Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I Have Seen the Enemy. And He is a Moron.
Ahmadinejad, aside being amazingly hard to pronounce correctly, is picking a fight with an octopus.
For some reason.
I’ve been known to insist that Michael Moore, microwavable pork rinds, and America Has Talent are all symbols of decadence, decay, and exceptionally bad taste in the West, but Paul the Octopus just seems like harmless fun.
Maybe Mahmoud sees something in Paul the Octopus that has eluded me, but I think the answer is more simple that that: Ahmadinejad has gone all Oliver Stone on us and slipped a little further down the slope to outright insanity.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Batch 19 Pre-Prohibition Style Lager: It’s Not For You
I like beer. I want to try Batch 19 Pre-Prohibition Style Lager.
Yet, living in Denver, and not in one of a very few target cities, I won’t be sampling the old recipe brew.
Now, people in Colorado drink a lot of beer. Significantly more than folks in San Francisco, for instance. So the idea of not selling this beer in Coors’ own back yard is a surprise to me.
The only reason for such a crazy decision, in my estimation, is that they are trying to foist crappy beer off on those latte-sippin’, Volvo-drivin’ lefties in San Franciso, the so-schnockered-they-can’t-tell-the-difference drinkers in Milwaukee and Chicago, and a political class in DC that just doesn’t know any better. Because it’s obvious that they are trying to hide the brew from the real beer fans in Colorado.
It’s a conspiracy.
Read the rest. And rub it in if you happen to be in one of those six target markets.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sadly, I have precisely zero first-hand knowledge of boobquake. Happily, had I any first-hand knowledge of boobquake, my wife might be cranky. She’s claimed those hands for herself, you know.
Anyhow, during my travels yesterday, I saw no more (and, happily, no less) immodest dress than on any normal day; boobquake was a big bust as far as I’m concerned.
Yeah. Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Bumper Sticker of the Day: The Mad Banjo Edition
Those who know me know that I have little use for bumper sticker sloganeering. I tend to believe that if your political ideals or religions beliefs can be summed up in a bumper sticker, you’ve probably oversimplified. Take, for example, today’s bumper sticker which reads:
Banjos not bombs.
Which, apparently, they actually thought that was the choice. I can imagine the budget debate now. “We only have money enough for one more item in the budget this year. The way I see it, the choice comes down to either bombs or 250,000 of these finely crafted banjos.”
I should have seen this coming, though. I mean, there is no way you can play banjo with nuclear arms.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Quick Hits from a Nicely Spent Saturday
Darling girl and I have started haunting a little used book store here in Aurora. It’s run by an older couple and it sits in an anonymous little strip mall where the only real draw is the book and those two who seem to have been running the place for something close to ever. Anyway, when I was finishing up my run, I happened to spy a little hardback copy of Bill Mauldin’s Up Front.
I grew up with “Up Front,” which was Mauldin’s World War II infantry-eye view of World War II. Mauldin himself was an infantryman and his characters, Willie and Joe, were one of the most honest looks at the infantry that you could find, warts and all.
It may sound strange to hear that I, who wasn’t born within decades of WWII, grew up with those guys, but it’s true. One of my father’s friends had this same book and another (the name escapes me, sadly), and I read through not only the cartoons, but Mauldin’s commentary about the soldiers, the war, the cartoon, and the stories that inspired it all. I would still say that if you want to get an idea of who wartime grunts really are, this is a great place to start. It doesn’t sugarcoat the guys, but there is an obvious, gentle affection to the poor bastards who carry the load.
The technology and some of the terminology have changed, of course, and there is an old-fashioned feeling to the cartoons, but there is a reason that his fellow soldiers loved him, there’s a reason that he enraged Patton and the Eisenhower protected him, and there’s a reason that he won a few Pulitzers for his work. I have no idea what kind of a guy he was in the real world, but “Up Front” was as much a love letter to the infantry (and more authentic) as Heinlein’s Starship Troopers.
Of course, I picked up the fragile old book--pages yellowing and tearing in a few places--and brought it home with me.
Mauldin had a very obvious concern for his fellow soldiers and was concerned that the returning soldiers wouldn’t be taken back in by the country that sent them off to war. A bit that I read pretty close to the front of the book probably bears repeating today:
If you see a copy next time you’re in your local used book store, I highly recommend picking it up. It’s well worth the few bucks you’ll spend. Mauldin passed away a few years back, but he’ll be remembered as long as his doggies have to go to far off lands to fight wars on behalf of the rest of us. Mauldin told their story, perhaps, better than anyone else has ever managed.
I also picked up a copy of PJ O’Rourke’s wonderful Parliament of Whores. It might seem a little dated--the book is nearly two decades old at this point and some of the stories stretch back to 1988--but it’s still a fun romp at the expense of the political class (finished with a painful look in the mirror).
Anyway, here’s a quote for you. It’s from the opening paragraph of the chapter entitled, “The Three Branches of Government: Money, Television, and Bullshit.”
I grew up reading this stuff: is it a wonder that there is a streak of cynicism in me that rears up now and again?
Lastly, we also picked up Crazy Heart since the local Blockbuster didn’t have one to rent.
No regrets on that. It’s a wonderful movie with absolutely stellar performances and surprisingly good music. It might be a little smaller than some people might expect--there are no grand gestures and no earth-shattering themes--especially given all of the Oscar talk. But it’s that tightly-focused look at one lonely, old, alcoholic that keeps the movie good.
No politics, no “brave” agenda about racism or sexuality or any supposedly hot-button issue of the day, and no overblown sentimentality leave it being a wonderful movie with more humanity, by far, than something like Avatar. Of course, I’m also of the opinion that District 9 was the best science fiction story last year, so take that as you will.
Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie and I have to say it again: the music was surprisingly good. Jeff Bridges, as Bad Blake, actually made a credible country music artist. I didn’t realize that he sang so many of the songs in the film, but was pleasantly shocked by just how well he pulled it off.
That’s not my favorite song from the movie (that would be “The Weary Kind”, but that song isn’t sung by Bridges) but it has the bonus of featuring Collin Farrell, too. Again, surprising.
And here’s one more for the road.
I hesitate to throw this story in the mix, but I can’t stand not mentioning it. I realize that not everyone is heroic in action or willing to sacrifice for others--although I hope that if I’m ever tested, I would would be both--but this story is not only one of the saddest things I’ve read in a very long time, but also one of the most shameful. Not shameful to me, of course, but to those people who saw, who knew, and who still did nothing.
If I were to say a prayer on this day it would be that I am never so callous, never so uncaring, never so low as to leave a man dying in the streets while I did nothing. I’m sure that some of the passers never noticed, never saw the blood, and never realized what had happened, but, just as surely, some of them did see.
This man deserved far better not only because he had acted with courage to save a woman that he didn’t even know, but because he was a human being dying in the streets. He didn’t have to die and he deserved far, far better than this.
Shame, shame, shame on those people who let the man die.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
So, Yeah, That’s Probably My Fault, Too…
I’m pretty sure I screwed the curve for everyone.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Misplaced Praise, Seventh in a Series of 562
Way to go, Heidi Montag! Your new plasticky boobs and surgically enhanced everything make you so much prettier than before. The world is a much better place with yet another gigantic, fake-breasted blonde who, apparently, was so desperate to look like a prostitute or porn star that she underwent 10 surgical procedures to achieve the goal.
Which is nice since men will certainly take you more seriously as you pursue your career. Even better, you’ll set a great example for young women everywhere who should know that their sense of self-worth should stem from their achievements and their minds instead of from their surgically sculpted asses. Unless it says the exact opposite.
Which, I suppose, is my way of saying: Heidi Montag used to be a beautiful woman. Now she’s a hideously distorted version of what a real, live woman should look like.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Health Care Can Still be Funny
Funny stuff and a funny site.
Read the rest. Then check out the rest of the site.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Bad Bets R’ Us
And I had to go and put all my money on Zombies.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Hey, Maybe We Should See Movie Title This Weekend…
I dunno. I think I’ve already seen that one.
Catchphrase. Laugh laugh laugh laugh.
Misplaced Praise, Sixth in a Series of 562
What the world needs is more government officials micromanaging the war against the epicureandistrial complex. Which is why I’m so darned glad about this moment of brilliance coming to us from New York.
Mr. Ortiz, thank God there are brave Assemblymen out there like you protecting me from the hazards of table salt.
God be with you, sir.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Lindsay Lohan: I’m Not a Milkaholic!
The funniest news of the morning comes to us from AdFreak:
I had been wondering where the insane little starlet had gone; it’s good to know that she hasn’t lost all her crazy.
(Okay, no, I wasn’t really wondering where the insane little starlet had gone. It just fit the flow of the narrative.)
Sunday, March 07, 2010
No Appreciation for the Classics
My wife, the lovely woman that she is, has no appreciation for the classics. For example, after fifteen minutes watching Caveman streaming from my Netflix account, she stated flatly: “This might be the dumbest movie ever.”
Crazy talk. Ringo Starr has never been better (well, never been better as an actor, anyway) and neither has Shelley Long. Dennis Quaid, on the other hand, did go on to bigger and better things.
Maybe I’ll make her watch the Dudley Moore anti-classic, Wholly Moses later…
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Misplaced Praise, Fourth in a Series of 562
Hey, Democrats, way to walk a righteous path!
Misplaced Praise, Third in a Series of 562
Great job, Charlie Sheen! The first step to PR rehabilitation is, of course, rehab.
No matter what you’ve done, no matter who you’ve done it to, rehab gives you that one-size-fits-all excuse for screwing up. Even when you keep screwing up over and over and over again.
We’re proud of you for taking this first step toward a healthier, happier PR life.
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