The King - Burger, that is...
I don't eat at Burger King.
Actually, I don't eat anything where the word "king" is involved. Chicken Ala King? Forget it. King Crab? Nope. The way I look at, we overthrew the king two hundred plus years ago.
With that in mind, anybody see those new Burger King commercials? You know, the ones with the freaked-out looking guy in the king outfit, complete with tights, and a "king" mask that looks like it came straight out of a horror film? Man, that guy freaks me out. Note to Burger King: Since when did B-grade horror movie costumes sell Whoppers? Get that freak off the screen.
Although, the King does make a good NFL Safety.
Hey BK...change your name to "Burger President" and I am so there.
The NHL is back!
I am pretty happy that the NHL is back. Sure, I was pisssed off last year. I mean, come on now. They cancelled an entire season. I watched the Opening Night of the season the other night with the glee of a 7-year old opening up a pack of Pokemon cards. Yep, I missed hockey. I sped through all the games being shown on the NHL Center Ice packages (which was all the games) with all the professionalism of a man who knows his way around the TV remote. I like the new rules. The game flowed well, allowing for open skating without all the clutching, grabbing and hooking of the past. I really think this will work.
GO WINGS!
Buddy Culver is still rockin'!
I am still doing my indie music podcast, "The Buddy Culver Show", located here -- http://www.buddyculver.com I can't believe I've put out 22 podcasts since March. For those of you still not familiar with podcasts, they are a radio-style show, pre-recorded, that you can listen to online via your PC or by subscribing to it and listening to it on an iPod or mp3 player. The listnership has grown steadily since I started and I am completely amazed at the loyalty of the listeners. It just goes to prove that their is a market out there for independent bands and artists that record companies and commercial radio just don't take seriously.
Are you in a band or know someone who is that puts out original music? Send them to http://www.buddyculvercom and have 'em contact me.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
D-Day from a first-hand account
On his 21st birthday, he found himself in England. It was a long way from his home in the 31st Street block in Detroit.
He had been drafted into the army and was trained as a radio operator -- a very important job for a soldier during the war.
The U.S.S Shawnee transported him to England, where he continued to train and raise hell in a few English pubs.
On June 6th, 1944, a troop transport stopped in just less than 6 feet of water off the coast of Omaha Beach in Normandy, France. At 9:00AM the call to disembark the transport came down. He left the transport and headed into the cold water off the French coast.
As he waded toward the shore, big guns went off everywhere. Machine gun fire too. As he looked down, the water was red with the blood of bodies that had fallen before they ever reached he shore.
He could see the cliffs beyond the beach. These cliffs were being blasted apart in order to get a toehold on the beach and provide a spot to get to the top. The German army fired at will.
On the beach, gunfire was everywhere. Hiding behind the bodies of fallen comrades was a common sight for hours.
Incredibly, the U.S. Army was able to push the German Army back and get up the cliffs of Normandy.
He had survived the Beach.
A few days later, a fellow soldier was cleaning a Thompson sub-machine gun with a soiled rag that led to oil-covered hands as the weapon was being cleaned. The fellow soldier dropped the gun. It went off. A bullet went through his canteen and came out the other side. He was lucky. However, that fellow soldier lost four teeth while it took another four soldiers to pull him off the careless fool.
The Battle of the Bulge followed. German tanks everywhere. Another victory.
While in the German countryside, he and his comrades discussed how tired they were of C-rations. They moved a German couple off their farm for a few hours, telling them they were looking for hiding paratroopers. Really, all they wanted was a piglet from the farm. They roasted that piglet on a homemade spit for hours. He said it tasted incredible.
Later, he moved forward into Germany and the chance meeting with a Polish fellow named Kosinski who had relatives back in Detroit. It was a good thing he spoke fluent Polish, learned from his immigrant parents, so that he could understand Mr. Kosinski. He sent letters back to Detroit for the man.
There are many more stories. His family has heard them countless times and sometimes they just shake their head. However, these stories are priceless heirlooms of American History.
Soldier...Thank you for your contributions to the cause of American freedom during World War II.
Thank you for surviving that beach 61 years ago.
Thank you Frank Kendra.
--Your son in law, Darren
He had been drafted into the army and was trained as a radio operator -- a very important job for a soldier during the war.
The U.S.S Shawnee transported him to England, where he continued to train and raise hell in a few English pubs.
On June 6th, 1944, a troop transport stopped in just less than 6 feet of water off the coast of Omaha Beach in Normandy, France. At 9:00AM the call to disembark the transport came down. He left the transport and headed into the cold water off the French coast.
As he waded toward the shore, big guns went off everywhere. Machine gun fire too. As he looked down, the water was red with the blood of bodies that had fallen before they ever reached he shore.
He could see the cliffs beyond the beach. These cliffs were being blasted apart in order to get a toehold on the beach and provide a spot to get to the top. The German army fired at will.
On the beach, gunfire was everywhere. Hiding behind the bodies of fallen comrades was a common sight for hours.
Incredibly, the U.S. Army was able to push the German Army back and get up the cliffs of Normandy.
He had survived the Beach.
A few days later, a fellow soldier was cleaning a Thompson sub-machine gun with a soiled rag that led to oil-covered hands as the weapon was being cleaned. The fellow soldier dropped the gun. It went off. A bullet went through his canteen and came out the other side. He was lucky. However, that fellow soldier lost four teeth while it took another four soldiers to pull him off the careless fool.
The Battle of the Bulge followed. German tanks everywhere. Another victory.
While in the German countryside, he and his comrades discussed how tired they were of C-rations. They moved a German couple off their farm for a few hours, telling them they were looking for hiding paratroopers. Really, all they wanted was a piglet from the farm. They roasted that piglet on a homemade spit for hours. He said it tasted incredible.
Later, he moved forward into Germany and the chance meeting with a Polish fellow named Kosinski who had relatives back in Detroit. It was a good thing he spoke fluent Polish, learned from his immigrant parents, so that he could understand Mr. Kosinski. He sent letters back to Detroit for the man.
There are many more stories. His family has heard them countless times and sometimes they just shake their head. However, these stories are priceless heirlooms of American History.
Soldier...Thank you for your contributions to the cause of American freedom during World War II.
Thank you for surviving that beach 61 years ago.
Thank you Frank Kendra.
--Your son in law, Darren
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Radiocraft, Paula Abdul, The Bush Pilots, Latest Buddy Culver Show
Radiocraft "Red"
No ranting on this topic. No sir, praise only.
I know we aren't even mid-way through 2005, but I have to say my music "Release of the Year" so far has to be "Red" from the Detroit band Radiocraft. This Motown quintet is made up of Kevin Breslin, Suzie Ferro, Ronnie and Danny Alcini and Ken Williams.
This CD is a mix of straightforward rock with twinges of alt-country thrown in. Think of it as the rockin' version of John Mellencamp from back in the day mixed with the vocals of Melissa Etheridge, the lyrical inspiration of Bob Seger and Bruce Springsteen all brought up to date. Its refreshingly nice to hear rock without it needing some angst, makeup, costume or theme behind it.
Got that? Well you should.
Here's their web site: http://www.radiocraftmusic.com
Go visit it. Better yet. Buy the CD. Get it here: http://www.radiocraftmusic.com/pages/stuff.html
Paula Abdul
So the washed-up 80's, L.A. Laker cheerleader choreographer, turned washed up "American Idol" judge was outed for banging a contestant 18 years her junior and helping him out. This just goes to show how shitty "reality" TV really is. What is the American fasination with reality televsion.
I'm tellin' ya Paula, "Straight up, will you really love Corey forever, oh oh oh..."
Sing that -- beotch.
The Bush Pilots
Yes Detroit's "favorite" softball team is back in action for the Summer of 2005!
Check out our weekly exploits via our weekly online recap we like to call "This Week in Softball".
We were bitch-slapped in Game 1, 12-4, by our arch-rivals from Howell's bar. I am thinking the over-under on wins this season is going to be 4.
It could be a long season, but we'll drink beer in the parking lot with the best of 'em.
The latest Buddy Culver Show
Check out some great bands on the May 2nd (2005) version of The Buddy Culver Show (Podcast #10). Andrea Jackman, The Hard Lessons and The Chesterfield Bridge.
Excellent music from all!
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Bell's Oberon...ah, spring has arrived, GO MSU! and The Buddy Culver Show is rockin'!!!
Oberon
I cannot believe how freakin' long this winter has been. It started right around Thanksgiving and has been cold as shit until today. I think we went over the 60 degree mark for the first time since early November '04. Shut up people in Florida. F-off too. I don't care if its warm there all year around. Get bent.
Anyhow, a sure sign that spring has arrived in Michigan hit the store shelves today. Bell's (Kalamazoo Brewing Company) released their Spring/Summer seasonal beer, Oberon, today. Yes, like a good beer soldier I marched right down to the store and picked up a case of this beauty of a beer.
Is it a complex beer?
No.
It is "heavy"?
No.
What it is...is a a summer wheat beer with a light taste of citrus. Its been a staple of Michigan summers for nearly twenty years since Larry Bell opened the brewery in Kalamazoo and whose popularity spread far and wide due to the good students of Western Michigan University.
Ah, Oberon.
I dig ya.
Many of these will be consumed in the next 4-5 months.
GO MSU!
As a certified, degree-holder from The University of Michigan, it pains me greatly to see our rivals, the Spartans of Michigan State University doing so well in the NCAA hoop's tournament. However, it has come to my attention that if MSU beats North Carolina and gets to the finals against Louisville, then I win 200 bones. Or, if MSU beats UNC and beats Illinois in the final, I'd win.
All of a sudden, I like the little green bastards.
GO STATE!
GO MSU!
GO 200 bones! Notice, I said "bones" not dollars. That would be illegal you know. ;-)
Hey all -- Podcast #6 of The Buddy Culver Show is online!
This podcasting thing is such a grin. I play D.J. in the basement of my crib. I've been exposed to a good number of new bands and have been playing cuts from indie bands from Detroit's past as well. Over 1000 people downloaded "The Buddy Culver Show" in the month of March. Not bad! I am so impressed with the indie music talent out there. Fantastic stuff. Click here to hear Buddy Culver.
I cannot believe how freakin' long this winter has been. It started right around Thanksgiving and has been cold as shit until today. I think we went over the 60 degree mark for the first time since early November '04. Shut up people in Florida. F-off too. I don't care if its warm there all year around. Get bent.
Anyhow, a sure sign that spring has arrived in Michigan hit the store shelves today. Bell's (Kalamazoo Brewing Company) released their Spring/Summer seasonal beer, Oberon, today. Yes, like a good beer soldier I marched right down to the store and picked up a case of this beauty of a beer.
Is it a complex beer?
No.
It is "heavy"?
No.
What it is...is a a summer wheat beer with a light taste of citrus. Its been a staple of Michigan summers for nearly twenty years since Larry Bell opened the brewery in Kalamazoo and whose popularity spread far and wide due to the good students of Western Michigan University.
Ah, Oberon.
I dig ya.
Many of these will be consumed in the next 4-5 months.
GO MSU!
As a certified, degree-holder from The University of Michigan, it pains me greatly to see our rivals, the Spartans of Michigan State University doing so well in the NCAA hoop's tournament. However, it has come to my attention that if MSU beats North Carolina and gets to the finals against Louisville, then I win 200 bones. Or, if MSU beats UNC and beats Illinois in the final, I'd win.
All of a sudden, I like the little green bastards.
GO STATE!
GO MSU!
GO 200 bones! Notice, I said "bones" not dollars. That would be illegal you know. ;-)
Hey all -- Podcast #6 of The Buddy Culver Show is online!
This podcasting thing is such a grin. I play D.J. in the basement of my crib. I've been exposed to a good number of new bands and have been playing cuts from indie bands from Detroit's past as well. Over 1000 people downloaded "The Buddy Culver Show" in the month of March. Not bad! I am so impressed with the indie music talent out there. Fantastic stuff. Click here to hear Buddy Culver.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
The Buddy Culver Show #1 (Or how I started to Podcast)
Click on XML link for subscribed feeds to the Buddy Culver show...have the show delivered to your iPod!!!
The Buddy Culver Show #1 (click on PODCAST icon on left to download)(17:56) Introduction, music, the NHL, NASCAR, MLB and some tunes by the group Havilland (The "other" D. Proctor and his band. Current Motown rock, always with a good story to tell, and some Detroit 80s with Second Order Thinking!)
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Podcasting.
What a strange term - podcasting.
It sounds like something from that crazy movie, "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". Remember that one? You know, the flick where the alien pods from outer space take over everyone's bodies and people are re-birthed from these pods. Too cool.
Anyhow, back to the term podcasting. What is a podcast you ask?
Well, a podcast is an audio blog that uses mp3's. Much like this is a web log that uses HTML to show off a message. Think of it as the last bastion of renegade broadcasting. Essentially you record yourself, music, etc. onto an mp3 file, post it on the 'net, give the necessary RSS/XML coding so the iPodders can download it and way you go.
I will be joining the ranks of the podcasters soon. Yes, look for The Buddy Culver Show to debut on the web very soon. Buddy Culver? Who is he? Well, its me of course. You know the old routine of "Pick your porn name" where you if you are a guy you take the name of your first male pet (female pet for the ladies) and combine it with the street name where you grew up. In my case -- Buddy Culver. A legend is born.
I have registered www.buddyculver.com which will be the online home for the Podcast. Look for a show every couple of weeks with my thoughts, many of which have appeared in written form here, along with music from independent artists and b.s. about sports, cigars, beer and politics. Its all good. I used to D.J. at the college radio station a long time ago and have d.j.-ed parties and crap for years. I guess its the "Radio Host" in me that has to come out.
If you or anyone you know are an indie music group or solo artist, send me some tunes! I'd love to play em. Send 'em to me: dogrockets@rocketmail.com
Rock on. And remember, Humpty Dumpty was pushed.
-Buddy, March 1, 2005
Friday, February 04, 2005
The Super Bowl in Detroit. Hey Media, It will be effin' cold, got that?
Ah, we are just a year away from hosting the Super Bowl here in Motown.
In all honesty, I think its pretty cool. The Super Bowl is a world-event now, being watched all over the planet and it truly showcases the host city.
With that said, the City of Detroit doesn't stand a chance.
We here in Motown are just going to have to face up to it.
Those of us fortunate to live in Southeastern Michigan have a f-in chip on our shoulder. A big chip.
Why?
Well for a half century we've been told what an arm pit, rundown, piece of shit our city is.
Well, you know what?
It is.
We firmly admit it.
But its OUR PIECE OF SHIT. If anyone wants to freakin' pile on it, it damn well should be us and not some namby pamby, cafe' latte sippin', pussy reporter from LA who will fly in here for one week next year and bitch about the 22 degree weather.
Note to the National and World media: When did the Super Bowl become about you? When did it become your mini vacation where you report on how much you like the local Hooters and if the strip clubs are first rate or not? Isn't it about the football game? Of course its not. Its about whether the dude from the Dallas Morning News, New York Post or ESPN has a hotel room close to the stadium where they can get hammered for a week, get a lap dance and report on the weather. Yep its all about the media and their Super Bowl vacation reports.
Media, here's .another note: Its cold in Detroit in early February. Sometimes it gets so cold your nose hairs freeze when you breath outside. I can't wait to hear you bitch about that. I hope it snows like hell and then the temp plummets to 2 below. We're used to it, but it'll be great to see some slappy from California standing in some ridiculous parka reporting on it.
Sure, we'll throw the "Motown Winter Blast", a giant block party to cover up for the fact that we're not New Orleans or Miami and maybe even some of you will use the snow slide or watch the sled dogs (sled dogs are native to Detroit you know). We'll even throw parties and other diversions from the weather to shut your asses up, but we know it won't work.
Media, one more thing. Kiss my ass now. I don't want to have to waste my time bitching about you a year from now.
Wouldn't it be fitting if the perennial losing Lions made the Super Bowl in their home city? It won't happen. But it might be the only thing to keep them from bashing Detroit and the weather.
As for the strip clubs? Don't stay in Detroit. Go over the bridge or tunnel to Windsor and see the real ballet. You probably won't bitch about that.
My prediction for the upcoming Super Bowl....Patriots 27 Eagles 24.
In all honesty, I think its pretty cool. The Super Bowl is a world-event now, being watched all over the planet and it truly showcases the host city.
With that said, the City of Detroit doesn't stand a chance.
We here in Motown are just going to have to face up to it.
Those of us fortunate to live in Southeastern Michigan have a f-in chip on our shoulder. A big chip.
Why?
Well for a half century we've been told what an arm pit, rundown, piece of shit our city is.
Well, you know what?
It is.
We firmly admit it.
But its OUR PIECE OF SHIT. If anyone wants to freakin' pile on it, it damn well should be us and not some namby pamby, cafe' latte sippin', pussy reporter from LA who will fly in here for one week next year and bitch about the 22 degree weather.
Note to the National and World media: When did the Super Bowl become about you? When did it become your mini vacation where you report on how much you like the local Hooters and if the strip clubs are first rate or not? Isn't it about the football game? Of course its not. Its about whether the dude from the Dallas Morning News, New York Post or ESPN has a hotel room close to the stadium where they can get hammered for a week, get a lap dance and report on the weather. Yep its all about the media and their Super Bowl vacation reports.
Media, here's .another note: Its cold in Detroit in early February. Sometimes it gets so cold your nose hairs freeze when you breath outside. I can't wait to hear you bitch about that. I hope it snows like hell and then the temp plummets to 2 below. We're used to it, but it'll be great to see some slappy from California standing in some ridiculous parka reporting on it.
Sure, we'll throw the "Motown Winter Blast", a giant block party to cover up for the fact that we're not New Orleans or Miami and maybe even some of you will use the snow slide or watch the sled dogs (sled dogs are native to Detroit you know). We'll even throw parties and other diversions from the weather to shut your asses up, but we know it won't work.
Media, one more thing. Kiss my ass now. I don't want to have to waste my time bitching about you a year from now.
Wouldn't it be fitting if the perennial losing Lions made the Super Bowl in their home city? It won't happen. But it might be the only thing to keep them from bashing Detroit and the weather.
As for the strip clubs? Don't stay in Detroit. Go over the bridge or tunnel to Windsor and see the real ballet. You probably won't bitch about that.
My prediction for the upcoming Super Bowl....Patriots 27 Eagles 24.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
I need more cowbell! (and one crappy ass job)
I'm Bruce Dickinson. Yes, THE Bruce Dickinson. The song is great, but it could use more cowbell. Guess what... I got a fever. And the only prescription, is more cowbell!
For those not in the know, those words were uttered by Christopher Walken while he was hosting Saturday Night Live one of his many times. The sketch revolved around the 70s rock band, Blue Oyster Cult, who were probably best known for their song "(Don't Fear) The Reaper". Walken played the part of the band's producer for that song. If you haven't seen the sketch, click here. I crack up every time I see it.
To be honest, I think music today could use some more cowbell. Ever listen to that ugly skank chick, Ashlee Simpson? I'd rather be subjected to an hour of straight cowbell than listen to that nastiness.
How about anything new by Ozzy Osbourne? Word is he is going to re-record Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven". Clapton's version was good. Me? Give me the cowbell before I listen to Ozzy warble his shit.
From now on, everytime you hear a crappy-ass song, think of it with some cowbell added. You know it'll put a grin on your face. That, and you'll realize you really need to change the station.
For some reason, I can't get the Bus Boys 1980 classic, "Did You See Me?" out of my head. "...spend all day, shinin' shoes....when I got home, I wanted somethin' to do..." Classic song. It needs no cowbell.
What a shitty job.
I am talking about the latest trend of local pizza joints to take their worst employee and outfit them in a sandwich board, costume or stupid shirt/hat combo of some sort, hawking their pizza for $5.
These morons are everywhere.
It seems like every pizza place you drive by, you see some poor asshole standing their with a sign he/she has to hold up advertising a cheap pizza. Its like being a pizza whore. Hell, its even more degrading than being a real whore. At least a real one gets paid more than minimum wage and doesn't have to hold up a sign to passers by.
What a degrading job. I'd rather shovel horse shit and put it in a bucket than stand out with the pizza for sale sign.
Pizza does sound good though. Ham, mushroom and onions. I wonder if that $5 piece of crap pie costs more with more than pepperoni on it. Damn Mike Illitch. Little Caesars used to be the best pizza in town. Now, its nothing more than fast food crap.
I'd think I need more cowbell now.
For those not in the know, those words were uttered by Christopher Walken while he was hosting Saturday Night Live one of his many times. The sketch revolved around the 70s rock band, Blue Oyster Cult, who were probably best known for their song "(Don't Fear) The Reaper". Walken played the part of the band's producer for that song. If you haven't seen the sketch, click here. I crack up every time I see it.
To be honest, I think music today could use some more cowbell. Ever listen to that ugly skank chick, Ashlee Simpson? I'd rather be subjected to an hour of straight cowbell than listen to that nastiness.
How about anything new by Ozzy Osbourne? Word is he is going to re-record Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven". Clapton's version was good. Me? Give me the cowbell before I listen to Ozzy warble his shit.
From now on, everytime you hear a crappy-ass song, think of it with some cowbell added. You know it'll put a grin on your face. That, and you'll realize you really need to change the station.
For some reason, I can't get the Bus Boys 1980 classic, "Did You See Me?" out of my head. "...spend all day, shinin' shoes....when I got home, I wanted somethin' to do..." Classic song. It needs no cowbell.
What a shitty job.
I am talking about the latest trend of local pizza joints to take their worst employee and outfit them in a sandwich board, costume or stupid shirt/hat combo of some sort, hawking their pizza for $5.
These morons are everywhere.
It seems like every pizza place you drive by, you see some poor asshole standing their with a sign he/she has to hold up advertising a cheap pizza. Its like being a pizza whore. Hell, its even more degrading than being a real whore. At least a real one gets paid more than minimum wage and doesn't have to hold up a sign to passers by.
What a degrading job. I'd rather shovel horse shit and put it in a bucket than stand out with the pizza for sale sign.
Pizza does sound good though. Ham, mushroom and onions. I wonder if that $5 piece of crap pie costs more with more than pepperoni on it. Damn Mike Illitch. Little Caesars used to be the best pizza in town. Now, its nothing more than fast food crap.
I'd think I need more cowbell now.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
I go to the grocery store...for groceries.
Ah, the grocery store.
The place where all our food dreams come true. The place where they've gotten so damn cheap and lazy, that we now work them and use the "U-Scan" and the place where the Atkins Diet people have made the price of beef go sky high.
I like the grocery store.
You see, I have this Sunday morning ritual going. I get up, read the sports section over a cup of coffee, grab a quick bite to eat and out I head to the store.
Its my "quiet time". My time to chill out and gather for the family. You know "hunters, gatherers"? We men do it all.
Sure, I have to figure out what coupon is still good and how much lunchmeat to buy, but hey, for an hour and a half, its just me, the shopping cart, a cup of coffee and, and, and, and...
PEOPLE WHO TRY TO SELL ME SHIT AND WANT MY MONEY AT THE FRONT DOOR!!!
That's right. At the front door of the store.
You know what I am talking about. Its all about those evil-doers who try to take our hard-earned grocery bucks before and after we leave the store.
Boy Scouts who try to sell you the stale ass popcorn in a can.
The Girl Scouts who sell their overpriced, not-as-good-as-they-used-to-be cookies.
Those guys who sell those newspapers no one reads (with apologies to my good friend Kahuna who does such a wonderful job for a local Goodfellows group).
The firefighters who are raising money for something or other.
The police (ditto the firefighters).
The local Little League Baseball or Football group selling something.
Groups of cheerleaders selling something.
Will this madness ever stop?
I don't want to be bombarded at the front door of the store, either on my way in or on my way out. Leave me alone. Heck, I'm a charitable and giving guy. Just don't take my cash when I am busy trying to figure out what type of detergent I need to buy.
Seriously. These groups all have good causes. But I don't want to see them EVERY TIME I go to the store. Just once, let me walk in and out in peace without having to run the gauntlet of guilt and go past them while some cute, little Brownie girl gives me the sad eyes and talks me into the Peanut Butter Patty (why don't they call them that anymore? What is the name of that cookie anyway, "Tagabout" or something stupid like that?).
Alright. I'm done.
But don't get in the way of this shopper.
When I am done U-scanning, I am spent.
Literally.
The place where all our food dreams come true. The place where they've gotten so damn cheap and lazy, that we now work them and use the "U-Scan" and the place where the Atkins Diet people have made the price of beef go sky high.
I like the grocery store.
You see, I have this Sunday morning ritual going. I get up, read the sports section over a cup of coffee, grab a quick bite to eat and out I head to the store.
Its my "quiet time". My time to chill out and gather for the family. You know "hunters, gatherers"? We men do it all.
Sure, I have to figure out what coupon is still good and how much lunchmeat to buy, but hey, for an hour and a half, its just me, the shopping cart, a cup of coffee and, and, and, and...
PEOPLE WHO TRY TO SELL ME SHIT AND WANT MY MONEY AT THE FRONT DOOR!!!
That's right. At the front door of the store.
You know what I am talking about. Its all about those evil-doers who try to take our hard-earned grocery bucks before and after we leave the store.
Boy Scouts who try to sell you the stale ass popcorn in a can.
The Girl Scouts who sell their overpriced, not-as-good-as-they-used-to-be cookies.
Those guys who sell those newspapers no one reads (with apologies to my good friend Kahuna who does such a wonderful job for a local Goodfellows group).
The firefighters who are raising money for something or other.
The police (ditto the firefighters).
The local Little League Baseball or Football group selling something.
Groups of cheerleaders selling something.
Will this madness ever stop?
I don't want to be bombarded at the front door of the store, either on my way in or on my way out. Leave me alone. Heck, I'm a charitable and giving guy. Just don't take my cash when I am busy trying to figure out what type of detergent I need to buy.
Seriously. These groups all have good causes. But I don't want to see them EVERY TIME I go to the store. Just once, let me walk in and out in peace without having to run the gauntlet of guilt and go past them while some cute, little Brownie girl gives me the sad eyes and talks me into the Peanut Butter Patty (why don't they call them that anymore? What is the name of that cookie anyway, "Tagabout" or something stupid like that?).
Alright. I'm done.
But don't get in the way of this shopper.
When I am done U-scanning, I am spent.
Literally.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Joey Ballgame, Chunky Chili and Chick TV
Talk about being all over the map.
That is where I am headed with this latest installment on the Proc Blog.
In this issue, I will cover such diverse topics as the Detroit Lions quarterback, canned chili and television aimed at a female audience.
Here we go.
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Joey Ballgame - Lions Quarterback
When my beloved Detroit Lions drafted Joey Harrington with the 3rd pick of the 2002 draft, I was pretty pumped up. It appeared on paper (I love that term "on paper") that the Lions had picked up the second coming of Joe Montana.
Did they really get the next Joe Montana?
Well, they haven't -- yet.
Call me a slappy, but if the Lions could ever get an offensive line that can run block, I do think that Joey (he needs to change it to just "Joe") Harrington will be a serviceable quarterback. The Lions rank 32nd in rushing this year. In case you are wondering where that ranks, well, its at the bottom. Last, even. Without a running game, the pressure is shifted to the quarterback to make plays. However, when teams know you are going to pass, they drop back in coverage and make life that much harder for the QB.
Will the Lions ever get that elusive running game going?
I don't know. I have a feeling they will continue to be at the bottom of the league in rushing and that Mr. Harrington, "Joey Ballgame" around these parts, will take the blame. And, in grand Detroit sports team fashion, they will let him go, where he will flourish for another team.
Oh well, another frustrating Lion's season.
1957. The Lions win it all.
Sigh.
Chunky Chili
As I sat camped out on my Laz-E-Boy with beverage in hand watching the NFL a few weeks ago, I was overwhelmed by the number of commercials for Campbell's Chunky Chili. Normally, you put the word "chunky" in front of anything and I get a bit grossed out, but I was intrigued, seeing as I dig chili. Visions of tailgaters munching down on warm bowls of chili while imbibing in alcoholic beverages and throwing footballs seemed to beckon to me.
I thought to myself: I must have this chili.
So, off I was to the local grocery store to finalize my conquest of this supposed, can delight.
Was there anyway a canned chili could compete with homemade?
Yes.
This shit is good. Decent even. I polished off the contents with a splash of Red Hot and crackers added and declared it "good".
Chunky Chili has got it goin' on.
Chick TV
What is up with all the cable/satellite stations for women out there? We have Oxygen, We, Leftime and Oh! that I know of. I mean, seriously, how many times can each of these stations show a Hugh Grant movie? I think I've seen "Four Weddings and a Funeral" listed on one of these stations at least once a week for the past month.
What am I doing checking the guide for these stations you ask?
Well, my significant other, Angie, has it on her "Favorites" list on the channel guide. For some reason, the TV is always on her favorites. Go figure.
Now, many woman might argue that ESPN is for men, but that is not true. They sometimes show woman's pro basketball (which no one watches).
I want my own channel.
I want to be the new Ted Turner.
PROC TV.
My station will show sports programs complete with my announcers that can swear and say anything they want like, "Hey, Joey Harrington sucks today. It looks like he stayed up late watching the Oxygen channel. What a puss.".
I'd have my own game shows to where contestants would answer sports-related questions to win cases of Chunky Chili.
I'd also have reruns of "Everybody Loves Raymond" and the original "Twilight Zone" running all the time.
My station would not show "Four Wedding and a Funeral" or any other Hugh Grant movie for that matter.
Oh! We need Oxygen in this Lifetime.
Not on TV we don't.
We are men.
PROC TV. Ask you cable or satellite provider about it.
That is where I am headed with this latest installment on the Proc Blog.
In this issue, I will cover such diverse topics as the Detroit Lions quarterback, canned chili and television aimed at a female audience.
Here we go.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Joey Ballgame - Lions Quarterback
When my beloved Detroit Lions drafted Joey Harrington with the 3rd pick of the 2002 draft, I was pretty pumped up. It appeared on paper (I love that term "on paper") that the Lions had picked up the second coming of Joe Montana.
Did they really get the next Joe Montana?
Well, they haven't -- yet.
Call me a slappy, but if the Lions could ever get an offensive line that can run block, I do think that Joey (he needs to change it to just "Joe") Harrington will be a serviceable quarterback. The Lions rank 32nd in rushing this year. In case you are wondering where that ranks, well, its at the bottom. Last, even. Without a running game, the pressure is shifted to the quarterback to make plays. However, when teams know you are going to pass, they drop back in coverage and make life that much harder for the QB.
Will the Lions ever get that elusive running game going?
I don't know. I have a feeling they will continue to be at the bottom of the league in rushing and that Mr. Harrington, "Joey Ballgame" around these parts, will take the blame. And, in grand Detroit sports team fashion, they will let him go, where he will flourish for another team.
Oh well, another frustrating Lion's season.
1957. The Lions win it all.
Sigh.
Chunky Chili
As I sat camped out on my Laz-E-Boy with beverage in hand watching the NFL a few weeks ago, I was overwhelmed by the number of commercials for Campbell's Chunky Chili. Normally, you put the word "chunky" in front of anything and I get a bit grossed out, but I was intrigued, seeing as I dig chili. Visions of tailgaters munching down on warm bowls of chili while imbibing in alcoholic beverages and throwing footballs seemed to beckon to me.
I thought to myself: I must have this chili.
So, off I was to the local grocery store to finalize my conquest of this supposed, can delight.
Was there anyway a canned chili could compete with homemade?
Yes.
This shit is good. Decent even. I polished off the contents with a splash of Red Hot and crackers added and declared it "good".
Chunky Chili has got it goin' on.
Chick TV
What is up with all the cable/satellite stations for women out there? We have Oxygen, We, Leftime and Oh! that I know of. I mean, seriously, how many times can each of these stations show a Hugh Grant movie? I think I've seen "Four Weddings and a Funeral" listed on one of these stations at least once a week for the past month.
What am I doing checking the guide for these stations you ask?
Well, my significant other, Angie, has it on her "Favorites" list on the channel guide. For some reason, the TV is always on her favorites. Go figure.
Now, many woman might argue that ESPN is for men, but that is not true. They sometimes show woman's pro basketball (which no one watches).
I want my own channel.
I want to be the new Ted Turner.
PROC TV.
My station will show sports programs complete with my announcers that can swear and say anything they want like, "Hey, Joey Harrington sucks today. It looks like he stayed up late watching the Oxygen channel. What a puss.".
I'd have my own game shows to where contestants would answer sports-related questions to win cases of Chunky Chili.
I'd also have reruns of "Everybody Loves Raymond" and the original "Twilight Zone" running all the time.
My station would not show "Four Wedding and a Funeral" or any other Hugh Grant movie for that matter.
Oh! We need Oxygen in this Lifetime.
Not on TV we don't.
We are men.
PROC TV. Ask you cable or satellite provider about it.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
The Evolution of a Beer Drinker
***Originally published on beeradvocate.com 11/18/02 but it needed to be republished here in Proc-Blogdom to assist those in the quest for beer knowledge and fufillment.***
The Evolution of a Beer Drinker
From Bud to Advocacy, the Rise of the Beer Drinker.
As with most things in life, the more we experience something, the more our understanding, appreciation and knowledge of it grows.And yes, beer is an experience.
This experience can be chronicled throughout the evolution of BeerManKind ...
The Cave Man Period
We start off our evolution much like the Neanderthal or Cro-Magnon Man in our pursuit of quarry that gets us by and provides for our beer sustenance. Inexpensive lagers and malt liquors and satisfy our beer survival instincts. We walk hunched over and wear "Bud" t-shirts.
The Medieval Period
As our evolution progresses, we work our way into the role of Knights of The Beer Table. Our intentions are brave and we dare to take chances. We lay our glassware out and try to save the day. Save the princess? No, but we'll drink with her. The word "pint" enters our vocabulary for the first time and we heartily drink like a King. Yes, a fresh pint of Guinness and we think we can rule the kingdom.
The Explorer Period
Like Columbus, Magellan and Marco Polo, we set off in the pursuit of new treasures. We leave behind the comforts of home and venture out to foreign lands. The hops and malts of offshore places tickle our palates and we become worldly. Heineken, Beck's, Corona, and Stella beckon us to their side.
The Evolution of a Beer Drinker
From Bud to Advocacy, the Rise of the Beer Drinker.
As with most things in life, the more we experience something, the more our understanding, appreciation and knowledge of it grows.And yes, beer is an experience.
This experience can be chronicled throughout the evolution of BeerManKind ...
The Cave Man Period
We start off our evolution much like the Neanderthal or Cro-Magnon Man in our pursuit of quarry that gets us by and provides for our beer sustenance. Inexpensive lagers and malt liquors and satisfy our beer survival instincts. We walk hunched over and wear "Bud" t-shirts.
The Medieval Period
As our evolution progresses, we work our way into the role of Knights of The Beer Table. Our intentions are brave and we dare to take chances. We lay our glassware out and try to save the day. Save the princess? No, but we'll drink with her. The word "pint" enters our vocabulary for the first time and we heartily drink like a King. Yes, a fresh pint of Guinness and we think we can rule the kingdom.
The Explorer Period
Like Columbus, Magellan and Marco Polo, we set off in the pursuit of new treasures. We leave behind the comforts of home and venture out to foreign lands. The hops and malts of offshore places tickle our palates and we become worldly. Heineken, Beck's, Corona, and Stella beckon us to their side.
We bring these treasures back to our home land.
We are heroes.
The Governor Period
We return home as conquering men of John Courage. We now discover delights in our own backyards. Various beers from our region are sampled and deemed incredibly delicious. We drink the nectar from our native soil and believe we masters of our own domain. And, in some ways, we probably are. Drinkers all over the world consume locally brewed beers and try to spread the word far and wide.
The Belgian Period (the Period of Discovery)
It is at this point in our evolution that all hell breaks loose. We find out that monks make beer and have done so for years. Finding out that these men of religion brew beer, we respond, "That is too cool." We open these complex delights and screams of "Chimay!" and "Westy!" bellow out of our mouths. We buy goblet-shaped glassware and throw out our Spuds McKenzie plastic mugs. We talk about "balance" and "body" and for the first time in our lives, we understand what a barley wine is.
The Advocacy Period
Our journey into BeerManKind is complete.
Our evolution reaches its pinnacle.
We know what an IPA is.
We know hops by the names of Cascade and Tettnanger and Noble.
Our families look at us funny, but humor us.
We actually give ratings to beer and know, for the most part, what we are talking about.
We walk upright.
We have evolved.
--Kind of makes you want to have a beer right now doesn't it? -Darren, 11/9/04
The Governor Period
We return home as conquering men of John Courage. We now discover delights in our own backyards. Various beers from our region are sampled and deemed incredibly delicious. We drink the nectar from our native soil and believe we masters of our own domain. And, in some ways, we probably are. Drinkers all over the world consume locally brewed beers and try to spread the word far and wide.
The Belgian Period (the Period of Discovery)
It is at this point in our evolution that all hell breaks loose. We find out that monks make beer and have done so for years. Finding out that these men of religion brew beer, we respond, "That is too cool." We open these complex delights and screams of "Chimay!" and "Westy!" bellow out of our mouths. We buy goblet-shaped glassware and throw out our Spuds McKenzie plastic mugs. We talk about "balance" and "body" and for the first time in our lives, we understand what a barley wine is.
The Advocacy Period
Our journey into BeerManKind is complete.
Our evolution reaches its pinnacle.
We know what an IPA is.
We know hops by the names of Cascade and Tettnanger and Noble.
Our families look at us funny, but humor us.
We actually give ratings to beer and know, for the most part, what we are talking about.
We walk upright.
We have evolved.
--Kind of makes you want to have a beer right now doesn't it? -Darren, 11/9/04
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
The Fighting Electors! Go Electoral College!
Another presidential election has come and gone.
And, here, this day after the big event, George W. Bush, has reclaimed the top spot with a hard fought victory over John F. Kerry.
Speaking of John F. Kerry...would the country have been ready for the return of a new "JFK"? Hmm...
I am not here to sulk or gloat over the outcome of the election. However, my offer of pot roast to George and Laura still stands.
No, I am here to spout rhetoric and bull shit about the Electoral College.
I am so tired of network anchorpersons and reporters and their reports as to why we supposedly don't need the Electoral Colleg.
Do away with it?
Hell no.
It works.
Think of the Electoral College as fifty separate elections. Really, that is all it is. You win the popular vote in a state, you win their "electors" or electoral votes. You get at least 270 or more of the 538 electoral votes and you win.
538? You ask.
Yes, 538. The number is equal to the number of representatives in the House of Representatives (438) and the number of senators (100). Each state has a certain number of members of the House of Representatives (here in Michigan it is 15) and all have 2 senators. Add 'em up and you get your number of electoral votes.
Why is this a big deal?
Because it forces the candidates to campaign everywhere. Bush was in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Kerry made stops in Iowa. Would they have visited either without the Electoral College?
No.
If we go to a Popular Vote-only election, only the major metropolitan centers of the U.S. will matter. Idaho and New Hampshire be damned, because you won't matter anymore. As it stands now, New Hampshire and its 4 electoral votes looked pretty big for awhile last night.
The "College" make each state important. The popular vote does note.
O.K. Now that I have that off my chest, I need to turn my attention to what I really want of the Electoral College.
A football team.
That is right. A football team.
Every college needs a team, a stadium and hot cheerleaders.
So, let's hear it for the Electoral College Fighting Electors.
Next to my beloved University of Michigan Wolverines, they could very well be my new favorite team.
And, here, this day after the big event, George W. Bush, has reclaimed the top spot with a hard fought victory over John F. Kerry.
Speaking of John F. Kerry...would the country have been ready for the return of a new "JFK"? Hmm...
I am not here to sulk or gloat over the outcome of the election. However, my offer of pot roast to George and Laura still stands.
No, I am here to spout rhetoric and bull shit about the Electoral College.
I am so tired of network anchorpersons and reporters and their reports as to why we supposedly don't need the Electoral Colleg.
Do away with it?
Hell no.
It works.
Think of the Electoral College as fifty separate elections. Really, that is all it is. You win the popular vote in a state, you win their "electors" or electoral votes. You get at least 270 or more of the 538 electoral votes and you win.
538? You ask.
Yes, 538. The number is equal to the number of representatives in the House of Representatives (438) and the number of senators (100). Each state has a certain number of members of the House of Representatives (here in Michigan it is 15) and all have 2 senators. Add 'em up and you get your number of electoral votes.
Why is this a big deal?
Because it forces the candidates to campaign everywhere. Bush was in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Kerry made stops in Iowa. Would they have visited either without the Electoral College?
No.
If we go to a Popular Vote-only election, only the major metropolitan centers of the U.S. will matter. Idaho and New Hampshire be damned, because you won't matter anymore. As it stands now, New Hampshire and its 4 electoral votes looked pretty big for awhile last night.
The "College" make each state important. The popular vote does note.
O.K. Now that I have that off my chest, I need to turn my attention to what I really want of the Electoral College.
A football team.
That is right. A football team.
Every college needs a team, a stadium and hot cheerleaders.
So, let's hear it for the Electoral College Fighting Electors.
Next to my beloved University of Michigan Wolverines, they could very well be my new favorite team.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
I miss the NHL.
I know I am definetely in the minority on this one.
I miss the NHL.
Last night was supposed to be my beloved Detroit Red Wings home opener. It didn't happen.
You see, the owners have "locked out" the players because they want a new collective bargaining agreement that will let them pay the players less than they paid them before which bascially is the cause of the problem leading to the lockout.
Got that?
I doubt it.
No one seems to understand it.
Aside from the hockey crazies in Canada and those in a few "real" hockey cities in the U.S. like Detroit, no one seems to miss the #4 major sport in America. Oops, make that #5, NASCAR has zoomed past it.
No, no one will miss it. They will get comfy on the couch and watch the World Series and the NFL and even the NBA after the Super Bowl is finished. They will even watch Poker on TV. And you all know my thoughts on that.
Last night as I settled into my Laz-E-Boy with a cold one and some shelled peanuts to watch the end of the Houston-St. Louis game and the end of the Yankee hex over the Red Sox, I actually felt bummed out that my clicker finger couldn't tune to Fox Sport Net Detroit and put on the Red Wing's game. Honestly, I thought I wouldn't care. I guess I do.
I am going to miss driving dowtown and parking for free behind the Greyhound Bus terminal and walking through the wasteland that is downtown Detroit on my way to Joe Louis Arena. I am going to miss walking up the 77 steps to our last row seats. I am going to miss the $7.50 beers. I am going to miss the people in the seats around us.
I know its an owners vs. players labor issue, but at the crux of the problem is hockey's failure to gain an expanded audience. It is a sport that doesn't translate well to television. In my humble opinion, it is the BEST sport to watch live. The action is constant and continuously unfolding. Watching it live, you can see the plays develop, which you can't on TV. Another reason for the problem is TV timeouts. It cuts into the flow of the game, but as we all know, without advertising revenue, there is no TV.
What to do?
I don't know. This labor impasse, which is hindered by the lack of a good, national TV contract (for reasons I just stated), doesn't look to end anytime soon. Oh, it will end and hockey will return. And only the hardcore fans will watch.
You know what?
Only the hardcore fans were watching anyway.
Steve Yzerman, we miss you old friend.
Oh look, the fat guy on TV has a full house and knocked out the dude with a pair of 2's.
Maybe I should get another beer and give this poker thing another chance.
I miss the NHL.
Last night was supposed to be my beloved Detroit Red Wings home opener. It didn't happen.
You see, the owners have "locked out" the players because they want a new collective bargaining agreement that will let them pay the players less than they paid them before which bascially is the cause of the problem leading to the lockout.
Got that?
I doubt it.
No one seems to understand it.
Aside from the hockey crazies in Canada and those in a few "real" hockey cities in the U.S. like Detroit, no one seems to miss the #4 major sport in America. Oops, make that #5, NASCAR has zoomed past it.
No, no one will miss it. They will get comfy on the couch and watch the World Series and the NFL and even the NBA after the Super Bowl is finished. They will even watch Poker on TV. And you all know my thoughts on that.
Last night as I settled into my Laz-E-Boy with a cold one and some shelled peanuts to watch the end of the Houston-St. Louis game and the end of the Yankee hex over the Red Sox, I actually felt bummed out that my clicker finger couldn't tune to Fox Sport Net Detroit and put on the Red Wing's game. Honestly, I thought I wouldn't care. I guess I do.
I am going to miss driving dowtown and parking for free behind the Greyhound Bus terminal and walking through the wasteland that is downtown Detroit on my way to Joe Louis Arena. I am going to miss walking up the 77 steps to our last row seats. I am going to miss the $7.50 beers. I am going to miss the people in the seats around us.
I know its an owners vs. players labor issue, but at the crux of the problem is hockey's failure to gain an expanded audience. It is a sport that doesn't translate well to television. In my humble opinion, it is the BEST sport to watch live. The action is constant and continuously unfolding. Watching it live, you can see the plays develop, which you can't on TV. Another reason for the problem is TV timeouts. It cuts into the flow of the game, but as we all know, without advertising revenue, there is no TV.
What to do?
I don't know. This labor impasse, which is hindered by the lack of a good, national TV contract (for reasons I just stated), doesn't look to end anytime soon. Oh, it will end and hockey will return. And only the hardcore fans will watch.
You know what?
Only the hardcore fans were watching anyway.
Steve Yzerman, we miss you old friend.
Oh look, the fat guy on TV has a full house and knocked out the dude with a pair of 2's.
Maybe I should get another beer and give this poker thing another chance.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Who I am voting for...its a matter of dinner.
Ah, elections.
Nothing quite like the democratic process at work here in the good old U.S.A. This much is for sure: Families fight over who to vote for, spouses quit talking over it, and Florida screws up.
And, of course, we get the media to throw their right and left-winged two cents our way, telling us who to vote for and why. Its good to know the media knows more than we do.
My neighbors have a political "Sign War '04" underway right now. Bush-Chaney vs. Kerry-Edwards in a 30 x 20 Front Yard Lawn Sign fight. So far, its 2 to 1 in favor of the incumbent, but I expect this could change at any moment if the Talassis family or somebody else lays some front yard sign smack out. To hell with the polls, we got lawn signs going. Right now, "Dubya" is leading (margin of error, 1 sign).
Who am I going to vote for?
Its pretty simple really.
It all boils down to one thing.
Who (and their wife) would I most like to have over for dinner?
Yes. I have discovered the secret of a well-informed decision behind voting. Its who can I sit down with for an hour, eat pot roast and have conversation with without being put-off or uncomfortable.
And who do you think I would most like to chow down with?
George and Laura.
I think the conversation would be good. We could talk football, baseball and decorating the White House. Add the pot roast into the mix and I think we have the basis for a nice, relaxed, comfortable dinner.
As for the John and Theresa? I don't think so. I imagine a nice conversation with John, but then I see her melting down and complaining of the common peasant dinner of pot roast and demanding the servants show up. It wouldn't be casual or comfortable. Hell, I'm getting nervous thinking about that dinner party.
Oh, I suppose I could have the Kerry's over too.
But, there will be no Heinz ketchup served in my house. I can' play favorites you know.
I am Darren Proctor and I approve this message.
Nothing quite like the democratic process at work here in the good old U.S.A. This much is for sure: Families fight over who to vote for, spouses quit talking over it, and Florida screws up.
And, of course, we get the media to throw their right and left-winged two cents our way, telling us who to vote for and why. Its good to know the media knows more than we do.
My neighbors have a political "Sign War '04" underway right now. Bush-Chaney vs. Kerry-Edwards in a 30 x 20 Front Yard Lawn Sign fight. So far, its 2 to 1 in favor of the incumbent, but I expect this could change at any moment if the Talassis family or somebody else lays some front yard sign smack out. To hell with the polls, we got lawn signs going. Right now, "Dubya" is leading (margin of error, 1 sign).
Who am I going to vote for?
Its pretty simple really.
It all boils down to one thing.
Who (and their wife) would I most like to have over for dinner?
Yes. I have discovered the secret of a well-informed decision behind voting. Its who can I sit down with for an hour, eat pot roast and have conversation with without being put-off or uncomfortable.
And who do you think I would most like to chow down with?
George and Laura.
I think the conversation would be good. We could talk football, baseball and decorating the White House. Add the pot roast into the mix and I think we have the basis for a nice, relaxed, comfortable dinner.
As for the John and Theresa? I don't think so. I imagine a nice conversation with John, but then I see her melting down and complaining of the common peasant dinner of pot roast and demanding the servants show up. It wouldn't be casual or comfortable. Hell, I'm getting nervous thinking about that dinner party.
Oh, I suppose I could have the Kerry's over too.
But, there will be no Heinz ketchup served in my house. I can' play favorites you know.
I am Darren Proctor and I approve this message.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Poker on TV. It Must Be Stopped.
Its amazing all the TV sports available to us nowadays.
Back in the day when ESPN was launched (yes, I am that old and remember when they first started), they were known for their off-beat, we-must-fill-all-time-slots-with-something-programming. It was not uncommon to see horseshoes, chick volleyball, ping pong, billiards and other assorted, "What the f*** kind of supposed sport are they showing now?" things on their airwaves.
But this new, sudden fascination with poker and putting it on TV has gone too far.
I can't take it anymore.
I don't want to see poker on TV. I mean, I can handle playing it once or twice a year with the fellas, when you all pony up to buy the big fight on Pay-Per-View, but to sit down and actually watch a freakin' card game on TV? No effin' way.
I'm holding out for "Go Fish", "Crazy 8's", or "Uno".
Now that sh*t would make for some fine "sports" programming.
Back in the day when ESPN was launched (yes, I am that old and remember when they first started), they were known for their off-beat, we-must-fill-all-time-slots-with-something-programming. It was not uncommon to see horseshoes, chick volleyball, ping pong, billiards and other assorted, "What the f*** kind of supposed sport are they showing now?" things on their airwaves.
But this new, sudden fascination with poker and putting it on TV has gone too far.
I can't take it anymore.
I don't want to see poker on TV. I mean, I can handle playing it once or twice a year with the fellas, when you all pony up to buy the big fight on Pay-Per-View, but to sit down and actually watch a freakin' card game on TV? No effin' way.
I'm holding out for "Go Fish", "Crazy 8's", or "Uno".
Now that sh*t would make for some fine "sports" programming.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Humpty Dumpty was pushed or How Fairy Tales are to blame for violence in society.
Humpty Dumpty was pushed.
Really, he was.
You know the story, "...all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again.."
Of course they couldn't. By then, he was dead. He shell had been decimated in the fall and there was not hope of recovery.
Why?
Why would anyone assassinate an egg? The non-humanity of it all.
Does anyone really think he just fell off that wall? Right. How many times have you fallen off a wall? Unless booze was involved, I smell a conspiracy.
The Zapruder film on this one hasn't surfaced yet, but it will. It will show that one of the King's men crawled on his stomach across the grassy knoll and in Kilroy-fashion on the wall, shoved Humpty as hard as he could knowing that the fall would produce one of the largest tragedies known to Fairy Tale-kind.
Speaking of Fairy Tales. I am sure your parents or grandparents read them to you. They, of course, are wonderful stories that enriched our lives. We are better people for listening to these stories and their moral, aren't we?
No, we aren't.
Fairy tales are full of violence. It is this violence that through their stories, has permeated our society and caused the problems we have now. Think about. Take this line from "The Old Lady that Lived in a Shoe"...you think she was a caring woman? No, she wasn't. Read on:
"...She whipped them all soundly, And sent them to bed"
How about this one?
Little Jack Horner,
Sat in a corner;
Eating a Christmas pie,
He stuck in his thumb,
And pulled out a plum,
And said, "What a good boy am I."
Good boy? He stuck his freakin' thumb in a perfectly good pie? Are we to put up with and encourage this type of behavior?
It goes on:
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey.
There came a big spider,
Who sat down beside her.
And frightened Miss Muffet away!
Yes, even arachids and the horror they can wreak, invaded our subconscious as children.
And what about Old Mother Hubbard? The sweet caring mother had a sinister side:
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard,
To give her poor dog a bone.
But when she got there, her cupboard was bare;
And so the poor dog had none.
She went to the baker's to buy him some bread;
When she got back, the dog was dead.
She killed the dog. The beotch!
And injuries abound in fairy tales:
One 1 little monkey,
Jumping on the bed.
One 1 fell off and bumped her head.
Mama called the doctor,
And the doctor said,
"No more monkeys,
Jumping on the bed."
See? Closed head inuries to animals. No wonder we are so twisted.
In closing, I can state hundreds of other examples, but the need to do so is not there. You get the point.
You see the damage Fairy tales can do.
I have to go now.
My son wants me to tell him a story.
Really, he was.
You know the story, "...all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again.."
Of course they couldn't. By then, he was dead. He shell had been decimated in the fall and there was not hope of recovery.
Why?
Why would anyone assassinate an egg? The non-humanity of it all.
Does anyone really think he just fell off that wall? Right. How many times have you fallen off a wall? Unless booze was involved, I smell a conspiracy.
The Zapruder film on this one hasn't surfaced yet, but it will. It will show that one of the King's men crawled on his stomach across the grassy knoll and in Kilroy-fashion on the wall, shoved Humpty as hard as he could knowing that the fall would produce one of the largest tragedies known to Fairy Tale-kind.
Speaking of Fairy Tales. I am sure your parents or grandparents read them to you. They, of course, are wonderful stories that enriched our lives. We are better people for listening to these stories and their moral, aren't we?
No, we aren't.
Fairy tales are full of violence. It is this violence that through their stories, has permeated our society and caused the problems we have now. Think about. Take this line from "The Old Lady that Lived in a Shoe"...you think she was a caring woman? No, she wasn't. Read on:
"...She whipped them all soundly, And sent them to bed"
How about this one?
Little Jack Horner,
Sat in a corner;
Eating a Christmas pie,
He stuck in his thumb,
And pulled out a plum,
And said, "What a good boy am I."
Good boy? He stuck his freakin' thumb in a perfectly good pie? Are we to put up with and encourage this type of behavior?
It goes on:
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey.
There came a big spider,
Who sat down beside her.
And frightened Miss Muffet away!
Yes, even arachids and the horror they can wreak, invaded our subconscious as children.
And what about Old Mother Hubbard? The sweet caring mother had a sinister side:
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard,
To give her poor dog a bone.
But when she got there, her cupboard was bare;
And so the poor dog had none.
She went to the baker's to buy him some bread;
When she got back, the dog was dead.
She killed the dog. The beotch!
And injuries abound in fairy tales:
One 1 little monkey,
Jumping on the bed.
One 1 fell off and bumped her head.
Mama called the doctor,
And the doctor said,
"No more monkeys,
Jumping on the bed."
See? Closed head inuries to animals. No wonder we are so twisted.
In closing, I can state hundreds of other examples, but the need to do so is not there. You get the point.
You see the damage Fairy tales can do.
I have to go now.
My son wants me to tell him a story.
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