If you want something stupid and consistent and about sports, you're in the wrong place. You should go here and soak it all in. There are upwards of 11 people stopping by that site already. One person called it, "a waste of your time." So stop on by. Or don't. Whatever. See if I care.
Read more...So Michael Jackson died. He touched a lot of kids in his life. Mostly with his music, and probably with other things too.
Listen. Those of you who know me know I have a theory. It's my "no matter what awful things you did in life, you will be lauded after you die" theory. Or simply put, you become a greater person after you die in the eyes of those still living, especially celebrities.
Look at Reggie White. The dude was a monster defensive end. But as a person, he gave one of the most racially insensitive speeches in front of the Wisconsin legislature. I'm too lazy to link to it, so Google it. White died young of a heart attack, and everyone came out of the woodwork to talk about what a loving person he was. Yeah, he loved to tell everyone that all Asian people can fix and build watches.
I really thought my theory had limits. Then Michael Jackson died.
Look, was he ever convicted of touching kids? No. Was OJ ever convicted of killing Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman? No. But both of them settled out of court. That's guilty enough for me.
I can't believe how many Facebook statuses I read last night that were to the effect of, "Hey, everyone makes mistakes. Get over it and remember what a great musician Michael Jackson was!!!"
We do. We all make mistakes. Like this year in my fantasy baseball league, I traded Jose Lopez for Akinori Iwamura. Then two days later, Iwamura tore every ligament in his knee, ending his season.
So I guess there are different levels of mistakes, but if you're famous, man, you can't get away with anything. Why? Because human beings are completely insane. Really, what other explanation can there be? The guy touched kids. Touched them. There's an entire Law & Order episode based on Michael Jackson touching kids.
And hey, let's pretend that Michael Jackson never touched kids. He held a newborn baby over a god-damned railing to impress (?) the gathered media. The guy was completely insane.
Yet in death, it's all forgotten. It made me wonder what Facebook statuses will look like after OJ dies.
Joseph Schwantz will miss OJ!!! OMG OJ! You were the best RB evah!!!! LOL!!! RIP Nordberg! Heroin, Frank, Heroin LMAO!!!
Or what if Hitler lived in the Facebook era?
Klaus Heiumueller is crying over Hitler. We all make mistakes, people! Stop being jerks! He was a painter whose art changed my life :-(
You know how you can judge a famous person's actions? Pretend you knew him. Like, for real. Pretend you had every Michael Jackson album autographed. You love his music. You rock out to Off The Wall daily. Got that image in your head? You call Michael, say what's up, see if he wants to play XBox 360 at your place? Is it in there?
OK. Now imagine he has sex with your son once a week.
That doesn't cancel out the music? If it doesn't, we need to talk, Rosewood.
For a glimpse of just how crazy people are, I've taken a screen grab of a Facebook (yes, I get all my information and insights on people's lives from Facebook) conversation. The back story here is one girl posted a picture of some Russian astronaut who went into space and said, "This is who I care about when a celeb dies." Then one of her friends mounted the "Michael Jackson means more to me than some dumb astronaut" argument. It's really amazing. It's a bag of crazy you might not want to stick your hand in.
I'll leave you with that. Keep on keepin' on.
There is probably no animal I hate more than cats. If I could get away with drowning one household pet, it'd be a cat. If Susan Smith was one of those crazy women who considered her cats to be her kids, I'd consider her one of the great heroes in American history.
But man, do I love cats on the Internet.
There so great. No shedding, no scratching the couch, no complete indifference to your presence unless they're hungry. Oh no, my friends. Just pure entertainment.
First, let me give you my five favorite Internet cats of all-time.
5. Ceiling Cat
I think I might've lost my Internet cat virginity to Ceiling Cat. I can't even imagine how warped a mind you must have to see this photo and say, "I wonder if this cat is watching someone masturbate." I don't care. This is just too good. But don't get lulled into thinking this cat is cute or adorable. It will wait for you to fall asleep then suffocate you. Cats murder babies. Cats are pure evil. Don't ever forget it.
4. Matrix Cat
This cat might have won my heart and the No. 1 spot on this countdown if not for the fact it's photoshopped. Just shows that you can't trust the Japanese. First Pearl Harbor, now this.
Right off the bat, you're thinking about how insensitive it is to lower homeless people to that of the level of a pet. But think about it. I'm the hero in this story.
I'm not even sure if she's human. Remember in Men in Black when Will Smith first becomes an agent and him and Tommy Lee Jones and Rip Torn are looking at the big board of aliens living among us, and it's all those famous people who are sort of off a little bit? If that movie was released today, Tila Tequila would be on that big board.
Deep down, Brett just wants someone to love him and tell him he's great and rub his tummy. Favre is like a playful puppy with a penchant for pain killer and seeing himself on TV.So I'm in Detroit. Again. It's just like I remember it from my scrapbook. Is it ever hot here? I feel like it's never been above 60 degrees at any point here. Perhaps the city is just rejecting sunlight.
Anyway, I'm never playing poker here again. Ever. However, there are some things I'm enjoying, like the Detroit People Mover. It's perhaps the scariest thing I've ever ridden that goes less than 5 mph. It sounds like a bullet train jamming on the breaks right before impact, yet all it's doing is slowing down to 3 mph around a mild curve. But it has Will Smith from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air on the side of it, so that's cool.
Remember my NJ Transiv stuff from back in the day? Well the DPM, as the kids call it, has its own version.
Oh! Call on me! Ire see something unusual! The rest of that message said, "report it to a police officer." There was one on the platform with me, but he didn't seem to care all that much about spelling.
What else? Oh, the homeless guys here are awesome. I told you this story from my last trip, and now I have this one.
Me and three other guys who are all white and about as intimidating as a stuffed animal are walking along the street. A black homeless guy is about 15 feet ahead. He turns and sees us and drops some sort of flyer. Immediately we know he's going to become our buddy.
Here's what he says. "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I saw all you white folks coming my way and I got scared! I dropped it! You white folks scared me!"
But then it gets even better when he says, "Man, too many white people downtown now. I need to move to the suburbs!"
I LOL'd about that for a good hour. The suburbs! Oh, homeless man. You slay me.
No, you can't have a dollar. It's all at the MGM Grand.
Dawn Zimmer is running for mayor in Hoboken. Anyone who lives here knows this because you haven't been able to walk 15 feet in the city without being accosted by one of these psychotic people in the past two weeks.
These green-shirted jackasses are everywhere. I'm not kidding. Everywhere. I'm half-expecting to roll out of bed in the morning and see some soccer mom in a green T-shirt preparing my breakfast as she regurgitates Zimmer's agenda to me.
They are at almost every bus stop. Every corner. They are in every high-traffic area. Heck, just the other day, I happened to be exiting a deli when a guy with a green shirt made eye contact with me and started launching into his sales pitch. If my hands weren't full I probably would've punched him.
This morning, it was like the end of the world outside. Heavy rain, winds, thunder. I'm at my bus stop in the morning. It's about 15 people under umbrellas on their way to work, and one Zimmer jerkstore in her green shirt. She calls out to me. I'm wearing full-on headphones. She taps me on the shoulder. I turn and look at her, hoping my glare will cause her to backtrack. Then this happened.
Her: Are you voting today?
Me: I hope this bus hits you.
I put my headphones back on and went back to staring straight ahead, rocking out to Phish's "If I Could I Would." Great tune.
Two weeks of this crap is too much. It's harassment. Imagine walking around a city where the homeless people are organized and all dressed the same. That's Dawn Zimmer's people. They have their kids wearing the shirts and parents are using them to wave down people so they can hand out flyers. So disgusting.
I'm not even sure who she's running against, but I hope it's Jane Torre and she wins by a landslide.
When it comes to life in an average American office, nothing hits the bull's-eye quite like stock photography. It's flat-out uncanny.
Sifting through these photos, I am constantly amazed by how spot-on these images are. It's like they looked into my work life and pulled out still shots.
Let me take you on a journey of my average work day through the wonders of stock photography.
Just like any other hard-working American, I sprint directly through the front door of my office building, because I'm just that excited to start my day.
Unfortunately, after such a quick sprint so early in the morning, I hit a bit of a wall. I am completely unable to hold my head up at my desk, so I buy two cups of coffee. I drink one and rest my head on the other.
With my morning cups o' joe now flowing through my system, I am recharged and full of energy. Feeling proud, I invite three female co-workers to my desk to watch a sex tape I made with my girlfriend. They are all impressed.
Unfortunately, I completely misread their smiles, as it turns out they are all unimpressed by my bedroom prowess. Word gets out to the rest of the office, and boy do they let me have it.
What a bunch of jerkstores! A bunch of shockingly diverse jerkstores, but jerkstores nonetheless. It happens to a lot of guys! Whatever, I'm going to get to work now and show them who's going places here!
Boy am I swamped! I've got two phones working! Just an average day in my busy office life! I'm so busy that I may actually being holding one of the phones backwards! Worky work! Busy bee! I deserve a break! The sweetest break of all!
Right around noon is when I get myself some office nookie. I meet a lady who is quite fond of me from another department in our special "white room" devoid of color and restrictions on our passion. I always go with the standard hand on small of back, slide hand down to ass routine. She goes crazy for it.
Unfortunately, my lady gets busted for our secret rendez-vous, and boy does her boss let her have it. She yells so loud the entire office hears about our hot love in the white room. That's the risk of working for a boss with megaphone I guess. Fearful that we're going to be fired, I get totally stressed out at my desk.
I find that I can keep HR at bay by repeatedly punching myself in the head and screaming. Now I have to get to work though, so I can show my value to the company and avoid getting fired.
As is customary in all offices around the world, we open the meeting with a group handshake. It's just handshakes on top of handshakes. It really fosters a good group environment.
After that, it's time to bring the hands in and get to working! Whoooooooooooa team!
Yeah! Woo hoo! God do we love each other and love to work in my office! And once we complete our meeting, we do what every other office in the world does. We break up into two groups: one for jumping in the background, and one for a good, hearty thumb's up.
And like any other office, we then get totally drunk off our asses on company time.
But all those beers mixed with the coffee does something to the inside of a man. It's time to use our toilet, the one right in the middle of the office.
Everyone stands over me, looking shamefully upon me as I am unable to crap with my pants still on. It depresses me that despite all that coffee, I am still unable to defecate under the watchful eye of my co-workers. What future could I possibly have with the company if I can't poop with the pressure on? I'm depressed. It's time for me to call it a day!
As per the usual, me and my white female co-worker and black male co-worker re-enact the video for Genesis' "I Can't Dance" as we exit the building. It's just your average end to your average day in the office world.
I am getting tired of improper use of the word "former." You hear it all the time in sports.
When used properly, it's OK. Josh Beckett is a former Florida Marlin. He was once a Marlin, now he is not.
However, people screw the pooch with this word all the time. Former three-time All-Star. Former MVP. Former Cy Young winner. Former batting champion.
Let's say you won the 2003 batting title. It is now 2009. You still won the batting title in 2003. You are not a former batting champion. The title of batting champion isn't a temporary status. You never lose that status. Tony Gwynn is not a former batting champion. They have not removed the plaque from his home.
This seems to only be the case with individual achievements. You never hear the Los Angeles Lakers called the former NBA champion Lakers, do you? So why do people call Magic Johnson a former NBA MVP?
But maybe you're on board with the use of former when talking of MVPs and whatnot. OK then. Well just when exactly does the winner become a "former" winner? Let's use Cliff Lee as an example. When does he become the former Cy Young winner? Opening Day this year? When the regular season ends? When the postseason ends? When they announce the new winner?
The correct answer is never, because it's not like Lee has his award taken away in some sort ceremony. He is always and forever a Cy Young Award winner. Stop calling past award winners former award winners, jerkfaces.
