Culture of Douchebags

We're such a culture of douchebags. I always see commercials where someone's like "Yeeahhh...I don't know about that, hot shot" before grabbing a flatbread sandwich or loan application away from his dumber friend. When did we all get so sarcastic and douchey? And no, I'm not just using what I see in commercials as proof of this, you douchebag.

I'm also using what I've seen in other things on television as proof of this. Like many people, I saw the interaction between Kanye West and Taylor Swift unfold at this year's MTV Video Music Awards and I was horrified at the douchiness. Kanye West needs to stage crash an awards show every year to get a much needed boost to his self esteem and for Taylor Swift to not handle this with a better sense of humor really sickened me. She was being a douchebag by turning everyone against Kanye and his lovable antics. Anyone who shaves funny swirls into their head can't be that bad. All I know is I can name like, 20 Kanye West songs I've liked off the top of my head and that one Taylor Swift song is fucking terrible, so lay off of him already and let her get some of that backla....oh, wait, everyone forgot about this already. Nevermind.

The Juggalos of the Vegetable World

First and foremost, I would like to dedicate this blog to pro wrestling legend Captain Lou Albano, who passed away earlier this week. When I started watching WWF wrestling as a kid, Captain Lou Albano was my favorite manager. I had his action figure and I thought he was great, even though I'm still not sure what he was the captain of (I guess, theoretically, since he navigated the careers of so many wrestlers as their manager, he was kind of like a captain navigating a ship of sorts?)
Captain Lou transcended wrestling. Many non-wrestling fans remember him from his appearances in Cyndi Lauper's music videos and from playing Super Mario on the Mario Brothers cartoon show. I'll always remember him from what he taught me about not giving a fuck. I don't know if that's what he intended, but as a kid, that's how it came across to me. Want to wear a t-shit with an ugly caricature of yourself on it? Do it. Want to wear rubber bands on your beard and face at all times? Just go for it. Pierce your cheek with a safety pin? If Captain Lou can do it, then so can you. He taught me valuable life lessons I'll never forget. Thanks, Captain Lou Albano. RIP



So, I keep forgetting the password to sign in here to update this blog, which either speaks highly of how little I've "blogged" as of late, or how my memory is getting shittier. Probably both. Some quick motherfucking thoughts

- I like brussels sprouts. I've been into them (it?) for a while now, actually. I admit it's not the best tasting vegetable in the world, but I like eating them occasionally and why not, right? Who's gonna fuckin' stop me? You? C'mon, then. *spits on the ground* Pussy.

I feel like they've been unfairly stereotyped as being a shitty tasting food that parents force their kids to eat and are constantly made to look disgustingly gross by the media. I almost want to start an anti-defamation group for brussels sprouts, but then I feel like I would lose credibility when reporters would ask me what my favorite brussels sprouts recipes are, if I was the only kid on my block that liked to eat them, when I discovered that I loved them so much etc. and I would have to be like "Alright, guy, I don't like them THAT much. I just feel bad for them is all"
Pictured above- A big ol' heaping helping of brussel's spouts served in a fun wicker basket is a sure way to liven up your dinner table this holiday season! But don't make it like this picture. There's far too many gross ass brussels sprouts in there and that's probably going to make all your guests sick and ruin whatever holiday it is.

Also, on top of that, I just found out when I started writing this that the correct name for them is "Brussels sprouts". I always thought it was "brussel sprouts". So, as you can see, I'm no expert on the matter. More lost cred points. Yeah, it turns out that they were first found in Brussels in Belgium, hence the name "Brussels sprouts". I definitely would have included that "fun" fact in a pro-sprouts pamphlet if I ever were to start that group. You know, the brussels sprouts anti-defamtion group I was talking about. Like, from before.
Brussels sprouts are like the Juggalos of the vegetable world. They get no respect from anyone and nobody likes them. I guess those are the only reasons I would consider them the Juggalos of the vegetable world. There's no yearly Gathering of the Brussels Sprouts, but how could there be? Their right to assemble has been taken away by anti-brussels sprouts fascists . pictured above- The brussels sprouts of the music world

Give those brussels sprouts another chance, everybody. I swear they're not horrible. They're actually not bad. Not as bad as they're supposed to be, that is.

Writer's Block, Van Halen etc.

I've been trying all night to write this blog's version of Van Halen's first record, but every time I tried, I wound up getting closer to writing this blog's version of the shitty album with the guy from Extreme on vocals, "Van Halen III". In non-Halen terms, I've been trying to write something that's really funny and good that people might enjoy reading, but I can't come up with jackshit. I wonder if this is how Van Halen felt when they were working on one of their earlier albums. What did they do for inspiration? Did David Lee Roth practice mid-air splits while Michael Anthony looked at his Jack Daniels bottle shaped bass, admiring it? Did Eddie and Alex Van Halen reminisce about their childhood in the old country, about how far they came from when they were so poor they had to eat their own hair for dinner(maybe)? Whatever they did, they came up with some solid rock albums back then. But how? What possessed them?

Oh, wait, they probably did a lot of coke. That's it.

I also wonder if this is how they felt when they were working on the shitty album with the guy from Extreme on vocals.They probably didn't even care to get inspired. They were already rich and famous so the hunger was no longer there. There was no real sense of effort here at all. It's clear when you listen to it or even look at the album cover. It's a fucking stock photo with the name of the album lazily placed on the cannon. They didn't even use a cool looking font . What is that anyway, times new roman? I've seen Van Halen bootleg covers with more effort put into them than that.
So, moving forward with my writing, my mantra will be "More Van Halen I, Less Van Halen III". You can do this with any band, really. "More Master of Puppets, Less St. Anger","More Cracked Rear View, Less Fairweather Johnson" and so on. I hope it will yield some better results in the near future.

Soooo....

To say that updates to my blog here have been sporadic would be like saying "Robin William's arms have a couple of hairs on them, no big deal. More like peach fuzz than anything, actually", when we all know Robin Williams has some crazy hairy simian arms and I haven't been productive here in a good while. I swear things will change. Not for Patch Adams himself, Robin Williams, but for me, your old buddy, me! I'll be writing a lot more is what I'm trying to say.

The Time Traveler's Wife

Not long ago, I saw a trailer for a movie called "The Time Traveler's Wife". I immediately assumed this film would be about a married couple that get's really rich through betting on sports that take place in the future. It's the perfect racket- just ask Biff Tannen. The time traveling husband goes into the future, buys a sports almanac and then gives it to the wife, who begins betting big money on every game possible. They make tons of money and nobody catches on because the Time Traveler can keep going back and forth though time, covering their tracks. It's a perfect scam! The only thing that could stop them is greed- like if one decided to kill the other in order to get their share of the money! That would be good. This way, the plot twist could possibly be that the greed murder could fuck up the outcome of a game from the future they bet all their money on, double or nothing.
Like, maybe she shoots him while they're both in a helicopter going over the Citrus Dome during the Citrus Bowl. He get's blown through a window, falls thousands of feet into the stadium during the crucial final play, and lands on top of the Florida A&M quarterback as he's about to make the winning pass and it costs them the game. (Since this is a bullshit movie, everyone would carry on as if a corpse falling from the sky and killing a young quarterback is just some kind of annoying inconvenience. Maybe show shots of fans in the stands with their faces painted up in the team colors going "AWWW!" and angrily tossing down their team pendants, an old lady can do a spittake and yell "What the fuck!?" or something. Meanwhile the other team would celebrate and do the whole "dump a barrel of Gatorade on the coach" thing, totally ignoring the horrible tragedy that just occured.)
In the end they would see how greed ruined their love as well as the great scam they had going. Then the Time Traveler could go back in time and stop the tragic chain of events from unfolding. Unless, he's the one that gets killed, in which case the Time Traveler's Wife would just have to go to prison for murder. I guess it would all depend on which ending goes over better with test audiences.
As it turns out, the movie is not about what I pretended to assume it would be about. According to Wikipedia (a web site that's like an internet encyclopedia; it's really cool), it's about a woman's relationship over the course of her life with a guy who "has a genetic disorder that causes him to time travel randomly". Random time travel sounds like a way better genetic disorder than say, diabetes, that's for sure. It doesn't seem like they do much to capitalize monetarily on the time travel either. They probably just spend all their time together coiled in a loving embrace- He just slowly runs the front of his index and middle finger down the side of her face as they gaze longingly into each others eyes, both sadly aware that this magic moment is fleeting as it won't be long before he ascends through time yet again. She sheds a single tear and he kisses her gently on the forehead, all the while Coldplay provides the soundtrack (I seriously just guessed Coldplay and then I looked up the movie's soundtrack and, sure enough, fucking Coldplay is on the soundtrack for real!). No matter what happens as he travels through time, even if he get's raped by a dinosaur or robbed at gunpoint by a naked W.C Fields, he will come back to her. This movie makes us see that true love transcends the boundaries of time. It's a powerful film experience that you might never forget.

This is all speculative, by the way. I haven't seen and will never see the movie because it isn't about them betting on sport events from the future.

Yo, fuck this movie, yo.

Summer Del Muerte-Tribute to the Overlooked

This recent rash of celebrity deaths has hit us all pretty hard, leaving our world just a little less famous than it was before the summer began. A summer which I have dubbed the "Summer Del Muerte"tm.It seems as if every day someone we all know and love (not personally) is dying and it's getting hard to keep track of everyone that's perished. We all know that the King of Pop, Ed McMahon died, but a lot of less notable celebs also kicked the farm and were totally overshadowed by the really, really famous people, like Billy Mays and all those boxers. I will now attempt to give some of them their due. While the media and the general public may have, I haven't forgotten you, nobodies.

June- The Cruel Summer Rears It's Ugly,Killing Head

Dr. Michael Vincent O'Brien may not have ever moonwalked (possibly), but what he did do was train race horses in his native Ireland. In 2003 he was voted the greatest influence in horse racing history, according to a worldwide vote hosted by the Racing Post newspaper (and Wikipedia, lest you think I researched any of this shit). The guy trained six horses to win the Epsom Derby, which sounds like an important event for horse racing. His death, on June 1st at the age of 92, got the morbid month of June off to a slow but steady start, as it looks to overtake Daddy's Cinnemon Dancer and Black-Eyed Nellie for the lead.

Kai Lai Chung was a Chinese born American Mathematician who passed away on June 2nd, also at the age of 92. His contributions to the modern probablitly theory made him famous the world over and also got him laid..A LOT. So much so that during one of his famous marathon sex romps, Chung once lost count of how many women he had partaken in throughout the course of that particular cocaine and stochastic integration-fueled night . Which of course, citing Chung's status as a great mathematician, can easily be categorized as impressive.

Omar Bongo Ondimba was a man born with a really great name that I will forever be glad to have stumbled across while writing this blog. He was also a man that was born to lead, as he was the president of Gabon from 1967 until his untimely death from a heart attack on June 7th, 2009. Gabon is a country in West Central Africa. It is also country that now mourns the loss of their president, Omar Bongo Ondimba. Godspeed, Omar Bongo Ondimba.

Peter Brereton Townsend (6 April 1928 - 7 June 2009) and Dusty Rhodes ( May 13 1927- June 17 2009) were a socioligist and an old timey baseball player, respectively, but collectively, they were 2 guys who's deaths may have caused some initial confusion due to the more famous men similarily named Pete Townshend and Dusty Rhodes. Fear not, fans of the Who and pro wrestling alike, the Pete Townshend and Dusty Rhodes you know and love are both still alive and well. Sociology and old timey baseball fans, I'm sorry for your loss.

June 25th will forever be known in the annals of history as the day Michael Jackson, arguably the most famous person to ever do anything, shockingly died at the age of 50. It was also the day that Farrah Fawcett, who was considerably less famous, died at 62, which was sadly overshadowed by Jacko fading to blacko. Even worse, Western fiction author Don Coldsmith also died on that same day at the age of 83, with word of Farrah Fawcet's death completely eclipsing news of his passing. Not to be outdone (which I guess he was), Kentucky Poet Laureate James Baker Hall expired on June 25th as well, news of which was sadly overshadowed by the death of Don Coldsmith. A sad, vicous cycle indeed.

July- The Death March Marches Forward March

In an unbelievable coincedence, the first of the month took away from us yet another elderly horse trainer, as Takayoshi Yasuda, a Japanese jockey and horse trainer died on July 1st at the age of 89. You can't make this shit up! And even if you could, why would you?

On July 5th, retired pro wrestler Waldo Von Erich died at the age of 75. Though he portrayed Fritz Von Erich's brother, Waldo was not actually related to the famously doomed wrestling family. Yet, you can't help but feel that he might have gotten hit with some of the shrapnel from the curse of the Von Erich family, even if he died at the relatively old age of 75. Watch your back, Lance Von Erich (who, for non-wrestling fans who might read this, was unrelated by blood to the Von Erichs, but pretended to be a 3rd cousin or something in the ring. Sorry for the obscure wrestling reference.)

Dallas R. McKennon died on July 14th at the ripe old age of 89. Working as a voice actor, McKennon was the voice for Gumby, Archie, and a host of different Disney characters. He also looked kinda terrifying, if you ask me, sorta like a murderous drifter or hobo.
Maybe it's best he mainly did voiceover work.

Lastly, I shine the spotlight of death on one Henry William Allingham, who was the oldest verified living man,until he died at the age of 113 on July 18th, at which point he was stripped of the title for obvious reasons.

This super supercentenarian served in both World Wars, lived through like, 59 Presidents, and was able to see Harrison Ford blossom into a leading man right before his very eyes. He also probably had to live through the deaths of countless friends and family members (and Michael Jackson), which has to be a bit of a bummer. He credited "cigarettes, whisky and wild, wild women – and a good sense of humour" for his longevity, which really seems to be the cliche, hackey thing for all these old fucks to say. Couldn't he have just been honest and admitted that he only drank water, never smoked, and hadn't encountered any "wild, wild women" since the late 1950's ? People who actually live like that die in their early 40's, not at the age of 113. I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but Henry William Allingham might have been full of shit.

As this gruesome summer continues, hopefully the death toll of the famous will stop rising. We need famous people alive and well, so that we have something to strive for- the hope that we may one day walk past a famous person on the street and then text a friend about it (i.e "OMG I just saw Jon Lovitz on the strt!!!!")

Hopefully, August will be kinder.

Misawa's Death Makes Me-sad-a

Pro wrestlers are a lot like the goldfish that are in plastic bags that you win at a carnival- they die early and often. You may be psyched on them at first, but don't grow too attached. Those goldfish will more than likely be belly up an hour or two after you get home, probably from a steroid related heart attack. Don't go buying a giant fish tank or anything.
Japanese wrestling legend Mitsuharu Misawa died on June 13th, 2009, after taking a backdrop suplex in a match. Original reports indicated that Misawa died of a heart attack, but it was later shown to have been from spinal damage. Misawa was easily one of the greatest wrestlers of all time- his career spanned nearly 3 decades and in that time, he had countless legendary matches and was one of the most influential and important Japanese wrestlers ever. Nowhere is that influence more obvious than in Pro Wrestling NOAH, the company he started in 2000 following his departure from All-Japan Pro Wrestling, the place where Misawa made his name throughout the 80's and 90's. Misawa was considered the "ace" of All-Japan during the 90's, racking up 5 star matches like a billiards player might rack up pool balls (terrible metaphor).
When he left All-Japan, there was a mass-exodus of wrestlers following Misawa to NOAH. Pro Wrestling NOAH became the place to see former All-Japan mainstays like Misawa, Kenta Kobashi, and Jun Akiyama, as well as some of the most exciting young wrestlers to ever come out of Japan (KENTA, Naomichi Marufuji, Takeshi Morishima, and Go Shiozaki, just to name a few) and visiters from other parts of the world (but mainly just the U.S and England). On a personal note, Pro Wrestling NOAH was the first Japanese wrestling company that I took a really big interest in, mostly because it looked like the guys really kicked the shit out of each other there. Misawa also influenced many wrestlers across the globe with the hard hitting style he helped pioneer. Misawa revolutionized pro wrestling, not just in Japan, but in general. There will never be another wrestler like him.

He also looked a little like a Japanese Gary Shandling.
At least I always thought so.

Anyway, Misawa accomplished a lot during his time as a wrestler and then he died at the ripe old age of 46. Needless to say, that is way too young. I also always thought he was almost 60 or something. Clearly, getting dropped on your head and suffering multiple concussions for decades on end ages you drastically. Oh, and then I guess it kills you. Misawa wasn't the first wrestler to die really young this year (former WWE wrestler Andrew "Test" Martin died in March at the age of 33; later that same month, Mexican star Abismo Negro passed away at 37) and he probably won't be the last.
To quote Cam'ron, from a pivotal scene in his classic movie, "Killa Season", "It's an epidemic in my hood, B."
I'm a huge, lifelong fan of pro wrestling. I watch it a lot and go to wrestling shows on a fairly regular basis. People may look down on it or call it "fake", but I could give a shit. At it's best, pro wrestling is an awesome spectacle to behold. I appreciate it the way a film buff might appreciate "Citizen Kane" or "Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever". A really great match is like fine art to me or better yet, like an aged bottle of fine wine. I'm all like "I'll take some Flair vs. Steamboat '89, room temperature, please". I enjoy it immensely. I'm not a loser. I just know it.
If there's one thing about it that I can't enjoy, it's the really high death rate. Watch any random WWF show from the 80's or 90's (fuck it, even the early part of this decade)and you'll find a disturbing amout of guys who are now dead on the card (you can even make it a drinking game, if you want). Chances are they died before or not long after they turned 40. Shit's fucked up.
I don't like how watching wrestling can be a grim, morbid affair at times. Things must change.

It should also be noted that old timey boring wreslers like Verne Gagne and Lou Thesz lived well in to their 80s, while exciting, fun-to-watch guys like Eddie Guerrero, Owen Hart, and now Misawa died young (from various different circumstances). So, from a purely selfish standpoint, I want nothing to change! Besides, who needs dumb goldfish anyways!!!


Just kidding.
Things really do need to change. Maybe wrestle in football helmets? I don't know.

I'm going to go watch some wrestling.