• Movie thoughts: The Karate Kid

    Posted by on September 1, 2014

    I pulled up the ol’ Netflix and decided to check out the Karate Kid.  Here’s some thoughts.

    Ralph Macchio is not in high school.  I looked it up, he was at least 22 when this was filmed.  Then again, Luke Perry was 45 when 90210 was on.

    Daniel-san has picked fights with the Cobra Kai three times and been pummeled each time.  What kind of idiot doesn’t know when to quit?  Then I remembered my attempts at getting girls’ phone numbers for about 18 years of my life.

    Daniel has some rocking style.  Camo pants, plaid shirt, and ring neck t-shirt – all different colors.  I don’t see clothes that awful at Aldi’s.

    I like Mr. Miyagi’s slave labor training school.  Next time my soon to be wife wants to do a house project, I’m opening a karate school.  “Build the deck.  Right hand hammer.  Left hand grab me a beer.”

    If you rub your hands together, you can heal any wound short of bullet holes.

    I still laugh every time Miyagi says “Wax off.”

    I would have loved to learn karate from a friendly old Asian man as a kid, especially one who gave me a car.  I grew up in Appalachia, though.  I would have had to settle for a drunk guy teaching me how to shiv someone.  Then he would have gave me a shiv, not as a gift, he would’ve stabbed me with it when the voices told him to.

    The scene when Daniel beats Johnny is the exciting conclusion.  The worst part is all of sudden, Johnny, who was a grade A douche the whole movie, is cool as shit and congratulates him.  This is more unbelievable than a 60 year Japanese man beating the shit out of five 18 year olds.  Oh well, I still like it.  Wax off, friends.  Wax off.

  • CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD (or Field 3 Hilliard League)

    Posted by on August 29, 2014

    I have played softball 11 straight years, one year I did two leagues.  I guess it’s the hillbilly gene.  Hillbillies LOVE softball almost as much as dip, sleeveless shirts and decals of Calvin peeing on another vehicle’s manufacturer symbol.  After many runner-up seasons, we finally won it all.  That’s right, you’re not only reading the blog of an unknown comedian, you’re also now reading the blog of the ninth or tenth best player on the Field 3 Hilliard City League champions.  You may want to change your underwear.

    I used to pitch.  I had no really good pitches other than a one inch breaking curve when the wind was blowing, but I did get creative.  I would do an old timey wind up, move around the mound and about once a game, I threw the honeydipper.  This is where I rubbed the softball on my grundle and toss it from the nether zone.  It never worked.  We got a real pitcher, so I usually played on the right side of the field and prayed no one hit it to me.

    Enough about my taint.  We pulled out the miracles and won 13-9.  Afterwards, we all agreed the trophy shouldn’t go to the bar because someone might steal or break it.  Then we all realized there was no chance in hell anyone’s wife would let them put a big ass ugly trophy on the mantle.  It’s by the pool table at the bar.  I decided to retire and take up something more my speed.  Are there any Magic the Gathering leagues sponsored by bars?  I don’t think you can pull a groin doing that.

  • Parenting 101

    Posted by on August 25, 2014

    I don’t have kids, and no, I won’t do the hacky follow up line that almost every comic does after saying that.  That said, I can’t really say how they should or should not be raised…mostly.  Some people, however, totally drop the ball.

    I was at a soccer tournament this past weekend to watch my soon to be nephew play.  Nature called, so I went to find the boys’ room, which was a free standing port-a-john.  As I waited my turn, a red haired boy of about five to nine (I’m not good at guessing kids’ ages) came out of the booth of stink.  I looked down – he wasn’t wearing shoes.  No flip flops, crocs, or even just socks.  Barefoot.  His mom said “OK, let’s go back to the field.”  I nearly puked.

    First off, I don’t think you should go to a public park barefoot period.  More importantly, you never, and I mean never, enter the cleanest public restroom on earth in your bare feet.  Now take the worst bathroom you’ve ever seen.  Imagine it’s smaller, hotter, and there is poop and pee festering in a blue juice cocktail right there in your face.  That’s a port-a-john.  I would’ve called children’s services, but I don’t know protocol on bathroom standards.  Sorry ice bucket challenge, I think you may have to take a back seat to my new petition to Congress – outlaw barefoot public bathrooming.

  • Things I hate, summer 2014

    Posted by on August 22, 2014

    Time to update my blog with things I hate right now – part comedy, part therapy, occasionally funny.  Thanks for reading.

    - The media.  I read about an internal memo that leaked from a news manager congratulating the team on using great “buzz” words to get people to look at their site for news about Robin Williams’ death, then they have fallen all over themselves to piss off everyone involved in Ferguson while trying to act they give a shit.  Just admit you want ratings.  America will hate you, but at least you won’t be hypocrites.

    - My dog’s paint stripping breath.  The older my dog gets, the more vile his breath gets.  The more vile, the more I have to brush his teeth, which makes him drool, which causes more stench.  Not only is his breath foul, it comes out at around 112 degrees.  What’s worse than the smell of a dead turd?  A burning hot dead turd cooked in the mouth of a 90 pound animal.

    - Customer service.  I bought something online.  My bank thought there was a security breach and shut my card off.  The problem?  They didn’t actually call, email, or notify me through the website I log into five times a week.  So my card declined three times.  I went to two managers, a rep and a member of the security team before they told me to get a new card, which took a week to get.  If you want to block me from myself, bank, where were you when I went to Vegas six years ago?  Thanks for nothing.

  • Boxing class

    Posted by on August 20, 2014

    I took my first boxing class this week, about 20 years too late, but I did it.  I don’t know if I ever had a chance to be a good pugilist, but I suck at the drills that the good ones do.

    Jump rope – My hot streak was about eight or nine.  Speed bag – This was outright awful.  Some teenager next to me was boxing this around like Sugar Ray Robinson, I hit my hand off the top of the speed bag frame three times.  Heavy bag – I was supposed to punch this for 30 seconds straight; six total rounds.  I looked like a T Rex by session five.  In the midst of this, I was supposed to do 20 pushups.  I did them girl style and hoped no one was looking.

    Granted it was the first class, so I can only get better in theory.  Then again, maybe I should take a ninja class or buy a stun gun.  Sounds great, until I can’t lift my arms to fire the stun gun and get my ass kicked anyways.

  • “How have you not seen this?” Road House episode

    Posted by on August 19, 2014

    Here’s the latest and greatest podcast I did.  A genius idea, Dustin Meadows hosts (or lets others host) a podcast in which one or more of the podcastees has not seen a rather well known movie.  Here’s our take on the classic action film Road House.


    And remember, pain don’t hurt.


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