement. They are not synonyms; they have different dictionary entries for a reason. Maybe if the jackasses running our current administration had remembered that it's okay to have diplomacy with our enemies (see: The Cuban Missile Crisis for example), we wouldn't be mired in the shitstorm we are currently trudging through.
You can repeat your Talking Points as many times as you want, that doesn't make them true, no matter how many simple-minded people believe them. Go ahead and talk about lapel pins and not putting your hand on your heart for the national anthem. When your cousin or neighbor's kid dies in Iraq -- God forbid -- maybe you'll start to forget about all the bullshit for a while.
But this is one of the greatest things I've ever seen on one of these pundit shows ever ever ever ever.
This Kevin James douchehole (not the King of Queens, don't worry) tried to defend his hero Dubya, calling my man Barack an "appeaser," using the example of Britain's Neville Chamberlain giving away the store to Hitler in the early 1930s.
When Matthews asks this dumbfuck, what DID Neville Chamberlain do, the guy simply could not answer. He stammers and stutters and says the word "appeaser" over and over again, when it's clear he has no idea what the fuck he's talking about.
Watch and cringe....
This is the epitome of brainless, knee-jerk punditry. If you hear a fucking stupid idiot spouting off bullshit in the defense of his or her party, call them out. And remember dear readers, negotiating isn't fucking appeasement. They are not synonyms; they have different dictionary entries for a reason. Maybe if the jackasses running our current administration had remembered that it's okay to have diplomacy with our enemies (see: The Cuban Missile Crisis for example), we wouldn't be mired in the shitstorm we are currently trudging through.
You can repeat your Talking Points as many times as you want, that doesn't make them true, no matter how many simple-minded people believe them. Go ahead and talk about lapel pins and not putting your hand on your heart for the national anthem. When your cousin or neighbor's kid dies in Iraq -- God forbid -- maybe you'll start to forget about all the bullshit for a while.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Rude Bastards
Three rude things that happened to me within 60 minutes yesterday while at work:
Since tomorrow is Mother's Day, I would like to thank my dear old Mum (and my Dad as well, I suppose) for raising me the right way -- for the most part anyway. I can't imagine being not only so rude and selfish as some people, but also so oblivious to it. I am completely self-aware that I am a stubborn, arrogant, argumentative, raging asshole, so at least I have that going for me.
[Update: Syntactical correction made on the advice of my editor. Thanks T.S.]
- I was waiting for the elevator to get to my floor in the morning. I was already running a little late, and due to my recent fiber-obsession, was eager to get to a working toilet. There were about three people waiting for the elevator when I got to it, but since the elevator wasn't coming, the queue started to pile up. I noticed that the button wasn't lit up (obviously something wrong with the elevator) but the woman who had apprently pressed the button in the first place was leaning her body up agains the unlit button panel. I was wearing my iPod when I noticed that the button wasn't lit, so I nonchalantly snuck behind her and pressed the button so it lit up. The woman turned to me and said, "I pressed it I swear" and I just sorta waved it off, as if saying "no problem." (The woman was apparently too busy gabbing away to notice that we had been waiting an extraordinarily long time for an elevator that only goes six floors.) Finally, the elevator started to move in our direction. By the time it got there, however, the line
forto get on had grown. Finally, the elevator doors open, and though I was about the third or fourth person to wait for the elevator (moving to the side, of course, so people not getting on the elevator could get through the line), everyone else packed onto the elevator, leaving me the sole person who could not fit in the car. In fact, another guy walked up to the waiting line as the doors were opening and cut right in front of me to take the last spot. As the doors closed, I made brief eye contact with the lady who prevented the elevator from coming more expeditiously, and I think she could see how disappointed I was in her. - As I was exiting my building -- through the two sets of heavy glass doors -- I looked down for a brief second to take a sip of my coffee. BOOM. The door slammed in my face. The middle-aged African-American lady in front of me didn't even attempt to pretend to hold the door open while I went through. Coffee splashed all over my blazer's lapel. Though she could hear the door thud in my face, and hear me blurt out "godDAMMIT," she didn't even turn around.
- My buddy Bruce and I were waiting in line at the coffee shop. Again, although we were in line, we left a small break in the line so that people who were not in line could slip through. Of course, a wiry unshaven piece of white trash with a bushy moustache and a NASCAR cap simply cut in front of us and got in line. No, "Are you guys in line?" No "Excuse me." He just brings his Diet Coke and lottery tickets up to the counter and checks out.
Since tomorrow is Mother's Day, I would like to thank my dear old Mum (and my Dad as well, I suppose) for raising me the right way -- for the most part anyway. I can't imagine being not only so rude and selfish as some people, but also so oblivious to it. I am completely self-aware that I am a stubborn, arrogant, argumentative, raging asshole, so at least I have that going for me.
[Update: Syntactical correction made on the advice of my editor. Thanks T.S.]
Monday, May 05, 2008
Buzz Bissinger is an Aloof Douchebag
There have recently been seeds of discontent planted in the realm of sports news and sports journalism, and hopefully they will grow into a vine that chokes ESPN and Fox Sports and all the other "Gasbags on Parade" (Al Michaels's words) that have wrecked the way that the media has presented sports over the last half-decade.
If you have HBO and like sports a little bit, you may have caught the special CostasNow episode which explored sports media in America today. It discussed five topics: sports talk radio, the internet, sports TV, the relationships between journalists and athletes and -- of course -- race.
During the second segment about the internet, a galvanizing exchange took place betweeen Friday Night Lights author Buzz Bissinger, and Will Leitch of Deadspin.com (full disclosure: Deadspin is my favorite sports/humor website and they were even kind enough to link me once). Bob Costas moderated the discussion, with a clear initial bias against those dastardly "bloggers." Cleveland Browns WR Braylon Edwards was there and was about as interesting as the logo on the Cleveland Browns's helmets.
If you haven't seen the clip, you simply must. Click here to view the video and get a little bit of context, but then promise me you'll come right back. I'll wait....
So if you've watched the video, the gist coming from the esteemed Mr. Bissinger was this: bloggers aren't fit to carry the pocket protectors of "real" sports journalists. Blogs are lowering the discourse. Blogs are vile and mean-spirited. [Side note: I was amused that Buzz Bissinger talked about how he had "spent the last 40 years of my life trying to perfect the craft of the written word" and then uses the phrase "this really pisses the shit outta me." Well-crafted, Buzz. Well-crafted.]
There were a couple of somewhat valid points. Many bloggers are just crap writers out to shock with lots of filthy language. In some ways a "trained writer" such as Bissinger does have more credibility than the iconic "guy sitting in his underwear in his mom's basement." (By the way, that is becoming the most hackneyed, tired cliche since "If I told you I'd have to kill you." Everyone knows that I write this in my grandaddy's outhouse.) And maybe there is something to the idea that posting camera phone pictures of Matt Leinart with a bunch of college beach bunnies is somewhat irresponsible.
But within Bissinger's hissyfit were some staggering misconceptions and misdirections. Costas was worthless in trying to moderate the debate, and as much as I think he is a pioneer in internet writing, Will Leitch didn't quite get to the guts of the reasons why I believe Deadspin and other so-called "mean-spirited" sites exist in the first place.
To wit:
For those of us who can't stand what ESPN or sports writing (Peter Vescey, Peter King, Mike Lupica, Rick Reilly) have become, we need the communities of Deadspin and the like to react. Those who have become too big for their britches, and too comfortable among the rarefied air of the celebrites and athletes they were once charged with reporting on, are being called to task. And if it's done with dick jokes, then so be it.
If you have HBO and like sports a little bit, you may have caught the special CostasNow episode which explored sports media in America today. It discussed five topics: sports talk radio, the internet, sports TV, the relationships between journalists and athletes and -- of course -- race.
During the second segment about the internet, a galvanizing exchange took place betweeen Friday Night Lights author Buzz Bissinger, and Will Leitch of Deadspin.com (full disclosure: Deadspin is my favorite sports/humor website and they were even kind enough to link me once). Bob Costas moderated the discussion, with a clear initial bias against those dastardly "bloggers." Cleveland Browns WR Braylon Edwards was there and was about as interesting as the logo on the Cleveland Browns's helmets.
If you haven't seen the clip, you simply must. Click here to view the video and get a little bit of context, but then promise me you'll come right back. I'll wait....
So if you've watched the video, the gist coming from the esteemed Mr. Bissinger was this: bloggers aren't fit to carry the pocket protectors of "real" sports journalists. Blogs are lowering the discourse. Blogs are vile and mean-spirited. [Side note: I was amused that Buzz Bissinger talked about how he had "spent the last 40 years of my life trying to perfect the craft of the written word" and then uses the phrase "this really pisses the shit outta me." Well-crafted, Buzz. Well-crafted.]
There were a couple of somewhat valid points. Many bloggers are just crap writers out to shock with lots of filthy language. In some ways a "trained writer" such as Bissinger does have more credibility than the iconic "guy sitting in his underwear in his mom's basement." (By the way, that is becoming the most hackneyed, tired cliche since "If I told you I'd have to kill you." Everyone knows that I write this in my grandaddy's outhouse.) And maybe there is something to the idea that posting camera phone pictures of Matt Leinart with a bunch of college beach bunnies is somewhat irresponsible.
But within Bissinger's hissyfit were some staggering misconceptions and misdirections. Costas was worthless in trying to moderate the debate, and as much as I think he is a pioneer in internet writing, Will Leitch didn't quite get to the guts of the reasons why I believe Deadspin and other so-called "mean-spirited" sites exist in the first place.
To wit:
- Deadspin can be extremely crass, and because it exists in the Wild West that is the internet, it often goes to the extreme. I wouldn't be surprised, in fact, if some of the more profane bloggers somewhat took Bissinger's comments to heart and concentrated less on being "edgy" and actually attempting to write better. Having said that, Buzz set up a straw-man by picking a particularly absurdist piece to be "representative" of what blogs really are. Anyone who reads Deadspin can tell you not only that Will Leitch is a gifted writer (and one with a centrist's conscience among the many goons that the internet lures), but that the commenters and comments themselves can be some of the cleverest, most side-splittingly hilarious items on any internet site, professional or not. Deadspin is not popular because it is vulgar, it is popular because under the vulgarity lies a wit that can sometimes be unparalleled on the internet. (Please note, I am not a Deadspin commenter -- although I've tried to be -- so this observation is not some sort of clandestine patting of my own back.)
- If there is one thing that YouTube has taught us, it's that Regular Folks can often come up with ideas that are as creative or more creative than so-called "creative professionals." You can find four-minute clips on YouTube that are funnier than two of the last three Will Ferrell movies. (Movies suck in general now, but that's a topic for an upcoming post.) Amateurs are getting it right, and as Leitch said in the interview, the internet is a meritocracy. Things get noticed on the internet, by and large, because they are worth noticing. (Not always of course: for everything worth seeing there are 50 "Leave Britney Alone" ladyboys.) It's the reason The Onion and Funny or Die have gained followings; and you're telling me that some of the writers on Kissing Suzy Kolber or Fire Joe Morgan aren't at least as funny as some of the hacks they trot out on VH1 every few months?
My point is, you don't have to be professional to get it right. And if we have learned anything in the last few years about journalistic integrity, it's that ESPN doesn't have any. Not only have they turned SportsCenter into an unwatchable laser light show, but they have picked up the torch of pundits-yelling-at-each-other that used to belong to Hardball and Crossfire and any other similar (and since-subdued) political show, and made it more absurd by having Woody Paige and Skip Bayless yell at each other at full volume about a fucking pro football game. Honestly, when you really step back and think about it, you should calm the fuck down.
And as for being a "professional journalist," I don't buy for a second that Will Leitch doesn't have every right to be heard on the same level as a terrible, race-baiting writer like Scoop Jackson. Or that just because some blogger doesn't have a press pass that his or her opinion isn't just as valid as Mike Lupica.
Why isn't Buzz Bitchinger decrying the death of REAL media? Fox News is a GOP mouthpiece, run by Roger Ailes, the guy who created the Willie Horton ad campaign against Michael Dukakis in 1988. Why does Bill Fucking O'Reilly get a free pass, but A.J. Daulerio is questioned on literary merit. Why has no one called into question the journalistic cred of Bill Cunningham? Apparently you just have to be on TV, on radio, or have your work sold on a newsstand to be considered legit. I know the show was about sports, but Jesus, Bissinger, save that level of vitriol for a worthy target and not "Big Daddy Balls." - Finally, the real reason I think that Deadspin, Kissing Suzy Kolber, Fire Joe Morgan, Awful Announcing, The Big Lead and any other number of eminently readable blogs exist is because of four letters: ESPN.
ESPN used to be a sports fan's utopian dream. Sports all day and all night. For people who could literally not get enough sports, it was a godsend. And for the better part of 20 years, ESPN held up its end of the bargain, with great sports coverage and thoughtful analysis. But somewhere along the way, ESPN tried to make ESPN the central focus. Their anchors started overusing stupid catchphrases, rather than insight we started getting shrill "point/counterpoint" segments, and they began overhyping EVERYTHING, from Danny Almonte to Yankees-Red Sox to19-018-1*
When an entity gets so big and hubristic, it requires a reaction. Some thought it was going to be Fox Sports, but they became even more shrill and even more hellbent on cementing their own brand name. The reaction came from the internet.
We (and when I say we, I mean ordinary folks) got sick to death of ESPN overhyping itself, of discontinuing criticism of "untouchable" athletes. We tired of Stuart Scott and Ahmad Rashad fighting over which would get to ingest the last drop of Michael Jordan's precious bodily fluids. We abhorred Chris Berman's once-clever but now tortured nicknames. We lamented the fact that SportsCenter -- which we could easily, and often did, watch the same repated episode multiple times in a row -- became a loud, empty shiny object.
Mike and Mike became a brand name. The SportsCenter anchors started giving Belichick and Bobby Knight a free pass. Stephen A. Smith and Woody Paige became talking heads and no longer writers. What was once the greatest man-channel on the planet was now putting out a show called "ESPN Hollywood" and putting actors from "Desperate Housewives" in the booth on Monday Night Football.
Deadspin and other blogs have taken the luster off and the bluster out of ESPN. What was once the de-facto king of sports has now taken on criticism from those of us who remember what it once was. No longer are we forced to accept "Quite Frankly with Stephen A. Smith." ESPN no longer makes decisions without having to deal with the consequences, which they did for so long. When you have an Evil Empire, you will have a rebellion. Deadspin is that rebellion.
For those of us who can't stand what ESPN or sports writing (Peter Vescey, Peter King, Mike Lupica, Rick Reilly) have become, we need the communities of Deadspin and the like to react. Those who have become too big for their britches, and too comfortable among the rarefied air of the celebrites and athletes they were once charged with reporting on, are being called to task. And if it's done with dick jokes, then so be it.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
The Empire Strikes Barack
Not sure who created this but it's pretty damn cool. Worth spending the 5 minutes to check it out.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Rockin' Chicks
I'd have to say that there is a great dearth of female musicians in my music collection and I'm not sure why. Just because I feel like it, here are some pretty kick ass videos featuring female vocalists.
Sara Bareilles - "Love Song" (i know i'm super gay for liking this song but it's pretty awesome)
Dresden Dolls - "Girl Anachronism"
The New Pornographers - "Mass Romantic" (not the official video, but the best version of the song I could find online)
Melissa Auf der Maur - "Followed the Waves"
Metric - "I.O.U."
The Blow - "True Affection"
Cat Power - "He War"
Lily Allen - "Smile"
KT Tunstall - "Suddenly I See" (holy God am I gay)
Yael Naim - "New Soul"
The Fiery Furnaces - "Japanese Slippers"
Liz Phair - "Stratford-on-Guy"
Zero 7 - "Destiny (acoustic)"
Feist - "My Moon My Man" (everyone knows her from the iPod commercial but this whole album is pretty damn good)
And who could forget my future wife, Robin Sparkles....
Sara Bareilles - "Love Song" (i know i'm super gay for liking this song but it's pretty awesome)
Dresden Dolls - "Girl Anachronism"
The New Pornographers - "Mass Romantic" (not the official video, but the best version of the song I could find online)
Melissa Auf der Maur - "Followed the Waves"
Metric - "I.O.U."
The Blow - "True Affection"
Cat Power - "He War"
Lily Allen - "Smile"
KT Tunstall - "Suddenly I See" (holy God am I gay)
Yael Naim - "New Soul"
The Fiery Furnaces - "Japanese Slippers"
Liz Phair - "Stratford-on-Guy"
Zero 7 - "Destiny (acoustic)"
Feist - "My Moon My Man" (everyone knows her from the iPod commercial but this whole album is pretty damn good)
And who could forget my future wife, Robin Sparkles....
Techie Bullshit
As I sit here typing this, I am anxiously awaiting my fresh-out-the-box Dell Inspiron 1720 laptop. There is nothing I love more than new toys, and this time I decided to get something that was in my price range, but not so much that I would be paying it off for years and years like I did with my 1999 Gateway piece of crap that cost me $1800 and has a whopping 8GB of hard disk space.
I literally have to go to the DHL place within the next two hours and pick it up, and while I'm completely sittin' on bone waiting for my baby to get here, I can't help but be scared shitless as well.
The last year and a half or so have not been kind to me, technology-wise. I have suffered a rash of strange technology-related mishaps in the last several months, and they are simply too bizarre to be a coincidence. If this laptop breaks down on me, I am moving to Amish country.
Lest I abandon my favorite bullet-point format, let me give you a brief rundown of the electronic and mechanical disasters that have befallen me:
I think that's the list, for the most part. And yet, the ancient Toshiba DVD player that I purchased in the year 2000 (for a then-bargain $300) is still going strong after all these years. Of course, by saying that I'm sure I just jinxed it.
I think back to the days of yore when people didn't even have these technological advancements and think, "Well I have it so much easier than they had it and so therefore I should be thankful." But I'm not; I'm spoiled. I would rather have never heard of the existence of the iPod than for it to crap out on me -- twice. I had no idea 15 years ago that not having the internet (which I didn't at the time, I might add) would be as alienating and soul-sapping as it is.
Even when my technology works, something goes bad. One time I was awaiting a very important phone call on my cell phone. In the 5 minute window in which that call was supposed to come in, the bars went away. I happened to notice this and had a conniption. I tried making an outbound call....nothing. It just said "Emergency calls only." I tried calling my voice mail just to get an answer. Not a peep. Of course, it turns out that the phone call I had so desperately been awaiting came in exactly within that 5 minute window, and I missed it, and missed out.
So we shall see if my voyage into the world of laptop computers will be short-lived or whether I can actually get some staying power in this technological world. If you don't hear from me for a while after today, you'll know why.
----
And one to grow on...
Not off to a good start. I called DHL today to find out when I could pick up my package since I wasn't home to sign for it. The guy at customer service told me to pick it up between 7:45 and 8:15 because the package wouldn't be back at the DHL place until then. He said they were open until 8:45 so I could pick it up then. So I drive out all over hell's half acre (on a soft tire, go figure) and pull up to the place. Yeah, they close at 7. Goddammit.
I literally have to go to the DHL place within the next two hours and pick it up, and while I'm completely sittin' on bone waiting for my baby to get here, I can't help but be scared shitless as well.
The last year and a half or so have not been kind to me, technology-wise. I have suffered a rash of strange technology-related mishaps in the last several months, and they are simply too bizarre to be a coincidence. If this laptop breaks down on me, I am moving to Amish country.
Lest I abandon my favorite bullet-point format, let me give you a brief rundown of the electronic and mechanical disasters that have befallen me:
- My iPod completely craps out on me for no reason in Spring of 2006, giving me a frowny-face and leaving me to actually purchase a CD player so I don't have to sleep in silence.
- The stereo that I have hooked up to my TV to give me that wonderful surround-sound the kids talk so much about, just completely dies in the middle of watching TV. The sound goes out, leaving me to have to use my crappy TV speakers.
- I get three flat tires within the last year, all different tires. In addition, I can't get my car inspection done becuause my "Service Engine Soon" light won't go off and no one can find out how to fix it. I end up having to take the DMV's offer to allow inspection if I spend $350 or more on the servicing of the car.
- When I moved to my new place, I went months without internet service because I didn't have Windows XP and it took the 9th Time Warner tech support person to tell me that I needed XP in order to run Roadrunner. So I bought XP for $100 and finally it worked... but on a slow-ass computer that takes two hours to boot up, let alone download any good
pornmusic. - I bought a computer on Craigs List in June of last year. It worked great until about November when it started to be slower and slower to boot up. Soon it wasn't working at all. And when I tried to open it up to see what was wrong with it (which is like a monkey trying to fix a wristwatch) it had some sort of power surge and fried the entire motherboard.
- I stupidly asked for an iPod for Christmas, even knowing my computer wasn't in working condition. I had to beg friends to use their iTunes to set it up so that I didn't need to run iTunes. About two months into using the iPod, the screen crapped out, even though it played fine. I had to get it replaced, which included having to reload all the songs I had taken hours upon hours to load. (Side note: when I took the iPod back to the Apple store to have it looked at, the guy said, "Well that happens sometimes if you use a music manager other than iTunes." Nice try dude. If that's true, then Apple products are pieces of shit.)
- Last year on Memorial Day weekend, I got a phone call and picked it up and said "hello, hello, hello" and no one would answer. It turned out that my brand new phone's earphone died out of nowhere, forcing me to talk via Bluetooth or speakerphone only until I got it replaced.
- Oh I forgot to mention, the phone I talked about one paragraph above? I got it off of Ebay for about $175. It was an exact duplicate of another phone I had gotten for like $50 with my upgrade. Why did I have to get that $50 version replaced? Oh yeah, because I ran over it with my car when it dropped out of my pocket (fine, it dropped out of a dorky belt-clip) as I got out of my car.
I think that's the list, for the most part. And yet, the ancient Toshiba DVD player that I purchased in the year 2000 (for a then-bargain $300) is still going strong after all these years. Of course, by saying that I'm sure I just jinxed it.
I think back to the days of yore when people didn't even have these technological advancements and think, "Well I have it so much easier than they had it and so therefore I should be thankful." But I'm not; I'm spoiled. I would rather have never heard of the existence of the iPod than for it to crap out on me -- twice. I had no idea 15 years ago that not having the internet (which I didn't at the time, I might add) would be as alienating and soul-sapping as it is.
Even when my technology works, something goes bad. One time I was awaiting a very important phone call on my cell phone. In the 5 minute window in which that call was supposed to come in, the bars went away. I happened to notice this and had a conniption. I tried making an outbound call....nothing. It just said "Emergency calls only." I tried calling my voice mail just to get an answer. Not a peep. Of course, it turns out that the phone call I had so desperately been awaiting came in exactly within that 5 minute window, and I missed it, and missed out.
So we shall see if my voyage into the world of laptop computers will be short-lived or whether I can actually get some staying power in this technological world. If you don't hear from me for a while after today, you'll know why.
----
And one to grow on...
Not off to a good start. I called DHL today to find out when I could pick up my package since I wasn't home to sign for it. The guy at customer service told me to pick it up between 7:45 and 8:15 because the package wouldn't be back at the DHL place until then. He said they were open until 8:45 so I could pick it up then. So I drive out all over hell's half acre (on a soft tire, go figure) and pull up to the place. Yeah, they close at 7. Goddammit.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Ross Gary Glen
From one of my top five all-time favorite movies comes this re-cut version of "Glengarry Glen Ross" with nothing but the curse words left in. This is pound-for-pound the most profane movie in the history of movies, with the F-word uttered something like 143 times. Amazing! So turn up the volume and enjoy.
I also enjoy this preview which re-envisions the movie as a gay love story.
Although I didn't realize that all the characters in the play/movie actually just had Tourette's.
I also enjoy this preview which re-envisions the movie as a gay love story.
Although I didn't realize that all the characters in the play/movie actually just had Tourette's.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Old Job, New Job, No Job
It has been a long, excruciating time for you, and for that I apologize. The computer with which I usually compose the tomes you are accustomed to reading on this page was rendered woefully inadequate by something Ben Franklin liked to call "electricity." My 5-month old computer was fried after having been acting like a spoiled bitch for a couple of weeks. Finally it decided to give up on life and take the cowards way out. And after all I gave it. For shame.
Anyway, a coworker has graciously allowed me to use her computer for a little while until I can save up the ducats to buy a new one. (If anyone sees a hot price on a good laptop, call me.) Some things have changed since my last post, so I'll just give a quick rundown.
I just finished the third full week of a new job within the company I've been with for the last 7 years. I work for a large health insurance company in Central New York, and I went from the Customer Service department -- where I had served in a couple different functions over the last 3/4 of a decade -- to an internal auditing department. You know how you will complain about how inefficient your insurance company is? My job is to try and fix that.
It is a welcome departure from the previous 5 months, where my department turned upside down. Now that I'm out of the situation, I feel like I can vent a little about it, without naming names of course. Basically, I got a new boss, and she came into the department hating me right off the bat.
I know I know. How could someone hate me? I'm such a sweet boy. The idiot man-child who entertains all around him with his half-witted hijinks.
Basically, I had dealt with this person on a limited basis prior to her being my boss. And though I don't remember when, how or why, I must have pissed her off. I could have said the wrong thing, or stood up for myself at the wrong time in previous dealings with her, but I don't remember what I said or did.
Bottom line: she couldn't stand me. She began micromanaging even the most minute details of the job -- you know, the job I had been doing for the past two years and had actually become quite good at? We had the best January in terms of meeting goals that we've ever had since I started there, and though maybe I'm delusional about this, I took a position that had been routinely loathed within the department and made it somewhat palatable to the other employees. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I had the perfect combination of righteous anger, compassion and common sense to do that job. But I wasn't allowed to do it anymore.
Soon I realized that I was getting yelled at about things that had absolutely no fucking importance, and that my counterpart was doing the same things I was, but he was not getting reamed out for it. I knew it was time to go.
One final point: the person who was previously my boss had arrived with much fanfare, and the reputation for being brilliant and a hands-on micromanaging type. Part of this was true: she decided to basically try to do my job for me, even though I was doing it pretty well, in my own estimation. And considering she had a very high-ranking position in the company, I would think she would have more important work to do than nitpicking every spreadsheet I made that maybe four people looked for no more than 30 seconds. The brilliance, however, was a fallacy. It became apparent that she tries to intimidate people into agreement rather than keep her promise of "open dialogue." And what some saw as shrewd management presented itself to me as petty paranoia. The Emperor has no clothes and more people are starting to see it.
Having put my old department behind me, I am now in the polar opposite situation: a department where I was trained for about two days and then thrown to the wolves. There is no management interference, and I am expected to independently complete all my monthly projects (mission accomplished, so far). It feels like a real job, and I am expected to contribute and be self-reliant, which is an amazing 180-degree difference from the constant looking over the shoulder I had to endure at the old place. (Did I mention that my ex-boss moved her desk right next to mine? And when I left, she moved to another office within about 3 days. Yeah, it's a good thing I got out when I did or I probably would have been walked out by security.)
Bottom line: I'm really digging my new job, and my understanding is that I'm going to eventually be doing a lot of in-depth end-to-end analysis of a lot of the company's processes so I'm really excited. I have also implemented "Suit Up Fridays;" when most people are dressing down, I'm wearing a tie. That will last exactly as long as my supply of shirts and ties does, so probably one more week.
And while I'm still in the first third of my working life, I am happy to say that my old man -- the venerable Robert D. [same last name] -- went to his last day of work TODAY. Sunday will no longer bring the sadness it used to, or the "Sunday blues" as my dad calls it.
No one that I know has ever worked harder than my dad. I won't delve into the cliches of "he always put food on the table" or whatever, but the old man worked his ever-lovin' ass off every day of his life. He worked in a demanding job, dealing with a lot of difficult people (and a lot of scumbags, if you don't mind my saying). And since New York State is in such turmoil, with dumbfuck bureaucrats running amok in many of the departments, he is going to be spared having to be insulted and threatened by empty suits who don't have 1/100th the character or work ethic that he has. My dad is probably the greatest guy I know, and honestly it makes me sick to think of the abuse he has had to take in his job, mostly from pieces of crap looking for a handout. (Bob would probably not agree, but then again he doesn't have a blog now, does he?)
So to my wonderful Old Man, I say congratulations and thanks for all the great gifts you've given to me. You deserve to relax for the rest of your life and I hope you get the chance to do it. Love you, Pops.
So I only have about three more decades left until I can step out of this working life and just kick it for a while. Unless they find a way to extend our lives to 120 like they said they could on a commercial for 20/20 or Dateline or something the other day. In which case I'm gonna have to work my ass off until I'm probably 90 or so. Just my goddamn luck.
Anyway, a coworker has graciously allowed me to use her computer for a little while until I can save up the ducats to buy a new one. (If anyone sees a hot price on a good laptop, call me.) Some things have changed since my last post, so I'll just give a quick rundown.
I just finished the third full week of a new job within the company I've been with for the last 7 years. I work for a large health insurance company in Central New York, and I went from the Customer Service department -- where I had served in a couple different functions over the last 3/4 of a decade -- to an internal auditing department. You know how you will complain about how inefficient your insurance company is? My job is to try and fix that.
It is a welcome departure from the previous 5 months, where my department turned upside down. Now that I'm out of the situation, I feel like I can vent a little about it, without naming names of course. Basically, I got a new boss, and she came into the department hating me right off the bat.
I know I know. How could someone hate me? I'm such a sweet boy. The idiot man-child who entertains all around him with his half-witted hijinks.
Basically, I had dealt with this person on a limited basis prior to her being my boss. And though I don't remember when, how or why, I must have pissed her off. I could have said the wrong thing, or stood up for myself at the wrong time in previous dealings with her, but I don't remember what I said or did.
Bottom line: she couldn't stand me. She began micromanaging even the most minute details of the job -- you know, the job I had been doing for the past two years and had actually become quite good at? We had the best January in terms of meeting goals that we've ever had since I started there, and though maybe I'm delusional about this, I took a position that had been routinely loathed within the department and made it somewhat palatable to the other employees. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I had the perfect combination of righteous anger, compassion and common sense to do that job. But I wasn't allowed to do it anymore.
Soon I realized that I was getting yelled at about things that had absolutely no fucking importance, and that my counterpart was doing the same things I was, but he was not getting reamed out for it. I knew it was time to go.
One final point: the person who was previously my boss had arrived with much fanfare, and the reputation for being brilliant and a hands-on micromanaging type. Part of this was true: she decided to basically try to do my job for me, even though I was doing it pretty well, in my own estimation. And considering she had a very high-ranking position in the company, I would think she would have more important work to do than nitpicking every spreadsheet I made that maybe four people looked for no more than 30 seconds. The brilliance, however, was a fallacy. It became apparent that she tries to intimidate people into agreement rather than keep her promise of "open dialogue." And what some saw as shrewd management presented itself to me as petty paranoia. The Emperor has no clothes and more people are starting to see it.
Having put my old department behind me, I am now in the polar opposite situation: a department where I was trained for about two days and then thrown to the wolves. There is no management interference, and I am expected to independently complete all my monthly projects (mission accomplished, so far). It feels like a real job, and I am expected to contribute and be self-reliant, which is an amazing 180-degree difference from the constant looking over the shoulder I had to endure at the old place. (Did I mention that my ex-boss moved her desk right next to mine? And when I left, she moved to another office within about 3 days. Yeah, it's a good thing I got out when I did or I probably would have been walked out by security.)
Bottom line: I'm really digging my new job, and my understanding is that I'm going to eventually be doing a lot of in-depth end-to-end analysis of a lot of the company's processes so I'm really excited. I have also implemented "Suit Up Fridays;" when most people are dressing down, I'm wearing a tie. That will last exactly as long as my supply of shirts and ties does, so probably one more week.
And while I'm still in the first third of my working life, I am happy to say that my old man -- the venerable Robert D. [same last name] -- went to his last day of work TODAY. Sunday will no longer bring the sadness it used to, or the "Sunday blues" as my dad calls it.
No one that I know has ever worked harder than my dad. I won't delve into the cliches of "he always put food on the table" or whatever, but the old man worked his ever-lovin' ass off every day of his life. He worked in a demanding job, dealing with a lot of difficult people (and a lot of scumbags, if you don't mind my saying). And since New York State is in such turmoil, with dumbfuck bureaucrats running amok in many of the departments, he is going to be spared having to be insulted and threatened by empty suits who don't have 1/100th the character or work ethic that he has. My dad is probably the greatest guy I know, and honestly it makes me sick to think of the abuse he has had to take in his job, mostly from pieces of crap looking for a handout. (Bob would probably not agree, but then again he doesn't have a blog now, does he?)
So to my wonderful Old Man, I say congratulations and thanks for all the great gifts you've given to me. You deserve to relax for the rest of your life and I hope you get the chance to do it. Love you, Pops.
So I only have about three more decades left until I can step out of this working life and just kick it for a while. Unless they find a way to extend our lives to 120 like they said they could on a commercial for 20/20 or Dateline or something the other day. In which case I'm gonna have to work my ass off until I'm probably 90 or so. Just my goddamn luck.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Site Alert: Stuff White People Like
I have to give major "props" to my good friend Rachel for introducing me to the brilliant website, Stuff White People Like. It is a field guide to the American Caucasian, and as Rachel's wife Doug said, it makes me feel violated.
If you are looking to learn more about why white people are the way they are, look no further. It has laid bare all the things which I thought were unique to me, but in essence are really just part of my classic whiteness. I thought I was the only one who liked Oscar Parties, irony, indie music, Arrested Development, The Daily Show/Colbert Report, and microbreweries. Alas, I am but one in a long line of lemming-like caucazoids.
Not only this, but it nails directly on the head the Top Ten Hip Hop Songs that White People Love. Please frequent it.
If you are looking to learn more about why white people are the way they are, look no further. It has laid bare all the things which I thought were unique to me, but in essence are really just part of my classic whiteness. I thought I was the only one who liked Oscar Parties, irony, indie music, Arrested Development, The Daily Show/Colbert Report, and microbreweries. Alas, I am but one in a long line of lemming-like caucazoids.
Not only this, but it nails directly on the head the Top Ten Hip Hop Songs that White People Love. Please frequent it.
Crackerz Bee Hatin' on Obama
Ever since it became clear that my boy Joe Biden wasn't going to win the Democratic nomination in the 2008 Presidential Election, I had to call an audible and pick someone else to lend my support.
I really used to have a lot of respect for John McCain, and still have a good amount for him as a human being. He's a genuine war hero, and he's one of the most common-sense, moderate high-profile Republicans around. He is not afraid to take his own party to task when he feels it is needed, or work with Democrats on programs that make sense.
But while I think McCain is a great guy, he has really sold-out politically, both for his stumping for Bush in 2004 -- you know, the guy who spread the rumors in South Carolina about his wife being a drug addict and him having a black child out of wedlock -- and his semi-pandering to the far-right, especially making nice with the now-burning Jerry Falwell.
The worst part for McCain is that none of this rear-kissing has gotten him anywhere in the right-wing of the Republican party. McCain is still despised by Rush Limbaugh and Man Coulter, so he had to sell himself without even getting any benefit out of it. I do appreciate that voters have woken up and rejected the right-wing demagoguery of Limbaugh and Mitt Romney in favor of someone who isn't a typical GOP candidate.
Romney is, as my good friend Jables once put it, "a piece of shit." A soulless, empty shell whose ideas -- such as building a second Guantanamo Bay prison -- were downright reactionary and frightening. Mike Huckabee is a guy who I would love to, say, hang out with at a wedding, but I knew he never really had a chance. Besides, it was pretty clear that I couldn't very well vote for a Republican right now, no matter how good the candidate is, because to me, that would be a tacit approval of the current regime.
So because of this, I was basically left with two options, after the interesting but ultimately overwhelmed John Edwards dropped out: Hillary and Obama.
I have never been a Hillary fan, and it's not because she's a woman -- which seems to be a knee-jerk reaction whenever I say I don't like her, even though I thought her husband was a very good president. I have lots of strong women in my life; strong women don't bother me.
I wasn't sold on Barack Obama either... until the Iowa Caucus. He gave a rousing speech outlining what a country can do with hope. I know there is criticism of Obama because they say he is all speeches and very little substance. But the guy has a vision, you can't deny that. And even if he has a thin congressional record, due to his short time in office, he has a history of good works, such as leaving a high-paying job to help the poor in Chicago. And while I don't know whether he ultimately had political ambitions on his mind, they certainly didn't manifest themselves until well into his new and selfless career.
But if there is anything that has affirmed my early approval of Obama, it's his own conduct in start contrast to Hillary Clinton. Whereas Obama seems to take the high road on just about everything, Hillary is looking more and more like a Republican every day, spinning eleven straight losses like Bush spinning U.S. casualties abroad. And while she self-righteously chastized Obama last week for putting out what she deemed to be misleading flyers, someone from her campaign released a picture of Obama in some kind of traditional African dress, ostensibly trying to make him look more Islamic. She says she had nothing to do with it, but someone from her campaign more than likely did.
Which brings me to the most troubling aspect of the last few weeks in politics: the return of fearmongering.
Now, I would expect this from a steaming pile of shit like Cincinnati radio host Bill Cunningham, who went on a rant before a McCain rally, repeatedly spouting off the name "Barack Hussein Obama," which is a transparent attempt to make Obama seem somehow more of a terrorist. Cunningham is a nobody, a nothing. And while his pathetic, desperate attempt to demonize Obama due to his name may sway some guillible Ohio voters (remember, they bought the Swift Boat hoax in 2004), I doubt he'll have any real effect on any intelligent discourse in the public arena.
Honestly, anyone who would truly be swayed by someone's middle name, or would fall for something so simplistic should probably have their vote taken away. Just because his name rhymes with "Osama" doesn't mean he's a terrorist. Remember, one of our great allies is King Abdullah II bin Al Hussein of Jordan. I don't see anyone bitching about that.
What is truly troubling, however, is that Hillary, in the last throes of a desperate and disappointing campaign, is playing the "Daisy" card in her new ad, implying that in the wavke of a terrorist threat, she would be the best candidate to pick up the "red phone" should it ever ring. This just reeks of a Hail Mary pass by Clinton, basically saying, "if you don't elect me, there is a chance you could all die!"
If this tells me one thing about Clinton, it's not just that she's been outsmarted by a more charismatic and more inspirational candidate. No, to me it's much worse. It shows that Hillary Clinton cares more about being elected -- even if she has to trash a very compelling, squeaky-clean opponent to do it -- than she does about getting the best Democrat elected. The country does not care about who has the most experience -- Rumsfeld, Cheney and Colin Powell had a ton of it, and look where it got us -- or who is "ready on day one." They want change. This is a seismic shift in the American landscape this year, moreso than any year I can remember.
People aren't excited about Hillary. She does not inspire anyone. Her talk of 35 years of experience rings very hollow, considering she spent 8 of those years as a First Lady. Not denigrating her experience there, but I would hardly say she was the one running the show back then. And she's been an okay New York senator, but she ran against two very weak Republican opponents ... oh and she did vote "Yes" to the Iraq War, which to me is gonna be hard for her to explain away.
Obama feels like he has "the glow" this year. Unless something awful happens, I think the country is ready for him to be President. I know he's going to have to endure some godawful mudslinging, especially if they go after his rather loose-lipped wife, but I think anyone who brazenly attacks Obama will find that it will backfire, which it has severely to Clinton, if you ask me.
I hope that people will rebel against the political Black Ops (no pun intended) that have been the calling-card of Republicans for years. How many people who voted for Bush in 2004, if they knew then what they know now, would like to have their vote back? That election just went to prove that it works to attack someone's character. I can only hope that Obama's character and history are squeaky-clean enough to be bulletproof. Because whether he is the Great Black Hope or not, it seems like he's the best option we have.
I really used to have a lot of respect for John McCain, and still have a good amount for him as a human being. He's a genuine war hero, and he's one of the most common-sense, moderate high-profile Republicans around. He is not afraid to take his own party to task when he feels it is needed, or work with Democrats on programs that make sense.
But while I think McCain is a great guy, he has really sold-out politically, both for his stumping for Bush in 2004 -- you know, the guy who spread the rumors in South Carolina about his wife being a drug addict and him having a black child out of wedlock -- and his semi-pandering to the far-right, especially making nice with the now-burning Jerry Falwell.
The worst part for McCain is that none of this rear-kissing has gotten him anywhere in the right-wing of the Republican party. McCain is still despised by Rush Limbaugh and Man Coulter, so he had to sell himself without even getting any benefit out of it. I do appreciate that voters have woken up and rejected the right-wing demagoguery of Limbaugh and Mitt Romney in favor of someone who isn't a typical GOP candidate.
Romney is, as my good friend Jables once put it, "a piece of shit." A soulless, empty shell whose ideas -- such as building a second Guantanamo Bay prison -- were downright reactionary and frightening. Mike Huckabee is a guy who I would love to, say, hang out with at a wedding, but I knew he never really had a chance. Besides, it was pretty clear that I couldn't very well vote for a Republican right now, no matter how good the candidate is, because to me, that would be a tacit approval of the current regime.
So because of this, I was basically left with two options, after the interesting but ultimately overwhelmed John Edwards dropped out: Hillary and Obama.
I have never been a Hillary fan, and it's not because she's a woman -- which seems to be a knee-jerk reaction whenever I say I don't like her, even though I thought her husband was a very good president. I have lots of strong women in my life; strong women don't bother me.
I wasn't sold on Barack Obama either... until the Iowa Caucus. He gave a rousing speech outlining what a country can do with hope. I know there is criticism of Obama because they say he is all speeches and very little substance. But the guy has a vision, you can't deny that. And even if he has a thin congressional record, due to his short time in office, he has a history of good works, such as leaving a high-paying job to help the poor in Chicago. And while I don't know whether he ultimately had political ambitions on his mind, they certainly didn't manifest themselves until well into his new and selfless career.
But if there is anything that has affirmed my early approval of Obama, it's his own conduct in start contrast to Hillary Clinton. Whereas Obama seems to take the high road on just about everything, Hillary is looking more and more like a Republican every day, spinning eleven straight losses like Bush spinning U.S. casualties abroad. And while she self-righteously chastized Obama last week for putting out what she deemed to be misleading flyers, someone from her campaign released a picture of Obama in some kind of traditional African dress, ostensibly trying to make him look more Islamic. She says she had nothing to do with it, but someone from her campaign more than likely did.
Which brings me to the most troubling aspect of the last few weeks in politics: the return of fearmongering.
Now, I would expect this from a steaming pile of shit like Cincinnati radio host Bill Cunningham, who went on a rant before a McCain rally, repeatedly spouting off the name "Barack Hussein Obama," which is a transparent attempt to make Obama seem somehow more of a terrorist. Cunningham is a nobody, a nothing. And while his pathetic, desperate attempt to demonize Obama due to his name may sway some guillible Ohio voters (remember, they bought the Swift Boat hoax in 2004), I doubt he'll have any real effect on any intelligent discourse in the public arena.
Honestly, anyone who would truly be swayed by someone's middle name, or would fall for something so simplistic should probably have their vote taken away. Just because his name rhymes with "Osama" doesn't mean he's a terrorist. Remember, one of our great allies is King Abdullah II bin Al Hussein of Jordan. I don't see anyone bitching about that.
What is truly troubling, however, is that Hillary, in the last throes of a desperate and disappointing campaign, is playing the "Daisy" card in her new ad, implying that in the wavke of a terrorist threat, she would be the best candidate to pick up the "red phone" should it ever ring. This just reeks of a Hail Mary pass by Clinton, basically saying, "if you don't elect me, there is a chance you could all die!"
If this tells me one thing about Clinton, it's not just that she's been outsmarted by a more charismatic and more inspirational candidate. No, to me it's much worse. It shows that Hillary Clinton cares more about being elected -- even if she has to trash a very compelling, squeaky-clean opponent to do it -- than she does about getting the best Democrat elected. The country does not care about who has the most experience -- Rumsfeld, Cheney and Colin Powell had a ton of it, and look where it got us -- or who is "ready on day one." They want change. This is a seismic shift in the American landscape this year, moreso than any year I can remember.
People aren't excited about Hillary. She does not inspire anyone. Her talk of 35 years of experience rings very hollow, considering she spent 8 of those years as a First Lady. Not denigrating her experience there, but I would hardly say she was the one running the show back then. And she's been an okay New York senator, but she ran against two very weak Republican opponents ... oh and she did vote "Yes" to the Iraq War, which to me is gonna be hard for her to explain away.
Obama feels like he has "the glow" this year. Unless something awful happens, I think the country is ready for him to be President. I know he's going to have to endure some godawful mudslinging, especially if they go after his rather loose-lipped wife, but I think anyone who brazenly attacks Obama will find that it will backfire, which it has severely to Clinton, if you ask me.
I hope that people will rebel against the political Black Ops (no pun intended) that have been the calling-card of Republicans for years. How many people who voted for Bush in 2004, if they knew then what they know now, would like to have their vote back? That election just went to prove that it works to attack someone's character. I can only hope that Obama's character and history are squeaky-clean enough to be bulletproof. Because whether he is the Great Black Hope or not, it seems like he's the best option we have.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
The End of an Epic Feud
Let's get one thing straight: Michael Jerome Cialini is one of my oldest and most treasured friends. I met him when he was a mulleted, bespectacled 9th grader, and I immediately thought he was an asshole ... but my kind of asshole. We rode the bus together, made fun of the entire class of 1994, then later I would send him mix tapes while he was in the Air Force and he would send me illegible letters. (This was before the internets, mind you.) Mike was good enough to let me be a part of his wedding to his wonderful and lovely wife Brenna, and hopefully I will be able to punch him 32 times this coming May 1st.
Through our nearly two decades of friendship, we have probably agreed on perhaps four things. Everything else has been a bitter feud. I like rap music with a positive message, he likes it only with lots of swearing. He likes Stern, I like Opie and Anthony. I like baseball, he likes the Mets. We are on polar opposites on nearly every spectrum of ideas. And that's an okay thing; it's good to have dissent.
Many topics I take with a grain of salt -- politics, sports, philosophy. But when it came to beer, I could stand silent no longer!
Mike launched his new site, The People's Beer Drinker, and I reacted in a visceral -- and as one person has told me -- overboard way. Point taken. And as expected, Michael fired back, taking umbrage with my assessment of the need for a macrobrew blog.
In the course of his retort, Mike made his opinion known, and naturally I read it and understand where he's coming from. But I had to take exception to a few things, mainly three main assertions I find to be patently incorrect. Hopefully they will clear up a few points and Mike and I can go back to fighting about the NFL (the best sports league in the nation).
So I hope I cleared a few things up for everyone. Mike, let's one day get together somewhere we can enjoy both Cascade- and Amarillo-hopped Imperial IPAs as well as Genny Cream Ale. It's time we let America being healing.
Through our nearly two decades of friendship, we have probably agreed on perhaps four things. Everything else has been a bitter feud. I like rap music with a positive message, he likes it only with lots of swearing. He likes Stern, I like Opie and Anthony. I like baseball, he likes the Mets. We are on polar opposites on nearly every spectrum of ideas. And that's an okay thing; it's good to have dissent.
Many topics I take with a grain of salt -- politics, sports, philosophy. But when it came to beer, I could stand silent no longer!
Mike launched his new site, The People's Beer Drinker, and I reacted in a visceral -- and as one person has told me -- overboard way. Point taken. And as expected, Michael fired back, taking umbrage with my assessment of the need for a macrobrew blog.
In the course of his retort, Mike made his opinion known, and naturally I read it and understand where he's coming from. But I had to take exception to a few things, mainly three main assertions I find to be patently incorrect. Hopefully they will clear up a few points and Mike and I can go back to fighting about the NFL (the best sports league in the nation).
Myth #1: I am a beer snob and I don't like ANY macro beers.
I consider myself a "geek," not a snob. Contrary to my misunderstood "internet persona," I don't actually look down on anyone who likes macro brews. To the contrary, I still will enjoy a few of them from time to time. I never said that I think people who drink what I consider to be lesser beers "lesser beer drinkers." The truth is -- as my compadre Javen recently pointed out to me -- the macro lagers of today are by-and-large pale copies of German styles. The microbrews are the true "American" beers, because like jazz and baseball, they were invented here, or at least finely tuned to become their current incarnations. In my very humble opinion, microbrews and craft beers are truly in the American tradition, in that they eschewed the Xeroxing of old tried-and-true, popular styles and went off the beaten path by innovating. I am the furthest thing from a snob, to be honest. In "real life" I have never chastized someone for drinking Bud or Coors. I used to drink nothing but the Big Three in college, as well as maybe something from Labatt or Molson. I drank Blatz and Stroh's in Milwaukee, and three pitchers of Coors light in Baltimore. I own a Miller High Life t-shirt! And these are just examples from the last few years. I can't deny that expanding my scope has opened me up to a new and exciting world, but I don't look down on those who drink something I don't like. Drink what you like and be happy, dammit!
Myth #2: I believe that anyone who doesn't agree with me is wrong.
This could not be further from the truth. I would never tell anyone to drink something they hate any more than I would have anyone tell me to eat green beans. I was speaking to a friend today and told her that I probably dislike 2 out of every 5 beers I try, and I spend a lot more money than most people do on beer. Like, an embarassingly lot more. No one will ever convince me that beer that is mass-produced with inferior ingredients is as good as craft-brewed beer, on the whole. I still think that there is a craft brew for everyone out there, and that no matter what macro style you like, there is a micro waiting for you that you will love. However, if you don't want to do that, I'm not going to call you out just because of that fact. Will I offer that you try something I'm drinking? Yes. Will I suggest an alternative based on what you like? Sure. Honestly, I never even discuss the subject of beer superiority with someone else unless they take the tone -- which I feel Mike had toward me, unprovoked -- that for some reason I'm some sort of elitist because I don't buy cases of Blue Light anymore. People who know me know that I have never "forced" a beer on anyone, but rather I shepherd anyone who is interested toward beers I think they may like, or give them a sip of mine. And more often than not, they hate the beer. But at least they tried it, and that's all I ask.
Myth #3: I am shitting on Mike's new blog.
I think Mike could actually make something out of this blog that would be worth reading. I will certainly be checking back from time to time. I do have to admit I question the motive behind it, whether it's to actually explore and celebrate American macros and pale lagers, or whether it's just to sort of "stick it" to so-called beer snobs. (Mike has a history of inflammatory internet speech.) To me its like -- to use an example to which Mike may relate -- starting a mainstream rap blog as a reaction to the undue attention that independent hip-hop blogs get. The fact remains that Miller/Bud/Coors account for 75% of the beer industry in the United States, and are therefore hardly underrepresented. I find it hard to believe that someone would want to stick it to the "little guy," small businesses in America that are trying to stay afloat while the Big Boys are constantly swallowing them up. To me it's akin to a site lauding how great Microsoft is, as a reaction to, say, Linux, or a lesser-known entity. If Michael can do something with it that is good for beer as a whole -- and not just the beers I like -- I will be a regular reader. My initial, emotional reaction to Mike's post is one that goes way way back to when Mike would simply say "_______ sucks" to any post I made regarding a topic I liked. There are a lot of "soccer sucks," "the NFL draft sucks," and the like out there with Mike's byline, and when it came to this subject I thought a counterpoint was in order.
So I hope I cleared a few things up for everyone. Mike, let's one day get together somewhere we can enjoy both Cascade- and Amarillo-hopped Imperial IPAs as well as Genny Cream Ale. It's time we let America being healing.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Tellin' It Like It Is!
It's so refreshing to hear people on the internet who are not afraid to SPEAK THEIR MINDS!!!!!!!!
Wow! So BRAVE!!!!!
What great OBSERVATIONS on our CULTURE!!!!!!!
These folks TELL US what we NEED to HEAR!!!!!!!!!
They're not gonna PLAY by your RULES, MAAAAAAAN
They're gonna SAY what they WANT, whether you LIKE it or NOT!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!1!!! So get USED TO IT!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!!11
Wow! So BRAVE!!!!!
What great OBSERVATIONS on our CULTURE!!!!!!!
These folks TELL US what we NEED to HEAR!!!!!!!!!
They're not gonna PLAY by your RULES, MAAAAAAAN
They're gonna SAY what they WANT, whether you LIKE it or NOT!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!1!!! So get USED TO IT!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!!11
Saturday, February 16, 2008
I Don't Mean to Be Rude But...
The next time Simon Cowell starts to act snooty, I'm going to think of this clip from Sale of the Century, a 1990 British game show. Unfortunately, some prat didn't want YouTube to embed it. It's about 10 minutes long but kinda funny if you think Simon can be a bit arrogant at times.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Xs and Os
Happy Valentines Day, my pretties, one day late. Hope you enjoyed yours as much as I enjoyed mine.
Love ya babies!
Love ya babies!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Humble Pie
[Note: If your name is Cunningham, Ash or Willie Moe, I urge you to skip over this. It's not directed toward you nor meant to be a "slam" of any kind. You know I think you fellas are swell and love you guys despite the team you have chosen to support. Take no personal offense, I beg you. Breakfast is on me next time, kids. This one is most certainly not for your perusal...]
The amazing thing about sports is that just when you think the world has run out of good true stories, sports find a way to create geniuinely compelling, unexpected and dramatic new moments.
I'm not trying to go all Bob Costas on you here. This is not about sentimentality; it's about drama. It's about actually believing in the improbable. I've been around long enough to experience some truly incredible and legendary moments in sports. Kirk Gibson's 9th inning bomb in the 1988 World Series, the Bills coming back from down 32 against the Houston Oilers, the Red Sox coming back from 3-0 to beat the Yankees in the 2004 World Series. I've also seen some incredible upsets, like Duke beating UNLV in 1990, Buster Douglas beating Mike Tyson on my 14th birthday, and last night.
First, let's get one thing straight: I hate the New England Patriots. I mean, I fucking hate them. Hate isn't strong enough a word, really. I used to say I hated the New York Yankees, but that feels like mild annoyance compared to how I feel about this collection of arrogant phonies and their godawful corporate-speak philosophies. Their "Humble Pie" t-shirts, their desire to copyright "19-0" (as if the term had never been invented), their asshole head coach, their prettyboy QB, their everyone-loves-us-cuz-we're-so-gritty linebacking corps, and the fact that they cheat.
I'm not just talking about Spygate, although the way that Patriots fans have tried to justify that makes my stomach churn. You know goddamn well that if it was discovered that the Colts had been stealing signals in the 2006 AFC Championship Game, all the Yah-Doods in RedSawx caps woulda been screamin' bluddy murdah for six and a haff munts. I don't buy the "everyone's doing it" defense, and if they were, why would the NFL give a record fine and penalize a draft pick to their crown jewel franchise and no one else?
But no, the cheating to which I'm referring is two decades of chicanery and bending the rules until they are forced to be changed. It all comes from the Head Coach, of course, Mr. Charisma himself, Bill Belicheat. From Super Bowl XXV where he told Giants LB Gary Reasons to kick the ball Scott Norwood was about to kick wide right after it was already spotted, to forcing the Indianapolis Colts to play on a field that should have been crossed with a mule and a sherpa, Belicheat has done everything he can to gain every tiny advantage out of the game, just short of breaking the rules. And sometimes not stopping short.
Why is it a 15-yard you call two consecutive time-outs to freeze a kicker? Because the Patriots used to try and fake kickers out by calling the second time out they didn't have. Why are there stricter rules about how much contact defensive backs can have with receivers? Look no further than the 2003 AFC Championship Game and the Ty Law rule. You can thank Vince Wilfork for destroying J.P. Losman's career in Buffalo with a cheapshot to the knee. Wilfork takes pride in being find thousands of dollars.
After the AFC Championship Game two weeks ago, San Diego Chargers center Nick Hardwick said that Pats defensive lineman Richard Seymour was "Head slapping, foot stomping in the pile, running by and throwing punches in your back," called Seymour "dirty, cheap, pompous" and said Richard Seymour is the biggest (expletive) I've ever played."
They have wiped their filthy asses with Terrible Towels, they have danced in the middle of the field to mock Shawne Merriman (who is a douche, granted). They put Tom Brady as "probable" on the injury report every week -- which, frankly, I'm surprised some Vegas mobster-type hasn't made Belicheat stop doing at gunpoint. I read this morning that before the game, the Patriots were inviting the Giants to their upcoming victory parties after the game. This team reeks of high character.
Paul Woody of the Richmond Post-Dispatch does a better job than I do of laying out why the Patriots are such a bunch of fucking dirtbags.
And the worst part is that they are perpetually lauded by the media as being "a class organization." It's one thing for the Patriots themselves to trumpet themselves as a bunch of take-the-high-road "lunch pail" players; it's altogether something else for the smitten media to be compliant in perpetuating this myth. Any time Belicheat's old buddy Phil Simms speaks of Tom Brady, you practically have to wipe Brady's ejaculate from Simms' chin.
So single-minded was the media's desire to see "a historic team" that they glossed over all the things that make the Patriots so hateable. At least the Bad Boy Detroit Pistons and "South America's Team" Dallas Cowboys had the decency to be flamboyantly assholish and unlikable. It takes a truly despicable character to stab a man in the stomach while smiling to his face.
But the rich, evil fat-cats of the world can only sit atop their golden thrones, smoking fine cigars and laughing at the misfortunes of the poor for so long before they are brought to earth by the most vengeful bitch known to humankind.
Karma.
As many of my faithful readers know, I predicted this back in November. The Patriots and their hubris were simply too obvious to ignore. They had made their living all season by talking trash to lesser opponents (picking on straw-men like Pittsburgh's Aaron Smith), running up the score (including going for it on fourth down several times when the game was well in hand) and all the while playing the part of the top-hatted gentleman.
People often accuse me and fellow Patriot-Haters of being jealous of the Patriots' success. Not true. While I would love to watch my Bills win 3 of 4 Super Bowls, I don't hate the Patriots just because they are good. The San Antonio Spurs have been every bit as dominant as the Patriots over the last decade, and I don't hate them. Nor did I hate the St. Louis Rams from 1999-2001. I hate them because they are hateable. Whether it's Bill Belichick's smug press conferences, Tedi Bruschi making the "ok" sign with his hand and homosexually yelling "that's threeeeeee!!!!" into a camera, or Charlie Weis getting a tummy tuck so he would look more like "head coaching material," this image-conscious franchise with the worst logo in sports reeks of all that is phony integrity.
So you can loathe my schadenfreude of the Patriots ass-pounding at the hands of the blitz-happy New York Giants -- a team for which I hold no particular affinity -- if you like, but I prefer to look at it as justice. No team that I've ever known has been more detestable, no team has had a less likeable cast of characters, and no team has ever set themselves up for more rancorous, bilious vitriol than this band of Wall Street vulture types dressed up in a hard-hat wearing blue collar guise.
I loved Tom Brady looking as if he had switched bodies with Eli Manning (who I also can't stand but for other unrelated reasons) and was looking for his daddy to help him out somehow.
I loved watching Lace-Tedi Bruschi and Junior Seau doing a cursory public-relations hug in the hopes that Steve Sabol and NFL Films would be watching.
I loved watching the Giants attack Brady like a kamikaze squad and that Brady couldn't muster more than the one final drive with four Giants in his face on every play, taking away his 6-8 seconds in the pocket.
I loved that all I saw on the Patriots' sideline when the Pats were on offense was Bruschi, Seau and Mike "My Nose Starts at My Forehead" Vrabel sucking wind instead of laughing and back-slapping each other.
I loved that Rodney Harrison and the vaunted Pats secondary got torched all night long.
I loved watching Darth Sweatshirt Belicheat walk off the field in defeat, the weight of a Super Bowl choke job pulling down his genius balloon like a sandbag.
I love that the sports media won't acknowledge two consecutive chokes by these same Patriots -- this colossal tank and last year's 18-point blown lead against Indy. Although Mark "Stink" Schlereth did say that this was the most significant loss in the history of the National Football League.
I am lucky in that the only Patriots fans I know are wonderful people, and apart from a couple semi-heated discussions, they have been refreshingly classy about their team's success.
As for the mouth-breathing bottom-feeders who end every weak argument with "count the rings," suck defeat and swallow it down. You are the reason that 95% of the non-New England population is celebrating this cold February day.
The amazing thing about sports is that just when you think the world has run out of good true stories, sports find a way to create geniuinely compelling, unexpected and dramatic new moments.
I'm not trying to go all Bob Costas on you here. This is not about sentimentality; it's about drama. It's about actually believing in the improbable. I've been around long enough to experience some truly incredible and legendary moments in sports. Kirk Gibson's 9th inning bomb in the 1988 World Series, the Bills coming back from down 32 against the Houston Oilers, the Red Sox coming back from 3-0 to beat the Yankees in the 2004 World Series. I've also seen some incredible upsets, like Duke beating UNLV in 1990, Buster Douglas beating Mike Tyson on my 14th birthday, and last night.
First, let's get one thing straight: I hate the New England Patriots. I mean, I fucking hate them. Hate isn't strong enough a word, really. I used to say I hated the New York Yankees, but that feels like mild annoyance compared to how I feel about this collection of arrogant phonies and their godawful corporate-speak philosophies. Their "Humble Pie" t-shirts, their desire to copyright "19-0" (as if the term had never been invented), their asshole head coach, their prettyboy QB, their everyone-loves-us-cuz-we're-so-gritty linebacking corps, and the fact that they cheat.
I'm not just talking about Spygate, although the way that Patriots fans have tried to justify that makes my stomach churn. You know goddamn well that if it was discovered that the Colts had been stealing signals in the 2006 AFC Championship Game, all the Yah-Doods in RedSawx caps woulda been screamin' bluddy murdah for six and a haff munts. I don't buy the "everyone's doing it" defense, and if they were, why would the NFL give a record fine and penalize a draft pick to their crown jewel franchise and no one else?
But no, the cheating to which I'm referring is two decades of chicanery and bending the rules until they are forced to be changed. It all comes from the Head Coach, of course, Mr. Charisma himself, Bill Belicheat. From Super Bowl XXV where he told Giants LB Gary Reasons to kick the ball Scott Norwood was about to kick wide right after it was already spotted, to forcing the Indianapolis Colts to play on a field that should have been crossed with a mule and a sherpa, Belicheat has done everything he can to gain every tiny advantage out of the game, just short of breaking the rules. And sometimes not stopping short.
Why is it a 15-yard you call two consecutive time-outs to freeze a kicker? Because the Patriots used to try and fake kickers out by calling the second time out they didn't have. Why are there stricter rules about how much contact defensive backs can have with receivers? Look no further than the 2003 AFC Championship Game and the Ty Law rule. You can thank Vince Wilfork for destroying J.P. Losman's career in Buffalo with a cheapshot to the knee. Wilfork takes pride in being find thousands of dollars.
After the AFC Championship Game two weeks ago, San Diego Chargers center Nick Hardwick said that Pats defensive lineman Richard Seymour was "Head slapping, foot stomping in the pile, running by and throwing punches in your back," called Seymour "dirty, cheap, pompous" and said Richard Seymour is the biggest (expletive) I've ever played."
They have wiped their filthy asses with Terrible Towels, they have danced in the middle of the field to mock Shawne Merriman (who is a douche, granted). They put Tom Brady as "probable" on the injury report every week -- which, frankly, I'm surprised some Vegas mobster-type hasn't made Belicheat stop doing at gunpoint. I read this morning that before the game, the Patriots were inviting the Giants to their upcoming victory parties after the game. This team reeks of high character.
Paul Woody of the Richmond Post-Dispatch does a better job than I do of laying out why the Patriots are such a bunch of fucking dirtbags.
And the worst part is that they are perpetually lauded by the media as being "a class organization." It's one thing for the Patriots themselves to trumpet themselves as a bunch of take-the-high-road "lunch pail" players; it's altogether something else for the smitten media to be compliant in perpetuating this myth. Any time Belicheat's old buddy Phil Simms speaks of Tom Brady, you practically have to wipe Brady's ejaculate from Simms' chin.
So single-minded was the media's desire to see "a historic team" that they glossed over all the things that make the Patriots so hateable. At least the Bad Boy Detroit Pistons and "South America's Team" Dallas Cowboys had the decency to be flamboyantly assholish and unlikable. It takes a truly despicable character to stab a man in the stomach while smiling to his face.
But the rich, evil fat-cats of the world can only sit atop their golden thrones, smoking fine cigars and laughing at the misfortunes of the poor for so long before they are brought to earth by the most vengeful bitch known to humankind.
Karma.
As many of my faithful readers know, I predicted this back in November. The Patriots and their hubris were simply too obvious to ignore. They had made their living all season by talking trash to lesser opponents (picking on straw-men like Pittsburgh's Aaron Smith), running up the score (including going for it on fourth down several times when the game was well in hand) and all the while playing the part of the top-hatted gentleman.
People often accuse me and fellow Patriot-Haters of being jealous of the Patriots' success. Not true. While I would love to watch my Bills win 3 of 4 Super Bowls, I don't hate the Patriots just because they are good. The San Antonio Spurs have been every bit as dominant as the Patriots over the last decade, and I don't hate them. Nor did I hate the St. Louis Rams from 1999-2001. I hate them because they are hateable. Whether it's Bill Belichick's smug press conferences, Tedi Bruschi making the "ok" sign with his hand and homosexually yelling "that's threeeeeee!!!!" into a camera, or Charlie Weis getting a tummy tuck so he would look more like "head coaching material," this image-conscious franchise with the worst logo in sports reeks of all that is phony integrity.
So you can loathe my schadenfreude of the Patriots ass-pounding at the hands of the blitz-happy New York Giants -- a team for which I hold no particular affinity -- if you like, but I prefer to look at it as justice. No team that I've ever known has been more detestable, no team has had a less likeable cast of characters, and no team has ever set themselves up for more rancorous, bilious vitriol than this band of Wall Street vulture types dressed up in a hard-hat wearing blue collar guise.
I loved Tom Brady looking as if he had switched bodies with Eli Manning (who I also can't stand but for other unrelated reasons) and was looking for his daddy to help him out somehow.
I loved watching Lace-Tedi Bruschi and Junior Seau doing a cursory public-relations hug in the hopes that Steve Sabol and NFL Films would be watching.
I loved watching the Giants attack Brady like a kamikaze squad and that Brady couldn't muster more than the one final drive with four Giants in his face on every play, taking away his 6-8 seconds in the pocket.
I loved that all I saw on the Patriots' sideline when the Pats were on offense was Bruschi, Seau and Mike "My Nose Starts at My Forehead" Vrabel sucking wind instead of laughing and back-slapping each other.
I loved that Rodney Harrison and the vaunted Pats secondary got torched all night long.
I loved watching Darth Sweatshirt Belicheat walk off the field in defeat, the weight of a Super Bowl choke job pulling down his genius balloon like a sandbag.
I love that the sports media won't acknowledge two consecutive chokes by these same Patriots -- this colossal tank and last year's 18-point blown lead against Indy. Although Mark "Stink" Schlereth did say that this was the most significant loss in the history of the National Football League.
I am lucky in that the only Patriots fans I know are wonderful people, and apart from a couple semi-heated discussions, they have been refreshingly classy about their team's success.
As for the mouth-breathing bottom-feeders who end every weak argument with "count the rings," suck defeat and swallow it down. You are the reason that 95% of the non-New England population is celebrating this cold February day.
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