For those of you already dreaming of next fall's fantasy football season (thanks to Adam for the link):
Monday, February 02, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sign of the Times
Our dear friend and insane sign holder, Edgar Bellefontaine, is back. For those of you who aren't familiar with the story of Edgar, click here for a refresher and start with the bottom post, working your way up.
Anyway, I saw Edgar today at his usual post on the outskirts of the plaza at the Daley Center with a new sign:
Anyway, I saw Edgar today at his usual post on the outskirts of the plaza at the Daley Center with a new sign:
OBAMA,
SPARE
MY
CHILD,
PLEASE!
Technically, wouldn't that be FBI Agent Chris Saviano's child?
More Drew
Media darling Drew Peterson is up to it again, this time discussing his new engagement on Nightline, which will air tonight on ABC. Here's a snippet: "I'm good to her and I treat her better than she's ever been treated. . . . But I will acknowledge that I would have concerns if I was the friends and family of this young girl." I think whoever wrote the article forgot to include the bracketed subtext of his quote. Here's how it should have read:
"I'm good to her [for now] and I [have made a calculating and deliberate effort to] treat her better than she's ever been treated [by a man who plans to murder her]. . . . But I will acknowledge that I would have [serious, entirely legitimate] concerns if I was the friends and family of this young girl [because, rest assured, she will not -- I repeat, she will NOT -- survive her first year of marriage. One day, she will wake up in the middle of a forest preserve, drugged, naked, and bound, and I will be standing over her holding a hatchet, wearing nothing but steel-toed boots, a Speedo, Ultimate Warrior face paint, and a smile. I will cut the ropes from her feet and say, 'You will have a two-minute head start. In three directions, there is nothing but forest for miles. In the other direction, there is a road less than a mile away. Kathleen, well, she chose incorrectly. Stacy almost made it to the road. When you see them, do tell them I said hello. Tick tock tick tock.' And then I will hunt her like an animal, eat most, if not all, of her flesh, burn the remainder of her corpse into ash, spread it sparsely throughout Will County, and do it all again in another two years. Yeeeee-hhaaaaaaa!!!]"
"I'm good to her [for now] and I [have made a calculating and deliberate effort to] treat her better than she's ever been treated [by a man who plans to murder her]. . . . But I will acknowledge that I would have [serious, entirely legitimate] concerns if I was the friends and family of this young girl [because, rest assured, she will not -- I repeat, she will NOT -- survive her first year of marriage. One day, she will wake up in the middle of a forest preserve, drugged, naked, and bound, and I will be standing over her holding a hatchet, wearing nothing but steel-toed boots, a Speedo, Ultimate Warrior face paint, and a smile. I will cut the ropes from her feet and say, 'You will have a two-minute head start. In three directions, there is nothing but forest for miles. In the other direction, there is a road less than a mile away. Kathleen, well, she chose incorrectly. Stacy almost made it to the road. When you see them, do tell them I said hello. Tick tock tick tock.' And then I will hunt her like an animal, eat most, if not all, of her flesh, burn the remainder of her corpse into ash, spread it sparsely throughout Will County, and do it all again in another two years. Yeeeee-hhaaaaaaa!!!]"
Bacon Explosion
By now, you may have heard all of the buzz about something called The Bacon Explosion, which for some reason was reported in the New York Times the other day.
Here is a link to the actual recipe from BBQ Addicts. Bacon, seasoning, Italian sausage, more bacon, and barbeque sauce, all wrapped up and then hickory smoked. I just came in my pants a little. Okay, maybe it was a lot.
Here is a link to the actual recipe from BBQ Addicts. Bacon, seasoning, Italian sausage, more bacon, and barbeque sauce, all wrapped up and then hickory smoked. I just came in my pants a little. Okay, maybe it was a lot.
Weakest Man Ever
So last night I was at the IU/Northwestern game up in Evanston. Along with Tradd, Goni, Chambers, Morgan, and Colin, we were sitting up in the nose bleeds in section 303. There were four kids sitting in the front row of our section and then an empty row or two, and then us. In front of the kids was a walkway between the 200 and 300 levels, and, in front of that, the last row of section 203. Of these children, three were floppy-haired boys, aged approximately 14, 14, and 10, and there was a girl who was approximately 14.
During one of the timeouts in the second half, Northwestern had a contest at one of the baskets where a little girl tried to make shots from various circles within 60 seconds, winning prizes with each shot made. The crowd gets into it. Everyone has a great time. Or, at least they usually do.
A couple forty- to fifty-year-old men sitting in the last row of section 203 stood up, along with their children, who appeared to be in the 10-12 range. They weren't standing up for any real purpose other than to stand up. The 10-year-old floppy-haired kid -- we'll call him Younger Brother -- asked them to sit down because they were blocking his view of the contest. One "man" -- we'll call him Giant D-Bag -- was wearing glasses and a kelly green t-shirt (that said "basketball coach" over the left breast) tucked into blue jeans. Giant D-Bag tells the Younger Brother, in so many words, to piss off, and Giant D-Bag remains standing. Younger Brother's older brother -- we'll call him Dave -- didn't appreciate a giant douchebag talking to Younger Brother like that, so Dave animatedly told Giant D-Bag to sit down and not to talk to Younger Brother like that (without swearing, mind you). While the other people who had been standing up politely sat down, Giant D-Bag did not.
Instead, he ungracefully climbed over the railing that was behind his seat, got onto the walkway -- all the while staring at Dave. Then, without saying a word, he pointed at Dave, and then pointed down the walkway, as if to suggest that he and Dave should exchange words in private or perhaps engage in some sort of slap fight. Giant D-Bag walked down the walkway towards the exit. Dave just sat where he was.
Thirty seconds later, Giant D-Bag returns. With FIVE cops. He motioned to Dave as if to say "officers, that's the horrible man I've been telling you about." The cops assessed the situation, probably realizing very quickly that this 75-pound beanpole with floppy hair was 125 pounds smaller, a foot shorter, and 30 years younger than Giant D-Bag. Dave explained what happened. The cops made Dave and Giant D-Bag shake hands. As four of the cops walked away rolling their eyes, one lingered behind and told Younger Brother that if Giant D-Bag gives them any more trouble, to come find a cop. Giant D-Bag then spent the next half hour standing in the entranceway to the next section over, cooling off.
Everyone who witnessed this whole incident agreed that it might have been the weakest thing we've ever seen. A grown man whose t-shirt implies that he is a basketball coach cannot handle getting yelled at by a 14-year-old, so he goes running to the cops. I wonder what he told them. Seriously. "Excuse me officers, there is a menacing child over there who nearly threatened me. He probably has a gun and drugs. I'm so scared. Please remove him from the arena." And then on the walk over, he stayed behind the cops, whimpering "I am so scared right now, you guys. Oh my God. You guys talk to him. I can't. THAT'S HIM!! AAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!"
More than anything, I feel bad for Giant D-Bag's two sons, who had to witness their father tattle on a prepubescent in an IU shirt, rather than get up and say, "I'm an adult. Don't talk to me like that. However, I will sit down because I am, in fact, blocking your view. Also, I'm a giant douchebag."
During one of the timeouts in the second half, Northwestern had a contest at one of the baskets where a little girl tried to make shots from various circles within 60 seconds, winning prizes with each shot made. The crowd gets into it. Everyone has a great time. Or, at least they usually do.
A couple forty- to fifty-year-old men sitting in the last row of section 203 stood up, along with their children, who appeared to be in the 10-12 range. They weren't standing up for any real purpose other than to stand up. The 10-year-old floppy-haired kid -- we'll call him Younger Brother -- asked them to sit down because they were blocking his view of the contest. One "man" -- we'll call him Giant D-Bag -- was wearing glasses and a kelly green t-shirt (that said "basketball coach" over the left breast) tucked into blue jeans. Giant D-Bag tells the Younger Brother, in so many words, to piss off, and Giant D-Bag remains standing. Younger Brother's older brother -- we'll call him Dave -- didn't appreciate a giant douchebag talking to Younger Brother like that, so Dave animatedly told Giant D-Bag to sit down and not to talk to Younger Brother like that (without swearing, mind you). While the other people who had been standing up politely sat down, Giant D-Bag did not.
Instead, he ungracefully climbed over the railing that was behind his seat, got onto the walkway -- all the while staring at Dave. Then, without saying a word, he pointed at Dave, and then pointed down the walkway, as if to suggest that he and Dave should exchange words in private or perhaps engage in some sort of slap fight. Giant D-Bag walked down the walkway towards the exit. Dave just sat where he was.
Thirty seconds later, Giant D-Bag returns. With FIVE cops. He motioned to Dave as if to say "officers, that's the horrible man I've been telling you about." The cops assessed the situation, probably realizing very quickly that this 75-pound beanpole with floppy hair was 125 pounds smaller, a foot shorter, and 30 years younger than Giant D-Bag. Dave explained what happened. The cops made Dave and Giant D-Bag shake hands. As four of the cops walked away rolling their eyes, one lingered behind and told Younger Brother that if Giant D-Bag gives them any more trouble, to come find a cop. Giant D-Bag then spent the next half hour standing in the entranceway to the next section over, cooling off.
Everyone who witnessed this whole incident agreed that it might have been the weakest thing we've ever seen. A grown man whose t-shirt implies that he is a basketball coach cannot handle getting yelled at by a 14-year-old, so he goes running to the cops. I wonder what he told them. Seriously. "Excuse me officers, there is a menacing child over there who nearly threatened me. He probably has a gun and drugs. I'm so scared. Please remove him from the arena." And then on the walk over, he stayed behind the cops, whimpering "I am so scared right now, you guys. Oh my God. You guys talk to him. I can't. THAT'S HIM!! AAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!"
More than anything, I feel bad for Giant D-Bag's two sons, who had to witness their father tattle on a prepubescent in an IU shirt, rather than get up and say, "I'm an adult. Don't talk to me like that. However, I will sit down because I am, in fact, blocking your view. Also, I'm a giant douchebag."
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Metal Up My Ass
There will be not Tuesday Top Ten this week because, well, it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to.
Along with Gregerson, Chandler, and DDT, I saw Metallica last night at Allstate Arena. As expected, it was an awesome, energetic show. Their stage was in the middle of the arena -- in the round, if you will -- so everyone was running all over the place for all sides of the arena to see, except Lars, since it was hard for him to carry his drum set.
They played a great set too, mixing the old with the new. Here is their set list, with album in parentheses after (notice that they didn't play anything post-black album and pre-Death Magnetic):
Main Set
That Was Just Your Life (Death Magnetic)
The End Of The Line (Death Magnetic)
Creeping Death (Ride the Lightning)
Ride The Lightning (Ride the Lightning)
One (. . . And Justice for All)
Broken, Beat And Scarred (Death Magnetic)
Cyanide (Death Magnetic)
Sad But True (Metallica (the black album))
Wherever I May Roam (Metallica (the black album))
All Nightmare Long (Death Magnetic)
The Day That Never Comes (Death Magnetic)
Master of Puppets (Master of Puppets)
Blackened (. . . And Justice for All)
Nothing Else Matters (Metallica (the black album))
Enter Sandman (Metallica (the black album))
Encore
Suicide and Redemption teaser (Death Magnetic)
Last Caress (The $5.98 E.P.: Garage Days Re-Revisited)
Motorbreath (Kill 'Em All, an album that, as you may recall, has had a profound impact on the life of Greg Weeser*)
Seek And Destroy (Kill 'Em All)
Here are some pictures taking with my extremely awesome camera phone:
After the lights went down right before Metallica came on.
Frickin' giant coffins shoot frickin' laser beams.
Here are a couple other random shots of the stage and crowd
No large-scale metal show would be complete without fire. Watch out James! Too soon? 
During "Seek & Destroy" (the last song of the night), a bunch of giant black Metallica beach balls were dropped into the crowd, presumably by Satan or some sort of giant master puppeteer.
Along with Gregerson, Chandler, and DDT, I saw Metallica last night at Allstate Arena. As expected, it was an awesome, energetic show. Their stage was in the middle of the arena -- in the round, if you will -- so everyone was running all over the place for all sides of the arena to see, except Lars, since it was hard for him to carry his drum set.
They played a great set too, mixing the old with the new. Here is their set list, with album in parentheses after (notice that they didn't play anything post-black album and pre-Death Magnetic):
Main Set
That Was Just Your Life (Death Magnetic)
The End Of The Line (Death Magnetic)
Creeping Death (Ride the Lightning)
Ride The Lightning (Ride the Lightning)
One (. . . And Justice for All)
Broken, Beat And Scarred (Death Magnetic)
Cyanide (Death Magnetic)
Sad But True (Metallica (the black album))
Wherever I May Roam (Metallica (the black album))
All Nightmare Long (Death Magnetic)
The Day That Never Comes (Death Magnetic)
Master of Puppets (Master of Puppets)
Blackened (. . . And Justice for All)
Nothing Else Matters (Metallica (the black album))
Enter Sandman (Metallica (the black album))
Encore
Suicide and Redemption teaser (Death Magnetic)
Last Caress (The $5.98 E.P.: Garage Days Re-Revisited)
Motorbreath (Kill 'Em All, an album that, as you may recall, has had a profound impact on the life of Greg Weeser*)
Seek And Destroy (Kill 'Em All)
Here are some pictures taking with my extremely awesome camera phone:
After the lights went down right before Metallica came on.
Frickin' giant coffins shoot frickin' laser beams.Here are a couple other random shots of the stage and crowd
No large-scale metal show would be complete without fire. Watch out James! Too soon? During "Seek & Destroy" (the last song of the night), a bunch of giant black Metallica beach balls were dropped into the crowd, presumably by Satan or some sort of giant master puppeteer.
Feelin' Fine Indeed
According to Chinese Astrology, 2009 should definitely be the Year of Feelin' Fine for those of us fortunate enough to be born in a Year of the Snake. And you thought I was making all that "2009: The Year of Feelin' Fine" stuff up. Hell yeah, '05, '17, '29, '41, '53, '65, '77, '89, and '01 babies!
T-Shirt Hell is Closing
T-Shirt Hell -- an online t-shirt store so vile that it is blocked at work -- is closing February 10. Everything is on sale in the meantime, so if you want a t-shirt that is almost guaranteed to offend someone, then get 'em while they're still available.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Progression of Das Boot
Last night was Reed's birthday party at Prost. Even though Reed had already ingested two liters of beer, someone decided it would be a good idea to give him Das Boot -- which is German for "the boat," but for some reason has been equated with a two-liter glass boot filled with German beer.
Here is what I call "The Progression of Das Boot":
1. Das Boot is poured.
2. Das Boot is consumed.
3. Das Boot is victorious.
Here is what I call "The Progression of Das Boot":
1. Das Boot is poured.
2. Das Boot is consumed.
3. Das Boot is victorious.
Look Out for the Purple Acid
In case you haven't heard the latest news in the saga of the man who was twice elected to govern my state, Rod Blagojevich is officially off his rocker (not that he wasn't already). You see, according to G-Rod, this whole impeachment thing is just part of a maniacal plot to raise taxes.
Yes, Governor, the reason why you tried to sell Obama's Senate seat to the highest bidder was part of a plot by the General Assembly to raise taxes. It all makes perfect sense now. This man is absolutely delusional, and I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. Does he even have a publicist or a press secretary anymore?* I assume his speeches are written in white crayon "so no one can know what I will say but me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch meeting at Morton's with Aldous Huxley and the Cookie Monster. Fetch me my zeppelin!"
* The answer is apparently "yes." It turns out that Blago just hired Drew Peterson's PR firm (thanks to Christoff for the link). Yes, the same PR firm that allowed Drew Peterson to court and propose to yet another 23-year-old future victim. It definitely all makes perfect sense now.
Yes, Governor, the reason why you tried to sell Obama's Senate seat to the highest bidder was part of a plot by the General Assembly to raise taxes. It all makes perfect sense now. This man is absolutely delusional, and I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. Does he even have a publicist or a press secretary anymore?* I assume his speeches are written in white crayon "so no one can know what I will say but me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch meeting at Morton's with Aldous Huxley and the Cookie Monster. Fetch me my zeppelin!"
* The answer is apparently "yes." It turns out that Blago just hired Drew Peterson's PR firm (thanks to Christoff for the link). Yes, the same PR firm that allowed Drew Peterson to court and propose to yet another 23-year-old future victim. It definitely all makes perfect sense now.
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