The 500-Lb. Life Coach

Can An Older Man Do It For Ya?

2009-03-01T20:21:00.000-08:00

Trinity asks,

Do older men make better lovers? Older like, 50ish. They call you baby a lot, and they know what they want.

What do I tell the family and friends? When I asked a friend, "does he love you", she said "Yes"
So why does it matter? Is this taboo for the thirty-something female?

Dear Trinity,

Of course older guys know what they want. Some seltzer and a knife to do some whittling on the porch and of course the bicarbonate soda like they used to take. I'm fucking with you, sweetie.

Seriously, you oughta be fucking around with dudes in their early 30s. Actually, now that "thirty is the new twenty" according to fucks like Jay-Z, better go ahead and avoid them, too. If you're with an older man in your mid-30s, I wouldn't worry about it.

Think about it. If the guy only wanted a trophy girl, he could aim about ten years younger than you and still be in the clear. However, a girl in her thirties has a better idea what the hell's going on, what they want with their life (even if they're not 100% ironclad sure) and you're not going to be an intellectual inferior to the guy like a trophy wife might be.

Of course you know, men hit their sexual prime around the age of eighteen. That's science, but goddamn it if our nineteen-year-old selves are all over the fuckin' map. Overenthusiastic and near desperate just to get the poison out, mentally immature, and ten years later they've gained weight and bogged down from their shitty job. "I WORK TOO GODDAMN HARD TO FUCK YOU THE WAY YOU'D LIKE IT!"

Here's the deal. A fifty-year-old guy has figured it out on some level, whether they've beaten the game of life or lost like a motherfucker. I've heard that the face you get when you turn fifty years old is the face you deserve. The previous years one lived will show in their face. Unless they've been disfigured in a freak accident or something, you can tell how well a 50-year-old took care of themselves their whole lives previous. A guy could look like Alec Baldwin or the guy on the Jethro Tull "Aqualung" cover. It all depends.

So for you mid-30s girls who wondered if it was okay, it's fine. It's disappointing to us guys in your age range, but we understand. You bitches.

Hipsters Summer Wear

2009-02-20T23:31:00.000-08:00

Sleepy asks: What do hipsters wear in the summer since they can't do scarfs and layers and cashmere and shit?

Oh Sleepy, that's where you're wrong. Hipsters are not afraid to stack a few t-shirts on top of one another, or a tank top over a t-shirt. To a flabby person, these are great mistakes. To a skinny person, they are unique affectations.

Also, just because it's summer don't mean the hipsters won't take their scarves out to play. Instead of accessorizing with a coat, they'll just let it hang around their neck. They are inventive in their little ways.

If you are a flabby type, you will never get your hands in hipsters' pants. You'll never feel their bony butts in your lap, let alone on your face. They mate with their own to preserve the race, kinda like bluebloods.

Hipsters are not conscious of the seasons. Functionality and practicality do not matter to these sprites. Have you seen their pants? Come on, man. For real. They look spray-painted on. God, I'd love to lick the denim right off their little asses. And the girls look good, too.

Why did I have to be big-boned? Even if I were at my ideal weight, I'd still be thirty pounds too big for hipsterdom. I'm a stocky guy. What the hell am I gonna do? Striped shirts? Might as well put a Jason mask on and stalk the village. Why couldn't I be built like I'd fly away in a windstorm? But NOOOOOOO, I had to be made sturdy. What thee fock?

Wine Time

2009-02-20T23:17:00.000-08:00

Trey messed up, folks.

I left some bottles of decent reds in the car for like 8 hours and now they are colder than a muhfcuka...I'm worried that this may have ruined/effected the taste when they go back to room temperature.

Why are you drinking liquor for taste, Trey? What are you, some type of sophisticate? You think you better than me because you got a credit card and no dents in your car? Guess what, I'll go into Fred Segal in LA and piss all over $8000 sweaters until them shits are worthless because I DONT GIVE A FCUK!!! Yeah, that's right.

Sorry. I've been in a state recently. Kentucky (rimshot!). No actually I've been sick. And the truth about wine is that your wine is fine unless air got in the bottle or the wine froze in the bottle. Which let's face it, doesn't happen unless you leave it in a deep freeze or some such. I actually don't know because I think wine is bullshit. Whiskey, bourbon, vodka, these are the drinks a real man drinks. Women that drink whiskey are real men, too. So let's say I like shemales.

Out of context, that sounds wrong.

I have nothing. Let's talk about pornography.

2009-02-08T11:20:00.000-08:00

I do not have a gigantic porn wing in my house. I have a spindle with some CD-Rs and a drawer with some DVDs in them. I think this is perfectly acceptable for a man of my caliber.

So what does a guy like me enjoy in his porn? Well, to start let's discount all the stuff I don't like or understand. Like auto erotic asphyxia. I can say proudly that I have never participated in this activity. Even a mediocre orgasm is better than nothing, I figure.

And yet, even though this is done mostly by males, I'm seeing girls getting choked on camera. Not every scene, not all the time, but whenever it's done it's done to a chick. I don't get it and I wish they'd cut that out. Or be realistic and choke the dude as he's cumming. But then who'll take the load on the face? Logistics is a motherfucker, I guess.

What about this? Does this make me gay?

2009-01-26T20:26:00.000-08:00

A lady writes in with this reply to the previous post.

So if a girl makes out with another girl, is she bi? Because, yes I have made out with girls but I do not identify as bi.

Dear lady,

Again, no. Kissing is okay. Kissing at the bar is even better. Kissing in the ladies' room at the bar is even better and hotter, but it doesn't make you bi. A public girl-girl makeout is just good showmanship. It's also a great way to get free drinks. Save your money, let 'Bro handle the tab.

Go re-read the last blog I wrote and change the gender. Okay? Great.

Does this make you gay?

2009-01-26T02:05:00.001-08:00

Mike writes in with this salacious tale...

I recently gave oral sex to my girlfriend's fiance... We were drunk at a New Years Eve party, I walked in on him taking a piss, and instead of shooing me away, he told me to come back, lock the door, and we handled our business.

Three weeks later, it's still VERY awkward between us whenever we see each other, and I've texted him that I liked it, but he responded "Dude I'm not gay... Drop it".

What should I think!??! He's not gay but he initiated it and he came just fine that night.

Dear Mike,

First, I have nothing against gay people, but I just wish your name wasn't Mike so people reading this won't think I'm pretending to be you. I've done this before with previous posts, and now they're gonna think I'm a cock-gobbler. Which wouldn't be a problem if it were true. So I guess I have a problem with gay guys, at least the ones named Mike. I'm sorry.

First of all, it's fucked up that you fooled around with your girlfriend's fiance. That girl who wanted to go shopping with you and compliment as she tried on new outfits. How cold can you be, man?

"We were drunk". Your words, not mine. "We were drunk" is practically a hall-pass to do shit one wouldn't do normally. You might scarf it sober but he wouldn't, and that's his problem. Of course it's awkward when you see him. That's your chick's dude and you both know something she doesn't, something that would set off the scene like a keg of dynamite. You have a Jerry Springer episode on your hands, and for you to text him is basically not allowing this issue to die which he obviously wants to happen.

To me, you hurt your girlfriend. I don't even care about the fiance getting a drunk BJ from you because human sexuality is fluid and all sorts of other stuff psychologists and college/Myspace bisexuals talk about. This poor girl is fuckin' lost. She's worried about her other girlfriends, other women, and not the D.L.. How fucked up is that?

Come on, man. There's plenty of dick to suck in this world, and a lot of it belongs to those who identify as straight men. But you crossed a line, and this poor girl is in for a rude shock if she finds out about it. Unless you don't give a shit about your friendship to her, you oughta care more about her than ol' boy.

Ex-Girl To Next Girl

2009-01-23T06:58:00.000-08:00

Asks Ron,

I'm dating this sister, things are getting serious. We've been intimate on numerous occasions.

Yesterday I asked her how many sexual partners she's had. She told me that was none of business. Now this makes me think that she was or is a roller.

Personally I don't see anything wrong with asking. What do ya think? Have you told your SO how many partners you had?

Dear Ron,

I don't think it's inappropriate to ask this question to a lover. However, be prepared to receive a less-than-truthful answer, be you an innie or outie. Lemme explain...

Guys will talk up their numbers. Chicks will talk down their numbers. The guy wants to assure that he has enough experience in the field. The chick wants to assure that she is not a jizzbucket. Typically, she won't be a jizzbucket (I'm so magnanimous), but that doesn't stop her from fudging the numbers anyway.

I wish you'd told me how old you and your girl are. I could make a better decision for you. I knew a chick a long time ago who'd fucked at least fifty dudes by the time she turned twenty-four. Her two best girlfriends would always bitch about her getting drunk and fucking more than one guy at the same party. That girl had a VOID, son, and I am not talking about her cave of a vagina.

Reckon that the older the chick is, the higher the number should be. Adjust for inflation, like we're talking about 1970 dollars compared to now. For example, in November 1970 Richard Nixon asked Congress for $155 million in aid to prevent the Khmer Rouge from overthrowing the Cambodian government. $155 million. That's practically an arts endowment in 2009.

Meanwhile, you got guys counting every encounter they can imagineer into counting on the final tally. They'll count handjobs, blowjobs, and jerking off in the next room while their roommate and his girlfriend have sex. The trick is to use a number that is believable to the liar himself. If he's fucked three girls, he'll say nine because it's not that far away. Also, nine is divisible by three.

Take my word for it, I've fucked seventeen women. Wink, wink.

When your girl is at her male friend's place

2009-01-22T21:40:00.000-08:00

Jay writes,

She hangs out with her guy friends solo. Am I wrong for having a problem with that? I just got off the phone after we had this big blow-out over the issue when she told me she was over her guy-friends crib.

To her defense she does have a lot of friends and I don't have a problem with her hanging with dudes...but at their crib, just them two?..gtfoh.

am I wrong tho?

Dear Jay,

Jay, your woman is over here right now and we're not fucking. However, she is making out with another chick. It's getting pretty hot and heavy. You should see the webcam feed we're posting. We got kicked off Justin.tv but who doesn't, eh? All they're doing is making out, a little boob-cupping and nothing serious.

Uh-oh, things are getting serious now. I gotta stop typing, this is too important to not catch for posterity and subsequent financial exploitation. Your girl loves to fill out release forms when she's drunk. Did you know that?

Are you wrong?

2009-01-22T03:24:00.000-08:00

From Cris,

Am I lame for enjoying Shwayze?

Granted its' pretty pop, but uhm its' enjoyable.

Dear Cris,

You are now forcing me to listen to Shwayze, so here's a real time blog of me listening to a few of their songs.

Listening to "Corona And Lime" now. I don't mind the Cisco Adler singing in the chorus. I never thought I'd ever type that sentence.

This is the kind of thing I'd try to avoid paying attention to the words and focus on the music.

Wikipedia says Entertainment Weekly gave their album a "D+." I can't believe EW had the balls to break out the bad review, especially since they like EVERY FUCKING THING EVER. This means one of two things: either this album is truly awful or its' incredible in ways we can't fathom.

"Corona And Lime" is over and I could go without listening to it again. I'm sure it will end up on Applebee's playlist soon if it hasn't already. In that environment, I guess it would be okay.

I'm listening to "Buzzin'" and Cisco is singing the same melody he sang on the other song I just listened to. Literally.

Wiki says this album got mostly shitty reviews and I believe it. Why does this music remind me of grey pudding?

This album made the Top Ten in the States? I believe that, too. If I were the rapper, I'd try to get away from Cisco and try to find someone who won't make the same beat over and over again. This is what I gleamed from two songs.

So are you wrong, Cris? I dunno. Maybe. Probably. Just because I don't like it doesn't mean it's a guilty pleasure, though you must feel guilty if you're asking me if you're wrong. But maybe that's the problem. You know how people say "It's all good"? Well, maybe it's not. If I had to listen to a whole album of this, I'd probably get mad and punch a wall. Consider the source, I've been listening to an audience recording of Frank Zappa's 1978 Halloween concert. The whole thing, all four hours of it. It's great. What the fuck would I do with Shwayze? You understand what I'm saying?

If you like Shwayze and have some hard lemonade, I bet you can pull some serious junior high trim, buddy. That's what I think, honestly.

Nope. Haven't been doing a damn thing.

2009-01-10T02:38:00.000-08:00

So I haven't updated this blog in a few weeks, and there's a few reasons for that.

#1. I've been down lately. With the post-Xmas lull setting in, I just haven't felt like maintaining three blogs simultaneously. Not with this life I try to have. Seriously, I try to maintain some semblance of a social life.

#2. No one wants my advice. I can't be a life coach if no one wants my help. Just because I'm gonna shit on your problems is no excuse for you to not solicit help from me.

#3. I'm annoyed about other things. I'm on the masthead of a weekly entertainment paper that has never given me one thin dime for my efforts. I'm listed as a writer, but I'm just a blogger. I might as well be an intern. If they had to pay me, they would've let me go since their parent company laid off about fifty people before Xmas.

#4. I've been watching a lot of videos like this. In case you're wary to click on that link, it's a video of an 1984 wrestling match between the Fabulous Ones and the Moondogs. Note to self: for next Halloween, go out as Moondog Spot. Awesome.

So what do I hope to accomplish in '09? Well, the 500-Lb. Life Coach has one modest goal: to post my first video blog. It will be difficult as I don't have a webcam, but I bet I have some friend who'd be willing to video tape me speaking for a few minutes and post it on the Tube. Okay? Great. Happy '09 and I'll see you at the matches.

500-Lb. Year In Review

2008-12-31T09:44:00.000-08:00

January: I was in a coma this month. I don't remember anything that happened.

February: The Giants won the Super Bowl. More importantly, the Patriots lost the Super Bowl. "Gonna be a good year", I said to myself. Slipped back into coma.

March: I turned thirty years old. Barely felt it. Avoided all restaurants for fear of hearing crappy birthday song from server staff.

April: I rooted for the downfall of Rudy Guiliani's campaign. At some point, it happened. I can't remember if it happened in April.

May: Found out the difference between tribalism and tribadism. At least that's what the certificate says.

June: Thought about writing a book. Declined to on grounds that failure might be an option. Took a lengthy nap interrupted by occasional piss breaks.

July: Nearly overcome with heatstroke. Made plans to move house to a nearby beer cave.

August: Nearly did something.

September: Trolled people on the internet and real life. Patted self on back.

October: Did not dress up as The Joker for Halloween. Felt good about that. My family thinks all my friends are meth addicts. I fail to attempt to convince them otherwise.

November: Obama wins Presidency. Country very happy. I smile a little bit. I knew it would be an alright year. I'm glad not to be in public relations or the auto industry.

December: This part of the blog.

You know who's a dumb dick? Eliot Spitzer.

2008-12-17T15:56:00.000-08:00

During one of the 500-Lb. Sex Coach's many hiatuses, the whole Eliot Spitzer thing happened. What a shame I missed it, although there was no shortage of opinion on the matter. Oh, the poor wife. That hooker can't sing! What a douchebag Spitzer is! I'm inclined to go with folks on that last one. What a fucking crud.

This is a man who doesn't understand the concept of goods and services. Had he understood, he would have had steered clear of media scrutiny and kept his dumb-ass Governor job. Allow me to explain...

You cannot get rawdog anal from a high-priced call girl. It might be possible to get anal, but without a jimmyhat forget it. What a dumb prick. If every client got to use their high-priced call girls in any way they wanted, those call girls would cease to remain high-priced. Consider any call girl has multiple clients. Client A wants rawdog anal, Client B wants to piss on the girl, Client C wants to tie up the girl and put clothespins all over her body. High-priced call girls have a strict code of things they will and won't do. It's called "protecting your investment". This code is set by the agencies that hire out the girls. A used-up call girl isn't worth $5000 a pop; it's straight economics, like it or not.

So if dum-dum Spitzer really wanted raw anal action, all he had to do was spring $50 and a hot meal and any Albany chickenhead would've let him in. Sure, he would've needed penicillin afterward, but that would be protected by patient-client privelege. At the very worst, his wife would've hated him for being such an asshat but she wouldn't have torpedoed her husband's career.

What a screwhead.

Solving your man problems.

2008-12-17T13:12:00.000-08:00

From Janey,

My man is a big 49ers fan. More importantly, he's a big football fan and hasn't been to any games this year, in fact, he's been so busy he hasn't even seen many games on tv.

I think the 49ers are doing shitty this year. There's only one more home game that I know of, vs. the Washington Redskins.

I found good tickets on craigslist for $125 each. Is this something that seems like a good winter holiday gift?

The alternatives right now are a day spa thing (he likes creature comforts & needs a massage & I'm a dunce at massage) or clothing (exchangeable) from a store in my neighborhood that he likes a lot.

Dear Janey,

If you can get your man some 49ers tickets, then get 'em. All of your options sound nice but the 49ers are gonna make him feel like a manHULKSMASH! You may not be good at massage but when he gets home from the game, you can give him a mediocre rub and he'll still be happy.

Clothing is an acceptable option if he's running out of things to wear, but get that man some 49ers tickets. It's good to have him connected to the things he likes. Work has taken him from the things he enjoys in life. He doesn't get enough time with you, he doesn't get enough alone time. Some $6 cups of beer will make him feel alive again as he watches Mike Singletary coach his beloved Niners all the way to 6-10 for the season.

You have to figure the guy needs some "me" time, so I suggest you let him be the best him he can be and root for Shaun Hill or whoever the fucking quarterback is for those idiot Niners.

From a Bears fan.

Dr. Fat Coach Talks About Your Pecker

2008-12-15T21:50:00.000-08:00

From Darryl:

How can I put this...

Okay, this happens to me...maybe every few months or so, just happened today.

So, sometimes when i have to piss like EXTRA bad, I'll go through the zipper, naturally, but in a rush I'll only get like SOME of it out and it's still like crooked or whatever, and the piss comes out like REAL hard and it burns. Afterwards they'll be like a drop or 2 of blood.

I'm thinking I just like bruised, rather broke the tissue on the hose, for lack of better words. It usually heals like extra fast, like, the next time I piss, it doesn't burn but I can feel, and then the following urination I forget ALL about it.

is this a natural occurence? Should I be concerned? I'm "fine" otherwise.

Dear Darryl,

No blood should come from the cock unless you stabbed it. Go see a doctor because that is the limit of my medical expertise. What do you mean "in a rush" you "only get SOME of it out"? Go see a doctor, because the idea of blood coming out of the dick shaft just makes my eyes explode. Darryl, you need to see a fucking psychiatrist while you're at it. Damnnnnnnn...dick....blood...... *passes out*

Pick-me-up for a sad guy

2008-12-13T17:45:00.000-08:00

Ya know, I get sad sometimes. Yesterday was a shitty day. I mean it was, as William "Paul Bearer" Moody would refer it as, "the drizzling shits". I won't get into the minutiae of yesterday, but I want to talk about something that picked up me up out of my doldrums.

The Malice at the Palace is the nickname for a November 2004 incident at a Detroit Pistons-Indiana Pacers game. Ron Artest charged into the stands after somebody threw beer on him, Stephen Jackson decided to take on half the arena, and Jermaine O'Neal mollywhopped some Puerto Rican guy in a Pistons jersey. It was perhaps the funniest and greatest American sports riot ever. I had a friend liken watching the video of said riot to "listening to Sara Smile by Hall & Oates ten times a year". It's just that good.

I wish that kind of thing would happen more often, in terms of instant poetic justice. Watching tough-talking sports fans get a pantful of turds when being charged at by impossibly atheltic men with crazy in their eyes. As righteous as Artest may have been, no one will dispute the man's total craziness.

He ended up getting the brunt of the punishment even though Stephen Jackson punched at least six more people than Artest did (I think he only hit two people). I should have bought a hundred copies of Artest's rap album just out of appreciation.

And last night, in the pit of frustration and glumness, my spirits were lifted by the sight of Jermaine O'Neal sliding on a slick patch on the court just as he delivered that ridiculous punch. It doubled the lulz quotient. I knew everything would be alright. Even as the world continues to spit out bad news at a rapid rate, I know that as long as we can find something to smile at we'll be just fine.

500-Lb. Book Critic: Artie Lange's "Too Fat To Fish"

2008-12-10T21:13:00.000-08:00

Artie Lange, as many of you know, is a comedian who appears on Howard Stern's Sirius radio show. He also scares the piss out of talk show hosts and audiences with frank talk about his prior drug abuse and arrests. Now Artie has written his first book, Too Fat To Fish, which has climbed up Best Sellers' List all over the place.

Before I bought this book, I was afraid it would just be stuff Lange discussed on air. His life story is well-known to Stern fans: loving Jersey family, father incapacitated by work accident that would eventually kill him, struggles to get ahead in showbiz, two seasons as a MAD TV cast member before being fired for outrageous amounts of drug abuse, addiction, rehab, getting a break in the form a role in the Norm MacDonald film Dirty Work, and finally a job as a Stern show cast member.

Not much of Lange's life since 2002 (when he joined Stern) is discussed. There are several vignettes from this period: the stress of producing the film Beer League while juggling a nascent heroin addiction and Stern show duties, as well as his recent USO trip to Afghanistan with Stern producer Gary Dell'Abate and fellow comedians Jim Florentine, Dave Attell and Nick DiPaolo.

Most of Too Fat To Fish is concerned with the journey that led him to the chair in Stern's studio. Some great anecdotes involve Lange's father conspiring to meet singer Frankie Valli, Artie getting yelled at on the set of Jerry McGuire by Tom Cruise, and a bachelor party that coincided with Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.

This book is a quick, easy read. Comedian autobiographies tend to be that way. Rickles' Book by Don Rickles and Born Standing Up by Steve Martin were similarly quick and entertaining reads. While Lange and Martin have in common the narrative thread of making it in showbiz, Martin's is more of a study in craft development while Lange's is an airing out of all his dirty, crap-soaked laundry (literally, the chapter where he shoots a skit dressed as Babe the Pig in a Baywatch costume for MAD TV).

I suggest and recommend a purchase of this book. Apparently, the audio book is also a hoot. In the audio book, friends of Lange's read a chapter apiece. Howard Stern (who supplies the foreword) voices a chapter, as does Rev. Bob Levy (who is barely literate...the outtakes of his recording session are hilarious) and many others.

There will be a second book in the wake of the success of Too Fat To Fish. I suspect it will have more to do with his life on the Stern set and interpersonal relationships (particularly with his on-off-on-off girlfriend, Dana). Thumbs up to Anthony Bozza for cobbling Lange's voice into a readable book and I look forward to the next one.

What do I do with my Simpsons porn?

2008-12-10T15:04:00.000-08:00

Dear 500-Lb. Life Coach,

I was recently convicted for possessing child pornography. I didn't even have any pictures of kids. All I had were some drawings of the Simpsons fucking each other. I had Maggie blowing Bart, and Lisa in a three-way with Homer and Marge. What should I do?

- Fucked in Australia

Dear Fucked,

It says here that the judge in your case, Justice Michael Adams, ruled that a fictional or imaginary person character constituted a person. In other words, if you have a drawing of Han Solo giving Jesus Christ a handjob, that would be considered a work of pornography in Australia.

Look, Fucked, I don't know what to tell you. You can't move to another country because you'd then have to register as a sex offender in that country. If you moved to the United States, you'd have to put a sign in your yard and a bumper sticker on your car saying you're a sex offender. And when folks are confronted with that fact, nuance tends to get lost on them. Even if the most egregious thing you ever downloaded or looked at online was a picture of Bart and Lisa 69'ing.

We can all agree that CP is awful and gross, and the people who consume and produce these materials should be shot out of a cannon into a lake filled with pirahnas and electric eels. Their remains should then be cooked and fed to starving dogs. BUT there is a big fuck difference between child pornography and drawings of The Simpsons blowing each other. The former is a crime, the latter is intermittently amusing but frequently suffers from poor quality.

I don't know if you have to register as a sex offender in Australia, Fucked, but I hope for your sake that the law is changed to reflect what constitutes a person. Justice Adams shit the bed with this one.

Because I feel for you, I'm going to indulge in a freedom that I have in the United States that you don't. I'm going to try to find some Simpsons porn, some Family Guy, American Dad, Futurama, Kim Possible, and who knows what other animated shows porn I can find. I didn't want to but I have to, just to savor the freedom that you Aussies don't have. My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty.

Fuck this shit. I want a book deal.

2008-12-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

It's time to bring back the Life Coach. Fuck this shit.

For those of you who keep up with me, you know that I started writing for a website in September. I've become somewhat frustrated with this foolishness, and it's my own fault. Here's why.

I decided to start writing for a newspaper's website around the time the newspaper industry decided to sink into the muck of bankruptcy. The decline of print media has been known about for a while, but I'm the kind of guy who can't get to the orgy until all the girls have went home. That's the story of my life. Bad fucking timing.

Oh, and "fucking" while I'm at it. The people at the website aren't necessarily down with my rambling profanity and graphic depictions of weird sex and other gross stuff. So I've been trying to edit myself without necessarily editing out the content of my ideas.

You know something folks? I'm really good at writing perverse shit. I'm fucking fantastic at it. Telling me not to curse in my blog is like telling Rembrandt not to use brown paint. Fuck that in the ear with a wet turd. I think in the past four months, I've proven I can write interesting material without having to resort to pottymouth but POTTYMOUTH IS SO MUCH FUN!!!

Look at it like this: In the world of comedy, there are clean comedians and comedians that work blue. I happen to prefer comedians that work blue but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the craft and talent of a clean comedian. Jim Gaffigan is a funny guy and I could take my family to see him. Doug Stanhope is also a funny guy and would make my mom faint. I prefer Stanhope but I also like Gaffigan. Even if one works blue and one stays clean, they're both doing the same drugs backstage anyway. I'm not saying Jim Gaffigan is a druggie, but look at all the fucked-up mainstream celebrities out there. Jeff Tweedy and Britney Spears have both been to rehab; what does that tell you?

I notice that sometimes bloggers end up with book deals, and I go "that should be me". Some of them have novel concepts that can be turned into a book, like Stuff White People Like. Well, the 500-Lb. Life Coach is meant to be a blog but that's just a starting point. There could be a 500-Lb. Life Coach book, TV show, web series, expensive merchandise, etc. I need to get that paper, son.

So yeah, I'm back. The 500-Lb. Life Coach is coming back and full force. I don't need your questions. I'll make up something interesting whether or not you need my help or not. Suck a dick in hell, newspaper industry. This fat fuck is coming back with a vengeance.

Is this the end of The 500-Lb. Life Coach?

2008-09-10T02:26:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not know, I have begun to write blogs for Velocity, the entertainment weekly put out by the Louisville Courier-Journal. That's right, folks. I'm indirectly part of the newspaper industry now, seeing as the C-J is owned by Gannett. So this whole business about newspapers dying out? I don't believe it (wink, wink).

Did you know that the Courier-Journal has ten Pulitzers to its' credit, ranging from Henry Watterson's WWI editorials in 1918 to Nick Anderson's editorial cartoons in 2005?

Did you know that Velocity has probably not won any Pulitzers?

www.courier-journal.com/velocity

So what happens with the 500-Lb. Life Coach? Well, I'm not sure right now. I'll definitely keep it around because here I can swear and smoke and grope girls as much as I like without any problem. At Velocity, they tend to not like that sort of thing, so I'll be a relatively swear-free humorist for them. Then I'll come here if I really want to roll around in Satan's filthy-mouth muck. That sounds icky and sort of queer.

I can save the NHL

2008-09-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

Football? Pish-tosh! Aren't you ready for some HOCKY! That's how you spell it right? I don't see it on TV anymore, so I don't know how they spell it exactly. Hocey will return in October, but those of us with basic cable won't see it. Which is most of us.

The NHL will be roaring back onto the ice to thrill their fans, but it is a far cry from the Golden Age, when hokey was part of the Big 4 American sports (along with Major League Baseball, the NBA, and the NFL). I'm not sure when it went downhill for hockey. Perhaps it was after Messier and the Rangers won the Stanley Cup, after Gretsky retired, or maybe the 2005 lockout. Certainly, not being on ESPN anymore didn't help. Estimates have the NHL as being worth about 2.27 billion dollars a year, which is three times less than the NFL. The NHL has a contract to run games on NBC on weekend afternoons, but that itself will not grow the fan base nationwide.

Consider this, while attendance records are good for the 30 NHL franchises, TV ratings are nil in the US because they're on Versus. It doesn't help that the 90s was an expansion era that gave us a load of teams that no one can be bothered to care about.

I can save the NHL, though. Just a spoonful of The Mike's medicine and I can make it all better.

For instance, there are 30 teams, but sixteen playoff slots. Contrast this with MLB, which has eight playoff slots for 30 teams, and the NFL, which has twelve for 32. Yes, the NBA also has 16 for 30, but people actually care about the NBA.

So we shorten the playoff format to eight teams. Six division champions and two wild-card teams. This makes the playoffs more valuable and shortens them so they don't clash with the beginning of the NBA playoffs.

Step two: Cut out some of these freakin' teams.

First things first, Columbus Blue Jackets are straight out. Don't need 'em. Are there any Blue Jackets fans? Didn't think so.

I want to get rid of the Minnesota Wild, but I can't because people actually like them. But the name "Wild" sucks. So we call them the Minnesota North Stars, like the team that was there before they moved to Dallas. Ah-ha, that's it! The Dallas Stars are out! I don't care that they were a playoff team last year and they won a cup in 1999. I don't even care if they have a fanbase! Gone with yesterday's fish paper, you are!

Only six NHL teams are Canadian, which is a crock. Part of the problem is that some teams went south to make money. The Winnipeg Jets became the Phoenix Coyotes while the Quebec Nordiques became the Colorado Avalanche. I'd keep the Avalanche but contract the Coyotes. Phoenix doesn't need hkckey. Phoenix needs to move out of Arizona.

If I could, I'd demolish the entire Southeast Division in the Eastern Conference. Atlanta, Nashville, Carolina, Florida, and Tampa Bay (which is already in Florida). Who let the state of Florida have two NHL teams? I will be magnanimous and spare the Nashville Predators because my friend Smitty was a fan. But he lives in Washington, DC and can watch Capitols games, though. On second thought, no let's go ahead and keep Nashville.

The Florida Panthers have to go, but the Tampa Bay Lightning can stay because they actually won a Cup. (Note to self: Kill Wayne Huizenga before he buys another sports team). Atlanta has to go because they've already burned through a NHL franchise (the Flames, who went to Calgary in 1980). Atlanta shouldn't have sports, period. No Falcons, no Braves, no Hawks, no nothin'.

For my last trick, goodbye to the L.A. Kings. I'm sorry, but Southern California can't have three teams. L.A. has the Kings, Anaheim has the Ducks, and there's the San Jose Sharks (even if San Jose isn't technically Southern California). It's easiest to get rid of the Kings because they're never good.

If I have my numbers right, I have killed off six teams, leaving the NHL with 24. Rosters will be stocked with greater depth which insures better play all around. I know that the divisions will need to be re-stocked, but it can be done. Here's how.

Western Conf.
Division A:
Chicago Blackhawks
Detroit Red Wings
Nashville Predators
St. Louis Blues
Minnesota North Stars (formerly the Wild)
Edmonton Oilers

Division B:
San Jose Sharks
Colorado Avalanche
Calgary Flames
Vancouver Canucks
Anaheim Ducks

Eastern Conference
Division 1:
New Jersey Devils
New York Rangers
New York Islanders
Philadelphia Flyers
Pittsburgh Penguins
Tampa Bay Lightning

Division 2:
Boston Bruins
Buffalo Sabres
Montreal Canadiens
Ottowa Senators
Toronto Maple Leafs
Washington Capitols

Okay, I miscalculated. I've got 23 teams, not 24. Fine, then we'll settle this like men. The principle majority owners of the seven teams I contracted fight to the death to keep their teams. Last one living gets to stay in the League. One weapon: a broken pool cue.

Make it fast.

Forming a cover band

2008-09-05T18:38:00.000-07:00

Oh, man. This is gonna be swell. I'm starting a cover band. It's awesome. No one is in the band yet, except for me singing and this kid named Tyler who's plays alto sax in the high school pep band. We're still looking for a guitarist, bassist, drummer and keyboardist.

I've asked around but just about everyone has turned me down. I guess its' because I want to form an 80s pop cover band. I don't want to do 90s grunge or "Voodoo Chile" until my guts bleed. Forget that, I want to SANG some "Freeway of Love" by Aretha Franklin. Is that too much to ask for?

The 80s was a great decade for music. Maybe not so much for 70s artists, but I wouldn't play that stuff anyway. At least not in this band. I like it when girls shake their booties to fun music, and the music of 1980s pop is primo fun.

We don't have a set list because we haven't filled out the lineup yet, but I can promise that Prince's "When Doves Cry" will be covered. It's great, it has no bass line at all. So if we get a drummer, guitarist and keyboardist, we'll be set.

By the way, we ARE accepting keytarists. In fact that would be even better.

Since Tyler plays sax, we'll have to do some songs that feature him. So we'll probably end up playing "Poison Arrow" by ABC, which is great because I've always wanted to wear a sequined suit.

How To Be Happy

2008-09-04T23:54:00.000-07:00

"How can I be happy" is a question that everyone asks themselves at least once in their lives. It's a fair question, with many variations: "When will I be happy, when will happiness find me and where can I go to be happy, etc., etc., etc."

Here's a story: I'm driving to Bowling Green from my cave in Fordsville (you'd be surprised at my wireless access in this cave) and about twenty minutes out of B.G., I get a feeling in my bladder. "I'll be fine, I'm almost there," I tell myself at mile marker 16.

But as it is always is when you have to hold it in, the pain of a held urination hurts worse and worse. I count the mile markers which seem increasingly distant as I strain. There is no possibility of me losing bladder control, but you can hurt yourself if you wait too long. Another mile marker comes up, what does it say?

Mile marker 13? And then there is the refrain "Oh God, Oh God" with the occasional "Dear God" and even a rare "Christ, already" thrown in for good measure as well as other more profane words one says in the car alone.

After what feels like an era of my life passes, I finally get to my destination, hobble towards the bathroom and commence to doing my business while wailing a relieved cry.

"Mike, are you alright?" I hear my friend on the other side of the door.
"I'M FINE! I'M JUST SO HAPPY!" I cry out in response. And I was, for that brief evacuation, very happy. I'm really getting into this, so much that I'm grimacing (and I don't even have a yeast infection).

At urine's end, I cleaned up and said hello to the friends/hosts I had ignored on my way to their toilet. I was a happy boy and the world was a shining melody that everyone could enjoy, if only for a few minutes. I was happy and relieved, and a smile crossed my face.

So, the moral of the story is that happiness is how you feel when you no longer have to pee. Happiness isn't something you make; you make lemonade and sometimes brownies. Happiness just happens to you, and it is to be enjoyed because when you realize that you're happy. . .that's when it runs out. Happiness is something you shouldn't even be aware of.

Think about it. You've probably been happy and not even known it. Oh, sure you had some hard times, not being able to go to the bathroom until you found a suitable rest stop, but that's not the end of the world. Maybe it is better to not be acutely aware of your own doldrums. Or maybe this cheap American beer goes through you faster than a Corvette on the pavement. Yeah, that's probably it.

The 500-Lb. Fantasy Football Coach

2008-09-01T23:33:00.000-07:00

Okay, losers. It's time to get ready for a new NFL season, which means one thing: FANTASY FOOTBAWWWWWWWWWW.....(falling into a cavern chiseled out of my own pathetic behavior). I am going to help some poor uncircumcised foreskins out there (that's what they call "schmucks", ya dig?) and give you my advice on subjects pertinent to the NFL in order to help you WIN YOUR FANTASY LEAGUE in 2008!

From lcr:

Rate these three quarterbacks: Ben Roethelisberger of the Steelers, Derek Anderson of the Browns, and Drew Brees of the Saints.

Well, lcr. I'd have to give the nod to Drew Brees, the best pure passer of the three and also the one with no obvious red flags. Derek Anderson had a great 2007 season, but suffered a concussion during the preseason and may get knocked around a bit. As for Big Ben, his O-line is gonna be lacking, particularly with Alan Faneca gone to the Jets. Brees, on the other hand, has the double-barrel running threat of Deuce McAllister and Reggie Bush to keep defenses honest and a great reciever in Marques Colston. If new addition Jeremy Shockey pans out, that's just icing on the cake for the guy. The Steelers have the toughest schedule in the NFL, and the Browns are not far behind. I'd go with Brees as my top QB come Week 1.

From 3xahustla

Which running back should I start Week 1: Thomas Jones of the Jets or Lendell White of the Titans?

Well, 3xa hustla, I'd go with Thomas Jones as the Jets open the season against the weak Miami Dolphins, while the Titans have to contend with a difficult Jacksonville Jaguars defense. You could argue that both the Jets and Dolphins are horrible, but the Jets are in a better position to make a playoff run with new additions at OL and QB. If Brett Favre doesn't fun Thomas Jones to death, he'll have a better fantasy year than he did in '07.

From madkingmab

Just to clear this up before the season starts, what's the saving throw against tackle? Also, if my quarterback gets sacked, must I roll a 10-sided die for damage/lost yardage or can I just roll an eight-sided die?

Dear madkingmab,

Are you mocking me? Is that we're doing here? You wanna look down on me because I'm playing fantasy football, but you can't you silly dungeon master. Yeah, a real ivory tower you're sitting on. Dungeon master please!

And finally, a letter from my mother...

Sweetie,

When are you gonna meet a girl? I'm not trying to get ya married or anything, I just want you to maybe go out some time and try to be clean and smell good so the girls will like ya.

Love,
Mom

P.S. - There was a $20 bill in the cigar box in my top dresser drawer. Do you know what happened to it?

If anybody needs me, I'll be thinking up a good excuse for my whereabouts.

A word from Joe Jack (Dead Milkmen)

2008-09-01T00:38:00.000-07:00

After I posted my Dead Milkmen/Greatest Achievement blog, I sent a link to Joe Jack (a.k.a. Butterfly Fairweather, the guitarist and singer of "Punk Rock Girl" and "Methodist Colouring Book"). This was his reply to me, via Myspace.

Mike,

Yeah, it even still amazes me that those albums got made and
distributed. Well, not that we got them made, but that they got
the distribution and attention that they did. Crazy times the 1980s were.

And, even crazier, we have regrouped with the intention of performing another
show this year, in Austin TX, despite the death of Dave, r.i.p., who would
have turned 52 this month had he lived. We're all in our mid to late 40s now,
with fairly "normal" jobs and lives.

- Joe

For those who won't be able to make it to Austin to see that one-off reunion, here's a brief recap. As Joe mentions in the note, bassist Dave Blood (real name: Dave Schulthise) died in 2004.

http://www.deadmilkmen.com/dave-blood/ is a tribute to their fallen bandmate.

As for the three surviving Milkmen, Joe "Jack" Genaro is the most musically active, occasionally touring as a solo artist and with two bands, The Low Budgets and The Cheesies. His website is www.jacktalcum.com

Drummer Dean Clean (real name: Dean Sabatino) can be found at www.deansabatino.com, continues to play in group called Big Mess Orchestra, and works in the fields of creative, website and user interface designs.

Rodney "Anonymous" Linderman (once credited on "Not Richard But Dick" as 11010, I think) has a great website called "Rodney Anonymous Tells You How To Live" (www.rodneyanonymous.com). For reasons known only to him, he has a link to Lisa ("Blair" from The Facts Of Life)Whelchel's website.

It's not "gay", it's not "retarded", just shut up

2008-08-29T21:04:00.000-07:00

'ello Kiddies,

I've decided that in order to get more unique page views, I need to clean up my language a bit. Maybe not say the f-word and the c-word and the w-word (wanna know what that one is, dont'cha?). But I've been restricting myself for some time now, and I'd like to explain why.

I am fed up with things being "retarded" or "gay". Like when I ask my friend Neckbone how his weekend was and we have a conversation like this...

"Hey, Neckbone, how was your weekend?"
"Awww man, my weekend was sick. Friday night I had to take my girlfriend to go see The House Bunny at the movie theater and it was gay as hell, you know?"
"Gay? I thought that movie was about a Playboy bunny who moved into a sorority. What's so gay about that?"
"Naw man, not really gay, just stupid gay, you know, man?"
"Not really. You use a lot of commas when you talk.
"Saturday, though, I got to go drinking out in a field with my boys Cooter and Eldred. I'm tellin' you, we got retarded out there, drank a whole case of beer. Good times. But then the car wouldn't start, which was retarded."
"Wait a second, you just said you got retarded and then the car not starting was retarded..."
"DUUUUDE! 'Retarded' is just one of those words that has more than one meaning. Kinda like the word 'gay', ya know, ya retard?"

Satisfied with the verbal jab, he dies a horrible death in my mind.

The term 'gay' has already gone through a major change in the last hundred years, going from meaning 'happy' to meaning 'homo'. Nobody really minded because the word became a nice, easy time-saver of a description. Homosexual, five syllables. Gay, one syllable. Gay people liked it better, too, because it sounded less clinical.

As for 'retarded', it is a word with multiple definitions, but they are all linked to the same thing: being affected with mental retardation, and the usage I refrain from is the offensive one. There is a personal reason for this.

I have a friend with a five-year-old son who has Down's Syndrome. One of the things that my friend can't stand is the usage of "retard/ed" in pop culture. I can't blame him, though. When people want to say something is stupid, they call it "retarded", and for what? To indirectly insult the many people in this country who are affected by Down's Syndrome, cerebral palsy, autism, etc.?

I'm not lobbying for people to start calling the disabled "differently abled", I just sympathize with my friend who wants to watch "Attack Of The Show" without hearing the r-word used to describe a lousy video game. If something is stupid, call it stupid. I have friends who are stupid, but they'll never get upset about the term because they don't think they're being talked about.

The Greatest Achievement...not so great, really.

2008-08-28T20:09:00.000-07:00

Last week, I promised to unveil the greatest achievement in the history of modern art.

As it turns out, I don't have a very strong argument for my case, which was this: the fact that there are eight Dead Milkmen albums is the greatest achievement in the history of modern art.

And indeed it's a hell of an achievement, simply that they got to make eight albums (two of which released on a genuine MAJOR LABEL) over the course of ten years. But it can't possibly be the greatest achievement, for a myriad of reasons. I'll try to list a few below.

Reason One: The idea that the culmination of all modern art would include "Bitchin' Camaro" would mark me as either a fanboy or complete doofus. Honestly, I couldn't live with myself either way.

Reason Two: The idea of "Greatest (ANYTHING)" has been beaten to death far before I ever got to the party. For example, Rolling Stone and Blender frequently have lists of things they consider "Greatest". Usually, I deride these list as foolish and trite. So for me to consider anything "definitive", "greatest" or that icky term "seminal" is hypocritical. I should know better.

Reason Three: What if I'm right, and people believe me? Do we erect stone monuments to Joe Jack Talcum and Rodney Anonymous? If so, where do we erect them? Not to mention, as much as I enjoy their music, should we really canonize the guys who wrote "Takin' Retards To The Zoo" and "Surfin' Cow"? Methinks not.

Reason Four, and Most Importantly: My definition of Modern Art, which included pop music, books and movies, stretches the term "Modern Art" beyond the breaking point. I can't really include "Dude, Where's My Car", "Trump: The Art of the Deal" or any Beyonce album under the Modern Art umbrella alongside the Dadaist movement, Bauhaus movement, Pop Art et al.

So I apologize for this copout and inability to defend eight Dead Milkmen albums as the greatest achievement in Modern Art. However, the fact that they got to make eight, all of which gaining some sort of nationwide or international distribution, is damn near the most miraculous achievement ever. I can't front, it's pretty inspiring.

The greatest achievement in modern art...COMING SOON!!

2008-08-26T00:41:00.000-07:00

Modern art.

By that, I don't solely mean the art movement that culminated in the late 1960s. In fact, I don't even hold the term "modern art" to art. For the purposes of this discussion, the 500-Lb. Life Coach/Art Critic includes performing arts as well. We live in the Instant Entertainment Age and it's lots of fun, but not a lot of "art" comes out of it.

Naturally, in art circles, modernism has evolved into post-modernism and various mediums under the umbrella of "conceptual art". It is my opinion that works of cinema, music, literature, and (what the hey) television can in certain circumstances be considered works of "conceptual art".

The idea that the idea becomes the machine that pushes the work (which is practically a formality anyway) is one that I'm taken by. I've pondered the notion that people continue to practice artforms outside the mainstream of our culture. Sure, artists ply their trade and put something on the wall or create an installation, but they can't be sure that it will have any impact upon a gallery. Poets continue to write, and many of the better ones probably lock their work away like Emily Dickinson instead of subjecting a Third Tuesday-type of open mic crowd to their efforts. There are entirely too many bands, rappers and singers on the planet; so many that there is no conceivable way they all could "MAKE IT BIG", Wham! feat. George Michael style. Yet they soldier on, knowing that obscurity could very well be thrust upon them anyway.

I have had a revelation in these past days, and it wasn't pretty. In fact, it's not even all the way formed yet as a solid argument. So that's why the thing says "COMING SOON" at the top. In a few short days, I will tell you what the greatest achievement in modern art (as I defined it earlier) is. I guarantee you will disagree with me, so that's why I'm working to build my case.

This achievement could be one work (like "Grapefruit: A Book Of Instructions And Drawings" by Yoko Ono), the work from a certain period (both Yoko and John Lennon's "Plastic Ono Band" albums) or it could be an entire body of work (for example, every Yoko Ono album). While I'm not interested in doing any Yoko-bashing, I will say that the GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT IN MODERN ART is not any of these things.

I'll make an announcement when I'm ready to put this down. You really won't like what I'm going to say is THE GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT IN MODERN ART. Or you might, if you really like to take the piss.

The kids need help, so I help the kids.

2008-08-20T22:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's been a week since I last yelled at you. I'd like to thank you who regularly read this column for not calling me out on not knowing shit about cocaine since I've never actually done it. For this new blog, I'm going to help an actual teenager about something I actually know something about...

Do you think i should like lose weight.

Like i dont know i weigh like 90-95 now,
should i lose like 5-10lbs?
Or what?
Reply honestly and if yer close to me,
Im ignoring you.

The girl who posted this myspace bulletin is a freshman in high school. I've met her once at a show, and she didn't look like the kind of kid who needed to lose weight. She also posted this as a bulletin after the first one.

I have the worst cheeks eva
They are too big
Like a fucking chipmunk storing some nuts.
they need to leave along with my leg fat.
and once my pudge is gone, no matter how small you people think it is
I might actually be happy.

So yeah.
Im going on a diet.
Better than Vegitarian.
I think i might go vegan.

Now, it's entirely possible that this girl is just fishing for complements because she doesn't feel pretty. She's laid out the basic facts (90-95 pounds) with a basic amount needed to lose (5 pounds). She mentions adjusting her diet to accomplish this task (going vegan). So, apparently the second bulletin was sent to reinforce the point because she didn't get enough replies on the first one. "OH, NO YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE!" didn't happen enough times or from the right people and now I realize I've been tricked by a fourteen-year-old girl.

So I'm going to give this girl some advice, even though she just wants to be told she's pretty (she's a female, and it's natural for this need): Learn to spell, sweetie. Vegetarian! Vegetarian! Look, if you type the word and there is a red line under it, good chance you misspelled it. It's also possible that the computer doesn't understand (like with the word "wainscotting"), but mostly its' the poor spelling of the writer.

I can't help you lose weight, but I can help you spell.

The 500-Lb. Guide To Cocaine

2008-08-13T22:50:00.000-07:00

NOTE: The 500-Lb. Life Coach has never done coke. Possibly because on the few occasions it was offered to him, he was scared of the people who offered to him. It's also possible that a fat rail of coke would end up getting caught up in my arteries and kill me once and for all. That doesn't mean I can't tell you the TRUTH about this white powder, for mostly ill.

COCAINE: TRUTH TIME

Cocaine. It's a motherfucker. It's a hell of a drug, like Rick James said. Cocaine has inspired a lot of bad music, bad movies, bad entertainment. Okay, the movie "Xanadu"? Whoever made that movie? REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL high on coke.

"Flash Gordon", the 1980 Dino De Laurentiis movie with a soundtrack by Queen? Totally coked out, and probably the soundtrack too. That "Sgt. Pepper's" film with the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton. Mm-hmm. Van Halen's "1984" album. Same there.

But do you need modern examples, like from the last five years? Okay, I got you on there. OutKast's "Idlewild"? How's that for you. At least half the album (we know which one). More than a fair amount of rap music, hell - most pop music. I imagine Hannah Montana's songwriters are Hoovering themselves all the way to a deviated system.

And the film industry. I can only imagine that Brett Ratner and Michael Bay are up to their eyebrows in snow. Jerry Bruckheimer used to work with Don Simpson, the most infamous coked-out producer in modern Hollywood history. Don Simpson's exploits are Hollywood legend, and you have to imagine Bruckie had it together enough to keep his use in moderation. This motherfucker thought we needed, what, five Lethal Weapon movies? This prick made Mel Gibson the world-wide star he is today. Snowblowing fucker.

But enough about Coke and Hollywood. Let's talk about Coke and You.

How can any drug be glamorous if you have to do it in a bathroom stall? Honestly. Or in your boss' office at the restaurant you work? Honestly, how much pep do you need to take a party to their table? How is making a night out better when it's the same old club or bar, only you're more erratic? Honestly. Let's keep it real, children.

Coke and Teens:

What the fuck are you doing, teens? You've got pot and beer, why do you need to do coke and you're not even out of high school. Can't you wait until you're in college? I know you're not listen to me. Most of you aren't going to read this. Hell, you've probably done some already, you might be doing cocaine as you read this. In which case, STOP FUCKER!

Don't you know if you do coke, you make a kitten cry?

Do you see what you have done, coked-up teens of America? You've forced this kitten to pick up the bad habit of drinking? Mind you, it's a foo-foo drink but still, you're breaking Fluffy's fuckin' heart!

Straight Talk: Cocaine (The Thin White Duke)

2008-08-12T00:23:00.001-07:00

Let's have a little more fun with Teenadvice.about.com, because they're talking about COCAINE now. They decide to do give the straight talk to the kids about nose candy and naturally I have to make fun of them about it. Cocaine is not talked about very much in pop culture, apart from Dr. Roxso from "Metalocalypse" or whenever Buckcherry releases a new album.

So let's have some fun with Cocaine, as written by Jessica Stevenson (who holds a master's degree in social work from New York University...where I'm sure she got to learn about the horrors of coke firsthand). This is the first sentence of the piece...

Lots of people think of cocaine as a has-been '80s drug, but it's still around in a big way.

"I DO CO-CAINE!!!"

Cocaine--known as coke, crack, rock, Charlie, snow, flake, nose candy, powder, sneeze, toot and blow, among other things--is an extremely addictive stimulant derived from the coca plant. It can be snorted (powder cocaine), smoked (crack and freebase cocaine), injected or chewed.

Sneeze? Is that what they called it at NYU? I've heard the other ones but not "sneeze". Furthermore, I didn't know that people in North America chewed coke. That's gonna fuck up your teeth enamel.

Any form of cocaine can do lots of damage to your body because it targets your brain and central nervous system. It can also do a lot of damage to your wallet, not to mention your reputation.

"Coke is God's way of telling you that you have too much money." - Lorne Michaels (attributed). His reputation doesn't suck because of cocaine use, it's because he introduced Jimmy Fallon to the world.

Cocaine usually comes as a white, powder-like substance diluted ("cut") with sugar, crushed vitamins, flour, cornstarch and other powders. Crack comes in small "rocks," which are inserted into a pipe.

Really? You almost make it sound like a health supplement. Just say "baking soda" and kids will leave that shit alone. Nobody wants a nose fulla Arm & Hammer. COKE WITH VITAMINS C and D! I have this image of little Johnny putting a dash of Arm & Hammer into Dad's Calabash pipe. The only thing more embarrassing would be getting caught hanging oneself while jerking off.

How Does Cocaine Work?

Cocaine makes a beeline for the pleasure center of the brain, disrupting the balance of chemicals that keep your moods and emotions in check.

The "high" cocaine produces typically lasts less than 20 minutes. The quicker the drug reaches the brain, the shorter the high:

• Injecting cocaine introduces the drug to the bloodstream immediately, and its effects on the brain are instant.

• Smoking crack brings cocaine into the bloodstream through the lungs. In less than five seconds, the drug travels to the heart and brain.

• When snorted, cocaine enters the bloodstream through mucus membranes in the nose and travels through the body. Some of the drug is processed by the liver and some reaches the brain.

So, if you're scoring at home, you gotta inject or smoke the goodies. Snorting coke? You might as well set your allowance on fire.

What Are The Effects of Cocaine?

Cocaine’s high involves feelings of euphoria, heightened alertness, increased sex drive and decreased desire for sleep and food. Some cocaine users feel hyper when they’re high, and others report feeling more powerful and confident. However, a great deal of people feel anxious, angry, confused or hostile when using cocaine.

Yeah, you youngsters with your body issues and your low self-esteem things certainly don't want to feel powerful or confident, even if only for a little while. Euphoria sounds like a good time when you're a kid. Besides, you're already hostile, confused, anxious and pissed when you're a teenager, so what's the difference. Has anyone at TeenAdvice ever talked to a teen? I have, but usually just to flirt.

There's some boring stuff about the physical effects of coke on the body, the pupils dilating, nosebleeds, etc. I can't make jokes about facts, but coke will make you not want to eat, which means you'll lose weight and then the quarterback will ask you to THE PROM!

Cocaine and other drugs do not mix well. In fact, mixing cocaine with other substances is more likely to make it fatal.

The most common cause of death from cocaine overdose is respiratory failure. Respiratory failure is more likely when a depressant drug such as heroin has been taken as well, especially in a cocaine-heroin combination known as a speedball.

Cocaine is also particularly dangerous when mixed with alcohol. Combining the two drugs creates a substance known as cocaethylene, which strengthens the high of cocaine and increases the risk of sudden death.

Can you drink booze and snort lines and not die, like most drug abusers do? Congrats, you're not an idiot. You've done some amateur science and came out the other side. Tell that bastard Chemistry teacher of yours to give you a passing grade if you don't O.D.

Is Coke Really That Dangerous?

Yes! Cocaine can kill you, especially if you overdose.

Cocaine-related deaths are often caused by respiratory failure, heart attacks, abnormal heart rhythms, gangrene of the intestine, ruptured blood vessels and/or high body temperature. It's the source of lots of nasty chronic health issues, too, including heart problems, strokes, seizures, headaches, tremors, abdominal pain and nausea.

Frequent users of cocaine often experience agitation, depression and/or insomnia. They may become increasingly paranoid, restless and irritable. For some, these symptoms evolve into a mental illness that involves hallucinations and psychosis.

The second paragraph is the clincher, because it only proves that no one can tell the difference between a cokehead and being a teenager. Agitated, depressed, can't sleep? Paranoid, restless, irritable? Does this sound like you at seventeen? Except for the hallucinations, of course.

Here's an anecdote: in my senior year of high school, I read a brochure on "Symptoms of Marijuana Users" that had a list of ten symptoms. I had eight of them, and I hadn't smoked my first joint yet. I wouldn't smoke pot for another four years.

I'm going to put out the Honest Guide to Cocaine soon. I can't just shit on this and not have an alternative. That would be too punk rock. So tune in soon, to the Honest Guide to Cocaine.

Queenology: Why Not Already?

2008-08-09T01:14:00.000-07:00

As very few of you know, I am a huge fan of the band Queen. For those of you who don't know, Queen was a band that featured as its' lead singer a gentleman from Zanzibaar with buck teeth named Freddie Mercury. He wore tights that would embarrass most men, leotards that didn't have neck-lines so much as belly-button-lines, which would show that either he (hopefully) kept rolled-up tube socks in the front or (probably) he really enjoyed his job as frontman.

On guitar, stood a very tall aspiring scientist named Brian May. In his youth, he built a guitar out of the kindling of a discarded fireplace, a guitar he would go on to play for the rest of his years. May called it "The Red Special"; snarky jerks referred to it as "The Fireplace". In his later years, he would complete his doctorate in astronomy and publish his thesis on zodiacal light. Essentially, he remains a Renaissance man and the kind of person who could be Dr. Who.

On drums, the sole blond gent in the group, sat Roger Taylor, once known as Roger Meddows-Taylor. Roger liked fast cars and women, and for his part once wrote a great song called "I'm In Love With My Car." Rather than big star Freddie, Roger was the first Queen member to release a solo album. I have not heard it.

The bassist was John Deacon, a r&b enthusiast who was rumored to be a mole who lived in a cavern in the English countryside. John was the quiet, reserved type and had the entire band gone to a bar to pick up chicks (okay, if Roger and Brian had), then John would've been what is referred to as a "wingman". Yes, he would've hooked up with the dumpy best friends of whoever Roger or Brian took home that night, because that's what bandmates do.

Having introduced the four principles in this group, I feel the need to compare them to another famous '70s rock foursome, Kiss. Kiss was once regarded an awesome group, until Gene Simmons decided to put the band's name and faces on everything from condoms to coffins. Which isn't fair: if anybody deserves to be honored with their own condom, it would be Freddie Mercury.

But here's the rub, all that stuff that Kiss put their name on and the ONE THING that their fans really wanted from them was Kissology. Kissology was a 3-volume DVD set of concert footage, video clips, news items and video detritus that spanned their entire career. They sold millions upon millions of the damn things. And the funny thing is Queen were home video innovators once upon a time, with the triple-VHS set "The Magic Years" and video releases of their 1986 Wembley Stadium concert and the first Video EP releases.

I know that Queen has to have quite an array of live footage sitting around gathering dust. Bits and pieces have come out, but all post-1981. Why not a Queenology for the fans old and new?

If it were up to me, I'd structure the release of Queenology like Kiss did with their sets, each one chronicling a specific period in the group's career.

VOLUME 1: 1973-1977
"Keep Yourself Alive" promo (both versions)
"Liar" promo (both version)
Rainbow Theatre, 1974
Hammersmith Odeon, 1975
Hyde Park, 1976
Earls Court, 1977
Houston Summit, 1977

VOLUME 2: 1978-1982
Hammersmith Odeon "Concert For Kampuchea", 1979
Jazz Tour, 1978
Argentina Tour, 1981
"Under Pressure" & "Crazy Little Thing Called Love", Saturday Night Live, 1982

VOLUME 3: 1984-1986
Tokyo, Japan, The Works Tour 1985
Budapest, A Kind Of Magic Tour 1986

I don't know what else is out there, maybe combine the 1978-1986 stuff. I don't know how you treat their lack of concert performance after 1986, either. Somebody please get Queen on the horn and get them at this already. I don't care if the video isn't perfect. I want to give you my money, Brian May. Why won't you let me give you my money?

For Girls: "Does The Cute Boy Like Me?"

2008-08-07T00:57:00.001-07:00

I typed "advice" in my little Google box and the first site listed was http://teenadvice.about.com and their headline was "How To Tell If He Has A Crush On You". They list eight items that might be helpful or misleading, depending on your situation. So, for all the girls who wonder if the cute boy likes them, here are the eight steps listed by Teen Advice, but parsed by The 500-Lb. Life Coach (full disclosure: The 500-Lb. Life Coach was never the cute boy in school).

1. Your gut says "Yes!"

The problem with this is that the brain is telling the guts what's up, but if you might be suffering from a delusion. For example, between 1997 and 2003, I used to think I was in line to become King of Sweden. If this is the case, I suggest a good dose of cognitive therapy and the book "Feeling Good" by David D. Burns, M.D. He has a website: www.feelinggood.com

2. They can't take their eyes off you.

This could be true whether you have big tits or a misshapen head. Remember that some people have watched Brazilian Fart Porn over and over again, unironically.

3. They want to be near you.

This only works if you're a rich kid.

4. They remember things you said.

True story: Senior year of high school, I went to watch our basketball team play a home game. There was always a clique of kids who always went to games, while I went only a few times. The cheerleaders did a "Gimme-An-E..." type of chant to spell out "EAGLES", but when the cheerleaders finally concluded with "What's that spell?", the cool kids always feigned ignorance at them. Ha-ha, funny joke. One that I wasn't aware of until it was too late.

For this game I sat on the edge of the cool crowd, and prepared to say "Boners!" in place of "Eagles!" in order to crack up the two or three idiots next to me. So when the cheerleaders went into the chant, I expected my boner comment to be muffled by a shout of "Eagles!" Instead, the guys feigned silence while I pepped up with a lone "boners!" Instantly, everyone had a good laugh and I became "Boner Boy" for the rest of that semester. Yes, it's true. People remember what you say, but that cuts both ways.

5. They think you're hilarious - even if you totally aren't.

This one is the most true so far. I can't refute it. The cute boy could grab your tit and pretend it's a volume knob and you might think that's cute, even though if Snidely McOutcast tried that, you'd have him sent to the rubber room with all the other problem students. Yeah, perception is reality and your perception is distorted like a fun-house mirror in high school.

By the way, I was hilarious in high school, even though everyone thought I totally wasn't.

6. They smile like it's going out of style!

(this is what Teen Advice wrote)
When you walk into the room, his face lights up. You raise your hand in class, and he grins like he's just won the lottery. When you talk to each other, he's smiling big and paying attention. Yup, he thinks you're the bee's knees. Now ask him out already!

Who wrote this? Some sort of alcoholic cat lady with a heart full of regret because she didn't take some initiative and ask a boy to prom, therefore ending up home alone that weekend with a pack of frankfurters and a crying towel? Okay, I'm sorry, I'm not good at imagery.

7. They tell someone they like you.

This is always bad. Third parties love to cause drama and chaos, by saying "So-and-so likes you" when maybe so-and-so DOESN'T like you like that. Maybe he thinks you're nice, or friendly, or a Plan D in case the three chicks he really wants to make out with turn him down, but he probably doesn't like you like you like him. There are too many "likes" in this fucking paragraph.

8. They ask for your opinion.

This is code for "they copy off your paper." Are you a good student? Really outstanding at algebra or social studies or something that requires reading the textbook? Here's a great plan: offer to "tutor" him, then while you're tutoring him grab his junk. What's he gonna do? He can't talk at that point. "Please stop playing with my dick or I'll call Mom!" Then warn him not to brag to his friends or you'll sic your older brother or dad on him for lying about you. Tighten your grip to emphasize that point.

If he keeps his mouth shut, then it's hand party all the fucking time! He'll think you're okay in no time! Pretty soon, he'll return the favor (don't worry, it'll take about a dozen times before he does so, and bring a towel because if he gets tit access, those suckers will be covered in saliva 'til next Tuesday.)

One final note: don't give out the mouth and pussy love too soon. Wait at least until your junior prom and only if he's a foreign exchange student or an older guy who bought you pot. You know what, stop reading this.

The 500-Lb. Film Critic: The Dark Knight

2008-08-04T22:11:00.000-07:00

I finally got off my duff and walked into the late night Sunday screening of The Dark Knight. I did not watch it in IMAX, I will have to go see it in IMAX soon. Here are some thoughts I've had in the last day since I watched TDK.

1. Why does Christian Bale in the Batsuit sound like Little Nicky when he speaks?

2. If Coleman Reese is on TV saying he knows who Batman is, and is known as being an employee of Wayne Enterprises...um, wouldn't somebody have figured out 2 plus 2 on that one?

3. Heath Ledger as the Joker: as good as advertised. I still chuckle at the "pencil-disappearing scene."

4. This movie only proves that Joel Schumacher is a bigger douche than previously realized, especially given Michael Caine's portrayal of butler Alfred. Joel Schumacher had Arthur dying in "Batman & Robin". And the batnipples, too. Ugh. The Christopher Nolan reboot was a great idea.

5. If the reboot is a great idea, then how come I can't remember watching Batman Begins even though I borrowed it from a friend. I must have watched it, it was before I had home internet.

6. However, had David Cronenberg directed this film, I would've thrown up my popcorn.

7. So what happens next? Do you re-cast the Joker? You can't reboot the Joker. Whoever is cast would have to be Heath Ledger's Joker. I would say Hugh Laurie would make a great choice, but he's twenty years older than Ledger. Makeup is good, but would Laurie want to take on a role where someone else (Ledger) did the legwork.

8. Internet rumor has Philip Seymour Hoffman as the Penguin, but Nolan has pooh-poohed the idea of the Penguin in this series of films. Perhaps it's because of the Penguin's cartoony vibe, but it might also have something to do with the backstory of the Penguin: unlike many other Batman enemies, he isn't insane. Two-Face, driven mad. Riddler, driven mad. The Joker? Mad and we don't know why. Penguin, as scarred emotionally as he is, is still relatively well-adjusted and that won't vibe in the Nolan-style Batuniverse.

9. I am going to pin Harry Knowles down and shit in his mouth. Why? I flipped a coin. Heads, no poo-poo. He got tails.

Occupy yourself, fool!

2008-08-03T23:12:00.000-07:00

in need of advice/suggestions
I'm mentally very worn out right now...
I need something to occupy myself besides online poker...
don't tell me to read a book, because that requires far too much thought at this point...
beyond that, is there anything anyone can suggest to help me occupy myself outside of work?
I mean, seriously...I'm to the point where I look forward to going to a shitty job because I can take an 8 hour mental vacation...
- blog posted by Stendarr, 6:45 PM, August 3, 2008

Do you like video games, Stendarr? Why not play some video games, and not computer video games either. You don't even need a Wii or XBox 366 or whatever the hot gaming system is these days. Do you have an Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis or something like that stored in your closet, along with all the games your parents bought for you when you were a child? If so, get crazy and whip those suckers out for old times sake. You know you wanna get wild with Super Mario 3 (watch out for World 3, it's the water world with the fish that swallows you whole...that fish always gave me nightmares). Do it, Stendarr. Relive your youth.

Oh, you don't have any old gaming systems? Shit, that sucks. Well, if you have any spending cash get thee to the nearest comic book store and buy some gaming material. When I was a kid (i.e., when I was 24), I used to play Magic The Gathering with friends. I haven't played in years, but I wish I had my deck still, so I could go gaming and play with people who have far more acne then I ever had. They would beat me in the game, but I'd get the last laugh because I'd drive back to my house and drink beer for dinner while they get in Mom's stationwagon and eat whatever she makes for them. God, I miss my mother.

Okay, you're not a gaming type. I get it, man. You like the online stuff, do ya? Fine, I get it, so I'm gonna give you an option that allows you to sit in your office chair: Enter a chat room and flag potential spammers. You know the ones? You go into the "Hot Sexxx" room and some bot keeps spitting out the same tired pickup line every few minutes. I'll give you a clue on which ones are spammers: they like giving their age, gender and location (like this: m/30/pit of eternal darkness).

Maybe you don't want to go in a chatroom, however. Maybe you don't have Java enabled, for reasons known only to yourself and your parole officer. Okay, why not go into a message board and "troll". Here's a great idea, for example: Go to Okayplayer.com boards, specifically the one called "The Lesson". The Lesson is the music-specific forum on the Okayplayer board. While in there, make an argument in favor of either Prince or Rick James while simultaneously condemning the other completely. Oh, boy will you incur a whole lotta wrath on that one.

There are so many options for you out there, Stendarr. You just gotta put on your thinking cap. My thinking cap looks like a yarmulke, only it's made of raw meat. ANGANGANGANGANGANGANG! See? Just got some thinking done.

Friends. Whoop-de-freaking-doo.

2008-08-03T02:41:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to go to a show this Saturday, but I just got invitation to a friend's wedding party. I've known both the bride and groom for many years, but it's not even an actual wedding. It's just an engagement party. And the invite says to bring a bottle of liquor for the party, but I don't drink. I'm supportive of my friend's getting married, but they're just the honorees of this party not the hosts. Should I tell the party to get fucked or should I bite my lip and show up with a bottle of something.

Signed,
Conflicted In A Red State

Dear Conflicted,
It would depend on how well you like your friends who are getting married. It would also depend on what show we're talking about here. Obviously, if it's something important, like "Miss Nude Indiana '08"...well, they do that every year, and it's not really all it's cracked up to be. I promise, with crossed fingers.

How long have you planned to do this though? What is it? Did you make plans with other people to go to it? Well, then you can't shake them off, and it would be impolite, particularly if it's something the group has invested a lot of time and energy in.

Okay, okay. Truth time. "Conflicted" is me. I'm not really that conflicted, because I've already made my decision. Here's the deal: I wanted to go to the Rollerderby in Evansville this Saturday, but it completely clashes with an engagement party some friends are throwing for a couple I've known nearly ten years. I'm good friends with them and I should go to this since their wedding is taking place about three hours away and I probably won't be able to make that one.

But it's the Rollergirls of Southern Indiana! It's their last bout of the season, too! Oooh this gets me flustered just thinking about it. I guess I could go to the Louisville rollergirls thing when they have them, but I got to go skinny-dipping with two of the girls after the bout and it was AWESOME (it's not technically skinny-dipping because they kept their clothes on and I flashed them...different story for a different time).

But if I expected to go swimming every time I went to see a Rollerderby bout, I'd probably be disappointed no matter how many times I went. What I'm saying is I want to be around women more, but this engagement party is going to be teh suck, because I am a n00b in teh game of l0ve. I get pwned every time, and without a doubt this party will be festooned with happy couples while I sit alone waiting for someone to say something to me. What fun?

In the end, I've decided to go to the engagement party. It's for friends, and I'm gonna try to get a gift or something in lieu of alcohol. I can't pick a good wine, anyway. Maybe I can get the happy couple something useful, like a twenty-year supply of headache powder. That's what friends do.

Too much Internet porn? Let me help.

2008-07-29T23:38:00.000-07:00

My problem: I watch too much internet porno. What to do?
Trav-ass (via Myspace)

You know what your problem is, Trav? You don't love yourself enough.

I've had that told to me a million times in my life, that I didn't "love myself" and needed to start doing so ASAP. I never knew what it meant. Don't get me wrong, the concept of self-hatred is well-ingrained in me, having taken the baton from the kids at school who used to taunt me relentlessly. Now those kids are in my head and I'm the one who does it to myself.

So if hating yourself is running yourself down with insults about your looks, status, etc., then loving yourself would have to be the opposite, right? Instead of making yourself miserable with putdowns, looking in the mirror and telling yourself how great you are.

I saw this in the grid at the CSU (undisclosed location). I had just returned from a twenty-month hellride in Los Angeles, depressed and anxious. I was terrified to see people anymore, and I needed help. Over the course of six days, I spent a lot of time in group therapy on the grid, and the women were given tips on improving their self-esteem by looking at themselves in the mirror every morning and reciting words on a sheet about all their positive virtues. It was an alphabetic fill-in-the-blank.

I am Amazing
I am Beneficial (?)
I am Carthage, which fell in the Third Punic War (146 BC)

It's kind of hard to fill-in-the-blank when you really think about it. The men were given written exercises to do about self-esteem repair. The point being, I believe that the concept of self-love is a woman-generated one, and as such is difficult for a man to grasp. If women are abstract, men are concrete. I probably have this all wrong, and as yet I still haven't even mentioned your internet porn problem, Trav. So I'm going to give you five words, Trav, and please make a note of them.

1. Don't
2. Shit
3. Where
4. You
5. Eat

Don't shit where you eat. I first heard of this phrase when I bought a Ween album with that as the last song title. For years, I never knew what it meant. If you go to Urban Dictionary

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=don't+shit+where+you+eat

...you'll find that it means to not have sex with or date co-workers. In other words, don't make yourself uncomfortable in a vulnerable situation, such as the workplace.

Now, Trav. I'm going to assume that like most Internet-savvy folks, you do a little bit of work at home. Maybe you're a self-starter. And if you're watching Internet porn on your home/work computer while masturbating, you're pretty much dropping a deuce at the Quizno's checkout counter. Savvy? Savvy.

How can you stop watching Internet porn? Well, it's not the watching that's the problem, it's the jacking off that's the problem. All the compressed air in the world can't vacuum out the dried jizz under the spacebar. Nope, you're gonna need to get in there with toothpicks and tiny screwdrivers, because it's matted in with stray hair and food particles, wrapped snugly into a nice dustball.

I say, convert the porn files over, burn them onto a DVD-R and take that tranny porn into the bedroom where you keep your TV. You don't have a TV in your bedroom? What is this, 1985? Get with the times, Trav. You're a grownup, you can eat ice cream whenever you want. And you might as well have a TV set in your bedroom, if only for DVD watching.

When you sit there, in your office chair at home, pulling your pud to something on YouPorn or PornTube or whatever, you're not really loving yourself. Do yourself a favor, kick back in bed with clothes off all the way (not even the underwear around one ankle...who would you be fooling at that point?), get out the lotion and go to town. Stop making off-jacking a job and really enjoy it when you get a chance. That's the closest thing I can think off to "loving yourself."

Marriage as ice on your sex life

2008-07-28T15:26:00.000-07:00

Why is it that women stop putting out once you give them a wedding ring? Answer me that, hot-shot!

Nazz (with God-given ass)

Nazzy Nazzy Nazzy...where to start? A married man like yourself asking a terminally single guy like me to unlock the mystery of hot love gone lukewarm after the vows. You should've loved her and left her, I know I would have if I were in your situation.

I want to tell you a story that is simutaneously creepy and heartwarming. It takes place in a adult video store on the Dixie Highway outside the official city limits of Louisville, Kentucky. I had a few dollars of extra scratch, just enough to buy a $9.99 DVD. Those DVDs are cheap because the girls are disinterested, the guys are uglier than usual porn dudes, and the camera angles and lighting are poorly done. You can get 2-for-the-price-of-1 specials often, because your spank material is someone else's dust-covered inventory.

Needless to say, this adult video store had a "video parlour", either in the form of a theater ("couples get in free") or viewing booths, or both. I don't know because I'm scared to go in those places. I was in the main store, looking for a ten-buck DVD that might have two or three redeemable fuck scenes at best, when who should walk in but a VERY OLD COUPLE. Oh, my Lord, were these people old, and they had blank faces while not staring directly at anything. They made some change for tokens at the cash register, then sauntered zombie-like into the back, where the booth/theater/badthing lay.

My mind reeled at what kind of things this old couple were going to try in that hellhole. I was scared to imagine it, yet intrigued. For a minute, I wanted to follow them back there, engage them and see where this choose-your-own-adventure took me. Would the old man watch as his wife took on strange men sexually? What if it were the old man took the dick while his wife watched, instead? What if they shared like an ice cream cone? Oh, the possibilities...all three or four of them.

I decided not to go in the back, bought my DVDs, got in my car and left with a thoroughly blown mind. I had no use for that anecdote, Nazzy, until now, because since you asked me about women ceasing to give it up after a ring goes on their finger, I've put it all together.

Maybe women get bored, feel taken for granted, feel unsexy seeing as how they see their spouses (and vice versa) see them in all their unsexy moments. They've seen their husbands farting the couch up in Dorito-dust covered sweatpants, and hubby's seen the period panties more times than he'd want to recall in the wash. The wife has bad hair days, the man is losing his hair completely, both of them are growing larger bellies. Familiarity breeding contempt.

But this creepy bisexual elderly couple had figured it out, in their own loosely promiscuous and unsafe way. I am not condoning taking your wife to meet new people at the Adult Video Lounge, but how's about a little EXCITEMENT for a change. I don't know how to help you, you know what would excite your spouse. For some of you, it might mean a European vacation, for others it might be Trivia Night at Buffalo Wild Wings. Whatever blows wind up her skirt.

Have some fun, get a little crazy, crank up the Prince or Barry White, figure it out. It's not the Da Vinci Code, it's your wife's vagina.

You know how I know you're gay?

2008-07-24T01:39:00.000-07:00

Dear 500-Lb. Life Coach,

I say it's not gay if a homo gives you a BJ, but a friend of mine says otherwise. What say you?

Regards,
Larry from Idaho

Dear Larry from Idahomo (see what I did there?)

You can receive a blowjob from a guy and not be gay. Unless you enjoy it. Hope that settles it, dinnermasher.

While we're on this subject, let's get some things figured out for the confused "bi-curious" masses out there.

Multiple choice: A "bi-curious" male is either:
A: Someone who would prefer a chick but hasn't gotten any lately.
B: Someone who hasn't tried it yet.
C: Both A & B

Okay, Larry... if you want to check it out and get a hummer from some dude, go for it. It's okay. I am going to hasten a guess and say that many people have "experimented" at one time or another with their sexuality. For some people, it may only involve kissing someone of the same sex (i.e. The Pete Wentz) or all the way to actual intercourse (i.e. The Stuff Pete Wentz Is Scared To Do Because He's Not Gay Even Though He Claims To Be Bisexual). It's common, if not standard, for straights to try things out once or twice and then return to the land of Heterotopia with a dark secret they can't tell their roommates.

I did not just accuse all straight people of experimenting just now. I mean, a significant number of them. If anybody needs me, I'm going to be watching some lesbian porn (which is a different thing altogether from gay porn...i'm glad we got that settled).

How to deal with unwanted erections

2008-07-20T15:02:00.000-07:00

I've been gone for a few weeks, I know. I was sleeping in a ditch for a few days. I didn't get evicted, I just felt like it. It was nice and cool, but the ticks are deeply embedded now and I'll need some help getting them out. Here's a letter.

Dear 500-Lb. Life Coach,

Sometimes at work, I find myself getting erections. It's hard for me to hide them, especially since my job requires me to do a lot of standing and walking. How can I make this problem go away?

Sincerely,
Corey from Evansville

Dear Corey,

Every man has this problem, one of those rare times where the impotent are envied. This has been a problem ever since a boy had to walk to the blackboard to finish a math problem. It's been said that males think about sex every six seconds, which means I've had to stop typing midway through every...sentence just to think about sex.

I have been pondering this for a while now, and I believe I have a pretty good solution. In order to prove this would work, I had to stimulate myself into popping a boner. No problem. Now, I have to make it go away. If you're at work, you can't take your boner into the bathroom and pound it away, that's time you could spend smoking behind the building. So with my hard-on, I decided to repeat this mantra. It's only three words, and it worked like a charm.

"SARAH JESSICA PARKER
SARAH JESSICA PARKER
SARAH JESSICA PARKER
SARAH JESSICA PARKER"

By the fourth time I said these words, I was no longer thinking about my boner, but instead pondering the absurdity of a TV show where four not-gorgeous looking women have lots of sex in New York City. Don't get me wrong, they're not "ugly" but such strange casting. The best looking one of them, Kim Cattrall, I'd need a time machine just to go back to 1988 so I could climb all over her. Jeez, "Sex & The City" is just as fictional as "Spiderman"...and my boner's gone. Voila!

Go forth, young man. I hope this helps you. I'm going to have a boilermaker and lie in the hot sun.

Confession and Solicitation

2008-07-08T01:14:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make.

I don't think David Cross is a funny standup comedian.

Don't hit me. Stop hitting me. I'm sorry if this offends you, but stop with the hitting.

I tried to listen to "Shut Up You Fucking Baby" again, and boy I can't stand it. He talks a lot, bitches a lot and doesn't really tell a lot of jokes. I've tried to get into David Cross, having listened to SUYFB and "It's Not Funny" and I don't like him. I like Mr. Show but I wouldn't pay to see him do standup. He does good work, but his standup seems to be mostly complaining and few jokes.

Another thing I wanna say, as long as I'm here. I don't go to comedy shows anymore, mostly because I'm tired of comedy audiences. Perhaps it's just Louisville, where people go see Doug Stanhope and yell "FUCK DANE COOK" at him. Will you pricks save that for when David Cross comes to town? I like Stanhope, he seems to have a better joke/bitch ratio than some of the comedians he's been compared to, like Bill Hicks.

There's no reason to yell "Fuck Dane Cook" at someone onstage who isn't Dane Cook. You might as well go to the Kentucky Derby and yell "FUCK THE LAKERS!" It's a pointless gesture. No one yells "FUCK THE RED SOX" at the sumo tournament.

I'm writing this because no one wants to ask me any questions. I can't give advice to people who don't want it from me. Somebody leave me some problems to address in the comments. I know there are people out there reading this. Hit me up. I don't even know how many people read this blog. Probably a few dozen a day or so, if I'm lucky.

If you're not brave enough to send me something thru the comments, hit me up at my e-mail: keepyourselfalive@hotmail.com

Fireworks after the 4th

2008-07-05T02:38:00.001-07:00

Hey fatass,
I got all kinds of shit left over that I still aint blowed up yet. We had a real humdinger out here in the field. A few notes...

1. Don't light some fireworks in tall grass. Who knew?

2. We had two cases of Bud that we got from the bootlegger. That fucker charged a 40% markup. So do you know a cheaper goddamn guy besides this fucker? I don't care if you did go to high school with this guy?

3. I passed out before I got to blow up everything I bought from the firework shack on the Indiana border. How do I dispose of this crap or do I just save it for next year?

4. That chick with the lazy eye came to the party and told me she wants you to bring that VHS tape of "Myra Breckinridge" you borrowed from her back, ASCAP!

Signed,
Edsel, your cousin who has a job

Dear Edsel,

First off, she gave me "Myra Breckinridge". She can't just have it back after giving it to me as a gift.

More importantly, it's not gonna do you any good to just keep old fireworks laying around. It's a fire hazard, or something. What do you got? Take the smoke candle and let it off in a restaurant bathroom, for all I care.*

(* This is probably illegal, so don't.)

I'm sorry, I've been drinking too, Edsel. It is the Fourth, or it was until about five hours ago. But heyyyyyy it's never too late to enjoy your fireworks. I'd let 'em off soon, because if you pour water on them, they turn into evil Gremlins like in the movies.

BTW, that guy I sent you to is the guy you want to go to if you need to get some weed on credit. I wouldn't buy booze from him. Try Nick and Sheila in Cromwell or the Sutherlands on Hwy. 55. Be careful, because they have posted signs saying "BEWAER!! SNEAKERS WILL BE SHOT!!!" (Lord knows "trespassers" is tough enough to spell, as is "pumpkin" which they spell "PUNKIN"). If you're gonna buy weed from Kevin on credit, you've got to buy it upfront for a while so he'll trust you.

Sobbing,
The 500-Lb. Life Coach

I give better advice than "Wired" Magazine

2008-06-29T19:27:00.000-07:00

This question was posed in the latest issue of "Wired" Magazine.

I recently gave my old laptop to a friend's 9-year-old daughter. Later, I remembered that I had left some risque material hidden in an obscure folder. Should I ask for the laptop back or just hope the kid doesn't discover my stash.

Here's what Wired says:
Never bet against the inquisitiveness of a child...blah blah blah..."I think it's quite okay to say, "Gosh, I'm sorry for the inconvienience but I really need the computer back for a day-I left some important files on there.", says Syndi Seid, founder of Advanced Etiquette, a San Francisco-based training company.

There's more in the Wired issue (specifically, do a full-drive wipe and OS reinstall before donating your computer), but the main point is that the kid has probably found the damn thing already. Whatever you were doing has already been found and the fact that you sent a message to Wired only postpones your embarrassment at having to go to the kid's father begging for a day with your sinful, dirty laptop.

It doesn't take kids very long to discover stuff, whether its' their Christmas present a week early in a spot you thought was foolproof or "Sex Dwarf Vol. 8: Brad Takes It Deep" in the "Gay Creampie" folder in your old C-drive. Kids are funny like that. Odds are, the kid alerted her folks, and your friend did the deleting already. Be a good man and apologize. If somehow, she didn't find it yet, you got a moment to save face.

How To Meet Women

2008-06-28T00:05:00.000-07:00

Dear 500-Lb. Life Coach,

I don't seem to be meeting the right kind of women. How can I change this?

Signed,
Neckbone in Imaginary-Land

Dear Neckbone,

Step 1: Do a Wikipedia category search for "Places"
Step 2: Pick one of these places. Chances are, girls will be there.
Step 3: Go to said place.
Step 4: Make sure to be relatively clean.
Step 5: Say hello to women.

Goddamn it Neckbone, just say you wanna get laid if you wanna get laid. Here's an example: "I, the Mike aka The 500-Lb. Life Coach, wants to get laid tonight. Will settle for oral, hand party, dryhumping, kissing, etc."

Unless you got a girl who doesn't mind you calling at 1AM, you single dudes are gonna hafta put some time in. You gotta get these girls to think you're okay, and not some creepy put-the-lotion-in-the-basket m'fers.

If you actually hit it like a caveman, odds are she won't want to see you again. This happened to me a while back, when I was with a chick. We fooled around, but we didn't fuck right off the bat. I did want to fuck right away, but she wanted to hold off, because "I like you, I don't just want to fuck you and throw you away."

"So you like me?"
"Yeah, I like you. If I didn't like you, I'd have just fucked you and never talked to you again."
"That's nice to know."

Seriously, if you want a one-night-stand with a chick, you will become persona non grata in her memory forever. You are what the Jamaicans call a "duppy" - a restless spirit of the dead destined to haunt the living.

If you live in a big city like New York or Paris, you might be able to do a little fuck-and-run, but in a place like Murfreesboro, Tennessee you'll run into the same girls at the same spots and eventually word will circulate what a horndoggin' m'fer you are. So tread light, Neckbone, tread light.

Google: "Ann Landers + fat pussy" = 5,610 results.

2008-06-22T00:27:00.000-07:00

However, "Dear Abby + cleft vagina" only turns up 619 results.

Here's a question that someone posed to Dear Abby a few days ago.

Dear Abby: I have two children under the age of 4. When they address adults – including baby sitters – I have taught them to preface it with “Ms.” or “Mr.” and the person’s first name. We consider it a form of respect, and although I realize that each parent has her (or his) own take on this, it has begun to bother me when their children address us by our first names. Am I making a big deal out of nothing? – Wondering

Dear Wondering...

Abby is off to the vagina doctor right now, and I'm sitting in for her while she gets the stalactites vacuumed. But here is her response before she dashed off in her rickshaw.

Dear Wondering: As you point out, different families have different standards. Because you prefer to be called “Ms.,” bring it not only to the attention of the child, but also to the child’s parent, and your wishes should be respected.

Now, the Mike is back, and reading that answer (four times now) makes me think that Abby is letting the readers do most of the work. Don't believe me? Go and read an actual Dear Abby column. 90% percent of the column is the problem being posted, and Abby shows up with a quick sentence or two just to earn her paycheck. That cunt. I don't use "cunt" very often, apart from between Monday 12:01 AM to Sunday 11:59 PM, but Dear Abby is a cunt from hell who gives short shrift to people with problems.

Having said that, I am going to answer "Wondering" in a manner that this subject deserves.

Dear Wondering (again),

What the fuck is wrong with you? Isn't "sir" and "ma'am" good enough for you? "Sir" and "Ma'am" are fine. They're great. People have been using them for nearly a decade now, and nobody's had any problem with it. Men don't mind being called "sir", women are cool with "ma'am." It's fine, just ask Emmanuel Lewis, who was an outright disrespectful shit on that sitcom "Webster". He called his dad "George", but overcompensated by calling his mom "Ma'am." Little bastard. I hope he's happy, wherever he is.

Seriously, "sir" and "ma'am" are great. But nooooo, Wondering, you have to bring formality into it, like it's a fuckin' dinner party with the Queen of England.

Look, shitmop, it's this fuckin' simple: "sir"/"ma'am", unless the kids have to talk to a particular adult in a group, then they can refer to that person as "Mr."/"Mrs.", or just cut out the whole gender thing and say "Excuse me?" Wow. That took a shorter time to think up than it did to type just now. You poor excuse for a mother. Your kids are gonna end up with drug problems and sex addictions, because you're too neurotic about the wrong things.

I'd hate to see what happens when your kids meet doctors for the first time.

Wart removal.

2008-06-19T02:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've got some warts. I got one on my neck, one off my collarbone and I want to get rid of these bastards without having to go to the doc to freeze 'em off. Since they're not on my feet or hands, should I be extra sensitive to what kind of remover I use?

Man In The Mirror.

Here's the deal. I'm writing this question to myself. I've got these ugly suckers here and I need to fix this problem, and this is what I'm using now: Pedifix Maximum Strength Wart Stick. What you do is swab it on there, then cover it with a bandaid. Repeat this procedure daily.

Go online and you'll find any sort of odd home remedies for wart removal, ranging from choking the life out of the wart by wrapping a string around it to covering it in duct tape (!) and then filing it down. These all seem kinda stupid and vaguely dangerous.

Here's the key ingredient for wart removal: Salicylic acid. The Wart Stick has 40% of salicylic acid, giving it the bang for your buck (I paid $5). Beware, as it looks like chapstick. Do not put it on your mouth. Or genitals, for that matter. Sorry, sluts: you'll just have to get those genital suckers burned off at the free clinic.

I've just applied The Wart Stick on my neck, and I can feel it burning. I hope that's what is is doing. I figured if I had knobby growths on my hands, I would just rip them out with a pair of pliers. Why? Call me crazy, but I like seeing my own blood, and the off chance that I'd rip out the wart root and it would slither like the beasts from that movie "Tremors". As of yet, I've never had any hand warts, so I've never had to test that theory. Good thing, because I'd probably cause a larger mess than the one I'm visualizing: neat blood-encrusted holes where the warts had been, like the vacant spaces in the mouth where my teeth used to be.

This wart stuff has brought out the real sadomasochist in me. It helps that my dermatologist wears a smock made of PVC.

Legal briefs (and what lurks underneath)

2008-06-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

Dear 500-Lb. Life Coach,

I am currently looking forward to beginning a promising judicial career. Which codec do I need to install in order to play .avi files of bestiality porn?

Thanks in advance,
Judge Whoppner

Dear Judge Whoppner,

Whenever I want to watch downloaded .avi files on my computer, I find that DivX works wonders. Winamp is good for .wmv and other types of video files, but won't play .avi, but hey I'm not mad. Although I would caution that possession of bestial porn is a federal offense that can land you in a cell.

Oh, wait, you were being a smartass, weren't you? I'm sorry, for a minute I forgot about the federal judge Alex Kosinski (more like Alex Kinkyski, eh?) and his collection of questionable images on his server. They weren't really prurient, mostly meant to be comical, I've seen some of the images.

I think this is as good a time as any to start an ANIMAL LOVER DATABASE. I want to know who these people are who not only engage in sex acts with animals, but document them for posterity. I'm not talking about donkey show acts in Tijuana, I'm talking about the freaks that could be living in our neighborhoods.

I don't even need to see the acts in question, I just want a documentation of the human performer's face and acts they allowed themselves to be documented doing, and the animals they did it with.

Listen, if you're going to have websites like "Girl, don't date him" and "Hot Chicks With Douchebags", then we need a database to collect identities of people who enjoy animal sex. Seriously, how would you feel if your hot date shared their genitals with the family pet? Do you want to go home with Fido's sloppy seconds? I don't think so, folks.

That's where the database would come in handy: post a pic of the one you're dating, and see if there are any likenesses in the database. If the internet can come up with "Celebrities I Resemble", then it can conjure up "Iguana Tongue Enthusiasts I Resemble", and without even going to the trouble of posting the parts of the photos that make it obscenity.

This is the sort of thing that requires government intervention. Or some impressive corporate underwriting. And people who know how to do paperwork.

I'm your advice man.

2008-06-12T11:54:00.001-07:00

If you would like to get advice from The 500-Lb. Life Coach, contact him via e-mail at keepyourselfalive@hotmail.com or contact him at his myspace account. Http://www.myspace.com/kentuckyprophet

The 500-Lb. Life Coach is not a trained professional. Never has been, never will be. You accept his advice at your own peril. Kinda like Dr. Phil, only far more awesome.

Suggested listening:
The Tubes, "The Completion Backward Principle"
Sparks, "Angst In My Pants"
The Roots, "Rising Down"

Psycho-somatic illness vs. spoiled tomatoes

2008-06-12T11:25:00.000-07:00

Our first query comes from Johnny:

I seem to live largely off tomatoes, Romas in particular...Yep, the federally-warned-against-due-to-salmonella-outbreak Romas...I got tired of this quarantined imposition and decided to gamble...Romas purchased this last weekend were sitting untouched in my fridge....my tomatoes that I'd bought with my hard-earned scratch...I set to eating my tomatoes (starting with a small one, just to be 'safe').

I awoke at 2:00 am with severe fever, muscle cramps, and gastro-intestinal gurgling of every variety seeking immediate safe passage out of its then-current digs, dig?

Could this just be a psycho-somatic episode brought about by all the media hype?...Could've this been compounded by by my concurrent indulgence of nearly an entire large flat of raw cherries from Sam's, as well as a new thing I'm preparing called 'skillet corn'...Or do I indeed have self-induced salmonella poisoning?

Well, Johnny...besides that wonderful visual of you at 2AM, you've forced me to do some actual research. I hope you're happy with yourself. Specifically, looking at the wikipedia page for "foodborne illness", where it states that the people most likely to have permanent health effects or death on the following people: babies, the elderly, young kids, pregnant women, sick people and people with weak immune systems.
Since you appear to not be any of those types of people (being a late-30s male), I'd say you've dodged a bullet in the long run.

But since you have not complained of further illness derived from your tomato misadventure, I'll have to assume that your bathroom interlude was the worst of it. If so, then I think you're okay, so long as you don't tempt fate by eating the rest of the Romas in your fridge.

You see, psychosomatic illness covers a wide range of medical fields, and the gastric field is not commonly accepted as one of those covered. Ya'unnnerstan? Your brain didn't make you have a violent bowel movement. Your bowels did that. I don't know if you were sitting there post-meal stressing over whether the LaBrea tar pits were brewing in your stomach, but I imagine you weren't.

If I were you Johnny, I'd watch it with the corn and cherries and tomatoes. Market produce is a Russian Roulette of diarrhea. It seems that every several months, there's a new outbreak related to produce. Witness the problems over store-bought spinach earlier this year. These things come from industrial farms and gardens that Mexican farm workers have used for a toilet. And their pets, too. God only knows how much Corona and Alpo you have indirectly digested because of your reliance on farm produce.

If I were you, I'd diversify my diet. Starch is always a good place to start, especially combined with sugary sweetness. Cinnamon rolls, junk food, ooh la la. Sure, you'll get fat, but hey we're all gonna die, right? Unless you know something I don't know, Johnny.

A new tack for people who need help.

2008-06-11T10:51:00.001-07:00

Okay, you schmucks.

Mike's here to make it all better. You're fucked and you know it. Dr. Phil is full of shit, and makes millions of dollars a year. Who let that happen?

Once upon a time, we called these so-called "life coaches" by their rightful title: no good assholes who want to tell you how to live your life. Of course, that's a long title, so "life coach" is more expediant in the 21st century.

Here's the deal, assholes: you got a problem. You need advice. I'm the guy to talk to. I will give you the truth to the best of my ability, with no financial incentive for myself. I'm giving you the brilliance of my own opinion gratis. Wipe up, swizzle-stick.

You can take my advice or leave it, follow it at your own peril, whatever. It doth not matter to me, because I'm in my air-conditioned trailer wondering when this methhead is gonna be done painting the roof. Go to my myspace (myspace.com/kentuckyprophet) to send me a question that's been troubling you. I'll get to you if I can.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed. The Mike must sleep.

Jay The Joke: Return Of The Giant Hogweed

2007-10-29T07:05:00.000-07:00

The very first Amnerica blog dealt with the inactivity at the Jay The Joke blog (www.jaythejoke.com). While the forum remained, it appeared all hope had been lost. Infighting amongst longtime posters escalated, and lurkers like me fled like rats into the sewers. Jay Mariotti, Sun-Times columnist and the ire of JTJ, is still under contract to pump out gasbag idiocy until 2009.

I went back today to see if the website was even still up and to my pleasant surprise, it was back. With updated content even! Pat Dahl and Matt Moore, the originators of the blog, have given the reins to some of the JTJ All-Stars, notably Tyrone Briggs (from "Boise Wants Jay") and BigBadBill, who works for a record label (I'd give him my demo but I don't make trance music). Dahl will be involved but in a lesser role, and Moore will disassociate himself from the site.

The Jay Mariotti story has a parallel to that of our current President. Both reek of incompetence and arrogance, applying semi-truths with broad strokes. And just as Jay claims to talk sports on behalf of the city of Chicago, our President assumes the mantle of spokesman for our country. And sometimes, a dissenter has to rise up and say "hey, you don't fuckin' speak for me, buddy!"

But that's not me. I can't bear to read Mariotti, or even many sports columnists. They huff and they puff, but their industry, the newspaper industry, is dying and the amateurs out there on the Interweb are coming to kick ass.

A prophet in Kentucky is smiling at all this. Salaam a lakem (forgive me).

God is cruel and spiteful: The Detroit Lions are 5-2

2007-10-29T06:37:00.000-07:00

I have been gone for about nine days, folks. The reason why I was gone is because I took a pilgrimage into the center of my own mind to figure out how the hell the Detroit Lions, long the worst team in the NFL, are sitting pretty with a 5-2 record with nine weeks left in the season.

It used to be that you could count the Lions out of the playoff hunt by the first week of October. Those were great times, dominated by Bears, Packers and occasionally even Vikings. Even when the Lions had all-world running back Barry Sanders (now in the HOF), you could never take them seriously when the nitty got gritty. They haven't won a playoff game since 1958. They are the Cubs of football futility.

But now, as we stand, the fuckin' Lions are 5-2 and second in the suddenly competitive NFC North division. For the moment, the full-bodied screams of "Fire Millen" are soft and casual. Coach Rod Marinelli appears to have the Lions on the right track, for the time being.

How did we get to this point? Only a few deluded souls gave the Lions any choice. One of them was Lions QB Jon Kitna who predicted at least ten wins this season for his team. I, among others, laughed and scoffed. They would be lucky to win six games in 2007, I said.

However, I didn't count on the complete destruction of the Chicago Bears. The thought of Rex Grossman being unable to bounce back from Super Bowl embarrassment certainly seemed within the realm of possibility, but it seemed remote at best. The Bears, despite their QB inefficiency, still had that Top 5 defense, and that would make them competitive if not championship-worthy. The Bears could win the NFC North just by showing up. No way the Lions would be able to win at least four of their six division games.

I did not count on the re-emergence of Green Bay, with its' young defense and Brett Favre's improved quarterback play. I didn't see the Lions sweeping the Bears. I more or less expected the Vikings to be the Vikings.

Re-examining the remainder of Detroit's schedule, there appears to be very few "winnable" games (the next two weeks are Denver at home, then away at Arizona). With the Lions, nothing is automatic. They could Millen up and lose the next nine games and it wouldn't be surprising. We'll see what kind of team they are for sure in week twelve, when they get Green Bay at home. That is, if we're still talking about them by then.

I will begin writing jokes for John Mayer

2007-10-20T03:31:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a while, over a year even, so I'm sorry. John Mayer tried to do stand-up comedy and it may or may not have gone well. Someone once said "rock stars want to be comedians, and comedians want to be rock stars." So I guess Mayer's foray into standup further proves it.

So, John, in the event that you want to try it again, I've got some jokes for you to buy. I'm cheap, John. We all know that behind that rock-god guitar brilliance and O-face, you're really a bitter funnyman that no one would want to fuck ever. And not because you're ugly (you're not) but no one wants to fellate a comedian.

So here we go, a few new twists on old standby, real cheap.

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: To watch me fingerbang Jessica Simpson!

(rimshot)

Three guys walk into a bar. They have a few drinks and take a cab to the gig. They are John Mayer and two other guys. They call themselves John Mayer Trio and record a live album. Everyone makes a lot of money.

(blows a raspberry)

An Englishman, an Irishman, and a Scotsman are in the front row of a John Mayer concert. The Irishman says to his friends, "I hope he closes with 'Neon'".

(cowbell slap)

Knock-Knock
"who's there"
Continue...
"continue what?"
Continuum, my latest album.

(trombone fart)

Q: What is the blonde girl doing when she covers her ears with her hands?
A: Trying to avoid listening to me break up with her.

(smashes an apple with a big hammer)

Some surrealism humor for the comedy heads in the crowd, tonight.

Q: How many blondes does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Two. One to apply Proactiv while the other one drinks a Diet Pepsi.

(honks a bicycle horn)

Goodnight, folks. I'll be here all week. Here's Bob Zany.

Jason Whitlock: No Perspective Whatsoever

2007-10-19T02:52:00.000-07:00

Read this first: http://msn.foxsports.com/nfl/story/7343980

Jason Whitlock is a writer for the Kansas City Kerfuffle (I'm not interested in looking up the actual name of the paper). He also writes for FoxSports.com, a safe haven for writers of high standard, like Jay Glazer and Jay Mohr.

(Sidebar: I wonder if someone at FoxSports.com asked Whitlock to shorten his name to "Jay" in keeping with his new comrades. Just wondering out loud.)

Whitlock has a couple of pet themes in his work, the most noticeable is his disdain for hip-hop culture and its' effect (real or imagined) on society and sports, in particular. When the Don Imus debacle came to full bloom, Whitlock was one of the voices sympathizing with Imus' protests about hip-hop lyrics. For this and other reasons, some people (we'll call them "black people") have called out Whitlock for what could charitably be called "playing to a white constituency by forgiving them their biases against people of different ethnicities."

Black people are way better at being concise: "Uncle Tom". Since this is a white guy currently typing this, I feel more comfortable with the previous paragraph even if it is clunky as all get-out.

Does Whitlock have a point? If you're a white guy in middle America and you're only exposure to black people is "Superman Dat Ho" among other songs, is that going to fill your brain pan, no matter how incomplete the picture? Whitlock says yes, and because of this, how can you really blame a white person for thinking all that stuff about black people?

I don't know, but here's an idea for white people with limited exposure to blacks: go meet some. I promise, it's not as intimidating as you might think. Yes, it is exciting at first until you hang around them long enough (say, a few minutes) and realize that they're pretty much the same as you. Eventually, you will begin to feel at ease around blacks, and you won't feel the need to clutch your purse or cup your wallet in the checkout line. Maybe you won't drive through a black neighborhood when you're lost and go "this is a bad neighborhood, we are in the wrong part of town, Agnes."

Shit, maybe when you get that black-hanging-out thing mastered, you can move on to getting to know some Hispanics! Won't that be exciting (it won't, it's not that big a deal)!! Then you can move on to the next step, which is really a bunch of different steps: Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, Laotian, Filipino, Cambodian, etc. If you don't know the difference, DO NOT ASSUME. If you have to ask, ask a mutual friend. "Ya'll look alike to me," is not an acceptable excuse. Throw in a few Jews and a Native American or two and you've practically got it all covered! You'll be all open-minded and accepting of other people's ethnicities and you won't be fooled by that misconception shit. Of course, by then, you won't care anymore.

I can't promise that they will all like white people. Hell, a few of them are as racist or even more so than your uncle in the Masons ever was. "I didn't own any slaves," is not going to cut it with these people, but at least you know you tried.

But here I've gone and stumbled way off topic. I was originally going to talk about Jason Whitlock and I've gone off to talk about how people can get along better despite being different hues.

Thursday's article, "NFL Buffoons Leaving Terrible Legacy", is textbook Whitlock. Whitlock sets the picture: last Sunday's Bengals-Chiefs game in Cincinnati. Two teams with black head coaches (Marvin Lewis for the Bengals, Herman Edwards for the Chiefs) and all-world offensive talents. For the Bengals, it's wide receiver Chad Johnson. For the Chiefs, it's running back Larry Johnson (no relation to Chad). Neither is having a very good game. Marvin Lewis is trying to talk to Chad on the sideline but Chad is steamed and not having any talk. Meanwhile, Larry Johnson tops him by spiking the ball in the middle of a fourth-quarter drive while his team tried to run out the clock and preserve a victory.

These are not pretty sights, angry men in a bad mood under the glare of thousands of fans and the hot glare of TV cameras. I don't think most people could have a bad day at work in front of 60,000 people, even if they got paid a lot of money.

For these egregious acts, Chad and Larry have been lumped in with serial NFL troublemakers Michael Vick, PacMan Jones, and Tank Johnson. For good measure, Whitlock throws in Cowboys WR Terrell Owens in his list of "buffoons" and "bojanglers".

You know, for someone concerned with the image of black people in the eyes of white people, Whitlock slings a lot of it. Say what you want about the n-word, but white people have heard rappers saying it for a long time, so much so that it's not that surprising anymore. However, throwing out "buffoons" and "bojanglers" at your people might not be a good look, either.

This is what I get for hoping a sportswriter won't overreact, but lumping in Chad and Larry Johnson, who are by all accounts decent citizens, with a dog fighting impresario, a rainmaker/shootist, and a drunk gun nut is as they say in the trade, "a bit of a reach". Even Owens, for his inability to keep anything in-house, isn't deserving of that implication.

But this isn't just a column about sports and hip-hop culture and the fate of Black America! Whitlock is a music expert, too. What, you didn't know? Read this:

In general, music, especially hip hop music, is rebellious for no good reason other than to make money. Rappers and rockers are not trying to fix problems. They create problems for attention.

I love that. A guy who has never written a song is going to tell us about the intents of the people who actually make the music. Maybe you got a point, Whitlock. That Kanye-Fif beef on Sept. 11th was micro-managed to the gills. "Rappers and rockers are not trying to fix problems." Jeez, I guess that Live Earth, Live 8, Live Aid, the Tibetan Freedom Concert, The Freddie Mercury Concert For Life, and oh about ten million other events going all the way back to the Concert for Bangladesh were for show.

Here's the deal. You want to do social commentary, great. Go do it. Somehow, Whitlock has managed to parlay himself onto Oprah's couch when she discussed Imus and hip-hop (being a black sports columnist was pretty much the only qualification seeing as how the story only peripherally involves sports, in the form of the Rutgers' ladies basketball team).

If speaking on the ills of society is what you were put on Earth to do, then go speak your truth. But I'm pretty sure (and if I'm wrong, then I humbly stand corrected) that Bill Russell, Muhammad Ali, Jim Brown and the many black athletes you hold up as symbols of righteous rebellion didn't go around calling other African-Americans "bojangler", "buffoon", "minstrel show" and other brickbats you throw at guys like Chad Johnson and Larry Johnson.

Whitlock, you're a discredit to the race. The race of fatties. We're coming for your buy-five-pizzas-get-one-free punchout card on Monday around 6PM.

Racist Ned's deconstruction of Jethro Tull lyrics.

2007-10-18T02:15:00.001-07:00

Since I haven't exactly been filling my blog entry quota, I have decided to take on another aspiring blogger here at Amnerica. His name is Racist Ned, and he was the only applicant, unfortunately.

When I asked Racist Ned (his pen name, not one I gave him) what he intended to write about, he mentioned uncovering the hidden racial subtext in pop culture to expose its' flaws, with a (you guessed it) pro-Caucasian slant. At least seven times during our conversation, he asked me "why the blacks got their own network? You don't see no White Entertainment Television, do ya?"

In the spirit of Columbia University, who invited the president of Iran to speak before them (and thereby destroy his own credibility as a diplomat), I have decided to damn the torpedoes and actually allow Racist Ned his own forum, in that we all may learn something that the speaker himself has yet to figure out.

Ladies and gentlemen, Racist Ned's first "expose":

Salutations, White Amnerica.

Before I begin, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Ned (REDACTED), and I live in (REDACTED), Tennessee. I am not presently a member of the Klu Klux Klan, the Masons, or any sort of racial group. However, I have empathacations for many of the tenets of these groups' feelings, and I will do my best to help bring to light the Dark Agenda.

My first expose features the 1975 Jethro Tull song "Bungle In The Jungle". Now, before ya'll criticize me for being a little late to the party on this one, I need not remind you that injustices prolonged is justices delayed and I will rectify this injustice committed upon the radio airwaves by the local Power-Rock station, the FCC, and most notably, the Afro-sympathizer Jethro Tull himself.

The song, "Bungle In The Jungle" appeared on the 1974 album "War Child" which peaked at #2 on the US Billboard charts in 1974, thanks largely in part to the radio success of "Bungle In The Jungle". It was written by Ian Anderson, as are all the other songs and in fact the majority of the Tull catalog, but it is Jethro Tull (the man with the flute) who sings and performs this deceptably-filthy and unacceptable song.

The song starts with a descriptive lyric of an allegorical nature, i.e. the ghetto apartments where many blacks dwell.

"Walking through forests of palm tree apartments/Scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents"

The "palm-tree apartments" are an allegorie of black condos (known in the "ghetto" as "projects"). Of course, "monkeys" is an description of the blacks themselves. The "dark tents" are symbolical of cloaks of shame many blacks feel and their feelings of inferiority (usually, this becomes evident when they or the white people they've corralled into being sympatheic for them appear on O'Reilly to complain about "institutionalized racism" and "the flaws of the system").

"Down by the waterhole - drunk every Friday."

This is an indictment and glamorization of the plight of African-American alcoholism. You see, I read in a book one time that black parents like to get their toddlers drunk and dress them up as savages in the proverbial style of an African bushman. This, intern, causes a breakdown of the race and shows them to be no-good drunkards who live for kicks and don't want to work.

"Eating their nuts - saving their raisins for Sunday."

Now, we get into the meat of the problem of this song. The "nuts" in question are a symbol of male genitalia. To "eat...their nuts" is to perform oral sex on them and eat the ejaculate whole. This explains why their "raisins" (or shriveled post-ejaculatory penises) are saved for Sunday (a day of great meaning to the black family but mostly an excuse for the men in those families to "go on the down load", which is code for gay sex in a church. This was explained on an episode of Oprha.)

"Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows
Their fast but their lazy and sleep in green meadows
Let's bungle in the jungle
Well, that's alright by me
I'm a tiger when I want love
But I'm a snake if we disagree"

The "lions and tigers" line is indicative of Black shame, i.e. "wait in the shadows". Blacks are known to be fast runners and great athletes in sports, but as Mr. Tull explains, they are "lazy", which is a faulty trait of the dark race as a hole. This explains their proclivity towards the inclinations of playing sports for profit.

Here we come into the chorus: "Let's bungle in the jungle/Well that's alright by me". This is a play on words of the process of negotiation of a illicit sexual encounter, this one being between an older gay white man and a black male of dubious and perhaps fluid sexuality.

"Let's bungle in the jungle" itself has several connotations. The jungle in question can mean an orifice of both parties' choosing, whether that be the mouth or the rectum. Also, "the jungle" has a connotation of "back to Africa", or back to Sodom, which is part of Africa.

The weak white male who is the leader in the negotiation has two sides: a "tiger when [he] want[s] love" and a "snake if [they] disagree". The only rationalized explanations of this come from a tiger being the female counterpart to the lion. In other words, the white male is seeking the Mandingo-istic treats of the large sub-white phallus. He has heard the stereotypes (for the record, a British study found that a white man has the largest penis of all in a study of over 1,000 men). He has succumbed to his desire for the Negroid virility and has come to the ghetto for gratifications of the starfish variety. If the act doesn't go as planned, "if [they] disagree", the white male will become a "snake" which is considered poisonous and transfer a social disease to the buck.

Make no mistake about it, this song is about interracial, homosexual toilet sex. It has been thirty-three years in the makings, but Jethro Tull and his awful secrets of promoting such immoral and shameful activity are over as of this posting.

I would continue to analyze the next two verses, but I have been informed that I am already over my word count. Until next time, this is Racist Ned, encouraging all my readers to "keep hate alive".

EDITOR'S NOTE: What you just read was an attempt at satire, however successful or not it may have been. The piece you just read is actually based on a post on SongMeanings.net, where the first poster chalked up the lyrics along the same lines "Racist Ned" just did, except whoever wrote that one didn't catch the references to the Upton Sinclair novel "The Jungle" or Ian Anderson's critique on the hectic pace of big city life. Also, he wasn't as funny. So there.

http://www.songmeanings.net/lyric.php?lid=45579

Potential new titles for the Washington Redskins

2007-10-18T00:09:00.000-07:00

So the Wizards were sensitive enough to change from the Washington Bullets (which by the way isn't just gully, it's practically arroyo), but Dan Snyder feels free to keep the 'Skins. Come on folks, it's 2007. I'm not normally a PC-type, but fock if we can't come up with something more creative than a slur for a race of people we wiped off the continent. So here are a few ideas, and we can move on from this long storied tradition of racism and trading draft picks for free agents.

Washington Redhots
Washington RedVines
Washington Red Devils (works for Owensboro High School, Ky., should work for Dan Snyder)
Washington RedBull (think of the marketing opportunities)
Last of the Washington Red-Hot Lovers
Washington Red Skelton (Red Buttons will also do, as will Shotgun Red)
Washington Red Rover
Washington Red Bummaclot Pussyclot (okay, so I switched chairs on the racism Titanic)
Washington "Red" by King Crimson (that fight song is gonna be long and boring)
Washington Simply Red
Washington Rednecks (for the next 74 years to give racist whites a taste)
Washington Bloodshot Rollin' Red*
Washington Failures-To-Integrate
Washington White Guys Telling Off Other People About The Ills of Racism
Washington Gene Weingartens Who Wrote Something Like This Years Before I Did
Washington Shitty Groundskeeping Team

* obscure reference to the credits on the Frank Zappa "One Size Fits All" album. "Bloodshot Rollin' Red" is a pseudonym for Don Van Vliet, a.k.a. Captain Beefheart. Carry on.

Halloween: Certified "Get Laid" Holiday

2007-10-11T00:59:00.000-07:00

I'm looking forward to Halloween. I do every year. It's my favorite holiday.

I hate Christmas because everything is done by 5PM and I don't have anyone to cuddle with. Thanksgiving is the same, but better thanks to a few football games. Valentine's Day used to make me suicidal in high school. Now it's just another in the 365 days of the year I don't have a lady to sweettalk. I hate fireworks so there goes the 4th, and I don't work so Labor Day has no charm.

But Halloween, that's another story. Jim Gaffigan has parsed the subject fairly well, especially when it comes to the ladies and their choice of costume (RE: ho-bag sexy). Thank God they do that.

I'll go even further: Halloween is great because it allows girls a "sex mulligan". That's not a new position, it means that they can have a one-nighter and not count it. It's like when Lil Wayne puts out a new mixtape. It exists but it's not part of the official Lil Wayne discography. A girl can go out in any costume she wants, pick up a guy, and never speak of it again. Everybody wins.

Katie didn't blow that dude in the Kobe Bryant uniform and blackface, "Nurse Betty" did. Marcia didn't fuck that guy in the bathroom, "Warrior Princess Nena" did. Anna didn't make out with that chick in the Hello Kitty gear and let her go down on her, no that was "Violet Dinero". Never happened. Annulled immediately. Hulk Hogan's world title reigns in the AWA.

Likewise, they won't have to tell anyone about that time they fucked Kentucky Prophet on Halloween. They'll just say they did it with "Peter Griffin" or "Daniel Johnston" or "Don Vito" or whoever I dress up as this year. I'm thinking about going as "Violent J"*.

There are a few times of the year when getting laid should be mandatory and Halloween is one of those dates. This is a theory I've been refining for years, and one day I'll share this theory with the readers. But until that day, go 'head and ho it up on Oct. 31st.

*not really

Are you reading Blender? Why?

2007-10-11T00:17:00.001-07:00

Just wondering. It's brought to you by Maxim, a magazine that somehow combines the near -nudity of Sports Illustrated's "swimsuit issue" with the sales-pitch relentlessness of an in-flight magazine. I'm just wondering.

It's supposed to be a music magazine, but can you really trust Maxim to give you a good handle on popular music, especially in this era. Nope, Blender does for music what Maxim does to every other thing in the world. Insert great analogy here (remove this sentence afterward).

I just read Idolator's synapsis of Blender.com's "10 Most Overhyped Albums of All Time", that's the inspiration for this entry. I have to give a lot of love to Idolator, as well as Gawker Media in general. I always hit up Deadspin, Gawker and (red faced) Fleshbot, as well. It has filled the gap created by me refusing to read Perez Hilton anymore. But we'll save poor Mario for another day.

Nelson Muntz laughs at snippy Radiohead fans.

2007-10-10T23:51:00.000-07:00

Not really.

But yesterday, Radiohead's seventh album "In Rainbows" came out. They had accepted pre-orders since the beginning of the month, when they announced the release of the new album. The cute thing was, get this: the fan could name their own price for the download. Sure there was a small surcharge and handling fee, but you could have the album for PRACTICALLY NOTHING. Just try going to a record store and try to haggle on the price of "Amnesiac" to a buck-fiddy. They will either laugh at you, or stare a hole through you.

Now, fans are upset because (don't laugh) the download comes at a rate of 160KBps. I don't know what that means, but it upsets some people who hoped for a higher bitrate.

Oh, wait...I get it. A higher bitrate means higher sound quality. 160KBps is good but not outstanding.

Right now, as I'm typing this, I'm listening to an mp3 copy of "Propaganda" by Sparks. The file is encoded at 128KBps and sounds just fine. Of course, I'm being over-simplistic, but the point is you could charge yourself whatever you wanted. You probably low-balled it and that was to be expected. So you got a pretty-nice but not crystal clear copy of "In Rainbows" and now you wanna talk about it?

The actual CD release of "In Rainbows" will come out in December, and then you'll be able to buy it and rip it at a bitrate you prefer. Okay, sunshine.

(cues up "No Surprises").

R.I.P. Nashville Kats, Slight Return

2007-10-10T23:16:00.000-07:00

The Nashville Kats of the Arena Football League have disbanded as of today's announcement by the team owner.

Go off into that gentle night, Kats. You will be missed (?).

Incidentally, this isn't the first time the Kats have given up the ghost. They were in the AFL for five years (1997-2001) before moving to Atlanta to become the Georgia Force. This incarnation of the Kats had been running since '05 and had one playoff appearance (a loss to the Chicago Rush) in '06. Will the third time be a charm for a Nashville franchise in the kiss-yer-sister football league? Golly, I hope so.

While I've been gone.

2007-10-07T03:30:00.000-07:00

THE CUBS GOT IN THE PLAYOFFS!!!

and then several days later...

the Cubs lost in a three-game sweep to the Arizona Diamondbacks.

You really want to end the curse at Wrigley Field? I'm gonna tell you how, and never again will you have to deal the whining torrent of hell that is Cubdom.

Dismantle the team.

I love the Cubs, but if the team was disbanded and sold for scrap, then Cubs fans would have the same chance of celebrating a World Series title as they would if there were still a franchise. It will not happen, never. Not in my lifetime, not in my childrens' lifetime or that of their kids.

There is no reason for anyone to think that the Cubs are going to pull it off. Their window closed in 1922, when the majors expanded to 16 teams. Think of how slim their chances are in a 30-team majors, even with a payroll that only God and Steinbrenner look down upon.

Why did you even bother with your "Believe" signs, Wrigley faithful? The Cubs' October cup of coffee was a fluke, especially when you consider there were six teams in the NL with better records. Three got in, three are working for spring. And now the Cubs join them. I'm serious, there should have been a court order preventing the Cubs from this year's playoffs. It was another prick tease after 99 years of not getting off.

This has been Jay Mariotti for Amnerica.

A new-found respect for Danny Bonaduce

2007-10-03T17:40:00.000-07:00

http://tv.msn.com/tv/article.aspx?news=278233&gt1=7703

Former "Survivor" contestant Jonny Fairplay filed a police report Wednesday, alleging that Danny Bonaduce threw him and knocked out his teeth during an awards show.

Say no more, folks. Danny Bonaduce is in the running for Amnerica's Person Of The Year. It didn't occur to me to have a Person of the Year until reading the story above. I don't care how it got started, who started it. Context is unimportant. Danny Bonaduce is a candidate for Person of the Year.

This means I will have to include Jon Lovitz as well, after his manhandling of "comedian" Andy Dick.

To be considered as a candidate for Person of the Year, you must
1. be a celebrity that I'm tired of, and
2. beat up another celebrity I'm tired of.

I'm rooting for Janice Dickinson to do a drive-by on the cast of the UK's Celebrity Big Brother 5. Or failing that, if she smothered Jay Glazer to death with a head-scissors. That's a vision I'm sorry for conjuring.

Bring me the head of Derrick Beckles

2007-10-02T23:33:00.001-07:00

That cool boho black guy who does commercials for Truth.com (or thetruth.com, I'm not going anywhere near that website)? His name is Derrick Beckles. He's from Ontario and is a filmmaker or something like that. He is a contributor to Vice Magazine, as well.

So, let's recap: Canadian, Vice Magazine contributor, anti-smoking ad guy. Three strikes. Back to the dugout for you, Derrick.

I don't have to sit here and tell you how annoying those ads are, and you're talking to a non-smoker right now. I understand, it's fun to fuck with the heads of tobacco companies. Fucking with corporate America is more fun than a barrel of monkeys, but the guys at Truth.com come off like bedwetters with a bankful of money given to them by the tobacco companies to warn the general public of the dangers of cigarettes.

It reminds me of the Super Bowl ads from 2002 that linked illegal drug use to terrorism, except this is somehow acceptable. What can you tell people about cigarettes that they don't already know? In this country. Every cigarette smoker knows what they're doing, what they're putting into their bodies.

Common sense isn't plentiful, so when the tobacco companies were sued by grieving families of lung cancer and emphysema fatalities, they realized that they had to indemnify themselves against future damages. Hence, campaigns like truth.com

So here's the deal. I want a picture of Derrick Beckles with a cigarette in his hand. Not a photoshopped photo, a real damn photo. If this guy is a hypocrite, let's punch-fuck his truth.com career right in the taint. If it is lit and he's smoking it, send it to me.

If you've got a photo of Derrick Beckles smoking a joint or ingesting any drug, so much the better. I'm ready for this pants-pissing idiocy masquerading as public service to stop. Every time, I see him on TV, I want to smoke crystal meth with a pipe made from the bones of an emphysema victim.

I will indulge, I will suffer the consequences. Deal?

A post about the WWE. Cool people skip this.

2007-10-02T21:23:00.001-07:00

Even before the steroids drama and the Chris Benoit saga, wrestling in America had a bad rap. Most of my friends outgrew watching it by the time they got into high school, if not before that. It has been a constant comforting presence in my life, but it has been an enjoyment I haven't been able to share with most of my friends.

I'd like to think I had no guilty pleasures, but the cold smug stares of my friends when I discuss WWE makes me feel otherwise. Even fellow wrestling fans have given up on WWE, with its' obvious decline in quality from the boom period of 1997-2002. I have gone away for stretches of time, yet I have always found my way back.

So when I found out that John Cena, who was up until today the WWE Champion, would have to forfeit his year-long reign as champion due to a severe pectoral tear, I wondered what would happen next. The company is going through a tough period, having suspended ten wrestlers for buying steroids and HGH online, the possibility of Congressional investigation, and an annual winnowing of talent, not to mention criticism from many still in the business about the WWE's business practices.

Even if you took all that away, and the ugly cloud that is Chris Benoit, the company would still have a problem. Who would the fans be willing to accept as the new champ?

Randy Orton? He is great at blowing his stack and wrecking a hotel room, but can he carry the company? His first reign in '05 wasn't the tonic that the WWE needed, and he was one of the names recently outed as a steroids buyer.

Triple H? Perhaps the most likely candidate for the job, having done it about ten times already, but the same people who clamor for him to have the title now are the same people who two years ago complained about his nepotism (being married to the daughter of WWE CEO Vince McMahon). A likely scenario, but I'm not looking forward to it.

Jeff Hardy? A long time veteran who just came off a 30-day suspension. Can you trust him to stay on the wagon with the added pressure of being champion?

Mr. Kennedy? Another recent suspendee, along with Orton. Giving the belt to him or Orton is a big middle finger to people who criticize the WWE for letting the steroid condition flourish in the locker room. Which means it's just the sort of thing McMahon would do.

WWE.com has a poll asking people to name who they would like to see become the next champion. Who the masses have overwhelmingly voted for was an initial jolt, but the more I think about it, it's as good as anything else they can come up with...

Val Venis.

You laugh but The Big Valbowski has gotten over 50% of the vote on WWE.com. Second and third place, Triple H and Mr. Kennedy hover at around 12% apiece. The more I think about it, I wonder why the hell not Val Venis (real name: Sean Morley).

Val Venis debuted in the WWE in 1998, as a porn star. Venis has had some great feuds with the Japanese group Kaientai and Samoan big-butt Rikishi. The guy hasn't gotten the push for about seven years now. In fact, he's been in some pretty unfortunate ideas, such as Right To Censor, making a porn tape with Ken Shamrock's sister, and tagging with Viscera. He pretty much is the face of HEAT which is why you won't see him win the title on Sunday at WWE No Mercy, one of the thirty-four pay-per-view events WWE holds yearly.

The guy has the pedigree. Former Intercontinental champ, former European champ, former Tag Team champ. Oh, but being WWE Champion is about being able to carry the company. It's about getting people to buy a ticket to see you in action. Putting the butts in the seats, as you might say. Well, I dunno, if you keep pushing the same four guys (Triple H, Cena and whoever their feuding with), then maybe you shouldn't be surprised when the fans won't accept anything else.

I know that nearly 900,000 votes have been counted on WWE.com and half of them have given the thumbs-up to the Big Valbowski. Plus, if you're willing to put a title on a guy that can't work (Batista) then maybe you oughta reward a guy for ten years of bootlicking service. Sean Morley is that dude.

Your mark,
The Nightfly

The news vs. sports

2007-10-02T16:27:00.000-07:00

I have done a little bit of everything in my life. I've been a factory worker, a student worker, kitchen staff, a server, music business crap. My longest tenured job was at a TV station. I spent two years in the production department of an ABC affiliate in Bowling Green, Kentucky.

The news department produced the content of the show, the production department worked the equipment to put it on the air. The news guys in front of the camera, the production guys working the camera. There are other departments in the average TV station and the funny thing is, that the corporate department would make the most money. Not us in production, not even the news guys (who had the high-profile gigs) got paid as much as the corporates, who locked their wing of the building off from us after business hours. That always got at me.

Sorry, I'm getting sidetracked: I meant to talk about what I see as the uneasy peace between news and sports. Monday nights at the station were not fun at the TV station. Back then, "Monday Night Football" was still on ABC and would always go later than 10PM, which is when the local news was scheduled to go on.

Typically, the news goes on at 10PM, it ends on 10:35PM, and most people involved have left the building by 10:45PM. MNF cocked up that plan, because games would run frequently twenty or thirty minutes after the hour, forcing everyone to stay because the newscast was mandated to go on no matter how long after ten the game ended. Everyone prayed for no overtime games.

The worst incidents in my time at the station were two Stanley Cup games that went into three overtimes each. While it may have been thrilling for hockey fans (and how many of those live in South Central Kentucky) it was taxing for those of us who were accustomed to being out of the building by the time the news finally went on the air. A hockey overtime then was twenty-minutes sudden death, but if there's no scoring, there would be another one. I heard the NHL changed the rules but since I actively avoid hockey now, I'll be damned if I can confirm it.

This is a relatively small problem for the people involved in news production. The true tension lies within the newscast. News producers never like giving an entire segment to sports. You can't blame them, I guess. People who want sports have ESPN, and to a lesser extent, Fox Sports Net. Even local sports events do not register as worthy events. However, ad revenue and where it comes from dictates that sports continues to stay in the local newscast.

It would be easier to cut the sports. The Weather Channel can give you frequent updates, but local news is still useful to a lot of people who are afraid of severe weather. But not to me, I'm still mad that members of my family were conned into buying a cheap weather radio that was fobbed off on them and the rest of the viewership of a TV weatherman in Evansville, Indiana. That thing is as useless as a tit on the elbow.

I feel for the local sports guy. They're pretty much a stereotype, hilariously lampooned by David Koechner's Champ Kind in "Anchorman". They're not safe in public unless they're at a Jimmy Buffett concert. And the damn news producer is trying to cut their time down. "I've got five minutes. You don't have a right to tell me how to do my job. If the show's running over, maybe you oughta do a better job producing the show instead of making me cut my MLB highlights."

You can see that even the sports media is tired of sports. This morning, I watched Orel Hershiser and Tim Kurkjian debated whether MLB should incorporate instant replay into the games (Orel was for it, Tim against it). Sportswriters hate a late game, because of deadlines that must be met. Common sense would dictate that ten more minutes tacked onto a game that lasts three hours already is a drop in the bucket, but the sportswriters never really fess up about what a longer game would do to them and their plans for after work: "I just wanna go home."

Do you really believe cocaine is harder to get?

2007-10-02T15:56:00.001-07:00

http://gawker.com/news/nose-new-york/is-new-york-running-out-of-cocaine-306005.php

According to various reports, the Mexican government has worked hard to curtain the flow of cocaine through their country into the United States. This has resulted in raised prices for coke in 37 U.S. cities. DEA figures the cost of a gram went up 24% to $120 between April and June.

I've had friends tell me that Louisville had become a big coke town. I can't tell. I figure if more than one guy goes into a bathroom stall at a nightclub, something's up. I'm not around enough to have a good perspective on it.

However, I doubt coke is going away, no matter how hard the U.S. and Mexican governments try to stop the traffic of drugs. I get nervous any time folks prognosticate about what drugs are "in". My conspiratorial nature won't allow me to believe the drug hype, with the government essentially controlling the flow of drugs in our country. It would be too orderly to be accidental.

My feeling is that coke will be around as long as there's a bar/restaurant industry. Sure, rock stars will spend the most, but it seems that the most consistent clients for coke would be servers, bartenders, kitchen staff.

A friend of mine worked 14-hour-plus shifts at his gig as a manager for a CPK at least five days a week. He'd come home after closing, have a snort two and work on music until the morning. Now, that guy was into speed but coke would not have been so much of a transition. Whatever gets you through.

Being that I worked on music with him, I didn't realize what he was up to until years after the fact. He would ask for a few minutes of alone time, then let me in his studio, where he'd feel comfortable enough smoking a bowl in front of me. Eventually, a consistent drug regimen wore on him and he gave up entirely.

If marijuana is a safe, dummy drug for a circle of friends in at parties, then coke is the shameful hussy that you don't even want people to know about. To the double-shift worker, coke can pick you up for the last few draggy hours of work, to say nothing of any perceived seductive qualities that may or may not come with doing such a drug.

I'll be honest. That shit scares me to death. Coke is the kind of thing that I would run like hell from. The less I know, the better. Sometimes, it pays not to be in the know.

DAMO! DAMO! DAMO!

2007-09-28T00:26:00.000-07:00

Oh, boy. The Nightfly is very excited today. Damo Suzuki, the legendary voice of Can (1970-1973) is coming to Louisville, and he's bringing the Network with him.

Damo Suzuki was the second singer for Can, replacing Malcolm Mooney after the first Can album. The band has inspired countless bands, including the very terrible Mooney Suzuki, who named themselves after the last names of the Can vocalists. Suzuki first appeared on the "Soundtracks" album then stuck around for a trio of albums that will never die: "Tago Mago", "Ege Bamyasi" and "Future Days". After "Future Days", Suzuki left the group to become a Jehovah's Witness.

Eventually, he returned to music, with Damo Suzuki's Network. It works much in the same way Can did: Suzuki travels to different cities where he performs a wholly improvised set with a group of local musicians termed "sound carriers". Sometimes, performances are recorded and released through Suzuki's website (http://www.damosuzuki.de/).

He is coming to Louisville on October 16th to perform at the St. Philip Neri, Chapel of St Philip and Immaculata Library and Book Store. Tickets cost $7 and are available at Wild & Woolly Video in Louisville.

Tip to fans: since the performance by Damo and the other "sound carriers" will be improvised, it might not be wise to start yelling for "Halleluhwah" or "I'm So Green".

GQ's "The Style Guy" offering tips for the plus-size male.

2007-09-27T23:49:00.001-07:00

What options are out there for the plus-size male (and we're talking a big plus, here) who want to avoid the big-and-tall ghetto of beige slacks and tacky Hawaiian shirts? Are there any designers you can recommend for the corpulent man who wants to look stylish?

The Style Guy: Some things in life are doomed to fail, no matter how good a person's intentions may be. The dog who chases its' own tail, a coaching tenure with the Detroit Lions, the careers of Dennis Miller and Geraldo Rivera. So, let me break it to you straight: making a fat man look stylish and fashionable is harder than Chinese arithmetic. Many overweight men, be they "stocky", "husky", "chunky" or "lardass", are trapped in the hell that is XL Casual Male. You're right in the idea that beige is the bain of any fat man's existence. The problem is, the other colors in the spectrum aren't much help either. Observe the panoramic suits worn by people like Bruce Bruce and Cedric The Entertainer.

The truth is, only two men in modern history have been able to work the extra fat angle: Notorious B.I.G. and Orson Welles. Go back and watch Biggie in "The Show" from 1995. He worked the pinstripes on stage, and did it right. I'm not saying that either Welles or Biggie looked good or fashionable in their obesity, but they looked comfortable enough for that not to matter. What made those gentlemen so successful in their sartorial choices is their overflowing self-confidence. They were the most talented guys in any room they entered, and they projected ease.

I'm sorry, I have to break character here. The Nightfly again. I don't know the first thing about fashion. My style comes from the fact that I have six shirts and three pairs of pants. I wear the hell out of shirts and am too broke to buy clothes, especially anything that would be featured in an issue of GQ. My subscription is up in November. Thank God.

As for what looks good on a big guy. Black isn't that slimming for a guy who's really overweight, but it looks better than a lot of colors by comparison.

How to listen to Barry Manilow without realizing it.

2007-09-27T23:27:00.000-07:00

http://palmsout.blogspot.com/2007/02/sample-wednesday-27-daft-punk.html

The link of the day, by the neighbors at Palms Out Sounds. Admittedly, this blog was posted over seven months ago, but it is still timely.

The reason why it is still timely is because I frequent Okayplayer message boards, and practically every month, there is at least one post from someone trying to alert the general public about the samples that french techno duo Daft Punk uses in their material.

The samples of Edwin Birdsong's "Cola Bottle Baby" (for "Harder Better Faster Stronger") and George Duke's "I Love You More" (for "Digital Love") are well known. But others, like the use of ELO's "Evil Woman" for "Face To Face" and (egad!) Barry Manilow's "Who's Been Sleeping In My Bed" for "Superheroes" was quite a surprise.

Now you know how sausage is made.

Meg White Sex Tape Update: It Aint Her

2007-09-25T21:02:00.001-07:00

Dammit. I so wanted it to be true.

I'm not a fan of the White Stripes. I don't hate them, but I don't listen to them. I like watching them on TV, mostly for the visual appeal of drummer Meg White in a tight shirt. So when it came out that there might be a Meg White sex tape on the Internet, I clicked to download as soon as I could.

Naturally, the White Stripes denied that the lady on the tape was Meg and upon further review of the two-and-a-half-minute tape (about five times), I have to conclude that it probably isn't her. I'll have to say this, the girl on the tape has a strong physical resemblance to Meg White.

I will spare you the details of my detective work, except for one tidbit: her face. I compared the facial grimaces that "Meg" made in the sex act with photos pulled from Google images of Meg in concert behind the drums. Yes, I know: big difference between rocking and fucking. It's not an exact science, and I'm no detective. But notice how in the concert photos her grimaces do not match those of stills from the sex tape (I'm assuming you've got a copy already). It is my theory (wholly unprovable at this point) that Meg White probably makes the same grimaces in sex that she does during a live performance.

Meanwhile, on the tape, "Meg" pulls faces that we've never seen from Meg. Instead, we see the kind of sex grimaces that you'd like to think she makes. At least, that's what I'd like to think. The only way we'll ever know for sure is if a real Meg White sex tape appears, and then we'd be able to compare the two. But then, that is strictly for minutiae's sake. I will keep this tape, next to my Alison Hannigan non-sex tape.

My five hours as a Juggalo: How I escaped

2007-09-25T03:25:00.001-07:00

I can't believe I'm admitting this. I once owned not one, but two Insane Clown Posse albums. I got caught up in the media frenzy surrounding the release/recall of the Hollywood Records version of "The Great Milenko" and bit on the lure. I just wanted to hear the album, so when it came out on Island, I snapped it up. Later on, I bought their second album, "The Ringmaster" and decided I didn't want to collect every Joker's Card after all.

People hate on ICP as an involuntary reflex: most notably music critics and the parents of ICP fans. People have also dumped a lot of hatred on their fans, commonly known as "Juggalos". Juggalos have all the charm of Deadheads with all the allure of...oh why get hifalutin about it, they're a bunch of fuckin' morons, and the ICP is smart enough to keep crankin' out product. They've managed to stretch the whole thing into ten full-length albums, five EPs, five compilations, and more merchandise than every band on the planet except Kiss.

I sold those two albums I bought long, long ago and promised I would never give another dollar to those guys. So what was I doing on Sunday night in a dive bar, surrounded by Juggalos while wearing Violent J makeup and holding a microphone?

My friend Jake and I had a gig that night. We had been booked at a hip-hop show at this bar that had probably never had an all-hip-hop show before. It was an experiment with me (a singer/rapper) , Jake (a more serious MC who eschewed "hooks") and a self-proclaimed Juggalo rapper, who aspired to be on ICP's record label.

Jake and I had talked it over. It was going to be weird, the two of us with a guy we couldn't take seriously. C'mon, man...you want to be on ICP's label? You might as well be on "My Super Sweet 16" on MTV. The longer we talked about it, the more we thought it would be a hell of a lark to go to the show made up as ICP.

I went as Violent J, the fatter of the two while Jake went as Shaggy 2 Dope. It was perfect. Sunday came, and we got ready for the gig. We went and bought about $15 worth of black and white face paint at the local costume shop. Around 4PM, we started the work. Jake sprayed my hair green and did me up as Violent J.

ICP must have gone through serious trial-and-error with their makeup at the beginning of their career, because we struggled to get a good black on our faces. We had to settle for darker grey. Jake did his makeup himself. It was great. We looked surprising like ICP, and made a few home movies for our amusement. They mainly involved Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J sitting on the couch, discussing errands that had to be done like a married couple.

Shaggy: Did you remember to pay the car insurance?
Violent J: You know, I'll have to check my checkbook. I haven't done all the accounting for this week, I was gonna do it later tonight. Did you pick up the dry cleaning?
Shaggy: I did. They washed the blueberry Faygo stain out of your football jersey.

So on and so on, with a punchline about how untalented ICP was and how they knew it. Hilarity.

Gig time came, and we showed up at the venue early. Picture a dive bar filled with middle-aged pool leaguers and two idiots dressed in clown makeup show up. There's a lot of awkward moments to be had in times like that.

Around 9PM, the show started with me on first. I began with a long diatribe about ICP, making fun of their Six Jokers Cards, their Dark Carnival, their never-ending array of merchandise. Screamingly funny, let me tell you. As my set progresses, I notice Jake in the audience wiping the makeup off with the towel we brought.

I feel betrayed. The bastard set me up. He set me up to look like the biggest asshole in a room full of Juggalos. He had given up the joke, and left me there on stage in front of everyone, forced to deal with it. As each song progressed in my set, I took the towel from him and started wiping off my own makeup. I couldn't get it all. A lot of it was stuck in my hairline, moustache and eyebrows. I looked like a gay wizard and felt like a fool.

After my set, I was approached by some Juggalos who loved the show. "How come you weren't at the Gathering?" more than two of them asked me. The Gathering is an annual meeting of Juggalos, and if you call it an artist-sponsored convention, which is what it really is, the Juggalos get upset.

I told them I couldn't make the Gathering because I couldn't afford to make the trip. There were several things I took from this line of questioning.
1. Some of these guys kept their Gathering wristbands. By that, I mean they were still wearing the wristbands, months after the event. I imagine they smell like sweat/Faygo/pathetic.
2. There were apparently few enough people at the Gathering that they noticed I wasn't there. That must have been quite a party.

I later asked Jake why he sold me out like that. It seems that the Juggalo aspirant rapper that we did the gig with was a guy that he knew. He didn't know who the guy was before the gig because the guy had changed his MC name. Not wanting to disrespect the guy to his face and end up in a losing fight with a roomful of ICP fans and only me as his backup, he removed the makeup post-haste.

In the end, everything turned out fine. Some of the Juggalos were nice folks, and the rapper did two sets and the crowd loved him. God bless him, and may he end up with a better lot in life than the one he wants.

American Idol's Blake Lewis: Jack-Of-All-Trades With A Devil-May-Care Attitude

2007-09-25T03:02:00.001-07:00

We get more of Blake Lewis' velveteen touch in these excerpts from his TV Guide interview.

TV Guide: Is there anywhere you got to do anything especially cool?
Blake: I played an improv show in Chicago, at Del Close. It was cool. I got to be the host and tell stories and stuff, and the improvers acted it out. I have a lot of friends who are comedians so I do a little improv, just character work. Besides music, that's pretty much my favorite thing.

Great, you're into improv, which isn't an artform for douchebags at all?

TV Guide: Is that something else you want to pursue when the album is done?
Blake: Definitely. I do it all the time. I make rap videos and a lot of comedy video stuff, like digital-short kinds of things.

I have to see the Blake Lewis homemade rap videos. I'm sure they'll make Greg Olson of the Chicago Bears sound like Charlie Tuna (see post below).

TV Guide: There's been so much written about all of you. Do you ever read any of it online?
Blake: No. Honestly, it's funny you should ask because the first time I ever got on the computer and typed my name in was yesterday. TV Guide: Really? Blake: Yeah. I Googled myself.

...then we get...

TV Guide: Do you ever get calls from your family and friends asking if rumors are true?
Blake: Yeah. One person will read something and I'm like, "Well, you're dumb for reading it."

TV Guide: It's only going to get worse.
Blake: I don't care. That's all Hollywood, and a little bit of New York, with the paparazzi. I laugh about it. I could pick my nose in public and eat my booger and I wouldn't care if it was on film.

Beware, gossip-loving fiends. Blake Lewis will be eating boogers on camera for attention in about...I'll put the over/under at about three years, after a steady and seemingly-unpreventable decline.

American Idol's Blake Lewis: Cool Like Dat

2007-09-25T02:49:00.000-07:00

This was found in an issue of TV Guide, where he discusses his upcoming debut album. Judging by what I read, TV Guide may be entirely employed by decent upstanding people who wouldn't know the first thing about hip-hop. To be fair, this is TV Guide and not Hip-Hop Guide, but still I enjoy how this looks.

TV Guide: What artists have you approached so far?
Blake: I know that Doug E. and I are probably going to do a track. I'm trying to get my boy RA Scion of Common Market to do a track. I'm trying to get Black Thought and Charlie Tuna. I'm going to reach out and if they don't want to, that's cool. I'm just going to try to get some freestyle tracks that are completely organic and raw, true to the Fifth Element.

I can imagine the copy editor at TV Guide being a 75-year-old lady saying "Charlie Tuna? Everybody's making albums these days."

One day of work, now we're taking the weekend off.

2007-09-20T14:13:00.000-07:00

The Nightfly has three gigs this weekend, starting tonight.
So nothing for a while, check back Monday night.
You know what? Make that early Tuesday morning.

The old black man will teach you how to live.

2007-09-20T00:42:00.001-07:00

Last night, I got to see a commercial for "Feast Of Love", a film that will be coming out on Sept. 28th. The film stars Greg Kinnear as a guy who just lost his girlfriend to another girl. Morgan Freeman co-stars as the old black guy who teaches him how to live, how to love, and how to find himself.

Here is a clip from "Feast Of Love".

The feel-good film of the autumn. I'm telling you.

Today's Outstanding Website: www.deaky.com

2007-09-19T21:42:00.001-07:00

www.deaky.com is dedicated solely to the enigma wrapped up in a riddle that is John Deacon, bassist for Queen.

Perhaps the best part of deaky.com is the fan fiction section. Because if you're going to write fan fiction about any member of Queen, I imagine John Deacon would be your first choice.

There are only four stories in the fan fiction section, which makes me think Amnerica's needs to have a John Deacon fan fiction contest, amongst its' readers. Winner gets a prize. This contest will continue on into infinity, because I don't know anyone with enough time on their hands to write fan fiction about any member of Queen, let alone John Deacon.

"Yeah, but what are ya gonna do?"

2007-09-19T21:05:00.000-07:00

By now, you've probably seen the footage of the "bro" who got tasered by police at the John Kerry event at the University of Florida. I can't watch it very long without getting angry. Everyone in that video makes me angry. The kid, Kerry, the cops, the other students who sat there expressionless, anybody else I might have missed.

Let's get something straight about campus cops: they're not real cops and they hate themselves for it. Yeah, they had police training like real cops. But they ended up patrolling a university, and those tend to not to be hotbeds of victim crime. By the time the campus cops get to the scene of a victim crime, the criminal act has long been perpetrated.

If a murder takes place in a dorm, the campus cops will be there to tape off the crime scene while the city police handle the situation. It's like a movie where the local cops' jurisdiction is usurped by the FBI. So when a situation develops, like the one at the Kerry speech, you can trust a campus cop to lose all perspective, because the muscle memory of basic training has worn off from years of nothing to do except write parking tickets. They are glorified rent-a-cops and meter maids.

So that appears to be what happened here. A half-dozen or so UF meter-maids lose perspective when a "bro", armed with nothing more than a question, a notepad, and the faint stink of Natti Ice on his breath, turns a lecture into an episode of COPS.

Geniuses like Bill O'Reilly act like the kid, Andrew Meyer, got what he asked for. O'Reilly even called the kid a wuss for yelling so loudly after taking the taser shot. Okay, maybe the kid's a total douche. But there isn't a law against being a douche. You might as well jail someone for masturbating. As for yelling too loudly after getting tasered, only a real man like O'Reilly could call anybody out on that sort of thing.

So here it is, another mouth roaring about something too late to fix, but I will conclude with this thought: A police state in America is undesirable, but a campus police state would be worse.

Other Frank Zappa songs we nearly named this blog after

2007-09-19T19:27:00.000-07:00

The title "Amnerica" was based on the Frank Zappa composition "Amnerika." There were plenty of song titles we could've used though, and they all would've been great. I'm not the only one, as the people at Excentrifugal Forz can tell you. Here are a few song titles that didn't quite make it.

1. Electric Aunt Jemima
2. G-Spot Tornado
3. Undaunted, The Band Plays On
4. The Duke Of Prunes
5. Dog Breath
6. N-Lite
7. Planet Of My Dreams
8. Outside Now, Again

And for those of you who wanted to put down "Why Does It Hurt When I Pee?": no.

Welcome to Amnerica, come back soon.

2007-09-19T19:02:00.000-07:00

Just what the world needs. Another blog.

I'd like to thank you for coming to Amnerica. I hope you enjoy what you read and feel free to come back regularly. Eventually, you'll grow to enjoy the company of Amnerica so much, you'll want to invite it to your house for lunch, or throw it a birthday party, or set it up on dates. I'd like Amnerica to become a blog you can rely on for regular content, much like all those other blogs you've been flirting with.

Amnerica is based out of rural Kentucky, safe from the hustle-bustle and tense weirdness of city life. We are somewhere in between Louisville and Nashville, if that helps.

I have taken the pen name "The Nightfly." Not for any mystical reasons but because my body clock demands that I sleep when the rest of the world is working normal business hours. Through coincidence, I have managed to acquire Frank Zappa's sleep schedule, but not his work ethic.

Actually, Zappa didn't have a work ethic. He actually liked what he was doing. So there. But "Amnerica" does actually take its name from a Zappa song, although Zappa called his "Amnerika" with a "k" instead of "c".

I decided to make my own blogspot because I've been blogging on Myspace for three years. The problem is that my Myspace account is for my musical act, and many of the things that I write about have nothing to do with my own music. It dawned on me finally that I could use the old account to push my music and have Amnerica for my own personal expression.

I hope Amnerica becomes a blog you frequent, and the way to do that is for The Nightfly to sit his ass down and produce some honest-to-God actual CONTENT! So here's this.

Whatever happened to Jay The Joke?

2007-09-19T18:09:00.001-07:00

Apparently, kicking around Chicago Sun-Times sports columnist Jay Mariotti has lost its' charm for the men behind Jaythejoke.com, Pat Dahl and Matt Lynch.

Jay The Joke went online last spring, with the goal of "uniting Cubs and Sox fans in their mutual hatred" of Mariotti. Cut to the present day JTJ, where the blog has been discontinued since July 25th.

JTJ illuminated some of the inadequate nature of Mariotti's work: his refusal to face the people he criticized in print, his outright admitting that his gig on the WWL's "Around The Horn" was his primary gig rather than the S-T job, his arrogant assumption that he is a spokesman for the people of Chicago, and about a million other things.

But once you've made your point, what else is there to say? As with just about every message board on the face of the earth, JTJ got ugly. They've even given Mariotti a back story, in the form of a fictional timeline. I haven't read the whole thing but it involves a botched circumcision, a love doll, and Craig Biggio.

From this perspective, it seems like things have settled down since the infamous Ozzie Guillen "fag" flap. Mariotti is under contract to the S-T until 2009 and "Around The Horn" continues to do well for the WWL. Mariotti is scot-free with everyone except a few dozen JTJ forum dwellers unless he avoids anything more controversial than the same poorly written columns his readers are used to.

Of course, I could be wrong. I'm kind of hoping I'm wrong. I'm one of those few JTJ guys, lingering around the garbage dump.