I am Britney’s vagina

Thanks to the wonderworkers at Defamer and Fleshbot and various other “news agencies around the blogosphere we can finally say for certain and for true that the internet is for porn.

Now I don’t know whether this is just a case of, “Oops, I did it again” since she was caught just the other day again without panties. That time all alone at a gas station. In a bad green 70’s dress. Actually it’s three times in a week. Obviously the girl likes to go commando.

I like that in a trailer park princess/pop tart.

And yes, I’d hit it over and over and over again.

You can’t shot me, I’m invisible!

From the carefully vetted files of the Deadspin vaults comes the tale of a South Carolina wager gone wrong. Dead wrong.

A $20 bet on the SC/Clemson game turned ugly for two families in Lexington, South Carolina on Saturday after Richard Allen Johnson refused to pay James Walter Quick the money he owed him after the the Tigers lost, claiming that they should not have lost. That’s where it gets nasty.

Quick quickly fetched his hunting rifle from the gun rack in his Chevy Corsica and returned demanding his $20, “I want my money or I’m going to shoot you.”

Johnson’s wife and several friends told police that Johnson then said: “You can’t shoot me, I’m invisible.”

And Quick replied, “No you’re not.”

You’re The One

A couple of years back I worked on the Paul Simon musical The Capeman with J-Lo’s hubby Marc Anthony, Nobel Prize winner for Literature (not Pulitzer, motherfuckers, N-O-B-E-L, the guy who invented fucking dynamite) Derek Walcott, and modern dance God Mark Morris (along with an assorted cast of top-notch talent). The show was an unmitigated flop losing $10 million for Mr. Simon. I didn’t think it was that bad. It wasn’t really a musical in any sense of the word. It was more like an artistic event, a musing on a theme by brilliant artists.

The reason I bring it up is that year for Christmas my boss bought all of us who’d worked on it Paul Simon’s then latest CD, You’re The One. I just got an iPod this weekend so I was making sure that all my CDs were in iTunes and re-discovered this. God, it’s good. If you’ve never heard it, I recommend it highly.

I give thanks today for Stephon Marbury

Stephon’s a big headed arrogant millionaire basketball star for the New York Knicks. They say he’s a me-first player who’s not a team guy. it may be true. But he steps out on the court for every game wearing a pair of $15 sneakers. In a world where sneakers run up to $200 a pair, he paired with a manufacturer to come up with an affordable shoe to show that shoes don’t have to cost more than a week’s worth of groceries.

He’s got a whole line of Starbury products. Hoodies and other shoes for $10. But you can wear the same sneakers as the starting guard for the New York Knicks for $15.

So he can be an arrogant star. He can bitch about his coach. He can shoot first and pass later or never for all I care. Everytime he steps on the court in those $15 shoes he’s a hero in my book.

So today, I’m thankful for a guy who’s doing his part to make it a little easier for parents to get their kids the “cool” stuff without wondering if it’ll cut into their food budget. I’m thankful that someone with a name kids will know is saying enough is enough to the sneaker companies who feed off kids.

You go, Starbury.

Turkey Bomb!

Ladies and gentleman, in anticipation of Thanksgiving, I offer you an mp3 file of one of the greatest and most heartwarming episodes of television ever. Since it was a show about a radio station, it’s fitting that we are only going to listen to the audio.

Dr. Johnny Fever and Mr. Les Nessman present: Black Day at the Pinedale Shopping Mall.

CBC flexing?

Charlie Rangel’s recent pronouncement on Face The Nation that he’s going to single-handedly reinstate the draft next year was met with a less than enthusiastic response by Democrat leadership.

Now on the face of it, this is an issue that Charlie’s held for a while and it’s one that no one should be surprised that he’s raising right? I mean it’s just Charlie being Charlie. But think about the fact that Charlie’s a founding member of the Congressional Black Caucus who’s got a very public horse in a race in Alcee Hastings getting the Chair of the Intelligence Committee. Supposedly Nancy promised it to them, but in the wake of the Murtha follies in (which she turned out to be doing a bit more than paying lip service to Johnny Come Marching Home’s candidacy) could this be a shot across Ms. Speaker-To-Be’s bow?

Is the CBC doing their Andre Linoge impression? Heck some are already calling for Nancy’s head in the wake of Stoney’s ascension.

I’ve got a pal who’s response to everything I bring up about the Democrats lately has been, “Are we still in charge? OK.” I’m curious how long that will last before he’s railing against the media and everyone else for turning against the Democrats. Let’s face it, folks, after that election the guilt factor will kick in and the media will feast on every little nuance of the Democrats just to appear “fair and balanced.” But to be fair to them, it’s just the way it works: the party in power gets the lion’s share of the attention and thus criticism.

We now return you to Nancy’s efforts to install as Chair of the House Intelligence Committee (insert your own joke here, I’ve got overkill) a former judge who was impeached by many of the next Congress’ leadership.

Finger Lickin’ Good

I suppose it’s appropriate that the first corporate logo visible from space should be in rachel, nv. i mean, they are located along the world’s only Extraterrestrial Highway, so the aliens who look in on Dreamland will be seeing the Col’s face. Is this really the face we want to project to the universe?

You already knew that the Buckeyes won, right? But did you know that the Ohio Pick 4 Lottery number that was chosen minutes after the game ended was an exact mirror of the final score: 4-2-3-9?

You also knew that the Steelers beat the Browns, right? Is it just me or did the Brownies abandon their Brown jerseys and Brown color to jump on the fad from a few years back of making everything black? They sure looked to be wearing black jerseys on Sunday and those stripes on their helmets looked pretty black too. I know, ti was never really about the color, but about the man.

You even knew that the ‘Guins made the 1AA Playoffs (#4 seed) and host James Madison at Stambaugh on the 25th.

I have no voice, I spent 14 of the last 58 hours behind the wheel of the Civic, and the Democrats are still in charge of Congress and Charlie Rangel’s looking to re-instate the draft, but I am happy as a clam, because Chad Henne is a bitch, a motherfucking bitch, as welcome as a case of rectal itch!

Hail to the Scarlet and Grey and even though he won’t block downfield (costing us a sure fucking TD on that play over the middle) I’m wearing my Teddy Ginn jersey.

TSUN still sucks, but this is pretty funny, too

Shamelessly stolen from a poster at Broadwayworld.com:

Ways to Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity

1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.

2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don’t Disguise Your Voice.

3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries with that.

4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It “In.”

5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks Once Everyone has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch to Espresso.

6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write ” For Smuggling Diamonds”

7. Finish All Your sentences with “In Accordance With The Prophecy.”

8. Don’t use any punctuation

9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk.

10. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.

11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is “To Go.”

12. Sing Along At The Opera.

13. Go T o A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don’t Rhyme?

14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play tropical Sounds All Day.

15. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can’t Attend Their Party Because You’re Not In The Mood.

16. Have Your Co-workers Address You By Your Wrestling Name, Rock Bottom.

17. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream “I Won!, I Won!”

18. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking lot, Yelling “Run For Your Lives, They’re Loose!!”

19. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. “Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go.”

let’s bomb ann arbor!

Ok, I’ll be off to Ohio for the clash of the Titans. In my absence, don’t trash the internet.

Piss on TSUN

Life’s little pleasures…

for the girls and the boys who like boys

While I am unabashedly hetero, my readership is not. So here’s a buckeye pic with all the best for the girls and the gays: from bears to twinks, it’s got ‘em all! Enjoy!

We don’t give a damn for the whole state of…

I’m seeing a trend that associates TSUN with the back end of a human being. This is news to me as I’d always associated TSUN with that which emerged from that end. Ah, well, live and learn.

Fuck Michigan

As you probably already know, we’re in OSU/TSUN week. Don’t know what TSUN is? Look it the fuck up!

This week we’ll be sharing photos and links, like this one, dedicated to a rivalry the outstrips even the Yankees/Red Sox.

I take it as a good omen that the person at the Apple store who helps the Mrs. pick out her laptop yesterday was named Woody. That’s fate, baby.

Strap in, hold on tight and remember…

FUCK MICHIGAN

Otis Gibbs, the Bottle Rockets and the Yayhoos at Mercury Lounge Part 1

I have a MySpace. if you know what it is you can go see it, God knows why because this is infinitely more entertaining, but it exists. I started it basically to keep up with some folks and sometimes it’s easier than email if you see someone’s face when you log on, it’s somehow more personal and a reminds me to stay in contact a bit more. Staying in contact has never been my strongest suit (that’s a joke for the Broadway fans out there…or maybe the Elton fans) so the MySpace helps.

After I’d had it for awhile it occurred to me that bands and celebrities and such have MySpaces too and you can friend them and be updated on their goings on. So I started seeking out bands and performers that I enjoyed and friending them with the idea that when they came to NYC I could see them in concert since the MySpace would tell me they were coming. I have no ability to track a band and see where or when they are going places, I need them to tell me. I know, it’s kinda sad, but hey, deal with it.

So yesterday the Bottle Rockets posted a bulletin saying that they were going to be playing the Mercury Lounge right here in beautiful NYC. Bingo! My plan had worked to perfection. Here was a band telling me they were coming to town (well, me and anybody else who is their friend on MySpace…thousands…so it’s not like they called my cell and said, “Yo, Swanny, come on down to the Merc, dude!”). Seeing that I checked the Mercury Lounge and found that tickets were only $13 so I bought a pair hoping I could convince the Mrs. to join me. The other band listed on the bill was a group I’d never hard of, the Yayhoos but I figured, $13’s a good deal just for the Bottle Rockets. If the Yayhoos are any good it’s all gravy.

I convinced the Mrs. to join me and after a little misdirection requiring Poo and Lilybell to google the address from the wilds of Park Avenue Extension, we made it to the Mercury Lounge early. We decided to go ahead in since the bill outside listed a third act who’d open up at 7:45, Otis Gibbs. We got a drink, chatted a bit and went in, sat down and listened to Otis sing his folky songs of people power and my personal favorite, Llyod the Reindeer. I think the Mrs. really enjoyed Otis and his ZZ Top Beard and his folky populist ways. I was less than enthused by the message, but then I am a war-mongering kitten eater. As he finished, the Mrs. felt ill and decided to cut her night short. So I was left to see the Bottle Rockets alone.

Well, they did not disappoint. I have a confession now. Going in I’d heard just one song by the Bottle Rockets, Indianapolis, but that was enough to convince me to pay $13 to see them do it. Hell if they’d played that song and ;left, I’d have been content. But they didn’t just play that. They played a good 80-90 minute set of hard rocking and witty songs I’d never heard like Get Down River, Blind, Lucky Break, many more and of course my Indianapolis. They just kicked the shit outta the place. Brian was in fine voice and tore up both the electric and acoustic guitars while keeping the audience in stitches between songs. John’s leads were phenomenal. In fact, I was pissed because I felt his guitar wasn’t present enough in the mix during the early part of the show. I mean he was playing the killer licks and they were lost, but he found it or they found him and then he was able to just fucking soar. Mark Ortmann does not look like he belongs in this band. Obviously he does, but his presence behind the drums was just so out of place that it worked wonders, as did his sticks. Towards the end of the show Brian said how happy they were to be playing on the same stage as the Yayhoos and why. That’s when I realized who the Yayhoos were and that I’d be staying for their set.

Fuck the Evangelicals

As a political entity, fuck them. I argued against the GOP pandering to their tight asses, even as I thought that politically it made sense. I always assumed that it did indeed make sense. Turns out I was wrong and the Evangelicals fucked the GOP this fall. According to exit polls, over a third of them voted Democrat and that’s of the ones who showed up. Well, fuck you very much you psychotic narrow minded bigots.

The GOP takes your side on ridiculously polarizing issues, alienating moderates who would normally side with the GOP based on economic issues at a peril to the party and you sit home with your panties in a knot over Mark Foley and a war that you overwhelmingly supported or worse vote for the Democrats? Well, fuck you and your untenable ideological purity concerns. Fuck you and your tight-assed views. Fuck you and your ridiculous demands that land you in the same boat as the worst of the Kossacks. Just fuck off.

I never agreed with the overt appeals to the religious right and only put up with them because I was certain that the more outlandish of them would fail. Gay marriage amendment: knew it was never gonna happen. Ban on abortion: never thought it would go through and now, thanks to their own spite there’s absolutely no chance that it will be overturned in this generation (how’s that make ya feel all you Pro-Lifers who pulled the lever for a Dem over a few emails?). Stem cell ban: kiss it goodbye.

If I had my way, I’d marginalize these fucks and never appeal to them in any way shape or form again. These fucking nutbag cocksuckers are never gonna be satisfied and just fucked themselves. Well, whoop-de-fucking-doo! Let’s get back to actual conservative values and leave the social engineering to the fucking Democrats. Economic policy and defense and let the Democrats play to their base for a while. It’s time to realize that courting these raving loons was always a losing proposition. You’re never going to be able to do enough and when they decide to fuck you, you’ve already screwed yourself out of any other support, so you’re well and truly fucked.

Remind me what part of the wildly popular Contract with America which swept the GOP into power dealt with abortion. Which clause covered gay marriage? Stem cells? Oh that’s right, none of those were a part of it! Let’s get back to being conservatives, GOP, and let the fucking bigots fend for them fucking selves.