And now back to bad taste...my Youtube Channel

http://m.youtube.com/index?desktop_uri=%2F&gl=US#/watch?v=RR-wLCaK3X0

A Place for my Stuff

Today I went to the annual record convention I have been attending since I was in high school(that's fifteen plus years if you're counting). Picked up two lp's. That is a fraction of the records I used to buy back in the day. Be it from shops, Ebay(a major culprit in this story) or hand me downs. I've always made a conscious effort to try and trade or sell at least a percentage of what I bring in. This is to keep from drowning in clutter. I have succeeded for the most part. After picking up some 100 or more lp's a year in that time, my collection stays at a manageable 1,000 or so(never counted, rough estimate). Is it because I really don't want to possess all these things? Of course not. All the covers, all the music contained within for the most part are gold to me. But I simply ran out of space. In the process of moving from my first apartment to the second to a rental house(where a flood mercifully wiped out alot of my junk) to my current house that I own, I have filled so many trashcans full of stuff that it baffles me. How did this happen? Was that all money flushed down the toilet? Yes. I am a Hoarder in waiting, and I have to fight every day to keep my environment liveable.

The show Hoarders( and its knockoff Hoarding: Buried Alive) scare the living shit out of me whenever I watch them. This kind of scene has been a part of my otherwise organized life since I moved out of my parents' house. Their house always seemed fairly clean. My grandma would always scoff when she came over(her house being a palace of sterile suckiness where kids could find little fun). Of course, she didn't work and had her entire adult life to maintain such perfection. I'm sure this is the case with all of you out there. So at my first apartment, my future wife and I had to cram all our childhood belongings into a space the size of an ice cream truck. Add to that all the shit I bought once I got some real money working, her Mary Kay supplies and tons of hand me downs from our thoughtless parents, and you get pretty much a nightmare. We somehow managed to squeeze ourselves into a new(slightly bigger place)along with her sister(bringing almost as much junk as the two of us combined) into a newer space. From there we went to the house, where the afore mentioned flood saw fit to help purge us of a miniscule amount of that junk. But moving to our current house(across town in a blizzard) was the last straw for me. The new house immediately had a dumping ground(the bedroom) and secondary dumping ground(the "office"). Then we got a dog who got in to and ate everything in sight. Something had to be done.

Since that date in 2007, I have waged war against clutter. I do the laundry, dishes, sort mail, and recycle like a madman. So mush so that it occupies a lot of my valuable free time. But I refuse to live like the Fraggle Rock Trash Heap. I want order. I want clean surfaces. I want to find my fucking keys every day before work. Who do I blame for this predicament?  First off, the US Postal Service. Drop dead, you useless fucks. You send more bullshit into my house(unwarranted or asked for, mind you) than anyone else. Is your primary function at this stage in your antiquated life to simply spam my house so full of shit that I need a professional shredding service to come by with a thresher and drive it through my living room? Fuck you. Fuck your fat, lazy(and might I add, ugly) employees who only have jobs because you illegally dump,as I see it, metric tons of useless home repair coupons(that I can't possibly afford), nonsense newsletters from my crap city and statements from bills we pay ONLINE into my house like some cumdumpster awaiting your inky ejaculate of BULLSHIT! Second, I blame family. Stop buying us stuff. We don't need it. I know you have money and time to waste. Go feed some god damn orphans or something. You are doing more harm than good. We don't even have kids. I can only imagine the third world catastrophe that would be present if we did. Needless to say, the flood did a bigger service to our parents. It took everyone in the family days to clear out the water logged basement of their house. I felt sorry for the treelawn. Lastly, I blame China. Thanks for making things that break within a year of buying them(that we all keep for a couple of years hoping to "fix"). Now, whenever some Chinese piece of crap(xmas lights, dehumidifier, computer monitor, shoe) breaks, I instantly pitch it. You can't fix that garbage. It costs more to do so than just replace it. I guess that's their master plan. Fill America with landfills and tons of debt. Easier than starting a war.

Now I sit at the precipice of doom. Two elder parent households full of garbage that we will eventually have to deal with. My own house, now currently manageable, but by no means clean. And a society of jobless idiots who will someday be ripping off my copper pipes to sell for scrap, but leaving my Powerpuff Girl pillows and projection tv's behind. We are so committed to purging that we even unloaded a precious $300 Kitchen Aide mixer onto my mom. Hey, she bakes, we don't. Easy solution. Did we buy said mixer? Of course not. It was another "gift". I am so envious when I visit friends who live in IKEA furnished yoga studios of zen emptiness. Why can't that be me? Why do I go to resale shops and garage sales? Why is it so hard to throw shit out? I think that's why I love staying in hotel rooms. They are so simple. Bed, shower, bible, coffeemaker, tv, and air conditioner. They even dispensed with the stupid telephone. I think being a travelling salesman, rockstar or grifter would be a sublime existence. Nothing to pick up, no carpet to vacuum, no toilet to scrub. I feel so weighed down by my things.

Thus how I picked the title of this article. It was a George Carlin routine about how we weigh ourselves down with belongings. The problem is, without these "things", I am nothing. They define me, for better or for worse. I need my records, toys, clothes, my dog's toys, etc. Why the fuck else do I go to work? I could be one of these occupy Wall street assholes and live in a tent. But I was brought up to learn living like that meant one was a failure. I still agree with that. We need our space, we need our stuff, we need to show our stuff off to lazy idiots who won't work for any of it. I just need less Journeys catalogs, water bottles, and cell phone chargers. I need some stuff(maybe a robot) who can go through my stuff for me. Or a Chinese kid. But shit, how long until we have a bunch of those crowding up our houses?

State Penn

Caught with the Meat in your Mouth

So last week some fifty exotic animals were set free by a suicidal weirdo here in middle Ohio. The local law enforcement was, allegedly, forced to gun them all down in the surrounding areas. So while PETA plans its next naked chicks at a pet store sit-in, I have devised some useful way to repurpose all the lion, tiger, bear and monkey corpses.

1. Have master Ohio chef Michael Symon prepare a top notch benefit dinner charging one million dollars per head. The president will of course attend, as he was born in Kenya and grew up eating lion meat. The money can all be sent to the Occupy Wall Street losers so they shut the hell up and move on with their meaningless lives.

2. The pelts can be used to insulate all government facilities(like medieval tapestries on castle walls). Thereby, my taxes will be reduced, because we won't have to pay skyrocketing energy costs. Going green and saving green I say.

3. Sell all the paws of the animals on ETSY as hipster belt buckles and use the proceeds to provide music lessons for all hipster bands. They could use them.

4. Take all the excrement the animals made during their hectic dash for freedom to build a monument to Ohio legislators outside of the state capitol. That would remind them how much their "hard work" has done for the middle class in this state. It could be shaped like an elephant penis, since that's what they insert in the taxpayers' rears every day.

Lastly, I would like to send a personal condolence to Jack Hannah. He is probably the most visible exotic animal activist in the world, and this happened in his back yard. Sorry, Jack, Ohio is the Ukraine of the United States. We barely have livable conditions for working human beings, let alone animals. I'm embarrassed to live here, but this is where my ignorant foreign parents chose to make their home. The Circle of Life here is a circle jerk of dumb hillbillies and rich wasps shitting all over the American flag while they root for the Buckeyes. Wish I was one of those escaped animals.

WWBT New Vanity Cards

 Howard Stern said Chaz's dance partner was fat. I think she's super hot.

Remember?

This next one almost made me cry/ puke.

I feel kinda bad about the LeBron one. I forgive him. But it was too funny to pass up.

Death Pool III- Silicon Skeleton Valley

So who had Steve Jobs? Damn, seems like a no brainer(or no pancreaser), but I totally wasn't looking his way. He was so thin you really couldn't see him anyway. The Real Housewife guy? Doesn't count. He's not a real celebrity. Former NFL player Orlando Brown? That one would net you major dough. Actually, besides Jobs, not many good deaths have occurred. I feel like we're on the verge of a real wave of celeb croakings. Just in time for the holidays. I'll take a stab(no, not OJ, even though he is in prison) at some potential pool winners...

Bill Gates. Always competing with Jobsy, the only way to ever win is to top him in death. Bill will surround himself with twenty X-Boxes which will promptly burst into flames(as they are want to do) and immolate himself while listening to "One Bad Apple don't spoil the Bunch" on his Zune. What's a Zune? Exactly.

The big girl from Mike and Molly. She just hosted SNL(curse), got an Emmy(curse) and is now a household name. Which I don't remember. Nobody ever dies while toiling in obscurity. But "making it" will fast track you to Mama Cass land. I can't speculate as to how she'll go, but I feel like a skateboard and the Teen Choice Awards will play some part.

Three Wall street bankers. Not celebs, but currently a hot topic. Just three of them will attempt to turn on their brothers, join the protesting hippies, and then perish from the intense body odor and poor vegan diet. They will be cremated wearing hemp suits by alpaca-dung fueled chimeneas, while the jobless hipster whiners tap out Pumped Up Kicks on their bongo apps(available on I-Pad soon). Best of luck to everyone!

Sticks and Stones may...be Awesome to Throw at Babies

I feel like the blog went horribly wrong somewhere. It was meant to celebrate what society at large found offensive, but I loved. Lately it's been me ranting about things I feel have no redeeming value that most people love. While those rants were filled with exceptional writing, it's time to get back to what inspired me to start this thing. Sidenote: I've been really pissed off at the phoney trust fund baby wannabe protesters on Wall street. I was enraged at their fake liberal sense of purpose and complete ignorance to the real working world. I entered the word "lemmings" into Google and came up with a gem. Lemmings was a National Lampoon recording from 1973 that completely skewered the hippy dippy nonsense of Woodstock by having a massive rock festival where everyone kills themselves.

 It's hysterical(and took away all my pent up fury). It reminded me that Lampoon is the greatest and most tasteless magazine that ever existed. They went after everyone no matter what. Pictured are a few of the best covers. Thank you for reigniting my passion for completely politically incorrect humor.

The Douchebags Under the Stairs

In the same vein as my posts about recliners, football and wood paneling, comes the culmination of all that shit- the mancave. Not your uncle's basement in the 80's, not the downstairs family room, (certainly least of all my basement- where I am currently writing this) but the sports paraphernalia bukkake/ homoerotic steamless Turkish bath house known as the modern mancave. In fact, having a male oriented basement was always cool throughout time. In the 50's and 60's,  you had the newest stereophonic equipment(and in the 70's quadraphonic). In the 80's you had a pool table, air hockey table or dartboard(for those of you who are easily entertained by basically nothing). In the 90's you had Super Nintendo or Playstation with the requisite giant projection tv. This led to the early 2000's home theater replete with leather recliners and a popcorn machine. These were all semi civilized. But the last eight or so years have unleashed the equivalent of a giant slumbering penis wearing a football jersey, the most alpha of all environments(even more than a sports bar)- the subterranean circle jerk your sister's boyfriend has ensconced in college sports colors and Stella Artois beer tap handles.

Of course I love sports. Of course this topic has probably been blogged about ad nauseam(where do you think all the pics come from?). Of course I am an anti alpha sissy boy who also happens to know people with a mancave and somehow pass myself off as a normal red blooded American asshole while getting drunk in them. Why the vitriol? The fact that some people have made a living out of creating these abominations of testosterone fueled home decorating. HGTV, Ty Pennington and NFL marketers, I'm looking at you. Seriously, Green Bay Packers slip covers and toilet paper cozy, tv's so big you need a crane to lift them, and wet bars with Red Bull dispensers? This has gone too far. I'll admit, venturing into various mancaves provides me with limitless inner laughs(and secret melancholy). They reaffirm my love for my artist space/ record room/ potential suicide crime scene. Their basements are Field of Dreams, mine is Heathers. I just can't believe that on top of sports bars(on practically every street corner), nine ESPN channels, half of talk radio, half of all tattoos, and half of all bumper stickers--men still need this much sports crap to fulfill them!

I've been in the "Ohio room", a screened in back porch littered with Ohio State Buckeye stuff. I've been in a Steelers' fan's garage equipped with beer tap, multiple tv's, and girly beer ads from the early 80's. I've been in a basement that featured a framed picture of every baseball park in America(puking as I type). And I'll tell you something...despite the faux camaraderie, flowing suds, and trash talking about women's body parts-- I was counting the minutes until I got back to my refuge of psychedelic rock lp's and vinyl figurines. I consider these places to be where I pregame off cheap beer and uninformed political discourse, until I can make it home to where I really enjoy drunkenness. The fact that women would spend three seconds in these sausage smokehouses baffles me. At least at a sports bar you don't have to awkwardly nod "hello" to the host's grandma on your way to the pisser to lay down an epic 2 point conversion. That's the point of all of this. Trying to have a sports bar in your house is like your wife having a sex toy selling party or a stripper pole in your living room. Oh wait, that's been done, too(note to self- next blog topic).

Final thought- this shit will all be out on the curb in four years when you get divorced. Your mom doesn't have room for that shit when you move back in with her. I've seen a Steelers cornhole table out on the curb just down the street. As well as other sports stuff all over town. The one thing one never sees is that pool table(which I would totally garbage pick, bed bugs be damned). I guess those go to the new bachelor pad or to a resale shop. Keep in mind, man moved out of caves and into civilization. Regressing back into caves puts you in the company of some unsavory characters.

25,000 Dollar Pyramid

Let's get this right out. The world trade center and pentagon tragedies were horrible and despicable. I am in no way making light of the gravity of those events. It just dawned on me, on this tenth anniversary, that a weird thing happened to me that week. I had ordered a psychedelic middle eastern record from a vinyl lp purveyor days before the whole shit went down. After said abomination transpired, I draped my apartment windows with American flags, vowed death to every foreigner and blasted Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner at maximum volume. But days later, that record showed up in the mail. It was The Devil's Anvil, a 1967 mashup of acid rock and middle eastern themes on Columbia records.

It is a great record by the way. Produced by Greek Felix Pappalardi(Cream, Mountain, Youngbloods). He often collaborated with New York Jewish fellow, Leslie West of Mountain(lest any New Yorkers take offense). After playing that record and realizing George Bush was about to destroy our precious way of life through paranoia and jingoistic ignorant flag waving, I came to my senses. I blasted that album for years to come. Each time I hear it, I reflect on what really went down in the post 911 era. I never drove my car into a mosque(as some in my town chose to do). Nor did I give up all my liberal ideals and turn republican(Dennis Miller, I'm looking at you). You can find the music quite easily on Youtube if you are so inclined(I won't bother with a link). Just remember on this day, that thousands upon thousands of innocent middle eastern folks died for a petty revenge mission that ultimately accomplished very little. Thank a veteran? Yeah, sure. But maybe also be kind to a foreigner too. And jam the fuck out most importantly.

Pig's Kin

Football season is upon us once more. This morning I drove downtown to take in some tailgating. This is always a carnival of bad taste. Gigantic grills covered in every kind of meat stuffed into another meat....into a tortilla into another kind of meat. Girls wearing Mardi Gras beads(the default accessory for partying) and cut off football jerseys. Old school buses converted into taverns on wheels. Good stuff. But the truly tasteless aspects of football are often overlooked. For those, we need to consult NFL FIlms or even the lowly ESPN Classic to dredge up the awful memories of football past.

My favorite moment ever is when quarterback, Joe Theisman(ironic name) snapped his leg in half during a game. It is hands down THE most awesome sports injury ever! Except for maybe those snopes videos where weightlifters blowout their rectums trying to dead lift a Hummer. Now we have to deal with his visage and nonsensical commentary on tv. Truly, the real sufferers are the viewers.

Next is one of the only things to ever surpass the smartphone in terms of technological brilliance. I speak of course about the Sports Illustrated football phone. It could only be attained by getting a subscription to said shit rag. Is it a football? Is it a phone? Umm, it's just a phone. But chick magnet? Definitely. I never had one, because I was too busy subscribing to Nintendo Power and Marvel Comics. Boy, those entities surely went out of style. Wait. They didn't. Speaking of SI, what's the deal with the Swimsuit Issue? It's like porn for guys who are too embarrassed to buy Maxim. I've been more titillated by baseball cards with Marge Schott on them. Don't get the reference? Sorry, twenty year olds.

Lastly, the most offensive thing about football is the level of criminal activity pervasive in the sport. Drug use, domestic violence, tax evasion, domestic violence, steroids and domestic violence. From Rapelesberger to Lawrence Taylor to the all time superbowl champ of wife beating, OJ Simpson. Sometimes you just can't leave all that aggression on the field. Why not treat your significant other as a tackling dummy? Glad to have you back millionaire babies, entertain me. Just try to not run over anyone(Cleveland's own Donte Stallworth) or throw a bitch out a window(Cleveland's own Jim Brown, allegedly). That kind of behavior is reserved for politicians these days.

Put Your Feet Up, Sit a Spell, you Slob

There is no home furnishing more tasteless than the recliner. Always ratty, seldom comfortable, and stained. And habitually occupied by people equally as ratty and stained. I of course love a classy leather armchair. Something with rivets up and down the arms. I even like a stand alone, dainty Louis XIV wannabe throne. Or a nice mod chair, all rounded and grooving to its own beat. But the recliner(and it's despicable inbred cousin, the sectional) turns any room into a Goodwill. Or worse yet, a bad sitcom set.

Face it, you have this preconceived notion of an "easy chair" being a place to just melt into a bowl of nachos and primetime tv. A "Lazy- Boy" if you will. You crank the lever, kick your feet up and you are in the gynocological visit position from planet relax. But where do I put my drink? Of course a coffee table is not within reach, because you need room to kick out that extending scissory mini surfboard for your tired dogs. Okay, well how about the remote? Fuck. It's on the coffee table. Fine. I'll just curl up with this pillow and reach for the lamp so I can read....FUUUUCK!!! Can't reach anything because this so called oasis of leisure is really a Bermuda Triangle of ugly. Yeah, no one has ever taken a good picture in a recliner. You're always passed out, mouth agape, crumbs on shirt. You're not posed like some Renaissance era royal portrait. And double bad when the shit has any form of plaid on it. Ick.

I like couches myself. You get tired, you lay down. Recliner? Get about as comfortable as an airline seat. Wanna have your favorite pooch snuggle with you? Couch got you. On a recliner, not gonna happen. Lose the remote in the couch, just dig in the cushions. Lose it in a recliner? Prepare to lose a hand. And let's not forget the unholy doilies that can go on recliner arms. They are like epaulets for a military jacket in the army of hillbilly. I guess a lot of single men need a good recliner they can play XBox, masturbate and fart on. Yeah, I'm not coming to your house, loser. Oh shit! The worst part, and this goes for fold out couches....MOVING! Moving furniture that opens is as safe as juggling Swiss army knives.

Have I ever owned a recliner? For a short time, yes. It was a chartreuse green garbage pick that was completely uncomfortable. Had it about two years. The color made up for its utter uselessness. Did I bother moving it when the time came? Fuck no. Went in the dumpster. Well, next to the dumpster. The best sound is hearing one get crunched up by a garbage truck. I write this from my couch. With my feet up on the coffee table, byotch.

Alpha Fail

There is nothing funnier than watching alpha males do themselves in. It is inevitable. When you talk shit, walk tall and think the world is your oyster simply because you have muscles or an "outgoing personality"(which translates to obnoxious, boring loudmouth), you pretty much invite life to knock you down. If it was just muscles, I could just laugh it off. Muscles will only score you a vacuous female, a ridiculous wardrobe and a car with a spoiler on it. No, it's more the un-muscley, overly assertive types that really piss me off. Guys who think because they have a bachelor's degree in history, a group of frat brother assholes that they golf with or a passion for whitewater rafting, that they are somehow the undisputed kings of modern society. They think that their overly aggressive output of testosterone makes up for the fact that they are really boring. I even more so hate the weiner guys who look like me or have shitty jobs that think by adopting an alpha outlook on life, that somehow things are going to turn around for them. Sounds like some real beta talk, huh? I guess. I wear the label with pride. It's my learning experience that the true great accomplishments of civilization have been attributed to betas.

 Understand, this goes deeper than jock vs. nerd. This is bullshitter/favored son vs. the rest of us who never got a leg up in life. Alphas can be twerps(Bush, Anthony Bourdain, Lance Armstrong, Bill O'Reilly...to name a few). And betas can be manly(John Stockton, Douglas Macarthur, Leonard Nimoy...that doesn't really make sense). I just tire of the loudest talkers making all the decisions that impact society anymore. It used to be that thoughtful, understanding and passive men moved the world. They wrote the great books, acted in the best movies and orchestrated the greatest sports victories. Now it's just the guy in a fifty dollar haircut and spraytan that pull the strings. The Entourage-ization of the world. The Judd Apatows, the dot com billionaires and Grey Goose sipping set. The Mad Men, the faux hawk sporting  Dos Equis most interesting men in the world. Aren't we tired of this Spike tv/Men's Health caricature of what a man should be? I know I am.

So anyway, the best thing is watching these wannabe Don Drapers fall flat on their faces. Tiger Woods. Nerd? Yes. Alpha? Yes. Hilarious failure? Most certainly. Most convicted CEO's, politicos and bankers? Alphas. All funny to watch trotted into court in orange jumpsuits. Dane Cook? Fuck, say no more. He was finished before he ever started. Sorry, braaaahhhhh....

Some betas have found a modicum of success. Louis CK is the current king of comedy. The champion San Francisco Giants are all pretty much weirdo outsiders now. A 180 degree turn from the meathead era of Barry Bonds. More fitting for the Bay Area and baseball(a nerd sport) in general. And most music now is being produced by betas, as opposed to the last decade when rap metal, Nickelback and Jay Z ruled the charts. Now the nerds and femme artistes are in charge. I generalize and blur timelines of course, but the sea change is evident. Talking big and wearing "mission accomplished" flightsuits got us into this current state of brainless acceptance of mediocrity. It is my hope that thoughtfulness and imagination will again rule the world as it did during all the other great eras of civilization. Who do you think of when you hear "the Renaissance"? The kings and barons of the time or DaVinci and Michaelangelo? The American revolution- tea party attendee "X" or Ben Franklin? The birth of tv and radio- the head of NBC or Milton Berle? I'm not saying uncle Milty was a beta(shit, the man was rumored to have a fourteen inch cock). But you get the idea.

As for musclebound freaks, they always (as the cliche goes) peak in high school. That is unfortunate for a beta like me, because they end up working in the same places as me. I am subjected to their roid rage caveman intellect on a daily basis. Is it not punishment enough that my lack of aggressiveness landed me in retail hell? Do I really have to work with these Al Bundy's now? And then the alpha shit talker is in charge of the whole operation? I'm really tired of it. And when I have to go buy a car, vote, or switch on my tv, be subjected to the alpha male sales pitch? Entirely too tired of that.

Again, I am proud to be beta. It means I listen before I talk. Think before I act. Don't listen to sports talk 24/7. Let's put it this way...I watched Muppet Babies(totally identified with Gonzo, thought Kermit was sorta alpha) and Monty Python growing up. Alphas watched Die Hard and listened to Springsteen. Who would you rather be stuck talking with at a party?

Death Pool- Rechlorinated

So who had Winehouse? The guy from Warrant or Jeff Conaway? Shit, Sherwood Schwartz? Looking back at my old deathpool post, I definitely was not hip to the current trend in celeb death, drugs(except Schwartz, I believe he was mauled by his pet giant squid. Damn Hollywood eccentrics). The people I picked last time were all ridiculously old, and still ridiculously among the living. So it looks like I better pick some new ones...

Going with the trend of troubled musicians, I select DMX. He is constantly in and out of jail, reportedly doing either crack or meth and all around batshit crazy. I'm pretty confident in this one.

As for ex therapy recipients of Dr. Drew, I select Amy Fisher. Not really known for drug use or DUI's, she may seem a longshot. But her troubled past and general scuzziness make her a 30% safe bet on kicking the Long Island Lolita Iced Tea bucket within the next six months.

Now I still have to go with my oldie moldies. But it needs to be someone more obscure who you don't see so much anymore. Doris Roberts and Jerry Stiller, you're right out. No, I think the proper pick would be Tommy Lasorda, former manager of the Dodgers. All those years of pounding Slim Fast have to finally catch up with him. Expect him to go sometime before the fall classic so that the whole series can be ruined by memorials and sappy black arm bands.

There should be a televised death pool fantasy league. Like how they show poker on every station after two in the morning. More interesting than poker, less fruity than fantasy football.

This Sucks, Change It- my Mtv30 wrap up on CliqueClack

http://cliqueclack.com/tv/2011/08/02/mtv-30th-birthday/

I wish I could throw a lawn dart at your face

We're right in the sticky molasses thick of summer in the midwest. I used to find no value in it as a child. As I hit adulthood and discovered beer and cigarettes, it became more tolerable. However, there are just some aspects of summer that will always suck a sidewalk fried egg no matter what. Some can't be avoided and therefore do not qualify as bad taste. Bugs, road construction, mowing the lawn...but other things could easily be eliminated if people had one shred of  intelligence or shame.

Bad barbecue skills. Everyone with a grill fancies themself some sort of Bobby Flay. In reality, most people suck at grilling and manage to serve up hockey puck burgers and shoe leather steaks. Being a grillmaster requires alot of practice and knowledge. You can't just run to Wal Mart, buy a cheap grill, a case of Coors light, Open Pit sauce and then invite all your friends over to reenact a well....Coors commercial. I don't remember ever really liking most bbq I've had at peoples' houses. And just because you bought stadium mustard, you are not some kind of rebel or genius. It is only a shade more palatable than French's yellow goop. Want to impress me? make your own mustard or mayo. Then you can walk around like King Coal in your sauce stained apron. Until this improves, I'll still be hitting the drive thru on the way to your house. Shout outs to the true masters who buy exotic meats, marinate properly and have more adventurous sides available than bland potato salad that tastes like leftover Chex cereal milk with potatoes floating in it.

Company picnics. Do we really have to do this? I mean seriously. You tell your employees they suck all year long, that they're bleeding you dry, that they might not have a job in the coming months....but hey, let's throw the frisbee around and have some veggie dip! Of course everyone brings their stupid kids. You have to talk to them in baby talk and pretend you care what their stupid name is. Madison, Marley or Milanesa( the Spanish word for chicken fried steak. Believe me, some idiot probably thought it would make a good girl's name). You have to talk to your boss and thank them for the terrible food, band and lack of alcohol on a Saturday afternoon(when you should be laying on your couch masturbating). Then you get the boss' speech. Oy vey. I'd rather listen to Billy Graham tell me I'll burn eternally in hell than this load of bullshit. "It's been a rough year guys. but thanks to all your hard work(totally lying), we might turn a profit this year. We're going to have to make some sacrifices and come together as a team to make it to the next picnic." All while kids are crying, fat old women are talking about their grandkids and alpha male salesguy is touching his junk while wearing obnoxious sunglasses. No thanks.

Feet. Summer means people with ugly feet parading them around like some Rosebowl float of grotesqueness for all to see. If you're a cute girl in cute flip flops then I got no beef with you. By all means, let it all hang out. But middle aged women with missing toenails(seen it), men in stupid semi athletic mandals and dumb barefoot little kids; put it away. The odds are while you're outside more now, the potential for a horrible foot mangling accident increases tenfold. So why not try a nice pair of Converse, or better yet, galoshes?

Arts festivals. How much crappy jewelry and amateur photgraphy does the world really need? I admit I like to attend these. Mostly to feel a sense of community and justify living in the shithole city I call home. I have maybe bought something once at one of these glorified flea markets. How about these street bazaars expand their scope to maybe include home cooks, musicians, barbers, comedians, and brewers instead of just people who make dumb shit out of beads and makers of tie dye dresses? So boring.

Cornhole. Quite possibly the stupidest phenomenon to ever sweep the states. A board with a hole in it and a bean bag to throw in said hole is supposed to be fun? And the custom paint job the boards all sport are twice as dumb. Usually a sports team logo(or even more low class, a college sports team) adorns these future bonfire fuel sources. Bonus for me, some asshole on my street makes these boards in his garage all summer long for sale. How many more do we need? Can't we get Sting, Bono or some other pretentious prick to play a benefit to stop the destruction of forests that provide wood for these eye raping abominations? To think, back in the day great craftsmen made gorgeous furniture that sells for thousands on the antique market now. Something tells me cornhole boards are not going to be as desirable in the future.

So that's it. The worst parts of summer according to one grizzled vet of thirty plus midwestern summers. The positive is fall will be here in mere weeks and ruin all these morons' good times. 

Oh, and also radios tuned to classic rock stations in back yards across the land. Just don't do it. We've all heard enough Bad Company to last us a lifetime.

Win!dependence Day

What a weekend! Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest was the bomb, Casey Anthony verdict shocker, a guy at work punched a cart and busted his hand, and I uploaded my very first podcast. Yup, Mistake on the Mlake is on the air...

http://soundcloud.com/romansalami/sets

Murdering Milfs: Hot or Not

 I feel like the blog has gotten away from its true roots of disgusting behavior and tasteless commentary. In order to redeem myself, I latch on to the current hot topic sure to offend most people with children- mothers who kill their babies. And how they rate on a scale of hotness.

Susan Smith initially claimed a black fellow had carjacked her and taken her kids away to star in a UPN sitcom. This later proved false when she admitted to drowning them in said car. Hotness: 4. Not very attractive, but the crazy makes her a wee bit hot. I dig the glasses and creative storytelling.

 Andrea Yates drowned her FIVE kids in her bath tub due to post partum depression. Okay, after the first two I could see post partum maybe working as a defense, but FIVE? You finally got it after the fifth kid? She was from Texas which I think is a better defense in itself. Everyone from Texas is somewhat crazy. Hotness: 2. I appreciate that she was very involved in her kids' cleanliness, if a bit too much so. But that hair? That's a crime in itself.

 The current postergirl for murderous moms, Casey Anthony. Still on trial and the inspiration for this post. Hotness: a solid 7. Maybe even an 8. Has there ever been a prettier young lady on trial for babycide? Doubt it. We still don't know if she really did it. The jury could pull an OJ and completely disregard the evidence and declare her not guilty. But did she ever appear in Hertz commercials or Naked Gun movies? No. Godspeed Casey. Your only hope is your angelic face and Mormon inspired trial wardrobe.

Bavmorda, the evil queen from the movie Willow, tried to kill an infant prophecized to be the new queen as well as her own daughter Sorsha(played by the impossibly hot Melanie Mayron). She failed, so she doesn't really score points for getting the job done. Plus she was old and wore a horrible getup. She was pretty fucking evil however. Seeing as how she could maybe shapeshift and turn herself into a half naked extra from Conan the Barbarian, I will give her a 5.

 

Last is Medina, Ohio's own Audrey Iacona. This was a huge case around these parts back when I was in high school. She gave birth to a child on a WEIGHT BENCH then promptly suffocated the lil tike in a plastic bag. I have no confirmed pic of this former cheerleader, so the accompanying image will have to suffice. Seeing as how she was a cheerleader, she must at least rate a 7 or more. Her trial inspired my friend HogWild's college radio parody of Rare Earth's "I Just Want to Celebrate" titled " I Just Want to Incinerate(incinerate my baby)".

I'm sure there are scores of other cases in this vein, but these are the ones that really stand out to me. None of these women are as hot as female teachers who boink their students, but they went the extra mile over the cliff of crazy and actually took human life. Say what you want about housewives, but when properly motivated, they can accomplish tremendous feats that go down in history. While looking somewhat F-able at the same time. Wish I had written this on Mother's Day.

Crown of Shite

It's been a week since "local" hero, King James, stunk up the NBA finals with his abysmal, pouty play. This ultimately resulted in the far classier Dallas Mavericks winning the title. A lot has been said about this clown, about Cleveland's poor attitude. I was going to let sleeping dogs lie, but I had the misfortune of reading a Forbes article defending this idiot, lambasting his detractors, and going so far as to play the race card and say the majority "white" press and fans hate him for being a powerful black man. Never mind that the Mavs are mostly black or that alot of the African American fans in this town hate his guts. Or that through time immemorial, this "racist" country has rooted for black athletes.  If you're not from Cleveland, you don't get it. But he used us, abandoned us and then talked trash about us(including how neighboring Akron in fact hates Cleveland). So here I present my own personal top Tweets from the day after he quit yet again. For nothing else than my own personal enjoyment and archival purposes. We hold grudges here. For a long time. Trust me. Are we haters? Yes. And proud of it...

"It's true Bron, Cleveland does hate Akron. We drive down there to throw trash on the ground. If there's a spot not already full of trash."

"The founder of AA came from Akron. Guess all they make is quitters down there."

"How'd that get past the censors? They showed a chicken choking on ABC last night."

"The French army just retired LeBron's jersey."

"Akron specializes in making things that get bounced. Tires and playoff chokers."

"Anyone remember that famous duo from Miami? Crocko'shit and Flubs?"

"Nike introduces new GPS shoe, so they can find LeBron during the game."

"LeBaby is like a retiree. He moved to Florida and stopped working."

"That's twice this year a gutless tyrant has fallen from power while hiding out on a Sunday night."

"Most high school athletes can just work for their fathers after they fail at pro sports. If they know who their dad is."

"Someday he will get into the hall of fame. The high school basketball hall of fame."

"St. Vincent issues apology for passing LeBastard thru all those years of English class."
"Hey LeBron, any big Father's Day plans with your old man, Delonte?"

And the all time killer....

"It's sad when an athlete peaks in high school".

Mr. Johnson goes to Washington

So Anthony Weiner finally threw in the semen soaked towel and resigned. Shame. I have no idea what his Congressional record is, but the fact he had to leave the hallowed intern fondling halls of our capitol over sending some pix of his doodle to some ladies is ridiculous. As I stated in an earlier post, the penis is public enemy number one in America and the subject of eternal folly. In Europe, the legislators openly run around with their pants down, arm in arm with their mistresses. But not in moral America! Here if you so much as say the word masturbation, your career is pretty much over. Sure the guy is a narcissistic creep. No one really wanted to see that veiny ghoul in his birthday suit. It's just funny how we've forgotten the worst environmental disaster EVER a mere year later, but were all up in arms about some guy's branch of government.

I was at a barbecue recently where the majority of the folks were thirty something, childless goths with crappy jobs. The topics of conversation ranged from the genetic curse of small breasts to everyone's pubic hair shaving proclivities. It was open, frank and refreshing. The bulk of the people sharing being ladies. I am not used to this kind of honesty with girls. It's usually around dudes at work. If only the whole nation could drop it's hangups about sex and just TALK!! Maybe if Weiner's colleagues, wife and admirers were so open minded, we wouldn't have to waste our time worrying about such a stupid occurence.

The country is built around sex. We sell stuff with it, to get it, to enhance it, and even to prevent it. It is the thing that drives most men, and drives most women to depression. Do you think the troops overseas care about if some guy is Tweeting his Twanger to the world at large. Doubt it. They probably want to make sure they'll have proper equipment in the battlefield and benefits when they come home. Did the civil rights movement get derailed during the era of free love? Nope. Some things are just way more frigging important. So, I'm sorry Mr. Weiner, you picked the wrong job in the wrong country and the wrong vehicle with which to rock out with your junior staffer out. I'm sure he'll turn up on his feet somehow. Elliot Spitzer, Clinton and Pee Wee did. Your time will come(no pun intended). Just hang low and wait out the crisis. In the meantime, why not try other social media besides Twitter? How about MySpace or LiveJournal? Believe me, nobody will see your dick there.

Oh, and he should totally be the grand marshall at the Nathan's Hot Dog eating contest this summer.

Getting Railed

 I used to ride Amtrak alot. Despite the constant tardiness, middle of the night departure times, and getting dropped off in the worst neighborhoods in major metropolises; it is still more comfortable and relaxing than flying. Fuck flying. Hate it. How often do you hear of a derailment versus a plane crash? About 1 to 10. Plus train seating is super comfy, you can walk around without someone thinking you are a terrorist, and you won't die because some idiot forgot to de-ice the train.

The fares used to be way cheaper than flying. But post 9-11, with people trying to not die via religious fanatics hijacking their shit, it has become not so cheap. I get that. Recently I went on their website to see what fares were these days. Outrageous. Then I checked the pet policy. Apparently, you can have a service animal accompany you. But not, the following:

Comfort animals. This includes psychiatrist parrots, Lassie or frogs that you lick for psychotropic effects.

Pets. According to them, this means any animal which performs no specific function. This would apply to children in my book.
Search and rescue dogs. Yeah...no chance you'll need them after the train hits an acorn and spills out all over the Tennessee valley.
Police dogs- unless approved by the Amtrak police. Amtrak police means as much to me as stadium security. Formerly homeless people given baths and badges to walk around somewhere and do nothing.

Here's a good Amtrak story. One night in 2002, I stopped in New Orleans en route to Fort Myers, Florida. I had a four hour layover, so I took a cab down to the French Quarter. After hanging out there, I came back to discover my train would be another four hours away. It's midnight and I'm in the Amtrak/ Greyhound station. And you know what Greyhound means. Bus people. It was a nightmare. I had to keep moving away from some guy who had a bunch of garbage bags that kept trying to sit by me. And some other young hooligan wanted to sell me pot in the bathroom. I couldn't get out of there soon enough. I was so late however, that I was going to miss my connecting train in Orlando. So I hopped off at Tallahassee(in the hood, natch) and rented a car to go the rest of the way. Some real Amazing Race shit. And this was before smartphones!

Anyhow, I hope one day to ride the rails again like an old timey hobo. "Boxcar Blogger" will be my handle. And I'll whip up some of my famous hobo chili using secret hobo spices. That line is from something, but I can't remember what.

Porno Chic for the Whole Family

 Is there anything uglier than wood panneling? Signs point to No. I hang out in my antiquated wood paneled basement all winter long in the dark and never notice the atrocity that it is. But come summer, thanks to lack of air conditioning, I am forced to hang out down here during the daytime. It is then that I have to endure the visual rape to my eyeballs that is the decor du jour of the 60's and 70's. What the fuck were those people thinking? We had drywall then. Why not put it everywhere? Nope. Basement had to be wood paneled. The background of millions of hairy bushed pornos, uncomfortable family gatherings and massive drug consumption.                 

 There are no good memories attached to wood paneling. Only summers of centipede fearing sun avoidance, grandma's disapproving frowns of your career choice at Thanksgiving dinner, or botched sexual exploits(mostly involving just one person). I always told myself when I bought a house that I would not have a basement, but a cool upper floor replite with a balcony. Energy prices and practicality intervened, and I ended up in a ranch with a basement. I love it now, as it has become my man cave(God, I hate that term). But the wood paneling just ruins it ever so slightly.

I don't know. Maybe I am too enthralled by my peers' finished basements with the flat screens, nice paint jobs, and modern furniture. Wood panel old school chic actually helps some bars stay afloat. People want to relive those very same shitty memories I have for a premium. They consider it kitschy. They all live in apartments and don't have to face the reality of 1974 staring them in the face every fucking day. I guess it's a love hate relationship. I love that I can pound thousands of nails into it to hang up things to cover it up without worrying about degrading it's value. And I hate that it was ever created. Because it is the ugliest home furnishing ever. Along with baby gates.

Mirror Ball Busters

A confluence of events has led to me writing about that most tasteless of musical genres, disco. I bought some Midori, the watermelon liquor that debuted at Studio 54. I like to have some Midori cocktails when it gets hot out, in lieu of eating actual watermelon, which I detest. Second, I saw a Goldfrapp video today. Third, the horrible movie, 54, was on tv today. It stars the shit movie mainstays, Mike Myers and Ryan Phillipe. It got me to thinking about my favorite dance songs. Let it be known, I love all things disco, from Saturday Night Fever to bell bottoms to Disco Stu from the Simpsons. I love the music, horrible fashion, and extreme decadence that defined Studio 54. It was superficial, vapid and completely reckless(during the onset of AIDS and coke addiction).

In honor of that most self centered, hedonistic period of American history, I present my top ten favorite dance songs. I could do a list of weird, outsider dance songs, but they are covered to death in music blogs. I provide this simply as a soundtrack to your own coke fueled, self destructive boogie wonderland.

10.Hey Ladies- the Beastie Boys

9. Around the World- Daft Punk

8. Disco Inferno- the Trammps

7. Days Go By- Dirty Vegas

6. Ooh La La- Goldfrapp

5. Dancing Queen- ABBA

Honorable mention- Get Crazy- LMFAO(the theme to Jersey Shore)

4. Hung Up- Madonna

3. Big Time Sensuality- Bjork

2. The Hustle- Van McCoy

1. Groove is in the Heart- Dee Lite                                         

To quote Craig Kilborn, "All I want to do is dance...dance...DANCE!"

Art School Confidential: Schmucks

 Here's a blast from the past. For my last two years of high school, I transferred to a vocational commercial art program in the school for rejects. It was the best school EVER! Situated in a quaint downtown(complete with gazebo and soda jerk shop), we students ran that joint. We left every day for lunch. The naughtier kids would go get pizza bagels at the bakery and then smoke their little hearts out behind the courthouse. We goofy kids(my friend Lee especially) would get into all kinds of nonsense capers before heading back to class. Sure, we weren't Spicoli or the Welcome Back Cotter crowd, but I think we had a more stimulating(if slightly less productive) high school experience than the dopes locked up in the traditional learning institutions around.

 Anyhow, for our senior project, Lee and I decided to make our own Weekly World News type tabloid. It was titled Schmucks. It was made cut and paste style with rudimentary word processing typed articles coupled with mangled images culled from the pages of National Geographic and People magazines. This was 1995, mind you, and our school didn't have Windows. This is crude stuff. but we got flying marks on it from our teacher(who even saw fit to show other teachers around the school how we wasted education dollars). She was so proud of us. This here on the right is the ad for a home glue making kit. It shows horses being mangled on a mutated torture device/ home appliance.

 To the left you can see another of our tasteful ads. Our headline stories included "Midget Runs Amok in Mall, Slaughters Zero", "Man Sells House for a Bottle Cap", "World's Tallest Man Chokes to Death on Anteater", and "98 Year Old Ninja Eludes Denver Cops". Along with the ones you see here. It was great fun to make, all the while goofing off, and still receiving A's.

 Other features included Top 10 Flix, with titles such as "Interview With The Bedpan", "Drop Your Pants and Run", and "lazing Puddles".
Top 10 Books, with such literary faire like "Journey to the Center of my Pants", "Assmaster's Greatest Poems", and "Horse Shaving and Home Repair Made Simple".

There was also a personals department. Here is one example:

Divorced White Homosexual Potato. Seeks Keebler Elf, height 3'7". Caramel complexion, body like heaven.

 Top ten music singles of the time included:
"Monkey Urine Blues" by MC Colon
"Shave the Wife, Shoot the Kids" by Bobby Joe Gerbil
"I Lost my Virginity in the Septic Tank" by Hans Auf


Top ten albums were:
"Frozen Assets" by Jerk n Squirt
"Corndog Orgy" by Unibrow
"Go On Your Lawn" by Fecal Beagle

I don't think our teachers really read this all the way through.

Regardless, it helped us further our art careers. Umm, not really. He joined the Coast Guard and I now work retail. But at the time it was the crowning achievement of a two year school stint spent drawing stupid cartoons, breaking shit, and planted the seed of my miscreant creativity of the future. I still laugh reading this thing.