Donkey Punches Dole: Lawsuit Likely in Banana Wreck

(Donkey Kong in happier times)

By Jah Banni

A beloved member of the Nintendo family is facing a long recovery after suffering two broken hoofs and a cracked sternum in a nasty dust-up over the weekend. Donkey Kong, 26, was hurt Saturday when his kart struck a banana and veered off the road on a rural section of Toad’s Turnpike. Lead investigator and close friend Koopa Troopa said that Kong was lucky to be alive.

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“Honestly, I don’t know how he made it,” said Koopa, a state Troopa for 15 years. “He lost two of the three hovering balloons when he hit the banana, and the last one went after he spun into the fence over there,” Koopa said as he pointed at the crash site.

- Koopa Troopa

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“Honestly, I don’t know how he made it,” said Koopa, a state Troopa for 15 years. “He lost two of the three hovering balloons when he hit the banana, and the last one went after he spun into the fence over there,” Koopa said as he pointed at the crash site.

“This kind of thing has to stop.”

Diddy Kong, a nephew and close confidant of Donkey Kong, believes there was foul play involved - on the part of the banana company.

“I don’t think there is any doubt the banana company has shown gross negligence in this case,” said an obviously shaken Diddy Kong. “We have been seeing this very same incident repeated over and over for the past 15 years. It was one thing when people like my Uncle and Yoshi and Toad were on the track doing it for the entertainment of others, but we are seeing an increased amount of banana related accidents and something has to change.”

(Toad's Turnkpike)

Donkey Kong’s racing past, including repeat appearances in the Mushroom, Flower, Star and Special Cups could not prevent the accident, something his nephew also blames on the Banana producer.

“The bananas, they are actually grown strictly to blow up the hovering balloons on the side of the karts we drive. How many corporations can say they produce something strictly to hurt the way of life of the public? Apparently only Dole,” said the angry younger Kong.

“It is early, but the odds of a lawsuit are high. We need to sit down as a family with Uncle Donkey and our team of lawyers and decide where to go from here.”

Donkey Kong was not racing, nor dueling, at the time of his accident. According to Koopa Troopa he was on his way home from Dr. Mario’s office, ironically hauling a large load of barrels in his kart, when the banana positioned itself just onto the road near a bend in Toad’s Turnpike. After the wreck, Kong was returned to Doc Mario’s office where he was treated and sent home to rest.

Representatives from Dole told The Truth Brush they would have no comment on the incident.

Tuesday Tidbits - No Gameplan Necessary Edition

Today, the band is truly back together. A hiatus of epic proportions … over. And by “epic” I mean the way Waterworld and Pearl Harbor were epic.

Benefits of having the band back together:

1) Frank Stallone picture back in the fold of day to day activities
2) Terrible injustices of society revealed
3) Possibility of a Candace Bergen, Frank Stallone, paper plate ménage a trios
4) Good hard American French fried truth served with a side of Ranch

The return of the Tuesday Tidbit is also noteworthy, but most likely only to me. Sorry. To my 1.5 loyal readers, I am sorry you had to see that. Daddy loves you.

So here we go.

April O’Neil Switches Sides

According to Pittsburgh’s WTAE, two females dressed as Ninjas robbed a Richland Township gas station (Strictly for these...). Wielding a sword and a dagger, the two entered the store and tied the attendant up, most likely using a space age dental floss grown only in Montana. Yes, they were in the traditional black wrap garb, but most likely substituted the Merrill Clog for the traditional ninja footwear, citing bad backs and lack of arch support in the process. The local chapter of the Foot Clan is claiming no responsibility, but me thinks that April O’Neil has finally gotten over Raphy and moved on to a life of crime to support her smack habit. Just a thought.

Kim Jong Il and Bin Laden to Headline Warped Tour

Don’t think it is a possibility, huh? Well what about Iranian Prime Minister/President/raving-lunatic-homeless-man-talking-to-himself-on-the-street-about-coffee-without-pants-on Mahmoud Ahmadinejad speaking before a Columbia University student section … at the invite of the school president, Lee Bollinger? Still nothing? Well in the words of Ricky Bobby, “That just happened.”

In a modern version of inviting Chairman Mao to speak at your second daughter’s pre-school commencement, Ahmadinejad took shots and gave a few himself during his town drunk/hall style meeting. And yes we are the country of free speech, but since when is it a good move to invite incendiary dictators onto the home-turf for a free publicity stunt? Not to get too political or too preachy, but at a time when we are not thought of as anything but a nuisance to the world, at best, it would seem that we should go out of our way to keep the representative of a country who despises our way of life as quiet as possible. Instead, we offer a pulpit from which he can spew rhetoric to impressionable youth itching for a cause, and at the same time receive media attention that carries his wayward message ever farther than he himself could have. Misguided to say the least. To put it in perspective, does anyone really believe the same courtesy of a public forum would be afforded to President Bush in Tehran? I didn’t think so.

Despite our fundamental flaw in the scheduling, there were more than a few highlights from Ahmadinejad, such as:

- Still not enough research to prove the Holocaust as a reality (Hasn’t seen Schindler’s list)
- Called for free elections to determine the fate of Israel (Wonder if the Israeli’s will get a vote?)
- Usual anti-American rhetoric, with a twist of lime (Lemon is too acidic)
- Claimed women have highest amounts of freedom in Iran (If by freedom he meant the freedom to cover everything but their eyes or be buried to their neck and stoned to death, then yeah, I’m in)

But he saved the biggest bomb (no pun, I swear) for the revelation that – sorry Lance Bass, Rosie O’Donnell, and Tom Cruise – there are NO homosexuals in Iran. Zero. This, in my opinion, is the biggest thing holding Iranian fashion back. And dinner theater in Tehran leaves a lot to be desired. Low brow humor, however, still lives here. Regardless, this is a stunning assertion. Mathematical evidence is non-existent. This is like President Bush going public with “There is no such thing as wind.” And really sticking to it. I can’t wait to see how this plays out, but my guess is ABC will be running some type of “Guy-ran: Growing Up Gay in The Middle East” special. Keep and eye out, it is on its way.

Next week, look for Hugo Chavez in a one-hour comedy special on HBO.

Milton Bradley Doesn’t Play Games

San Diago outfielder Milton Bradley (too easy) blew up at an umpire Sunday, and consequently blew out his knee, all while completely blowing the Padres’ season. The volatile Bradley was allegedly verbally attacked by a sneaky umpire after reaching first base, but managed to call time, walk back to first base, touch the bag and then launch himself into a tirade for the ages. Padre’s manager and upcoming beer Bud Black attempted to intervene and in the wrestling match that ensued Bradley tore his ACL, costing him the rest of this year and part of next. This all had a very Vince McMahonical feel to it as Bradley overreacted and then was felled by a middle aged man in tight pants. What I believe will happen is Bradley will quit baseball and eventually wrestle in a main event match against PacMan Jones, setting up an 80’s name match in which the winner receives a Rubik’s Cube and a pair of Adidas.

Speaking of Tirades for the Ages

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoMmbUmKN0E

Coach Gundy was speaking to, and pointing at, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Whatever Ahmadinejad, I’ve downgraded you because I’m a man. I’m 40.

Favorite Person in the World Update

I’m not even entirely sure if this is updating anything, but I have my new favorite person of all time. Ever. For all eternity.

I will slowly list hints about him so that you at home can guess along the way, however it is likely at some point I will become overly excited and accidentally blurt out his name. And yes I know it is hard to blurt out while typing, but just grow up and deal with it. It’s happening.

This person is a man (sorry James Van Der Beek, congrats Hillary Clinton).

This person is currently in jail (sorry Jose Offerman).

This person is from the south (Hillary, you are still in it – though you are currently faking the funk by saying you are from New York).

Jonathan Lee Riches.

Damn. I only made three clues. I told you that would happen. This man should also be your favorite person. Why?

He issued a hand written law suit (from jail) to Michael Vick, suing him for “63,000,000,000 billion.” See the document itself... Why? Duh! Because Vick apparently stole his pit bulls, sold them on E-Bay and then used the money to buy missiles from Iran! And honestly, I agree. I think Vick owes all of us at least that much. Look, we originally were ready to put Vick in jail for fighting dogs. Bad enough right? Apparently not – because he is selling the dogs to the enemy and stockpiling what could be a huge cache of missiles. Luckily, if Vick is throwing them, they are unlikely to hit their intended targets, but I digress.

And in case you were wondering what the personal effect was on Mr. Riches, he provided that in the suit as well.

“Michael Vick has to stop physically hurting my feelings and dashing my hopes.”

Mine too, Jonathan Lee Riches, mine too.

In what was a shock to me, as if the rest of this wasn’t, Mr. Riches is apparently well known for filing lawsuits such as these. Apparently he once filed a similarly hand written suit against the following people:
President Bush
Pope Benedict
Tony Danza
Fruit of the Loom
NASCAR
The Ming Dynasty
Skittles candy
The 2005 Philadelphia Eagles
The Doobie Brothers
The Congolese Army
The Magna Carta
WKRP in Cincinnati
King's Dominion amusement park in Virginia
Plato
and last, but certainly not least, the Liberty Bell.

Remember, this was just one lawsuit. Why? Apparently all of the listed defendants owed him money. Whether it was collectively as an entity or individually remains to be seen, but either way it’s a good thing. Really. It is.

By the way, people with three names always make me feel better about myself. I can think of a couple right off the top of my head:

Former NBA player Michael Ray Richardson – drug problems.
Former country star Billy Ray Cyrus – Spends long periods of time getting his hair done, and daughter is more popular than he is.
Jonathan Lee Riches – In jail.

All of these people have three names, all of them are in worse off positions than I am and yet one of them is my new favorite person.

And in honor of Jonathan Lee Riches, I challenge you the readers to post your top potential lawsuit right here at I’m Getting the Band Back Together.

As an example, I am thinking about suing Lady Jay from GI Joes for misleading my Grandmother into investing money in US Bonds, only to use the money invested to acquire large amounts of plastic so as to craft millions of her own action figures for sales around the globe and also for general slander and public defamation when she claimed I smelled bad. I don’t smell bad Lady Jay. I just don’t. The amount? $2.3 hundred thousand million cents.

PS – I have also sued myself multiple times.

Now GO. Post your lawsuits. The winner, judged by me, gets to file his or hers.

One a.m. Minus Three Hours

Equals 9 p.m. That's a fact. At least according to my girlfriend. Look you'd be bad at math too, or arithmetic as she likes to call it (her hair is in a bun and her name is Helen), if you had been up for 24 hours straight. See, it's vacation time. And we decided, along with 6 of our closest friends, to make the drive from Pittsburgh to Myrtle Beach. Straight through. After work.

The plan was to leave Pittsburgh at 8 p.m. and arrive in Myrtle Beach at 6 a.m. This was a great plan. Honestly, it was. Until 3 a.m. But we'll get there.

The first three to four hours of a road trip are what I like to call the honeymoon hours. You are excited to be on the road. You are charging through the "beach mix insert year here" mix cd's you made in preparation. You are having fun with your co-riders, possibly by having a contest to see who can make the highest pitch noise, or possibly not. Just giving you an option. The point is, you are full of vacation adrenaline - happy to be on the way to where you are going.

The 2 - 3 hours following are like the first anniversary. The bathroom is a little dirty, but you are still just excited to be there. You're in love with the thought of vacation. And you have downed an Amp energy drink to celebrate and keep it going.

Then hour 8 hits. Hour 8, by the way, can be sooner or later depending upon what your departure time is. For us, it was hour 8. This is when you start finding other vacations' numbers in your vacation's panty drawer. You are ready to be done with it. Ready to end the trip. Problem is, you can't. You have to keep going. You have to make it. So you take down another Amp, but this time to try hiding the reality. And while Amp, or any other energy enhancing (read: liquid cocaine) drink is to travellers as spinach is to Popeye, it has as much downside as it does up. Yeah, you forget that you still have 2 or 3 hours of pitch black straight ahead road left, but your innards have turned to jelly and you end up forgetting how you even got there in the first place. There is no destination now. Just two headlights, the occasional stray animal, and eternal blacktop.

Luckily the final 2-3 hours are like counseling. You recognize that you have done something to get yourself in this position, but at the same time you recognize that there may be light at the end of the tunnel. There is an end. And its happiness. And milk and cookies.

For me, it was a life's journey in 11 and a half hours. And I had a full car of 4. My buddy Diddy, however, made the trip with just one passenger. This can be a make or break point in the trip. But for Diddy, the co-pilot in the journey boils down to, "...three judgeable criterias. Sex, average hours of sleep needed to function, and the third and most important: motivation." And his logic here is stellar. Travelling with someone of the same sex allows for constant interesting conversation. If you're a guy, you don't have to worry about hearing thoughts on a new Barenaked Ladies CD, or make up. As a girl, you miss hearing about every sports figure in the Western hemisphere. According to Diddy, this is close to fact. Actually this is what he said. "It's not a proven fact, but if someone tried to prove it, then it would proven." And who could argue with that?

The moral of the story is, we made it. But it was rough. And now, after being up for 35 of the past 38 hours, it has taken its toll. Diddy just formulated a theory that Rocky IV is bad for America. If you're interested, it's based on Rocky not throwing in the towel when Drago was battering Apollo Creed - it made black people look bad because Creed ran his mouth, making white people look worse because Drago killed Creed and Rocky let it happen. This, obviously, is bad for America.

Ahhhh, vacation time.

All Over You, All Over Smee?

The Lindsay Lohan saga took a new turn this week when she was arrested for suspicion of driving under the influence, which was only slightly surprising considering she was voluntarily wearing an alcohol ankle monitor. Cry for help? No. Complete insanity? More likely. Oh, and Lohan also had coke in her pocket. Not a Tony Montana portion, but enough to make you wonder what type of service she received in rehab. She has single handily taken over the news – and for good reason – she was in a re-make of the Parent Trap originally starring Haley Mills (also known as Miss Bliss from the early years of Saved by The Bell). Oh and don’t forget the re-make of the Herbie the love-bug movie. Only Paris Hilton has gotten more attention for less talent.

Almost simultaneously, former media darling turned public break-downer Britney Spears allegedly cleaned dog poo with a loaned Chanel dress. And this was after she wiped grease from fried chicken on a separate dress, given to her for purposes of a photo shoot. Given her recent pink wig escapades, this would come in somewhere on the normal side of the spectrum. It was also reported that she was constantly fleeing to the bathroom, only to return with a red nose and different mood. Hmmm…colds are the worst aren’t they?

Around this time, NFL star Michael Vick was indicted on charges of operating a vicious dog-fighting ring. I hate to think about the full scope of this sickness, but I also have to believe that had his potential punishment been a fistfight with a pissed off grizzly bear, none of this would have happened. Alas, this was looked at so poorly that even Al Sharpton came out AGAINST him. You know it is a crime when Al Sharpton condemns you before the trial. Oh wait, yeah those Duke lacrosse players were innocent, huh? Hmmm.

Oh, and one day this week NBA commish David Stern woke up, stirred some Sanka, grabbed a knish (pronounced ka-nish) and sat down at the porcelain altar with the New York Times only to read about one of his referees fixing games in order to pay off Vito Corleone. My own prediction: David Stern is currently under doctor care for severe burns to his thighs caused by a Sanka spill during this episode.

Remember Bud Selig? The marble mouthed commissioner of Major League Baseball? He announced that he would make sure he is present for any game in which Barry Bonds has a chance to break the home run record currently held by Hank Aaron. This came as Bonds, along with Gary Sheffield, were accused again of being involved in the steroid ring that is gripping Major League Baseball.

Speaking of steroids, South African senior citizen and golf legend Gary Player chirped of multiple players on the PGA confiding in him that they use the performance enhancing drugs. A few things on this … 1) I was going to confide in Player about a few things, but I don’t want the press to know I own Anaconda on DVD. 2) Performance Enhancing Thugs = my new rap group. 3) Google image Brad Faxon. Steroids, huh?

Oh and another Tour De Farce, er France, rider was tossed from the bike journey race thing for “doping,” meaning obviously he had either partied recently with Lohan or Bonds, or possibly even Player. If only anyone cared.

Lost in all of this is that no politician has been smeared or buried by a scandal in the meantime. While we are busy condemning all the major sports and most of the major entertainment icons, we missed the usual suspects keeping their noses clean (honestly, no pun intended). Golf claps to them. But honestly take note of what the past week or two has brought us. I think I know what is going on … bear with me.

Santa Claus left a brick of coke in the chimney of Macaulay Culkin, who was on vacation with Jose “Chico” Lind and Dennis Hopper. Culkin returned to see the stash, and worriedly called Bam Morris and Lou Diamond Phillips. The three of them split the stash and went their separate ways. Phillips called Kevin Bacon, who he figured would be a good pusher due to his 6 degreeability. Bacon, through Todd Bridges (otherwise known as Willis from Diff’rent Strokes) planted a substantial amount of the white stuff in a pair of pants owned by Farrah Fawcet. Lindsay Lohan stayed at Fawcet’s house the night before her arrest.

Meanwhile, Bam Morris called Adam West for help pushing his stash. West thought he knew of a way to mask the trade of drugs through a sporting event. Enter former NBA center, and Adam West confidant Darryl Dawkins. Dawkins, through a previous one night relationship with Tanya Harding, knew a guy in Virginia that ran a lucrative dog fighting ring. Dawkins contacted local legend and current NFL star Michael Vick for help. Vick, owner of the sole descendant of the spawn of the original Lassie and Rin-tin-tin, offered his help. Rin-tin-tin and Lassie’s son Fred eventually won the title of toughest dog in Virginia, allowing Vick to take over the ring and push Morris’ portion of the cocaine.

Culkin was still not convinced this was a good idea, although Santa had never led him wrong in the past. The two had a long history, meeting on the set of Home Alone, and shortly thereafter having Claus takeover as Culkin’s legal guardian after Culkin divorced his parents. But how could he be sure? Culkin called his friend Paul Giamatti, famed actor and son of former MLB Commissioner Bart Giamatti. Through Giamatti’s contacts, Culkin was able to arrange a sit down between Bonds and Selig and contacted Sheffield to create a diversion so nobody would know. Sheffield then opined that Latin American players were easier to control than African Americans, and Selig and Bonds met in peace. The result of that meeting was that Selig would be present for Bonds’ home run moment, allowing the aforementioned Chico Lind to push Culkin’s portion of the coke at stadiums such as Pittsburgh’s PNC Park, where almost nobody goes, with less media scrutiny.

Through his connections in the newspaper, Rober Duvall was able to reprise his Tom Hagan role and plant a story of new accusations made towards Bonds and Sheffield, thereby releasing the coke hounds to sell Santa’s stash in peace. He was also able to convince Kevin Federline to mend fences with Britney Spears by making him an offer he couldn’t refuse (7 more minutes of fame), which allowed Spears to horde more media attention to her train-wreck life. While security forces and media were covering this mess … the pieces fell into place.

It’s not over.

Lance Armstrong, longtime friend of Santa Claus, was able to convince the Russian rider in the Tour de France to get caught doping so as to create a massive media diversion. David Stern, legitimately embroiled in a controversy with the mob, turned to friend and confidant Bob Hoskins for help around this time. Hoskins told Stern to have a press conference and to make sure all media and security were present. So at the cross roads this week we had Lindsay Lohan getting caught with cocaine, Britney Spears doing the atrocious interview and wiping poo and grease on dresses, Michael Vick getting caught in a dog fighting ring, Barry Bonds and Bud Selig news, another bicycle doper, and David Stern explaining why the mob had infiltrated the NBA. All were due to a special present from Santa Claus to Macaulay Culkin. And all of these stories have dominated the news over the past week. Why? Because the media would be so busy they would hardly notice the pirate who had replaced Dick Cheney as Vice President. Smee. That’s right. Bob Hoskins is behind all of this. He loved his character Smee in the 1991 classic Hook. He was hell bent on overthrowing Dustin Hoffman, and once this happened, his sights were set much higher. The world.

So don’t blame Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, David Stern, Michael Vick, Russia, Bud Selig or Barry Bonds. Blame Bob Hoskins and beware “Smee ‘08” signs.

Tuesday Tidbits – Monday Movie Madness Madonna Microphone Madagascar Mania

Alliterations can be fun, but like anything else, too much of it can make you see leprechauns dancing on your dashboard while Sam Donaldson makes a California Roll in your laundry room. So scale back on the alliterations for your own good. Unless you like Sam Donaldson a great deal. Because then, alliterations are perfect for you.

If you are currently wondering, “What brought that on?”, or “Who, exactly, is Ruslan Fedotenko?” then you know that I saw Transformers yesterday and cannot contain my excitement/bewilderment double feature of feelings. Never before have I run the full gauntlet of emotional attachment to a movie like I did with Transformers. At times, during the height of excitement, I found myself staring at the screen with my jaw unhinged, tongue dragging slightly to the left, gripping the arm rest. At other times, I found myself laughing hysterically. This would have been ok if there had been anyone else in the theater sharing in the hilarity.

We’ll get a few things out of the way quickly:

1) Megan Fox. Google Image. Go.
2) Shia LaBouf is good as someone with that name could possibly be. He plays the annoying teenager thrust into an extraordinary circumstance surprisingly well. I felt awkward on his behalf, disliked him, and rooted for him simultaneously. He did a good job. I still feel awkward for him that his name is Shia LaBouf.
3) Rachael Taylor. Not Megan Fox, but repeat the Google Image.
4) Josh Duhamel and Tyrese are perfect guardians of this country.
5) I could listen to a robot voice say anything and laugh every single time.

Visually, this movie is as spectacular as you can get. The Transformers themselves look unbelievable, the cinematography is innovative and Megan Fox plays a character named Mikaela Banes. AND she has knows how to hotwire a car. I honestly don’t remember any of the music, outside of the Transformer Bumblebee playing songs to communicate because his voice box was damaged (seriously, it was). This was due mostly to being completely ingrained in the movie, but also a testament to the sound people who put together various robot noises and explosions.

As for the story itself, I remain unsold on it. Actually, I take that back. The story was fine. Good even. It just wasn’t needed. This movie was most likely made to target two groups of people, both of them being of the male persuasion: 1) 18-30 year olds who had Transformers for toys when they were young and 2) 6-18 year olds who were too young to remember the toys, but like robots and action movies so action movies starring robots are perfect. Because of this, the fact that they made the movie at all satisfied the 18-30 group and the fact that an 18 wheeler is able to be driving down the road and randomly become a super powered robot and fight a similarly powered, but evil, F-22 Raptor satisfies the 6-18 year olds. I guess taking a random break in the action to have Megan Fox’s character tell Shia LaBouf’s character, “No matter what happens, I’m glad I got in the car that day,” the story satisfies the 7-30 year old female group that was inevitably dragged along to this movie, but I am going to suggest they just make a series of films called “Robot Fights” to continually satisfy the 6-30 year old male demographic. And I don’t want to give away the ending, but here is the final line, uttered by Optimus Prime himself:

With the Allspark gone, we cannot return life to our planet. And fate has yielded its reward, a new world to call home. We live among its people now, hiding in plain sight, but watching over them in secret... waiting, protecting. I have witnessed their capacity for courage and though we are worlds apart, like us, there's more to them than meets the eye. I am Optimus Prime and I send this message to any surviving Autobots taking refuge among the stars. We are here. We are waiting.

Really?

Speaking of, or like, Optimus Prime – his voice, coupled with the other transformers’ voices, were the single most awkward thing in the movie. Prime sounded a little bit like a metallic version of Tree Beard, the walking forest creature from Lord of the Rings. He had similar wisdom and compassion for all living things, except he had a cannon and a massive golden sword. Kudos to Peter Cullen for his portrayal of a robot. Awards to follow. Some of the other characters took on weird modern day twists – there was an African American transformer! At least we were led to believe this through his use of Ebonics, apparently learned on the internet. We’re making steps here. I like it. But I could not get over the voices and conversations that would be possibly through the robot dinners. Especially after it was revealed that the transformers were going to stay on earth.

So it is feasible that at some point Optimus Prime, in full robot voice, said, “Oh, yeah, Mikaela – if you and Sam aren’t busy why don’t you come by for dinner tomorrow. I got some fresh pasta from Whole Foods and I make a mean marinara. Also, I just picked up the new Smashing Pumpkins CD. Yeah, it’s not as good as Mellon Collie, but I like it. Corgan has pipes. He can really wail. I just wish Nirvana would get together and make something new. But I guess with Grohl in the Foo Fighters and sometimes Queens of the Stoneage, it probably won’t happen. But yeah, come by for a good hearty spaghetti dinner…it’ll be worth it.”

Likely? No. Possible? Definitely. So my overall impression of the movie: incredible. It is unquestionably the Independence Day type blockbuster of 2007. It has unparalleled robot fighting action, otherworldly (literally) special effects, and good re-watch powers. And yet it provides me with the unintentional comedy that will dominate my overall thoughts of the movie. “Sam, put the all spark in my chest.”

And by Sam, Optimus Prime meant Sam Donaldson, who is still in your laundry room. Better put a bowl of water in there in case he gets parched.

Tuesday Tidbits: Gabe Kaplan Edition

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrJrdBVx8XM

It’s been a while. You didn’t even know I was gone. It’s ok. But while you were sitting around being a putz, I was out making things happen. Yeah. Making big things happen. I walked the earth looking for an answer to life’s great question. I swam in the Yangtze. I climbed the MatterHorn. I lapped the bulls in Spain. I drank directly from Poland Springs (tasted like cabbage). I watched my buddy the Mick perform The Doors’ “Light My Fire” with BOTH hands on the mic while doing karaoke at the Beer Gardens in Niagara Falls, Canada. You know, all of the things you could only dream of doing while you ate Pop Tarts in your basement and listened to old Pat Benetar albums.

For the record, life’s question turned out to be multiple choice, and the answer is “c”.

But a lot changed while I toured the world. And I need to comment. For me. And for Nancy (vague Pete Yorn reference). So I am taking a break from my Star Wars like golf trip saga (just a short one) to focus on some recent developments that deserve to run the gauntlet through my sarcasm.

(Ahmad Rashad voice) Iiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnn Reewwwwiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnd.

Bucco Breakup

I’ll keep this relatively short, and I don’t want to make too big a deal out of this, but the Pirates and I have broken up. Finally. After 25 years, I couldn’t take any more of the complaining, the jealousy, the drafting of the 5th best pitcher available 4th overall. You know, the normal stuff that breaks up a relationship. And I’m happy to say, I’ve moved on. I have. And the Marlins don’t treat me nearly as bad. They have pride. They take care of themselves. And they have the right values. I don’t know if we’ll stay together, and I guess you never know, but honestly … it feels good.

Sportscenter Sob Sentral

So central was spelled wrong. I didn’t have time to breathe each letter into my hand as I typed like the spelling bee girl from a few years ago. But Sportscenter, and many ESPN shows for that matter, have been making watching sports hard for me over the past year or two. I don’t know when it started, but apparently ESPN finds it to be a good idea to take something inane and mindlessly entertaining (sports highlights) and turn it into a docu-drama that makes you become emotionally invested and leaves you sobbing like a 5 year old who got his hand stuck in the toaster of his sister’s miniature kitchen set in his parents basement while trying to remove one of his Starcom toys (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Starcom:_The_U.S._Space_Force) after an argument with his brother over where the pilots ship could dock.

I first noticed this a few years back while watching College Gameday by myself in my college apartment. A story came on about a player who had been paralyzed and was preparing to take his first steps in public while leading his team out of the tunnel for their first game of the year. Being the emotional train wreck that I am, I cried for 10 minutes. This continued during a trip to Detroit for the Super Bowl in January of 2006, only this time CBS was the culprit. Sitting with 10 friends in Detroit’s biggest bar (Hockeytown), watching the pre-game for the big game, having sipped “chardonnay” since approximately 6:30 a.m., 8 gallons of tear juice escaped during a story about retired football players. And I wasn’t the only one. But it is a disturbing trend. And Sportscenter, as they are known to do, completely beat this into the ground with a series called “My Wish”. Making men cry during their “Sports Time”, these segments focused on children who have faced adversity, and in some cases unthinkable odds, to overcome and realize a dream to connect with an athlete of their choice. It has gotten to the point where my buddy Aaron has deemed this year’s round to be a disappointment for not being “as moving” as years past. I disagree. And they are sometimes tough to watch. But it is the best TV you will see. Unless you watch Science of Love.


Joking.

Plaster of Paris

She is free. I’ll leave the rest of the coverage to Larry King. Speaking of Larry King, he has to be a little upset with his life. He is the hard hitting reporter who gets the top guests for CNN. In fact, tonight he has Colin Powell. Last night? Paris Hilton. That’s like asking Wolf Blitzer to sit down with Dakota Fanning. Quit now Larry. Or soon you’ll be doing the Kids Choice Awards on Nickelodeon with one of the metro sexual Lawrence brothers and humming a Fergie song while you read the Wall Street Journal. Seriously, think about a change.

Lake 1, Jahbanni 0

I have to admit, this one is not on me. A few weeks back while fishing a state park in a pontoon boat, my buddy Diddy was using one of my fishing rods. Fishing to a steep rock wall with overhanging trees, everyone in the boat at one point or another managed to get a line snagged in a tree. At one point, Diddy cast into a tree. The tree, not wanting to give the lure back, apparently decided to win one for the lake. A wicked tug-o-war ensued until Diddy gave in, let go of the rod and sent it like a Robin Hood arrow to the bottom of the lake. I didn’t catch any fish that day, and the lake caught one of my rods. Kharma.

For his troubles, Diddy fell out of a chair three times that day. A cold, dark day in fishing history. Somewhere the evil Bob Barker is riding a Segway with no pants, a gun holster, and a lucha libre mask, cackling hysterically while holding a fishing rod in his left hand.

Episode II: Start With Zero

Yup. 8 hours, approximately, from Pittsburgh to Pinehurst. Not counting the 20 minutes to Hoss’ house at 5:30 a.m. to start the trip. However, the 20 minute jaunt to Hoss turned out to be, possibly, the most important part of the entire journey. Edgar picked me up at 5:30 and then Diddy mere minutes later; clubs, bags, and ill-fated fishing rods in tow. The purr of an early 2k’s Ford Taurus engine cutting the thick morning air like a spoon through sausage, we made our way to the starting line of a Bagginsesque journey. And then, it was upon us. A more perfect omen could not exist if I was to write the script myself. The shrill beeping of a Sirius Satellite Radio alert, the contrast of a sky blue background and cobalt script “Alabama” scrolling across the screen. You know what’s coming next.

“Rollin’ down a backwoods, Tennessee by way. One aaaarrrmmmm on the wheel. Holdin’ my lover … with the other. A sweet soft southern thrill. Worked hard all week, got a little jingle. On a Tennessee Saturday night. Couldn’t feel better, I’m together … with my Dixieland Delight.”

Don’t think for a second that I’m stopping here.

“Spend my dollar, parked in a holler ‘neath the mountain moonlight. Hold her up tight … make a little lovin’, a little turtle dovin’ on a Mason-Dixon night. Fits my life, oh so right. My Dixieland Delight.”

I must reiterate how great this video is.

Honestly, any doubts about how this trip would turn out were erased approximately 17 minutes in. Awaiting us at Hoss’ house was a veritable M1 Abrams tank, or as Chevy likes to call it, a “Tahoe.” Black on black, big wheels and living room space, our chariot was quickly packed and rumbling along southward bound. Cracker Barrel checkers and rocking chairs ahead, Steel City behind.

Road trips are great for an infinite number of reasons, not the least of which is the ability to observe things along the way. For instance, in West Virginia almost every person we saw had a mullet and a moustache. Men and women alike. In North Carolina, there is a big road sign reading “Black Ankle Rd.” Interesting. Such as, “Come down the interstate until you get to the Tibia Extension, take the Ulnar Nerve exit and make a right on Black Ankle Road.”

“Fits my life … Oh so right.”

Road trips are also great times to learn new songs and then get tired of them in mere hours, especially with the advent of Satellite Radio. Akon’s “Don’t Matter” was catchy for the first 2 minutes, but after the 8th time hearing it I went blind. Brad Paisley’s “Ticks” is catchy and somewhat punny, an overall good song. However, when you hear it approximately every 31 minutes it is proven to cause heartburn. For the record, if you get tired of “Dixieland Delight,” scroll up and watch the video again. You will feel awkward and uncomfortable and yet satisfied to the point where its shelf life is extended by 100 years.

Another road trip pastime is the “Name Game”. For those of you with no name game experience, it is when you pick a category (such as entertainment industry and sports) and one person says a name. For purposes of this exercise, imagine the driver of the car says Rip Torn. The next person must then say a name starting with the first letter of the previous star’s last name. In this instance, the next player could mention Tracey Ullman or, say, Tom Cruise which could then lead the next person to … Candace Bergen. The following person, to throw a wrench in the entire process could then toss a double name, that is to say, one with the same letter for first and last name to reverse the flow of the game. This can turn into a 10 minute battle royale between two players as they toss “d” list celebrities back and forth. For instance Bobby Brown can lead to Benjamin Bratt to Barry Bonds to Brett Butler to Brianna Banks to Bert Blyleven to Bilbo Baggins to …you get the point. Regardless, the point is to keep tossing names around until one person in the car either repeats a name or can’t come up with one during the agreed upon shot clock. That person receives a strike. After three strikes, a player is out of the game. Last one standing wins.

I fully intend for this to sound boastful. I won. With ZERO strikes. It wasn’t even close. And it took almost 3 hours of driving. I would like to think Dill Pickle flavored sunflower seeds and various celebrities including, but not limited to Bruce Jenner, Frankie Faison, and of course, Candace Bergen for making me victorious.

Often, other amazing things happen on car trips. For instance, you can learn things that you thought you knew already, but in reality you had never thought to think about before. Hoss, Diddy, Edgar and I were discussing one of Diddy’s cousins who had moved to Texas a few years back. He was born while we were all in high school, so we were attempting to figure out how old he is now. This caused every single one of us to break out our counting fingers and start the digital calculations. Hoss was the first to chime in.

“Well, if he was born when we were sophomores he would have been one that year,” counting on his fingers, “two, three … ten. He is ten years old.”

Diddy countered with the following.

“No, no, no. You are ZERO when you’re born.”

Truer words have never been uttered.

“So in reality, you would have to count zero, one, two, three and so on. He is nine.”

Nobody said we were scholars. But we were in Pinehurst. In North Carolina. Only 12 hours from golfing. And in a palace of a condo. Duffer’s Cottage, as it was called by the trip planning agency people, is a four bedroom four and a half bath condo set amongst fir trees and an unknown body of water. The Sunday morning real estate showcase would sound like:

A lovely walkway and French doors welcome you to Duffer’s cottage in Pinehurst, North Carolina. Sleep comfortably in one of the queen beds in the master suite on the second level with master bath. Three guest bedrooms, each with two beds, will accommodate friends for a long weekend of fun in the sun with access to a murky lake with seemingly stagnant water. Enjoy your morning coffee on Duffer’s wrap around deck before slinking inside for a delectable breakfast in your full kitchen. Should the weather turn ugly, enjoy the galley style basement’s full shuffleboard table and dart board. Perfect location for the golfer or wildlife lover, you’ll want to be sure to check out Duffer’s Cottage in Pinehurst.

Seriously, it was amazing. We dropped anchor inside, leaving our bags just inside the door before running back out to grab the essentials. Beer and food should be easy to find, right? Apparently not in Pinehurst. For one, every road had six names. Suffering from the same disease as New Jersey, you could turn onto “4” and have it be the same road as SR-9781 or “Letterhead Road.” Secondly, we really had no clue where we were, so we had nothing to use as a landmark. And finally when we finally did find buildings that weren’t houses, or hice in my own personal plural, they were ALL hospitals. This was either the geriatric capital of America, or a hospital farm where all hospitals are created. Every mile, emergency. Turn left – hospital. Right – hospital. After 40 minutes of driving around, we found a grocery store and got our bounty. Back to Duffer’s.

And then … we waited.

Joust '07: The Beginnings

In the pantheon of Mancations, there is one trip to rule them all. And as the torch bearer for these manly trips, I submit the following.

The Cast – Bazz, Diddy, Edgar, Hoss, Bass, Dom C., Lang and Joe Siz
The Destination – Pinehurst, North Carolina
The Reason – To do battle on 2 of the top 10 golf courses in America, plus another one that while not in the top 10 is very nice nonetheless. Seriously, it is pretty nice. I promise.

In planning the trip, my buddy Diddy and I originally meant for this to be a small weekend golf trip. 72 holes over 72 hours. It was to be void of the usual temptations that seem to follow our annual Ryder Cup event (which ran for 3 years of high school, took a 4 year hiatus, and has now returned for the past 3 years). Basically, we wanted to avoid making this a drinking trip. We failed. Miserably. And it turned out to be the best thing possible.

We had decided on the destination pretty early. The number of people and format kind of came together after we sent out a massive e-mail stating the first 5 people to respond would be guaranteed a spot (as Diddy, Hoss, and I were already in). Thankfully, 5 legends stepped forward. Teams were drafted shortly thereafter. The Wolfpack, led by Diddy, and consisting of Joe Siz, Lang, and Edgar would take on Angelina’s Orphans, led by yours truly, and consisting of Dom C., Bass, and Hoss. A special thanks here needs to be paid to Tin Cup Golf in Pinehurst for assisting in planning the logistics of the trip which allowed us to play Tobacco Road, Tot Hill Farm, and The Carolina (twice) during the trip.

After the trip was in the books, we needed a name. This was to be the first in an annual golf pilgrimage to various spots throughout the world and we needed a name befitting of such an event. Diddy and I set to work on this and after a lengthy brainstorming session settled on Joust ’07: A Piece of Pinehurst. It was originally going to be named after The Alabama song Dixieland Delight, but not wanting to pigeon hole ourselves into a southern trip every year, we went generic. And it works. It does. As a side note, watch the Alabama video constantly and memorize the second verse. You know, the one starting with “White tail buck deer, munching on clover. Red tail hawk, sitting on a limb.” It is genius. And the video should win an award every year for the rest of existence in the “Best Example of Picking up A Woman and Spinning Around” category. Actually, pay special attention to the run that occurs towards the camera after one of the spin arounds. While I’m at it, I am nominating this video for best video of all time. Here’s why. Various bearded men picking leaving various jobs (including one at a lumber yard and one at what has to be a General Store) to pick up various women in different places in what is seemingly the same red 4-door pickup truck. There is an almost constant uncomfortable undercurrent to the video which features multiple scenes in which one of the bearded men runs awkwardly and a man in a 44 jersey who is a cross between Axl Rose and Tawny Kitaen. Plus, who hasn’t dreamt of sneaking up on a woman in white feeding chickens, almost tackling her, spinning around and then running? You are lying if you say you haven’t. Wow. That escalated quickly.

Sorry for the tangent. The weeks leading up to the trip helped to validate Microsoft Outlook and various other e-mail agents as viable forms of communication. We exchanged over 934571235 MB’s of poo talking and planning for a three day trip. Somewhere in the middle of the trash talk a plan was hatched by the Wolfpack to impose some mental intimidation on Angelina’s Orphans. Theories on whose idea it was range from the Germans to Steven Tyler. In the end, I believe it was someone on the Wolfpack. Regardless, a few weeks before our departure date of May 24th, Dom C called my cell phone with news of the idea from our adversaries. Apparently Joe Siz had a little too much truth serum one night, and volunteered an idea of putting pictures of Bass’ sister on the Wolfpack team golf ball. Joe is an accountant by trade and a body builder by night. Days of creatine and calculators apparently left him vulnerable and a few swigs of fire water loosened his lips long enough for Angelina’s Orphans to decode the plans like we were using an enigma machine. Springing to action, Bass organized the Orphans for a real Shock and Awe campaign against the Wolfpack. We were still over a week away from leaving.

It has been said that the time you spend waiting for a battle is the truest test of character. I don’t know who said that, but I’m sure someone did. If they didn’t, I’d like credit for it. Anyways, with this being the case, all of our characters are currently in question. But the week leading up to Joust ’07 really did feel like at least a half of an eternity. Clubs were cleaned, bags were packed, trash was talked, directions Mapquested. All that stood between the players of Joust ’07 and glory was …….. 8 hours of driving.

How to Fight Crime ... With Bears

I once saw Sister Helen Prejean, a Roman Catholic Nun, staunch opponent of the death penalty, and author of the book Dead Man Walking, speak at Duquesne University about the reasons we should be against the death penalty. I won’t get into the crux of those reasons here, but I will tell you that I left the presentation that night agreeing with her. I will give you slight insight into why I feel this way, so if you do not want to read my opinion, make yourself a sandwich and skip the next few sentences. And I will start by assuring you that it has very little to do with any moral stance against the killing of convicted criminals, however I recognize the possible hiccups in our justice system that may allow for the execution of the innocent. To me, however, the most ridiculous thing about the death penalty is the amount of taxpayer money spent through the appeals process and the execution. According to Sister Prejean's research, the United States spends an extra $1.6 billion annually to prosecute cases using capital punishment over prison sentences. In North Carolina alone, the average death penalty case costs an extra $2.16 million more than normal cases. Obviously most of that money comes from – SURPRISE! – us.

Ok, now that the groundwork has been laid, the foundation poured, and you are seconds from closing out of this page, let me tell you that I have come up with a perfect alternative to capital punishment AND prison. Bears.

Sound stupid? Maybe. Practical? Likely not. Perfect in every way? In a word – you bet. This is why it would work: bears are big and tough and can inflict amazing amounts of pain on humans. Could there be a better crime deterrent?

How it Would Work

As a deterrent against multiple offenders, a bear fight would be used only as punishment to repeat criminals whom jail had obviously little to no affect on. The judge would have the option of using two types of bears for the punishment: the grizzly bear (average weight between 250 and 600 pounds.) and the polar bear (average weight between 330 and 550 pounds for females and 725 and 1,500 pounds for males). Bear selection would depend on the severity of the crime and corresponding jail sentence attached to the specific case. For instance, for a former felon convicted of pre-meditated murder, the judge and jury could authorize a 5 round (5 minutes per round) fight against a 1,200 lb. polar bear.

The fights themselves would consist of rounds of a length to be determined by judge and jury. There would be no weapons available for the convicted party, but for crimes of a lesser nature (financial crimes, simple theft, etc.) where capital punishment would never be an option, the convicts would have the option of head-gear to protect from a direct shot to the head. The bears, dependant upon the crime, would not be able to use their teeth in all instances. Each fight would take place within the walls of a penitentiary and be overseen by highly trained law enforcement and national wildlife experts.


Why it Would Work

Part of the reason the justice system in this country doesn’t always work is because there is rarely a direct physical consequence related to the crime, save for the death penalty and we’ve already discussed why that makes no sense. Serving time in jail has now become cool (ask Paris Hilton) and only moderately scary (unless your Joe Francis). You get meals everyday, have time to work out, and in many cases don’t have to work. This is a lazy person’s dream. Having to fight a bear would likely shatter that dream. In addition, it would greatly reduce the cost of all court cases. While I have no idea how much it would cost to keep bears in good condition, I know it couldn’t be $1.6 billion annually.
- It would also keep the jail population to a minimum as it is a “catch and release” program – meaning if you survive the fight, you are free to go.
- There would be little to no harm done to the bears involved. Even the toughest and most skilled hand to hand fighters in this world could not injure a 1,000 lb. polar bear. They just couldn’t.
- The punishment would finally fit the crime. A repeat criminal convicted of murder would likely be killed, or so effectively maimed that they would be unable to commit additional crimes. For lighter crimes, the criminal would be allowed to wear pieces of protective equipment to protect them from death, but not pain. Rounds would be shortened or lessened to more closely fit the relative punishment incurred by jail time.
- It would truly be a “scared straight” situation. Children would see the obvious benefits to their health by staying away from crime and in turn, bear fights.

I know what you’re thinking. “Can we use bears to fight terrorism?” In a word? Most definitely. Should we catch Osama Bin-Laden, when he is inevitably convicted of crimes against humanity and the Bush family, he could be sentenced to a battle royal against 6 full sized polar bears in a steal cage with a latter.

Or he could be forced to run the Bearauntlet. It is a proven fact that grizzly bears love salmon. So for exceedingly criminal acts and inhuman convicts, a 1,000 foot long line of grizzly bears could be assembled for the criminal to run through holding a salmon in each hand. It is unlikely this person would commit that crime again.

In summation: Kill someone? Fight a bear. Caught spying for another country? Bear fight. Convicted of terrorism charges? Enjoy the polar bear ring. Steal an O’Henry? Female grizzly time. And to think, it only took just under 1,000 words for me to solve the problem of capital punishment. Bears are large.

Tuesday Tidbits - Edition Edition

- It has been a pretty low-key week in all reality. However, a few things did catch my eye enough for me to make a few comments. Starting now…. Go.

- I watched Wheel of Fortune last week, though I don’t remember what night. While this may not seem like news, what I saw on the show should be. The show was on site in San Diego, which coincidentally was discovered by the Germans. Regardless, towards the tail end of the show a young lady named Cari was in the process of doing bad things to the board. The category was “Scene” and Cari had gone about guessing every letter but one on the entire board. She had built up a nice little sum of cash, but was still behind the leader by a pretty wide margin. This is what was left on the board at the time: P I C T U R E S _ U E and then some other words that amounted to MOUNTAIN LAKE. Cari had the option of solving the puzzle or spinning again, and like any smart person she decided to….spin again. And truthfully this was not necessarily a bad choice. She had the opportunity to win additional money and close the gap between her and the lady in first place. So she spun and avoided the bankrupt pie piece, landing on an unimportant amount of money. Pat Sajak, host of Wheel of Fortune and likely pervert, gestured confidently to Cari to finish the puzzle and claim her few hundred dollars.

“H.” This is the letter Cari chose to complete the above word. This obviously completed the puzzle as a PICTURESHUE MOUNTAIN LAKE. Pat Sajak was awestruck. Seven people in the crowd threw up. One snorted the powdered sugar off a funnel cake and passed out. Cari, on the other hand, just stood there. She wasn’t joking. But she is a teacher. I gave you a lot of space there to let that sink in. She is in charge of edumacating our youth. And she couldn’t even spell PICTURESDUE! What a maroon!

- Pat Sajak has one of those names you just want to switch the important consonants around and say constantly. Sat Pajak. Kat Japak. Jat Pasak. And on and on you can go. But he’s still a pervert.

- The Bachelor continues to take cliché and bad TV to entirely new levels of horribility (not a word – yet). According to the announcer, next week Andy the Bachelor will make the “…toughest decision – EVER.” Really? Tougher than the decision to drop the bomb during WWII? Tougher than deciding whether to put a loved one in a nursing home? So you are telling me, TV Announcer Guy, that choosing someone to date on TV is tougher than choosing “H” instead of “Q” on Wheel of Fortune? You, sir, are a dullard. Fortunately for all of us, that was just a snippet of the awkward brilliance of this show. I can say this because:

- 1) At one point, the bachelor described his feelings for a female contestant as, “Electricity in my soul.”

- 2) Another contestant, Bevin, while auditioning to be the next Mrs. Bachelor, showed off her patriotism with what appeared to be a full scale replica bald-eagle tattoo on her lower back and some Asian writings on her shoulder, not to mention an ankle bracelet tattoo. That’s it. Just wanted to pass this along.

- 3) The bachelor compared a journey over a suspension bridge as a metaphor for a relationship.

- 4) The bachelor, a doctor and naval officer of obvious intelligence, borrowed a catch phrase from Paris Hilton to describe an ill-advised foray into native Hawaiian dance.

- 5) Chris Harrison, the “host” still has a job. Has there ever been a TV personality of less consequence than Chris Harrison? In fact, I’m guessing that he hasn’t been sober for an episode in three years. What does he really do? He gets 30 seconds of air-time every episode for the “final rose” ceremony and the Oscar worthy, “Ladies…say your goodbye’s,” line. The other 12 hours of filming probably consist of him in a sweat suit with a fifth of beefeater and a jar of olives. Honestly, I’m a little jealous. And if he’s not married, you know he chases the rejected women. And this makes him large sums of money. Wow.

- I am pretty much obsessed with Fantasy Baseball. I spend a great deal of time analyzing personnel moves, which I make entirely too often. Fantasy football already takes up a good portion of every fall and the other day I realized there is Fantasy Fishing as well. This will soon extend even further for the ironic and impossible Real Life Fantasy. You will be able to draft every day people and get points for their daily actions. There will be categories to allow you compete in different categories which will include individual members of families, and every discernable member of society. Be careful if you choose drug dealers or politicians – while they have the ability to rack up big points, their unpredictable ways can lead to big losses. Someone come up with the details and get back to me.

That’s it.

Tuesday Tidbits - Prison Edition

According to TMZ Paris Hilton has hired a new lawyer in a desperate attempt to keep her from going to jail on DUI charges. This is great for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it appears that we are getting closer to answering the question that has seemingly tormented the country for so long: Does Paris Hilton know how to make a prison shank?

It is unlikely that we will get to find out for sure, but that doesn’t have to stop us from wondering. It also doesn’t have to stop us from weighing her chances of survival against those of a former prison dweller; you guessed it, Frank Stallone. For the purposes of this comparison Frank Stallone will be Martha Stewart.

The categories will include issues that will have, or in the case of Martha had, effects on the probability of survival inside the slammer. We obviously know that Stewart survived her stay in the Maximum Security Lockdown (located squarely on some of the Hamptons’ finest acreage), so we will weigh her actual stay versus the possible slumber party for Paris. Let’s get to it.

Nature of Crime

There are certain crimes considered to be off limits even to hardened criminals. For instance, child sex offenders are generally not invited to other inmates Tupperware parties in jail. Most of them are at some point killed or at least severely beaten for their transgressions. Paris Hilton, thankfully, will not have to deal with this inconvenience. She will be in for a DUI conviction and for looking like a bird. The bird part could hurt her in the long run, but since her sentence would only be 45 days, she should be ok.

Stewart, on the other hand, was prosecuted by the Securities and Exchange Commission for securities fraud, which basically amounts to insider trading on Wall Street. Would the other inmates look at this as being British to their colonists? Or would they fear the devious ways of a home living mogul?

Edge: Hilton. By adding that after she was arrested, she put cherry bombs in the toilets of the prosecutors and their families, Paris could probably trump up the charges to her inmates a little more realistically than Stewart could. Plus, Paris looks like a bird and people who are locked up have a well known fear of birds. They just do.

Ability to Fit In

While the crime committed can immediately help you gain or lose respect in the pen, there is still room for latching on with prison gangs or making the right friends to keep you alive. Martha Stewart is like a chameleon. She is comfortable hanging out with P. Diddy or even trading stocks with insider information. Most people can’t do both. Martha can cook. Pies, cakes, pastas, crumpets, preserves, beef stroganoff – you name it. Inmates like food. And Martha doesn’t pull any punches. She will lay it all out there whether you like it or not. Especially if you mess up a recipe.

Paris, on the other hand, will not have a red carpet to stand on unless there is a stabbing. And not to beat a dead cardinal, but since inmates are scared of birds, Paris may have a harder time making friends.

Edge: Martha. Making cookies and baskets will warm the hearts and tummies of her inmates and her underhanded nature will endear her to their most evil qualities.

Fighting Ability

This is a tough one. While Paris is slender and seemingly completely helpless, she does carry a bedazzled cell-phone. And that means that she may have the ability to bedazzle her knuckles or elbows as well. This could cause serious damage in a fight. Think of a Paris Hilton bedazzled elbow as a piece of sand paper with shrapnel attached. Very painful.

Martha, on the other hand has the unmatched ability to create crafts out of ridiculous objects. Meaning her prison shank production would be virtually unparalleled in the slammer, save for MacGyver getting locked up. In addition, Martha has an innate meanness that Hilton’s clueless nature cannot match. This is becoming clearer by the second. In fact, we’ll just stop here.

Edge: Martha. As I pondered this, one fact stuck out. Say Martha and Paris got into it with each other in the prison yard. No shanks, no bedazzled elbows, just a drop the gloves and go fistfight. Do you really think that Paris would have the slightest chance in this? Martha has man-hands. Martha is street-smart. And Martha has man-hands. Think Mr. T vs. Dustin Diamond. Unless Paris harnesses her inner bird and pulls a Daniel-san like crane kick from the depths of her abilities, this is a one punch bout.

Wildcard

Throwing everything else out the window, this is where we question the overall will of the combatants to survive. It cannot be categorized. It cannot be reasonably broken down. But we’ll try anyway. As we’ve previously discussed, Paris is a bird. Birds have to survive in the wild. Paris would seemingly want to survive in the pen as well. Except that she is more like a house trained Parrott than an awe-inspiring Bald Eagle. She is used to a certain lifestyle that includes greasy men, expensive cars, and having no discernable talents other than super winner of the Parent-Lottery.

Stewart is a self-made chamillionaire. She has scratched and clawed for everything she got in life, save for the information that led to her arrest. Her ability to adapt to a situation and overcome adversity make this a complete runaway.

Edge: Martha. Re-read the previous paragraph if you are unconvinced.

What We Have Learned

Based on the categories above, Martha Stewart is more readily prepared to survive a prison stay than Paris Hilton. This is true in a sense because Stewart has already survived one. In the long run, however, I have no doubts that Paris will never set foot in a jail cell. And if she does, her bird-like aura will keep harm at arms length. Good luck Paris!

Tuesday Tidbits - Backiotomy Edition

No intro today. Well, except this little bit. We are getting right to it.


Yankees Sign Clemens, Pirates Consider Countermeasures
The New York Yankees shocked approximately zero people yesterday when they announced the signing of Roger Clemens for the remainder of the season. He will make $4.5 million a month to pitch for the minions of Steinbrenner and will undoubtedly be a major factor in the inevitable Yankee run towards the playoffs.

The Pittsburgh Pirates, in an apparent attempt to keep up with the Yankees, have announced the signing of Elroy Face to a pro-rated contract that will pay the 79 year-old star of yesteryear an average of $213 a month for the remainder of the season. Face went 7-5 in his last year with the Pirates in 1967 and will likely move directly into the bull-pen.

Dave Littlefield described the signing as, “…smart. The obvious move and fiscally responsible to boot.” He had been drinking.

I am Old
It is official. How do I know? Because on Saturday morning, I put my left arm straight up into the air and craned my head backwards to stretch. Why does this make me old? Because when I did this, former WWE great Bob Backlund put me into a cross face chicken wing while Shredder of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and X-Men’s Wolverine simultaneously attacked a small area between my left shoulder blade and neck. There was good reason for this strain, however. I had a very strenuous and physically taxing Friday consisting of picking up boulders and dragging dump trucks. And by picking up boulders and dragging dump trucks I mean fishing and golfing. Rough, I know.

Spending the rest of the weekend writhing in pain made me realize a few things.

1) Whoever came up with the name BenGay grossly underestimated the effect the product could have on the human race. It should be called BenAwesome or BenInsanelyGood. Calling it BenGay is insensitive and a little offensive.

2) The movie Flags of our Fathers takes a perfectly good, and visually appealing, WWII flick and in the last 15 minutes turns it into a father-son sob story. Thanks, Clint Eastwood. You were Dirty Harry, a song by the Gorillaz, and now you tried to make me cry. Uncool.

3) http://www.pfizerch.com/brand.aspx?id=261 Notice the right side of the screen which shows a human (camouflaged as a topographical map) being affected by pain, represented as a glowing yellow orb. So apparently the cure for my ailment is to remove a glowing yellow orb somewhere in between my shoulder blade and my neck. Good place to start. BenGreat has done it again.

4) I could very easily fit in among homeless people. At one point on Sunday, I reeked of BenPerfect, hadn’t showered in a day, had a small afro and a massive mustard stain on my thermal. Watch out overpass population, I’m ready!

I Wonder What the Germans Think Now
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFQJPeuU5H8&mode=related&search=

This is a special day for me. This is the first time I have ever witnessed David Hasselhoff drunk, laying on the floor, and eating a Wendy’s hamburger while filming a video of a Baldwinian fathering moment. By all accounts, this is actually pretty sad. However, I cannot get past the visual of a shirtless Hasselhoff strewn across a seemingly empty floor while attempting to devour the world’s messiest burger. Basically this is Alec Baldwin making his phone call while wearing a dress and eating a pizza with chopsticks.

Also, realize that Germany’s former favorite son was filmed by his daughter. This means she leaked the video and allowed it to be posted on YouTube. This means she is great. She took a few minutes of verbal abuse and turned it into hours of entertainment for everyone else. Thank you spawn of Hasselhoff. You may not lead a normal life, but you are a hero to us all.


More this week…

Tuesday Tidbits – Friday Edition. Fine, Maybe Not Tidbits. Penguins Recap?

- I have been, by my own admission, curiously quiet since the Penguins closed out their season with a Round 1 loss to Ottawa. Call it my mourning period; my time to grieve. However, this season was an obvious success and will pay huge dividends down the road when Sid the Kid meets Lord Stanley for the first time. I emphasize first time because with this core group of guys, I fully expect at least two and at most five Stanley Cups over the next 10-12 years. Lofty expectations? Yes. And that is why I will start the review with things we have to look forward to.

- The future is bright in Pittsburgh. Mostly because we are dealing with the game’s best player. Crosby is this generation’s superstar. And while this is a seemingly obvious statement, the skills he possesses are limitless. He is an amalgamation of Gretzky’s vision, Lemieux’s skill, Yzerman’s leadership, and Messier’s grit. He will win this year’s MVP and continue onward to establish himself as a Hall of Famer. The only thing that will keep him from becoming a threat to Gretzky is the massive increase in league-wide talent from the early 80’s to now. Players today are bigger, stronger, faster and better conditioned overall to excel throughout a season. The difference in skill levels between players is still there, but the effort gap has closed dramatically. I once saw an interview with Lemieux during which he referenced players smoking cigarettes between periods. Can you imagine that? Next thing you’ll tell me is that baseball players around here snorted lines during games. Whoops. This is not to say that Lemieux and Gretzky wouldn’t have been as good today as they were in their hey-days. They are and were transcending talents, and so is Sid. But the rest of the league is no longer filled with pushovers skating with 50 lb. weights attached to their ankles. Because of this, Sid’s numbers will likely not approach those of the Great One or Le’Magnifique. But he’s good. He’s real good (Ron Burgundy voice). And we will bear witness for years to come.

- And he is surrounded by a group of youngsters that will lift him to even greater heights. Jordan Staal will eventually redefine the way we think of two-way forwards. He is already the NHL’s foremost defensive forward at 18, and coming off a 29 goal season. Evgeni Malkin is the Jagr to Crosby’s Lemieux. He is a dynamic offensive force who probably possesses more offensive skill than Crosby himself. Witness his goal against the devils early in the year, or the show he put on in Boston later. Not many people combine his size, skating, stick-handling, and shooting abilities. Goalie Marc-Andre Fleury is still just 22 years-old and while he may never reach the level of his idol (Martin Brodeur), his athletic ability and a continuing dedication to the finer points of goal-tending will bring him into the conversation of league’s best goalies. Ryan Whitney is fulfilling his promise as an offensive defenseman extraordinaire. Look for his goals and assists to climb with each pinpoint breakout pass.

- Don’t be too quick to discount the importance of players like Colby Armstrong, Maxime Talbot, and Brooks Orpik to this team. They may not be the top flight talents their previously mentioned teammates are, but in the long run they will be the difference in this team’s overall ceiling. Witness the effects that Chris Neil, Dean McAmmond, Christoph Schubert, and Mike Fisher of Ottawa had on the series with the Penguins. Quick, gritty, and physical, these players won’t win any scoring titles, but come playoff time their rattling body checks and ferocious forechecks make a world of difference. The same will eventually be said for the likes of Armstrong, Talbot, Orpik and other Penguins youngsters with similar styles of play. The efforts will always be there and results will follow.

Season Grades

Centres:

Sydney Crosby – A+++++++: MVP. Not much more to say.

Evgeni Malkin – A-: Almost a lock for Rookie of the Year, but a playoff slip keeps him from the plus. In his defense, he played more games this year than ever before on the heels of his Cuban like defection from Russia while not speaking much English. Give him a break. In two years, he’ll put up 120. You’ve been warned. Plus, this just in from http://www.espn.com/ about how he chose number 71:

As explained on the Penguins' Web site: "When I started to play hockey, I had number 11. It was a prominent number for many, many years. When I got to Magnitogorsk, it turned out that the number was given to somebody else. So, I gave it some thought and decided to get a number close to 11 and that's how I came up with 71.”

Jordan Staal – A: Hockey’s Cy Young, Staal went for 29 and 14 this year. And he wasn’t supposed to make the team. PS, he was the Penguin’s best defensive player besides Fleury. PS jr. – He is from Thunder Bay, Ontario. This is easily the best hometown name to have. Well, besides Fire Skull, Wyoming.

Maxime Talbot – B: A great year from the Pens’ resident grinder. He had a great year on the penalty kill and some surprising offensive production, albeit in spurts. Career third liner and this is just fine with me.

Erik Christensen – C-: Put up 18 goals in 61 games as a 24 year-old. But with his shot and skill level, more can be expected here. Prone to slumps and hot streaks, he will be a contributor if he can level out his consistency. A member of the “K replaces the C Klub.”

Chris Thorburn – D+: Mostly played wing during the year, but provided good spark during early season enforcer role. Most of this grade is due to inactivity towards the end of the year, but a solid extra forward with a little skill and serious hustle.

Wingers:

Colby Armstrong – B-: Given his production from last year, Armstrong’s numbers slipped a bit. However, his impact this season was felt from the first game (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqmHhJXs7Q8), throughout the season (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2RMT5LrqaY), and into the playoffs (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2gTisKFrh4A). Hockey fans have to love this guy if he’s on their team. But we need more goals.

Ryan Malone – D: Slippage in numbers not in line with rest of team’s progression. Need more from him. Not sure of long term value to team. However, gets high marks for defending teammates and being good locker room guy.

Michelle Ouellet – C+: Much better year than was expected. Played more physical and skated better as year went on. Has a great shot, but lack of foot speed keeps him from being a great goal scorer.

Rondald Petrovicky – C: Was not asked to do much and complied. However, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYoPMAz03W4, speaks for itself.

Mark Recchi – C+: Good, not great year for the Recchin Ball. Started off hot, cooled off late. He is at the top of the hill, has he gone over?

Nils Ekman – D: Kept from D- by a good performance in his one playoff game. Provided exactly none of what the Pens expected when they signed him in the off-season. Another plus – his name is Nils. Not too many of these guys around, so we need to keep an eye on him.

Georges Laraque – F: This is the most disappointing grade to me. I was unbelievably excited about the prospects of Laraque roving the ice looking for heads to collect. Instead, he ran around the ice attempting to do avoid altercations and instead concentrating on puck control. I know it sounds strange, but we have guys to do that for him. Less passes, more punches. Please.

Gary Roberts – A+: Rumor yesterday was that the Pens and Roberts are negotiating a contract for next year. This would make me exceedingly happy so long as two things happen: 1) Only a one year contract and 2) We are guaranteed a playoff spot. Watching Gary Roberts in the playoffs should teach this team a few things. It taught me a lot, too. He is psychotic. In the best way possible. Goals and guts.

Jarko Ruutu – C-: I enjoyed his play at times, but for the most part, Ruutu did a bad job of most things and a good job of gaining entry to the penalty box. I see better things for him next year, including the adding of another “u” tuuu his name.

Needs: The Pens need another top flight scorer. Jarome Iginla would be great, but too expensive. Same can be said for Ryan Smyth. I honestly don’t know where this player will come from, but we need him. Hopefully a trade or a draft pick will net us that skilled winger to play with Crosby. We are all taken care of on the grit side of things. Plenty to go around there.


Defensemen:

Mark Eaton – B+: One of GM Ray Shero’s crown jewel signings, Eaton blocked a billion or so shots, played great positional defense and was accountable for his own zone. A great signing and an undervalued member of a playoff team.

Sergei Gonchar – A-: Back to normal, Gonchar put up great numbers for a defenseman. He is getting older, but was still very effective, especially on the power play. Could have used a bit more in the defensive zone, but a solid year nonetheless.

Josef Melichar – C: Not nearly as bad as everyone believed. Responsible if not skilled defenseman who SHOULD be a 7th defenseman, but played as well as he could this year. Also, phonetically friendly to those learning to read, Melichar spells his name as it sounds instead of using the confusing “p” and “h” combo.

Alain Nasreddine – B-: Little known fact: Nasreddine finished second in plus/minus for the Pens this year, checking in at a +12 in 44 games. Respected by teammates, Nasreddine’s nickname was NOT “Lady”.

Brooks Orpik – B: Orpik reestablished himself as the preeminent physically presence of the Penguins. Ask Donald Brashear. Orpik, played smart hockey in his own zone and will continue to progress as a Scott Stevens Lite type of player in the league. Orpik is also a very good skater and teamed wonderfully with Ryan Whitney to form an offensive/defensive threat from the blue-line. Plural of Brook.

Rob Scuderi – C+: Scuderi got the most out of what he had and played a solid brand of hockey for this year’s Penguins. He is a solid top 6 defenseman who’s best value is that when he’s playing well, you don’t notice him. I think.

Ryan Whitney – A+: The Pens’ best defenseman this past year, and most likely for years to come. At 24, Whitney is rounding into a player that may soon challenge for a Norris trophy. In fact a case could be made for him this year. While he was outscored by Sergei Gonchar (67 to 59), he was by far the more defensively responsible of the two (+9 to -5). A great player who will get better from here.

Needs: Another shooter and another physical presence. This could be taken care of in one player with Sheldon Souray an unrestricted free agent, but that could be a tough financial pill to swallow. Nashville’s Kimmo Timmonen is another possible addition. From within, Kristopher Letang should join the big boys next year after spending all but 2 games with the Wilkes-Barre-Scranton Baby Penguins. He is an offensive talent who needs to be more responsible in his own zone.
Goalies:

Marc-Andre Fleury – A-: Fleury showed flashes of brilliance in almost every game he played in. However, he showed flashes of un-brilliance a few times as well. A major positive from the playoffs, is that he did not bow in a high pressure situation. He was absolutely the Pens’ best defensive player all year long, starting with his opening night shut out of the Flyers. Vezina trophies to come. Also, claims to be 22, but may actually be closer to 13.

Jocelyn Thibault – C+: Didn’t do much for me, but had few solid games. Not likely to be here next year.

Needs: Depth, depth, and more depth. The Pens are lacking a viable goaltending option outside of Fleury. Thibault will be gone next year and addressing this through the draft and/or free agency is a must.

Coaching:

Michel Therrien – A+: Therrien had a great year. He transformed one of the league’s worst teams into one of its best in exactly one year. Granted he was aided by amazing play from a group of world-class youngsters, but this was no small feat. That’s it. That’s all I have to say about him. He was that good.

Tuesday Tidbits: Tuesday Edition

(Right) Alec Baldwin speaks to his son.

Fish out of Water – I’m no Skeet Reese http://proxy.espn.go.com/outdoors/bassmaster/media/angler?anglerId=12304

After the opening day shutout, fish have seemingly gained a gigantic mental edge on me. This should not be even remotely surprising, as I have the intelligence of a night-crawler. But after a Thursday afternoon fishing foray turned into yet another shutout, and I was 0-230 on casts and 0-2 on fishing in general. Peter Gammons estimated my OPS to be somewhere around -.923. Even Dave Littlefield wouldn’t offer me a contract. However, there I was Saturday back to the scene of the crime hoping that Candace Sturgeon could get off the schneid.

Three hours later, after my buddy Diddy was called a “trash-mouth” from across the lake, and well after his cousin (and one of my favorite people) Walde finished reading his Hills recap in UsWeekly, Candace Sturgeon hit her stride. I had a few bites early in the afternoon, and had seemingly hooked a trout while everyone was at the pavilion a few hundred yards away. However, the trout came out of the water about halfway to shore and lost the hook in the process. This put me in a weird situation. I had to explain this to Diddy and Walde, but after my lack of success and utter desperation to pull in something with fins, I was worried they would think I was telling fishing tales. Luckily, Candace and I teamed up for a sun-fish. Then, we went on a torrid streak during which we had bites every other cast and pulled in three mid to small sized bass. Vindicated? Sure. Satisfied? No. I want to catch a blue whale in a stream. Then, I will be satisfied. Maybe.

Alec Baldwin Accused of Stabbing Daughter With Verbal Dagger

I mean are you serious? Calling your child a pig? Nothing solidifies your public perception better than verbally abusing your kid on voicemail. Kim Basinger may be the female Satan, but Baldwin dipped to a new low while threatening Ireland – daughter, not country – to fly to New York just to straighten her out. Now that I think about it though, I am of the belief that this was actually a veiled threat to the country of Ireland as well. It all makes sense. Follow me here.

Baldwin brothers are notorious for being Hollywood tough guys. And even though this is similar to being a short tall guy, I am sure that Baldwin has been in his fair share of scraps (with various butlers, maids, and other servants). It is also widely known that the Baldwins very much dislike people with red hair. So Baldwin, using tremendous foresight, named his daughter Ireland so that later in life when he publicly lambasted and threatened her, he could simultaneously challenge red haired Irish people to a fight and thus prove his pugilistic prowess (alliteration tangent, sorry). Just a theory.

Also, while we’re on it, Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin really did Alec a disservice by not adding a “k” and “s” to his name. Either that or drop the “c” and add an “x”. Alec? Seriously? Short for Alecander apparently, which when you say it feels like you have a severe impediment of some sort. In fact, blink really hard when you get to the “c” part of Alecander. See?


The Bachelor is Dumb: That’s it. He is Dumb.

So I watched the Bachelor last night and while you make fun of me I will be quiet. But after hearing about what an all American man this guy apparently was, I decided to watch it. Plus, I have put my girlfriend through enough hockey and basketball to last a lifetime, so I figured I could compromise. Anyways, what I saw surprised me more than coming home to find Michael J. Fox in my bathtub making a Caesar salad using a catcher’s mitt for a bowl. Every single person on that show had completely thrown in the towel on all sincerity. Sarcasm, look it up. This was a very weak showing by everyone involved. The girls were spreading blatantly untrue and inconsequential rumors. Tears flowed more frequently than Jason Wahler appears on TMZ.com (PS, check out J-Wahl playing Russian Roulette – STUNNING http://www.tmz.com/2007/04/23/wahler-plays-russian-roulette/ ). One girl cried BEFORE she went on the date with the Bachelor. A premonition or a terrible ploy for publicity? Both.

Maybe the worst part of the show, aside from the entire thing, was the Bachelor himself. The show is subtitled An Officer and a Gentleman or something like that. This guy drives a $500 k Lamborghini, is a doctor, a naval officer, an aspiring astronaut, a televangelist, a bear, a catfish noodler, a tax attorney, and an interior decorator for ant farms. Oh, and he does decathlons just to rub it in the face of every guy working a mid level job and driving a Scion and eating Wendy’s for lunch.

But every man should feel vindicated so long as he never used the following line uttered by the bachelor to a woman he had met (for a TV show) only days or weeks before: “You are my sanctuary.” Yup. He said it. At what point do you completely lose your mind and start saying things that don’t even make sense? And don’t tell me I’m insensitive and he was being sweet. I express my feelings better than Lance Bass, and my girlfriend will attest to that, but what this guy said doesn’t even make sense! “You are my sanctuary.” Grow up. I was half amazed he didn’t tell another one of the women that she was his telephone or bike rack for his car. You are my imitation marble counter. My keychain. My box of Franzia chardonnay. My paid attendance. All of these things. And yet other times, you could tell he wasn’t even being remotely sincere. He lobbed compliments with a smirk on his face that came off as, “Maybe if I compliment you, you will forget that we are on TV and stay in my room tonight for casual sex.”

At another point, as another woman poured her “heart” out to him, he exclaimed, “My heart is open. And you are one of the reasons!” Good thing he is a doctor and can probably close that. Pretty dangerous, those open hearts. The thing that worries me is that there may be women out there who are questioning why their man doesn’t say things like that to them. Or worse yet women whose men ARE saying these things. These men should remember that you don’t have to give your masculinity away to get a girl. And these women should remember that men who speak like this only want one thing: a TV show.