Author: Chris

Thursday was the start of the NFL season!  Hell yes!  Then I saw that asexual douchebag from Maroon 5 kick off all our carnal gladiator cravings by singing “Move like Jagger.”  God help us now.  Hey NFL, there was one stupid nip slip several years back at the Super Bowl, now we’re subjected to safe music.  OOOOHHHH!!!!  Faith Hill is singing!  Now I’m ready for violent hits!  Stupid NFL.

If I want “safe” pop hits, I’ll listen to the radio top 40 b/s.  Give me angry gangsta rap.  Sate my need for excitement with heavy metal.  I dare you to listen to “Halo” by Machine Head and not want to run outside and start a war with a broomstick and trash can lid as weapons.  For God’s sake, give me Hank Jr.  At least he bellows out a tune promoting beer drinking and raising hell.  Fourth quarter…goal line stand…home team down by four…no timeouts…”Oooohhh oh wooooo wooooo wooooo Move like Jagger!”  Where is the running back from the Last Boy Scout?  Audible, option stage left.  Power I shooting spree to Maroon 5, on one, on one…BREAK!  In all fairness, the bullet would probably bounce off his painted on jeans/leggings.

There are certain poorly acted movies that are so cheesy they are just captivating.  Last night I rewatched my favorite low budget comedy, The Stoned Age.  It is a tale about two friends in the mid-70’s riding around trying to score some alcohol and fine chicks.  Along the way, they run into such obstacles as the “Buffalo Butts”, a trio of large girls who want to play Submarine (which is never explained) and other suitors of these mystery chicks like Tack the Cack and Crump’s brother, the latter who just got out of jail after beating up a Samoan gentleman.  Of course, they also have to contend with Officer “Dixie Cup Dean” as well.  Plus, Hubbs tells Joe his classic theory on “pussy songs” put out by cool bands to find out who the real faggots are (his words, not mine).  They also piss in an icetray, a very underrated move.  Definitely worth your time.

Nothing, though, tops Road House.  I have seen this movie, mostly on TBS, probably 25+ times.  What is more epic than the struggle between a philosopher/bouncer (“Pain don’t hurt”) and a rich, small town tycoon in Missouri?  Love and drama ensue, with plenty of karate kicks to the face of Terry Funk and other ruffians, delivered by one Dalton the internationally famous “cooler”.  I, of course, never cared much for bouncers, since I have been the target of several an arm bar or chicken wing.  My best encounter was at a karaoke bar in Windsor, Canada.  These French Canadians were screwing up a GNR song, so I rushed the stage and ripped the mike away.  As I did my Axl Rose dance w/ the mike stand, I may have lost grip and tossed the stand into the crowd, hitting a young lady in the back of the knee.  I was tossed and proceeded to yell to the multitudes not to go into the bar.  A bouncer asked me to stop, to which I replied from the street, “What are you going to do?  Throw me out again?”  “No, I’ll call the cops.”  You win this round, Dalton, but me and the boys will be back!  I got tossed from that bar again a year later.  In another country.  I will make a great father someday.

I emceed another open mike last night.  At the Funny Bone, they have a workshop, where aspiring comics and road dogs try out new material, hoping for feedback to improve said joke.  A girl got up tonight and did a well rehearsed poem about getting nailed that went on for four minutes.  Later, a ventroloquist did a routine with an egg character, ala Humpty Dumpty.  Game on.

The show was rather unremarkable, though.  The egg man, who told everyone at the workshop that he “did comedy for a living” bailed pre-show and didn’t perform.  The raunchy chick went up and did a terrifying rant about being sexually degraded and sodomized with her consent.  It single-handedly set back the women’s movement 40 years.  I grabbed the mike post-poem and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the long forgotten white chick from 2 Live Crew.  I don’t know whether to be aroused or roll around in Purell.”  I am rather conflicted by doing lines like that.  It is awesome, but I still feel I may be attacked after the show.  Luckily, I am used to being attacked, having hung out in dives and dumps, so I think I can only be shot in the shoulder, which makes for great material.  I am an artist first, after all.

– Use “we” even if you are not an alumni.  Example: ‘We” played great Saturday.  Granted, you’re in your 30’s, drank 12 beers, and did not attend the campus, but you really helped out.  Good game.

– If your team wins by blowout, assume you should be number one.  If your team plays a close one, your coach should be fired OR the 1-7 team you played is better than their record.  If your team loses, your coach should be fired AND the refs cheated.  If your team gets blown out, your coach should be executed.  Oh and that team that won pays its players.

– If your team is better at running than passing and is successful, your coach runs a “tough” or “throwback” offense.  If they’re not successful, your coach is a caveman and must be fired.  If your team has a great passing game and wins, your coach runs a dynamic, explosive offense.  If they lose, your coach is a pussy and is driving recruits away with his sissy gameplan.  Get back to basics.

– Assume you and no one else has the perfect plan to fix football forever.  It’s all about money, blah blah blah, but YOUR plan is flawless and will usher a new era of perfection into college athletics.  Hell, speaking of that, you have the perfect plan for Congress, Middle East peace, and gas prices.  If only someone would listen to you.

– Your rival school’s fans are all complete boobs.  They worship Satan, beat their children, and are completely irrational.  How can they not like your team?  They clearly hate America and Jesus and world peace.  They must be viciously attacked, but preferably on a blog posts or random letter to a newspaper editor.  Oh, and ESPN hates your favorite team and has an agenda against it.  That’s obvious, even to (fill in the blank) fans.

Labor Day is one of the dumbest holidays we celebrate.  Don’t worry, Sweetest Day, you’re still number one.  If anyone gave a damn about trees, Arbor Day would have you though.  It was started by unions and quickly recognized by Grover Cleveland to appease them.  Sounds like a commie conspiracy…  Ironically, now mostly unemployed white trash celebrate this day with cookouts and Keystone 30 packs.  I know, they live all around me.  I am from Appalachia, but even I have standards.  I was behind a guy at the gas station w/ a bar code tatty on his neck.  “What is that for?”  He turned and said, “That’s the bar code for a pack of Marlboros.”  I wish I made that up.

The other dumb thing about Labor Day is that there are so many awesome days we don’t celebrate.  What about Bill of Rights Day (December 15th)?  Alright, that’s my birthday, so I have a vested interest in that one.  Or perhaps celebrating the repeal of Prohibition?  Can you believe this was an amendment to the US Constituition?  The abolition of alcohol sales?  Ending slavery forever, great!  Term limits for the president, good!  Getting rid of booze, fantast…wait a minute, what in the hell did you say?  I would have loved to have been on the floor of the Capitol for that debate.  It would have been an alcoholic “Mr. Smith goes to Washington” moment.  Homeless men would stand on street corners and echo my famous lines as urine spots in their torn pants grew larger with every word.  Frat guys would have posters of me on their walls next to stolen “No Dumping” signs.  I would have been the Braveheart of alkies.  Oh, to have been born in a different era.  Actually, I would have got drunk, passed out, and missed the debate.  Damn you, alcohol.

For the first time in my life, I blocked someone’s feeds on FB.  Trust me, there have been a lot of close calls.  “My political party is flawless!  Yours are Nazis!”  I have no cult of personality delusions – shut up about your pristine b/s political hero.  I also hate the “I had tacos!” person.  Who gives a shit?  I had a sandwich.  Tell me when you eat a bullet, then I’ll care.

The offender, though, drove me over the top.  My number one enemy (and I post too much, trust me) is the “reposter” that basically takes chain letters/spam email and reposts them.  After 12 posts in 24 hours, I had to block this chick.  “Some little girl died in 1997…Support the troops…I like pudding…REPOST THIS!!!”  Let me tell you something, gnat.  Posting stuff on FB DOESN’T ACTUALLY HELP THE VICTIM!  What???!!!  If you have time to repost 57 chain letters a week, then get your stupid ass out there and volunteer.  I hate when people pass info and act like they did something important.  “Did you hear about 9/11?”  Yes.  “Well, I told you about it.  I practically saved New York City.”  These people are almost as unbearable as the slow “sexy” shots of the Kardashians on E! commercial breaks.  Ooh, it’s Khloe!  In slow motion!  Vomit ensues.