Your New Hero

Clint Eastwood may be many things (old, wrinkly, old)... but he is not a sissy. In fact, he went on the record as saying that we are a "pu$$y generation". I tend to agree with him because... well he might grunt at me if I don't. And this is my last clean pair of boxers. But today he made me the happiest man alive. Clint (that's what I call him) told Der Spiegel magazine (I think that is German for "Barely Legal", but I could be wrong)that people have lost their sense of humor when it comes to race jokes.

Now I know that the sensitive thing to do here is to call him old and out of touch. And to say that he does not understand what it is like to... whatever. The only reason I am not saying that is because I agree with him by a percentage that is so much higher than 100% it has not even been invented yet. Get over it and go back to your tee pee, redskin.

Now I know there are some words that are off limits. I begrudgingly concede that I should not be saying certain words in reference to certain races. But listen - I'm not going to preface my sentences with, "Now I'm not racist. I have black friends." If you have to make it known that you have black friends, you are probably only have one and its because he acts like Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I wouldn't say I have as many black friends as Tupac, but I can think of at least 8 white guys I'm friends with that act like Tupac so that has to count for something, right?

As Clint puts it:

'People have lost their sense of humour,' he told Germany's Der Spiegel magazine.

'In former times we constantly made jokes about different races.

'You can only tell them today with one hand over your mouth otherwise you will be insulted as a racist.

'I find that ridiculous. In those earlier days every friendly clique had a "Sam the Jew" or "Jose the Mexican" - but we didn't think anything of it or have a racist
thought.

'It was normal that we made jokes based on our nationality or ethnicity. That was never a problem.

''I don't want to be politically correct. We're all spending too much time and energy trying to be politically correct about everything.'

I wish I could refer to my friends as, "Albert the Chinaman" or "Lucas the Mexican" or "Webbed foot Wes" without people looking at me funny. I deal with Indian people (red dot - not feather) on a daily basis and I will fight anyone that argues against the fact that it is easier to lift up a Buick than to get them to write a check.

I think the fact that the difference of people from different areas/backgrounds/ethnicities is so obvious it becomes almost offensive not to acknowledge it. Like having your grandparents tell you something is "off the hook." Or having me tell anyone they are as good as me at anything.

No one hates political correctness more than me. If I think of something, I just want to say it. I hate censoring myself. I am also not very good at it. Like that time I laughed at the lady who got her hands eaten by monkey on Xanax. Admittedly that wasn't very polite, but come on. Someone gave Xanax to a monkey. Now substitute that woman for a Chinese guy. What if I had said, "Of course the monkey had to keep eating him. Otherwise he would have been hungry in half an hour." Now is it actually racially insensitive to say that Chinese food is mystically un-filling? If so, why? Why would any Chinese person care that the food of their ancestors has a reputation like this? Or maybe my censor just doesn't work and that's why I don't get it.

Maybe I'm just being selfish because I want to say whatever I want. Or maybe it's because I just realized the yogurt I am eating for lunch looks like semen and I'm trying not to think about it, but I think we all need to lighten up. Otherwise - when someone invents a time machine, we aren't going to be able to use it. Because if we go back in time 30 years or more, everyone is going to kick our sissy asses.

Now I don't think anyone should intentionally try to offend anyone. I just don't think pointing out a difference between two groups of people is necessarily offensive.

Let me be the first to say if you would like to make fun of me for being any of the following, feel free:

White
Tall
Unable to jump
A fan of country music
WalMart shopper
100% limited to one dance move
My southern accent
My deep voice
Handsome
Great at everything

Or anything else you can think of, but I think that pretty much sums it up.

A Letter To The Prosecution (From Barry Bond's Testicles)

Related Story Here - It will only make sense if you read the article. Trust me.

Barry Bond's Testes
"The Sack"
S.F. Giants Office
2/20/09


Dear Assistant District Attorney,


I realize that me and my nutty twin have become a "hot topic" in the on-going allegations of Papa Barry's steroid use. We completely understand that there is a side effect of steroid abuse that correlates directly with us. We still have to respectfully request that you refrain from bringing us into the proverbial "spotlight" as evidence to incriminate our once proud owner.

You see - life has sort of taken a harsh 180 for us over the past decade or so. To be honest, it was never really that great to begin with. I guess there were some good times in the early 90's. Hanging with (and from) a professional athlete definitely has had its advantages. There is nothing more thrilling for a testie than having a high-end Filipino hooker snort rails off of you for $2000 an hour. Heck, there was a time when I would have rivaled Einstein's brain for the world's most respected and envied organ. And if I'm guilty of anything - it's loving that life too much. And you can't really blame me for it. Let's face it- I'm pretty much just along for the ride here.

Now, don't get me wrong - I do accept some responsibility for Barry's actions. I admit that I played an "influential" role in his decision making abilities. But, hey... can you blame me? What else do I really have to look forward to? Had I known what the future would hold, I would have enjoyed myself a little more, laughed a little harder, forgave people that I had been denying, rode a bull and so many other things Tim McGraw made sound so good.

You see it all started to go down hill for us towards the beginning of this decade. Mrs. Bonds was starting to hit the Ben and Jerry's a little harder. Her thighs began to look like two bags of dimes. The money went to her head and she threatened us specifically on numerous occasions. It is said that women age like fine wine. In our experience, they age more like bread. And the women on the side? Well - they were fun at the time, but nothing spells regret quite like itchy rashes and painful discharges. Needless to say - life at home was volatile and life on the road was a veritable Russian roulette of break outs and suppression.

I don't want to sound like a whiner here, but have you ever been crammed in an athletic supporter for three hours a night for 130 games per season? No? I didn't think so. Imagine being blind to the outside world, stuck in a sauna - sweating your scrotum off and praying that the piece of plastic that is separating you from a 100 mph fastball or a catcher's knee is going to do the job it was hired to do. And the smell... ohhhh the smell. Listen, being a testie is overrated. There is really nothing all that great about it. Imagine for a minute if it was considered taboo to scratch your face in public. Yeah - that would suck: well welcome to my world. Or if your arm got stuck to something and you just had to leave it there. God forbid anyone see you peel your arm off of your ribs. You might be accused of fondling yourself.

And now this. Now you want to display and fondle us like two shriveled little Benjamin Buttons; looking like we belong to a 12 yr old despite the fact that we have been on the Earth for 40 years. Please - take pity on us. I get the feeling things are only going to get worse for us from here on out. Now all we have to look forward to is retirement and thanks to the HGH - we will pretty much be dead at that point anyway. It's bad enough that we compare to a hose pipe spout relative to a 3,000 sq ft house.

So we respectfully ask... nay, beg - that you leave us out of this argument. There should be plenty of other evidence here to convict. I don't think I can spend another sleepless night waiting for that knock on the door that calls us to court. I also don't want to have to buy a new suit. My old one is way too big now.

Thank you in advance,

Barry Bond's Testicles, LLC
2/20/09

Pet monkeys - No Laughing Matter

I'll be the first one to admit that society makes it difficult for extremely attractive people like me to live the same life as ugly people. I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me - I am just acknowledging a social issue.

You know what else is difficult for society to deal with? Chimpanzees. Chimpanzees have long been a menace to such things as: Christianity, Bananas, Potheads and Sougourney Weaver's emotions. Some cinematic classics would have you believe these fun-loving, poop-throwing evolutionary links are just like us - but better actors. Nothing could be further from the truth as evident from this article (seriously - read the article).

My favorite excerpt from the article follows:

"The bizarre scene unfolded in Stamford, when Travis suddenly attacked and tore up the face of 55-year-old Charla Nash, who was visiting his owner Sandra Herold Monday night."

You want more details?

"'He bit both of her hands off and the cop told me he just kept eating her (ed. note - CONGO!). It's terrible,' Lynne Mecca, a friend of the victim, told CBS News."

And more still...

"'She retrieved a large butcher knife and stabbed her longtime pet numerous times in an effort to save her friend, who was really being brutally attacked,' Conklin said.

Travis ran away and started roaming on Herold's property as police arrived. Officers set up security so that medics could reach the critically injured woman lying on the ground, Conklin said.

But the chimpanzee returned and went after several of the officers, who retreated into their cars, Conklin said. Travis knocked the mirror off a cruiser before opening its door and starting to get in, trapping the officer.

That officer shot the chimpanzee several times, Conklin said."

So to recap - Cops...with guns... ran from monkey and locked themselves in car...

The article also mentions that the chimp was on Xanax because it had become agitated. Then it goes on to say the reason the monkey attacked was unclear. Then I go on to say, "IT'S BECAUSE YOU GAVE XANAX TO A MONKEY!!!!" You know that part at the end of a drug commercial where the micro machine guy rattles off the side effects of the drug really fast? Well this Chimp was either going to get diarrhea, an erection lasting longer than four hours or go ape sh%t (zing!) on someone's face.

The article goes on to explain that Xanax can actually increase anxiety when first introduced to the patient. I looked it up and the medical journals definition of "increase anxiety" happens to be "tear someone's face off" so I don't really see how we can blame the monkey.

But cops ruined the fun like my high school buddies said they always would and killed the chimpanzee... but not before, "The victim suffered "a tremendous loss of blood" from serious facial injuries, according to Conklin." (ed. note - Blood loss from the face!!!!!).

I know this is kind of sad, but just think - at least I'm still undeniably handsome. It could be worse. If anyone needs me, I'll be staring at myself in the mirror.

Mexico Clots Attempt to Give

This weekend marked the beginning of my crusade to be the world's greatest person. The first step in this process Saturday morning was making sure my hair looked top notch. The second step was to do something selfless to help others (and maybe even hurt me - for an added touch of selflessness). The obvious choice here is to save a little boy from the jaws of a crocodile, but since it looks like I missed my chance - I decided to do the next best thing and donate blood.

My blood type is O negative and referred to as "universal." This is just another in a long line of things that make me a genetic specimen (no wisdom teeth / 20/15 vision / deep, dark and engaging eyes). Now I know from past donations that my blood type is particularly important because it can be used by anyone (anyone that wants a little bourbon in their blood. Am I right fellas? *hi-five!). Anyway, as I soon found out - I should have taken my chances with the crocodile.

Upon my arrival I was asked if I had an appointment... to give blood. I assumed they did not turn people away that are trying to give blood so I was forthcoming and honest when I looked the security guard in the eye and said, "no" (Why does the red cross need a security guard, anyway? Who is trying to case the red cross?). Apparently if you do not have the foresight to make an appointment you have to wait to do your good deed - as the red cross volunteers move like the employees at the DMV.

Eventually I am moved into a cubicle and the cardboard curtain is slammed... or scooted behind me. As I am waiting I realize I am sitting the the larger, more comfortable chair in front of the computer that is certainly reserved for the red cross volunteer and not for some do-gooder that thinks he deserves the big chair. I adjust to the more appropriate seat and start to feel like I am awaiting a meeting with my probation officer. Finally a woman sticks her head around the curtain and says, "Are you the one that had Hodgkins?" to which I reply, "I hope not..." She gives me a confused look and moves to the next cubicle and asked the same question. The man in that cube responds, "yes." It occurs to me that since I could hear his answer, he could probably hear mine. So far my attempt at being a good person has backfired.

A short time later a woman scurries into my cube and takes her seat in the big chair. She asks me my height and weight. I tell her and she gives me the inevitable, "You are tall." I ask if that means they are going to try and take more of my blood. She assures me I will be treated without prejudice.

I glance over her head at a chart on the wall. The chart lists blood types and the types of blood they can use in a transfusion. I swell with pride as I look at O negative. Check marks across the board. Then I notice something worth inquiring about.

"Wait... so if I'm O negative, I can give blood to anyone, but I can only get blood from another O negative person?"

"Yeah"

"Well that sucks."

"Yeah I guess it does."

Despite my administrators poor bedside manner and my own disappointment, I resist the urge to throw a tantrum and leave and proceed with the donation. I'm a real giver. Next step - the prick. Not that kind of prick. the finger prick. Ok not that kind of prick either. You are impossible to talk to sometimes.

So as my volunteer prepares to prick my finger (ed. note - tee hee), She lines her sterile equipment on the desk in front of me. She asks for my middle finger and I give it to her. No I literally flip her the bird. I thought it was funny - she looked at me as if to say - "That's original." I guess I am not the first person to do that.

She proceeds to stick my middle finger with a needle and draw blood. She puts the blood on a disk and sticks it in a machine on the desk. She waits for the results and as they pop up she says, "Oh... hold on a second."

She then gets up and walks out. She comes back with her superior. If you have ever been in a medical facility and someone looks at the results of your test... looks confused... gets up - walks out and returns with their supervisor... it sucks. At this point I have convinced myself that that machine tests life expectancy and they are trying to find a nice way to tell me I have 30 seconds to live.

The supervisor looks at the machine's results and says, "yeah, it's a little high." At this point I can't take any more and just want the bad news. "What's high?" I ask. She replies, "Your iron is a little high. It just means you can't give double red cells. You can still donate." Now I had no intention of donating more than the rest of the population, so this does not concern me.

I don't know what iron does, but it sounds pretty tough. So I ask the next logical question:

"High iron in my blood, huh? Does that mean I'm a super hero?"

"No, it means you are at risk for prostate cancer."

I feel this is an inappropriate time to request an exam so I decide to try and learn more about how this may have happened.

"Do you eat alot of meat?" She asks.

"Look at me, lady. The closest I come to a vegetarian meal is a steak wrapped in bacon with steamed hot dogs."

"Well that's probably how your iron got so high."

She then proceeds to take my blood pressure and tells me that it is good. I ask which is more important, iron or blood pressure. She tells me that blood pressure has to do with my heart so it is more important. I tell her she hurt my prostate's feelings.

Now before anyone donates blood they are subjected to a series of questions that... in all honesty I can't imagine admitting to even if they were true. The administrator leaves the cubicle as the questions are answered on the computer.

Q: Have you had sex with a prostitute in the past year?
A: What's today's date?

Q: Have you taken any illegal drugs intravenously in the past year?
A: Is Crack legal yet?

Ect...


When I am done the administrator walks back into my cube and proceeds to review my answers. As she is reviewing them, she pauses again and asks me if I have been outside of America or Canada in the past year. I already answered this on the test, so I assure her I have been to Mexico. She clicks a button and asks me what city. I tell her Playa del Carmen and she clicks another button. Then she asks if I visited Tulum while I was there. I tell her yes and I have the t-shirt to prove it. Then she drops the bombshell on me.

"You are being deferred until June of this year."

"What do you mean 'deferred'?"

"You can't give blood today. You have to wait until it has been a year since you were at Tulum. Here is a coupon for a free Sonic hamburger for your good intentions."

"Wait - why can't I give blood?"

"Because Tulum is a risk for Malaria."

"Well that wasn't in the brochure... Could that be where I picked up all of my extra iron?"

"Could be... sign here."

I sign a piece of paper that states a understand I cannot give blood. I walk out ashamed, rejected and embarrassed.

So there it is. My attempt at saving a life or two was ransacked by America's beard. Not to mention I went swimming in an underground cave in a place where malaria is as common as refried beans. Thanks, Mexico. Cancer patients all over America thank you too.

She Never Really Had a Chance

(Insert Asian/Woman driver joke here)

2009 Super Bowl Coverage

3:30 pm
In a previous essay, I stated I wasn't going to watch this game because Marisa Miller or Journey were not involved. Journey just played a live performance for the pregame. Well not really Journey... Some Filipino guy singing Karaoke with the band Journey. What the hell happened to Steve Perry? Did he get replaced by a villain from a Rush Hour movie?

The point is, when I write something in this blog... it happens. It starting to feel like the plot to an Adam Sandler movie only... you know... good.

5:33 pm
The Steelers offensive lineup is announced. They have Hawaiians on offense too. Maybe it's because I am on my 3rd Tecate, but it occurs to me that the Steelers probably go through tons of Spam.

5:38 pm
The Steelers just scored... in five real time minutes in a drive that resembled a girls jr. high basketball team versus... well, the Steelers.

UPDATE - Wisenhunt challenged the touchdown and won the challenge. Big Ben went down early. Insert motorcycle joke here...

5:50
The Cardinals will punt. After nothing that even resembles an attempt to score. It looks like The Steelers have their offense figured out -> Make Edgerrin James run the ball.

6:00 pm
John Madden is calling this game and has not yet stated anything too obvious. If he stays sober the whole game, the commercials better be good.

6:09
The Steelers scored their first touchdown and the score is 10-0. The only entertaining part of this game has been when my dog growls at a dog in a commercial. So far my dog is more competitive than Kurt Warner.

6:22
TD Cardinals. Kurt Warner trips and almost breaks his hip, but completes a pass to a guy I have never heard of (Ben Patrick??). The Cardinals are full or surprises tonight.

6:30
The Steelers punt to the Cardinals and Breaston returns the punt further than the actual punt. It looks like the Cardinals may go into halftime tied in what has to be the fastest half in football history.

UPDATE - It's 3rd and 22 for the Cardinals and it happened before I typed that last sentence. I haven't seen anyone screw up their chances that fast since Scramble threw up on his prom date.

UPDATE on the UPDATE - Cardinals just punted and it happened in the time I came up with that last joke.

6:42 pm
Carlos Dansby picks off Ben Roethlisberger putting the Cardinals back in Field Goal range. (Spell check recommends the following for Roethlesberger: Breathlessness, Ruthlessness and Worthlessness - All seem accurate after that pass)

6:48 pm
Chester Cheetah is freaking me out...

6:52
Kurt Warner threw an interception on the goal line and James Harrison ran it back 100 YARDS FOR A TOUCHDOWN! The Cardinal's offense tackles like the Volunteers defense... The Cardinal's have munsoned away the tie or lead at half while getting the ball at the beginning of the second half. The look on Kurt Warner's face says, "I wish I was still bagging groceries."

7:05 pm
It's halftime and I think I would really like to play 18 holes with Bob Costas. Golf... 18 holes of golf, you pervert.

7:09
Bruce Springsteen is singing and someone forgot to tell him that he didn't need to wear a mouthpiece. Here are some of his lyrics:
"Gag fe sd say het gre tat bri wit aas sas s ass aaw ad ddad"

7:39
I don't know if I'm hearing things, but I think I just heard a commercial tell me that Denny's is giving everyone in America a free breakfast this Tuesday. Does that count as Tuesday morning at 3am after bars close? Cus' I'll be there...

7:43
Movie preview: The Rock is NOT the most electrifying man in anything...

7:48 pm
Ben Roethlisberger appears to be hard to tackle and Heinz Ward appears to be a teddy bear... seriously. He looks just like a teddy bear. Other than that, the strategy for both teams this half seems to be walk two yards and fall down.

7:52
John Madden is insightful... and more importantly correct tonight. Did someone have a talk with him? Did someone ruin John Madden? I mean... he still looks like hell, but I have been chomping at the bit to tear into the guy's announcing, but he somehow got good. I have yet to find fault. Watching this game has been a waste of my life.

7:54 pm
The Steelers kick a field goal and the (who I believe to be) scariest guy in the NFL gets a personal foul and the Steelers will now get a TD. I hope you don't know where I live, Adrian Wilson, but you are an idiot.

UPDATE - The Steelers settle for a field goal and I settle for another Tecate. Scor = Steelers - 20 Cardinals - 7

8:05 pm
Just watched a Budweiser ad and can't figure out how a horse four generations removed from Scotland would still talk like William Wallace... And to think, I used to want to think up ad campaigns...

8:15 pm
The Steeler's coach, Mike Tomlin looks like Omar Epps on House - Or maybe in Love and Basketball

8:17 pm
The Cardinal's Steve Breaston learns the importance of the fair catch on a Steeler's punt.

8:22 pm
Larry Fitzgerald finally catches another pass (just caught his 3rd while I type this), and I finally see what I came to see. I feel like I'm at a strip club waiting on the one hot girl to go on stage... just kidding.

8:26 pm
Larry Fitzgerald just caught a TD pass by doing what he does best - making everyone else on the field look like the fat kid in elementary school recess. Score = Steelers - 20 Cardinals - 14

8:33 pm
The Steelers just punted with 5 and a half minutes left in the game. Nothing would make me happier than for the Cardinals to score a touchdown after a 5 and a half minute possession. OK, maybe another Tecate would make me happier... but other than that... go Cardinals.

8:41 pm
Penalties and now the Cardinal's punt... more flags. James Harrison personal foul - I just saw it and he is officially a bitch. I'm glad he got the penalty and that is reason 200,897,483 to hate people from Pittsburgh. Can someone test this guy for steroids?

8:43 pm
That was a safety. The Steelers are saved by a bad call. They will still lose because of what James Harrison did. What a whore...

8:46 pm
Safety due to holding in the end zone on the Steelers... I am like Nostradamus. Score = Steelers - 20 Cardinals - 16

8:49 pm
Larry Fitzgerald scores a TD and James Harrison is wishing he wasn't such a stupid worthless bag of dog sh#t. Score = Steelers- 20 Cardinals - 23

9:00 pm
The Steelers are about to score something... I really hope it's not a TD. And it was... Score = Steelers - 27 Cardinals - 23

9:10 pm
I hate the Steelers.

Congrats, America. Your new sweethearts - a bunch of greasy ass*oles from PA.