The View from the Press Box at the Texas Bowl

The view from the Space Shuttle Press Box, looking down at Reliant Stadium.

Every now and again, I get the wild urge to go play reporter again--though only for sporting events. It comes about once every six months or so, then I regain my sanity and go back to doing something more lucrative.

Tonight, I'm at the Texas Bowl, covering it for a highly reputable organization that would rather keep its association with me WAY under wraps. The Texas Bowl is in Houston and played at Reliant Stadium. The press box at Reliant is the highest I've ever been in (or seen, for that matter). Kyle Field is probably 150 feet closer, and it's still very high up. Reliant's is so high that sometimes I'm not sure if we're watching the game live or on Google Earth.

In any case, it's 24-0 Rice over Western Michigan with :15 to go in the first half. Chase Clement, Rice's QB, is playing a game Western Michigan is not familiar with. Rice will probably get their first bowl win in 54 years. Good for the Owls.

Doesn't this defeat the purpose?

Remember, the state of Ohio is the same state that had a twit order an underling to illegally look into Joe the Plumber's personal records because she (the superior) was a big Obama backer and wanted to dig up dirt. She later "resigned" huffily, saying the criticism (and suspension) she received were "offensive."

It could be that the entire Ohio state government is "offensive."

COLUMBUS, Ohio — An Ohio state employee whose job is to prevent discrimination repeatedly sent racist and sexist e-mails from his government account, an investigation found, but kept his job.

The same man was reprimanded a year ago for sending an e-mail joking about giving jobs to women with large breasts.

Jokes about men kissing and a woman's genitalia, as well as a racial joke and a caricature of President-elect Barack Obama, were in the latest e-mails sent by the Transportation Department worker, according to an agency report obtained Tuesday by The Associated Press.

Robert Habern, 55, is the department's equal employment opportunity contracts coordinator in the Lima office. His job is to ensure that vendors with agency contracts comply with federal and state anti-discrimination laws.

Habern, who makes $51,000 a year, was suspended without pay for 10 days in October for sending the new e-mails, which investigators said he confirmed sending. Officials say they were sent to fellow agency employees and non-state workers.

Grouping fail

Cowboy fans iz stoopid

One thing I can't stand about Dallas Cowboys fans (outside of their irrational arrogance) is the lack of intelligence many of them show. I got a reminder of that today, in Williamsburg, Va., of all places.

Now, let me elaborate on something: I hate Dallas and a lot of people who live there. But the most annoying Cowboys fans are the ones who live elsewhere and, in many cases, have never even been to Texas. I think that's what I saw today.

Some idiot with Virginia plates had a big blue Dallas star in the center of their rear window. That was plenty annoying in and of itself. But then I read his personalized plate.

It read "Luvyablu" (as in, Love Ya Blue).

This put him very high on the dumbass list. For those of you who don't know, "Love Ya Blue" references the glory days of the HOUSTON OILERS and has NOTHING to do with the Dallas Cowboys.

If you don't have enough of a clue to tell the difference between the old Oilers and the Cowboys, you're an idiot.

And, probably, a Cowboy fan.

If you're not a fan of Christmas, you're nuts

Sonny the Pug takes command of the guns at Yorktown, Va.

Tonight is Christmas Eve (duh). This may well be one of my two favorite days of the year, with tomorrow being the other. Opening Day used to be right up there, but since my favorite teams are respectively owned by a egotistical moron and a cheapskate moron, it's tough to get as excited.

Though not overly religious, I do try to keep my thoughts on the religious aspect of Christmas--that a child, the spawn of God, came to our world 2000-some years ago to redeem our species. I frequently fail at this.

I have a lot of memories of Christmas, as I'm sure everyone does. But it's been such a busy year that it took the wind blowing off the water at Yorktown today to jar those memories loose.

The wind reminded me of someplace long ago and far away, someplace where there sure as hell wasn't any water. It reminded me of Abqaiq, Saudi Arabia, and Christmases growing up under the eyes of Islamofascism.

The Saudis are to be given credit for not totally busting up Christmas, though there were several years that they tried. But they figured out it would be a hopeless endeavor and would quit trying (for a couple of years).

One of the great traditions was on Christmas Eve, when Santa (or "Father Christmas") would come around and give gifts to the kids. Now, when I was young, I was terrified by the Santa with a Scottish accent who was acting odd; when I got to my teenage years, I was embarrassed by having to deal with some limey who was shitfaced. But now, it's a great memory.

Santa/Father Christmas would bring one present on Christmas Eve, then we'd open the rest on Christmas morning. The best present we ever got wiggled out of a stocking on Christmas Eve 1991: Martin the Silky Terrier, just a puppy but as crass as ever.

Christmas morning, we'd invariable get some seriously good stuff: Optimus Prime and Megatron, when they were impossible to get; an autographed Jim Palmer rookie card, which my parents got signed right under my nose at the Little League World Series in 1987; or the best ever--cases of Coca-Cola, when they were illegal, hidden under the tree.

We'd have our fake tree with Sesame Street ornaments (we'd brawl to decide who'd put up Cookie Monster) and listen to John Dever and the Muppets on the record player. And then I'd go outside and walk in the cold early morning Abqaiq air and just think. About stuff. About Christ, mostly.

And the wind would blow in my face.

I now cherish the memories of those walks, just as much as I cherish to awesome presents we got. These days, I still have a fake tree, but our cool ornaments consist of Star Wars characters, George Washington, Luke Skywalker and Cal Ripken. Martin, sadly, is gone--but he's been replaced by Rippy, Sonny the Pug and his doppleganger, Deuce. And I've got Momma Pug, the best gift of all.

The awesome presents keep on coming, for which I am grateful. It makes me feel good to know that someone, anyone, cares enough to remember me. Here's hoping you have that someone too.

Merry Christmas.

Beware the rapidly moving interstate highway

Ok, so we're in Virginia. More on that train wreck later. But, before that discussion, a reset to Friday night.

In order to get up here "on time," we had to leave Houston Friday afternoon. Because my wife's employer's online publishing program eats a bag of shit, Friday afternoon became Friday evening. We ended up getting stuck in the middle of rush hour AND some dumbass working for TxDOT decided it would be a SPLENDID idea to shut down two lanes of outbound traffic on a Friday afternoon during rush hour on one of the five heaviest travel days of the year.

Suffice it to say, that frayed our nerves.

We got down the road a piece, and, after stopping in a horrifically disgusting Pilot/Wendy's outside of Orange, got into Louisiana. That's when Sonny the Pug started bitching.

Loudly. Repeatedly.

For 50 miles.

Desperate for a way to shut Sonny the hell up, my wife said, "You're going to have to get in the back with him."

I shot that down rather angrily. She paused for a second and said, "Why do you always have to drive? Everywhere we go, you have to drive. It's ridiculous."

(Background: I have never been involved in an accident while driving--though, when I had my pickup, I did back into several dozen vehicles. Those don't count. My wife's driving "prowess" is the stuff of her family's legend.)

Her snapping at me pissed me off. So I did what I normally did--said nothing. Instead, I pulled over at the nearest exit, got out of the car and said, "Drive."

(Note: Sonny, who started this fracas with his whining, his now sedate. We had moved him so he could get at the fries he had hidden under himself and then couldn't get to.)

So, off we go. We're driving down the road, just back onto the interstate, and my wife is still getting on my ass for being a selfish driver. It is at this point that I lean forward and scream "JESUS CHRIST, BABY!"

The wife has left the highway and is heading straight for an exit sign. She jerks the car back onto the road, but says nothing for a period of time. Then she calmly turns to me and tells me what happened.

"The highway moved on me," she announces.

Yes, dear.

Fire the editor

Are the Obama-maniacs losing their buzz?

Right after the election, the Onion did a great bit on how Obama supporters were distraught because, with the election over, they were realizing that their lives were pointless and empty. In the real world, a lot of Obama supporters are distraught because they're learning the guy they elected probably isn't the guy they, the nutcase leftists, had idealized him to be.

Obama's already done a few about-faces on major issues or made appointments that have put the left in, how shall we say? A fit of pique. These include keeping the great Ranger65 as Secretary of Defense, hiring a McCain supporter as National Security Advisor and appointing that warmonger in a pantsuit Hillary as Secretary of State (well, at least we agree that she sucks).

His stance on Iraq, which made him popular way back in 2006 and 2007, has gone from "troops out now, no matter what" to "uh...um...I dunno, let's see what the generals say."

Eli Lake wrote this in The New Republic earlier this week:

"So the real Obama begins to emerge from the campaign fog. You have to admire the guy: he's highly pragmatic, intelligent and most of all...cunning. All the anti-war talk during the campaign was a ruse to charm the Left. Obviously, it worked. They're trying to figure out what hit them, and whether they should get mad or not. Now, faced with reality, he'll follow a course that is virtually a carbon copy of what Pres. McCain would have done. Obama will describe it much differently, of course, to keep tranquilizing the Left. But the substance will be the same."

Obama's change of direction can honestly be called "realism," but that is not something the myopic, idealistic supporters of his campaign are used to or can tolerate. That is especially true when it comes to Iraq, where they want U.S. forces out and, if that's a loss, then goody! Obama's apparent refusal to play along must feel like a pretty heavy betrayal.

That is not the only sign of "betrayal" out there for the lefties to freak out about. There is a great deal of rage over Obama's selection of Rick Warren, the pastor of Saddleback Church in Colorado, to give the invocation at his inauguration. Warren is pro-life and supported Proposition 8 in California, so he's not real high on the list of two big Democratic supporters--the abortionists and the homosexual lobby. The gays REALLY have their panties in a wad over this, calling it a "huge mistake."

Whatever. (I will no

What the lefties are slowly realizing is that Obama left them at the curb when their usefulness was over. Obama's ego is so big that he believes himself to be above partisan politics (which, honestly, may not be a bad thing) and is acting as such. He's being "everyone's president" -- or, at least, he's trying to, until he finds out that's not gonna work.

But, by then, he may have pissed off a lot of his supporters while not wooing any of the folks who opposed him to his size.

Oh, well. Suck it, lefties.

Is THIS why Tommy Tubberville quit at Auburn?

(From the Bleacher Report)

Get the popcorn, get comfortable, and let me tell you a tale. I can neither verify nor deny the authenticity of this story. However, I can verify that there are many truths in it than can be proved. That being said enjoy.

I got these facts from a buddy of mine who is not in the habit of telling tall tales. I'll just call him "Benny". Here's the tale:

Some Auburn relatives were over this past weekend, some of whom are fairly well connected to the program at Auburn and their boosters.

The night Alabama drilled Auburn 36-0, a prominent Auburn booster (not the usual bank-owning one but one who sells pressure-treated wood and wears a yellow hat) made a phone call. This may have been a $5.1 million phone call.

Since he knows most of the SEC coaches on a first-name basis and shoots ads with many of them, he has their personal private phone numbers. So he calls Houston Nutt over in Mississippi and asks what it might take to have Houston change his address again to Auburn.

Apparently, Auburn has a nasty habit of stealing coaches from Ole Miss, but Nutt tells old Yella Fella that he can't take the hit on the credibility scale right now for that kind of move, but thanks.

What many people may not know or may have forgotten is the infamous "Jet Gate" scandal. That was where Bobby Lowder boarded a jet and flew to Louisville to offer then Head Coach Bobby Petrino the head coaching job at Auburn.

Trouble was, Auburn had a head coach who was doing a fairly good job and when word leaked out, the fans and much of administration rallied so strongly that Tuberville was bulletproof. He was now able to snub his nose to Lowder, Pat Dye, and the administration?and boosters that wanted him gone.

These were not men who took a snubbing well. They bade their time until they felt the fans would no longer be a factor. Surely Auburn missing a bowl game, being drilled by Alabama, and the whole Tony Franklin fiasco took all the aces out of Tuberville's hand.

Now here's where it gets interesting. Following "Jet Gate", Tommy had a unique non-interference clause put in his last contract. Auburn pledged that neither the school president nor athletics director or anyone acting under their authority "shall discuss or negotiate directly or indirectly Auburn's prospective employment of any other person as Head Football Coach of Auburn" without giving Tuberville prior notice.

In non-lawyerese, it basically means that if Auburn got caught monkeying around with a new coach behind Tommy's back again he gets paid?a lot.

Unfortunately for Auburn, Nutt's agent is Jimmy Sexton and that just happens to be
Tuberville's agent too. Nutt drops this little nugget to Sexton and Tommy walks in the following Monday discussing his intentions to resign and wants his money now that he knows his contract has been breached.

Now Tuberville can get the money AND leave and coach elsewhere, in effect getting double pay for the next three years! A nice retirement package indeed. Plus, he gets to have the last laugh and snub the backstabbers one more time.

So maybe Auburn was right, maybe Tuberville really did resign. Why wouldn't he? Multi-day discussions ensued, and I'm sure there were lawyers involved. I'm sure it was painfully explained that old Yella Fella could and would be legally held to be an "official booster" much to the dismay of Auburn and the bad boy boosters.

In the end, we see Tuberville's official resignation on December 3 and Auburn paying him the buyout anyway because according to Auburn, it "is the right thing to do." Yes, it's the right thing under the contract. Otherwise, who pays buyouts for resignations, right?

Now, guess who Gene Chizik's agent is? Ding Ding Ding! You are right if you guessed Jimmy Sexton. Now, how does Auburn keep "Jet Gate II" from hitting the front of ESPN in an embarrassing manner? The fans would simply go mad.

Hmmm, perhaps by hiring a Sexton client who needs to get out of his personal football coaching hell known as Iowa State? How else is he going to go anywhere with that 5-19 record?

So, Tuberville walks away with $5.1 million and change and the right to sign another big contract with another team, Nutt gets a nice salary bump and an extension when Ole Miss gets wind of their coach being dangled some bait, and Chiznik gets a big salary increase and a chance from jump a sinking ship into a head coaching job at a big time SEC school.

And Sexton makes almost a million dollars in new commissions off the three new deals. This seems to explain the inexplicable way in which this all went down.

Will we ever know? Not until Jimmy Sexton writes his tell all book, "Tales of the Super Sports Agent." But it's the best version I've heard so far.

Note to self: Do not call firstborn son "Adolf Hitler"

There are few names that should be avoided in the English language, because they're tacky, tasteless and just plain stupid. I'll give you a few. You should not name your kid:

• Lenin (come on, it's tacky. The guy was a loser. You want to associate yourself with a waxy dead dude?)

Mark thinks my name is tacky? Well, he's a capitalist exploiter!

• Stalin (the 20 million rule--you kill 20 million folks, nobody gets your name)
• Mao (same rule)
• Judas (please.)
• Che. (Totally tacky. Get over yourselves, lefties.)
  
• Osama (you should be shot if you even consider this.)

I don't WANT you to name your kid after me, pigdog! So there! (sniff)

• Dick. Please, give your kid a break, especially if your last name is Head.

Hey, what's wrong with Dick?

And you do not, EVER, call your kid "ADOLF HITLER."

Yeah, I'll agree with that, but there's nothing wrong with Dick.

Why? I can give you 20 reasons why some people in Easton, Pa., are dumbasses, but first, a story.

A couple of years ago, the wife and I were at the Cheesecake Factory in the Galleria. We were waiting on our food and were glancing around when I noticed a little kid, maybe three, at the table across from us. And he looked like Der Fuhrer Jr. I mean, the kid had the comb-over, the cleft perfect for the little whackjob mustache and the totally insane look in his eyes that said, "I want lebenstraum and I want it now."

He even pounded the table with his hand open and palm down, like Hitler did. And he was throwing a fit, as if the Juden were keeping the Master Race down or something. Eventually, his momma noticed and said, "What is it, honey? What does baby want?"

"Czechoslovakia," I blurted out.

Adolfmomma (or Papa) didn't find that funny. The missus sure did, though.

Ok, now to the present time.

Guten Tag. Meinen idiot parents have doomed me to a life of scorn.

" A supermarket is defending itself for refusing to a write out 3-year-old Adolf Hitler Campbell's name on his birthday cake....Heath Campbell said he named his son after Adolf Hitler because he liked the name and because "no one else in the world would have that name."

Uh, there's a reason no one else in the world would have that name, you jackhole! And, if you just like the name, why'd you try to have a swastika put on the cake when little Adolf was 2?

I'm sure der wee Furher of Easton, Pa., wouldn't have eaten it otherwise. And, if you have never been to Easton, don't worry--you're not missing much.

Let me introduce you to a genius

Hello. Hims is a smart ones.

For those of you who don't know, the dog seen above is Ripken. Rippy is a really, really smart dog. How smart? Smart enough that you sometimes take it for granted.

There have been days where I've given Rippy very detailed instructions, like he was a human child, and he's followed them to the letter. By that, I mean I've given him multiple tasks, like "Go get the remote, bring it to me, then go wake up Mommy," and I'll have the TV controller and the missus will get a face full of Rippy kisses. It's quite remarkable.

But I really don't know if he's ever done anything quite as good as he did Sunday.

This past weekend, we went to Round Rock to celebrate an early Christmas with my side of the family. I got a pretty good idea that it was time to leave at about noon Sunday when Rippy and Deuce hustled into the car when I was packing it and wouldn't get out. So I turned the car on, cranked up the AC and closed the doors so I could go in and get Sonny and the Missus.

When we came out, the Missus promptly noticed something was amiss.

THE DOORS WERE LOCKED. And there was a Silky terrier right by the driver's side window control panel.

We're screwed. The only set of keys we have is in the ignition, and if we did have another pair, they're nearly 200 miles away!

In desparation, the Missus started to implore Deuce to step on the keylock again and hope it would unlock the doors. Deuce stood there and smiled at her.

Rippy, who had already gone and gotten in his regular spot in the back, was just observing. The he heard Hims Mommy say that we'd need a miracle, like Rippy opening the window, to get in the car.

Still bored and somewhat disinterested, Rippy stood up, walked over to the back right window, and promptly put his front paw on the window lowering button. After it lowered about 8 inches, he turned around, went back in the back and took a nap. That was enough for us to get in the car.

Rippy, of course, was the hero of the day. I don't think he realized it until tonight, when he got steak. But now, I'm pretty sure he'll be looking to help anytime he can.

Top 10 Coolest TV Characters from the 1980s

There were some horrible shows on TV in the 80s--"Webster," "Manimal," Misfits of Science," just to name a few. But there were also some very cool shows on in the Reagan years, some of which I remember. With those cool shows came cool characters. Here's a list of some of the baddest-asses of a badass decade, with pros and cons to explain their ranking:

10. String Fellow Hawk (Jan-Michael Vincent), Airwolf

Yes, I might have a drink before I fly. Is there a problem?

Pros: Highly skilled pilot of a super-awesome helicopter that could defy the laws of physics (could do Mach 3+ without tearing itself apart), which he conveniently stole from the U.S. Government (which did not put, oddly enough, end this show by putting 50 bullets in his brain in the first five minutes of episode 1). The chopper alone, along with the show's theme song, makes him at least moderately cool.

Cons: Then again, this was a dude in his 30s who was obsessed with his brother (ok, the guy was a POW in 'Nam), didn't talk--he mutters--and blows off steam by riding around on a rowboat outside of his smooth mountain lake cottage PLAYING THE CELLO. No wonder JMV ended up a drunk living in a double-wide outside of Vicksburg, Miss. (no shit, you can look it up.)




9. Cliff Huxtable (Bill Cosby), The Cosby Show

Eat your Jell-o Puddin' Pops, kids.

Pros: A loving, caring father with a good job and a sense of responsibility. A refreshing change when a lot of black families (hell, families in general) were disintegrating and men didn't have the guts to take care of their kids.

Cons: He wore a damned sweater. ALL THE TIME. Even kids knew that was lame, and it hurts his standing. But he could still whip String's ass.

8. Dan Fielding (John Larroquette), Night Court

Hi. Didn't I nail your mom in 1988? Or your older sister? Both?

Pros: One of the funniest characters in the history of television, not to mention the most underrated. Would hit anything that moved and always had a hilarious quip to describe his very busy sex life.

Cons: He was a public defender at a night court. This does not speak well do one's competency. His best friend was the judge, who thought lame magic tricks and Mel Torme were cool (Harry Anderson), and he never did nail the hot prosecutor (Markie Post). That hurts, but I doubt Dan cares, because he's out buying another gross of rubbers.


7. Mick Belker (Bruce Weitz), Hill Street Blues

Nobody told me not to go full tard! AAARRRRGH!

Pros: The toughest of tough guys, Belker was an undercover cop on the mean streets of Chicago (though the show never specifically said it WAS Chicago). Belker was not above beating the shit out of a suspect IN or out of the station house and had a fetching battle cry: "AAARRRRRRGGGGGH!"

Cons: Socially retarded. "AAAAARRRRRGGGGH" was about as deep as he got. Weitz was nominated for an Emmy six times as Belker, and won only once. His later career credits include guest spots on JAG and a continuing role, now, on General Hospital. It just goes to show, never go full tard.

6. T.J. Hooker (William Shatner), T.J. Hooker

Spock--you're much dumber than I recall. And Bones, you're much hotter.

Pros: IT'S WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER. Enough said.

Cons: It's very disconcerting to see the Shat in full--ahem, girth, shall we say?--running with a revolver in his hand. Phasers to kill, dude. Also, Adrian Zemed is a lousy Spock and Heather Locklear (in her early 20s, GRRR) is no bones--though she could give you one.
(NOTE: And yes, T.J. Hooker did have dramatic pauses andthentalkrealfastlikethis. Love it.)


5. Michael Knight (David Hasselhoff), Knight Rider

There are no words.

Pros: IT'S THE HOFF! It's not only the Hoff, it's the Hoff with THE CAR! And the theme song! What could possibly be more cool than Turbo Boost?

Cons: Ok, it's the car and the theme that's cool, not the Hoff. The leather jacket with the open shirt under it didn't hide the acting flaws, it compounded them. But you have to admit, he'd kick the ass of everyone on this list so far. And the man is the Shat of my generation.


4. Rick and A.J. Simon (Gerald McRaney and Jameson Parker), Simon and Simon

Yes, we're related. But only one of us married Delta Burke.

Pros: Polar opposites; Rick's the grizzled 'Nam vet, A.J.'s the suave ladies man. But combined, the two not only solved cases and kicked ass, they were hilarious in doing so.

Cons: Hard to find. Maybe the only thing really holding them back is that their coolness diminishes when judged separately and there are three badasses ahead of them. Well, Major Dad doesn't help.


3. Thomas Magnun (Tom Selleck), Magnum P.I.

I know what you're thinking, and you're right--I did make your mom wet.

Pros: I know what you're thinking, and you're right--how could Magnum not be higher on the list? The guy was a SEAL, had the 'stache, looked good wearing tennis shoes without socks, had the Ferrari and drove Higgins nucking futs. And he always got his man.
Cons: You never, EVER wear a belt with a Hawaiian shirt and short shorts! It's not done! And why'd he have to be a Tigers fan?

2. MacGyver (Richard Dean Anderson), MacGyver

Why, yes, I AM going to kill you with this laser-guided bomb and a tampon.

Pros: Never carried a gun, and kicked ass anyway. Could make a weapon out of almost anything, and most of the MacGyver-isms were actually tested before going on the air. Dude could wipe out a Red Army regiment with a paper clip, poilet paper and a Banarama tape. Total stud.

Cons: The long hair was just utterly lame, and the environmental crap the show got into late was no good. WHIP COMMIES AND BAD GUYS, MAC!



1. Lt. Col. John "Hannibal" Smith (George Peppard), The A-Team

If I could shoot, you'd be dead now. B.A., kick his ass.

Pros: Uh, did you ever see the show? Hannibal was the personification of cool, leading his men against insurmountable odds and never breaking a sweat. Cigar firmly chomped in mouth, he always had a pithy comment for the bad guys, looked suave as hell dropping a wrecking ball on a car and saying "nice." And, he brought us one of the greatest lines in TV history: "I love it when a plan comes together." He also tought us that it's ok to always go in through the front door, especially when you're on the jazz.

Cons: Virtually none. Except he was a bad shot. Then again, so was everyone in the 80s.

This blog is brought to you, with some difficulty, by the letter M

About a year ago, the missus and I decided that our desktop computer was giving up the ghost and we needed to get another machine. So we went to Best Buy (Screw you again, Best Buy) and bought a Compaq laptop. It was on sale, so we thought we were getting quite the deal.

I have no decided that we got exactly what we paid for, if not a little less.

See, this here machine has been more of a problem child than any girl with the last name of Spears. First, we tried to get Vista off it and the computer guys at my former employer goatfucked the entire process, leaving it somewhere in between Vista, XP and Not Working At All. My brother-in-law, overworked computer specialist that he is, was able to fix the problem in about an hour (I love the computer guys at my former employer, but they're symptomatic of why that fucking company will die a painful death. It's filled with overloaded people who frequently aren't capable of finding their ass end. But I digress).

So it worked for a while. Then the buttons started falling off. The Windows button is long gone, and I have no idea where it is. That was not good; the real problem was when the M button vanished. That's a bit of a problem, considering that's a pretty major part of the alphabet right there. But, at least the plastic suction nipple was still there to bang on (man, that sounds pornographic. "Hey, baby, bring your plastic suction nipple over here and I'll bang on it." That could cost you $750 in Vegas).

Then the scrollpad, the mouse-like thing, stopped working. After a few reboots, it stopped rebooting to Windows entirely. So I took it to a local mom and pop, who said they'd get right on it.

First, they could get to Windows. Then they had to wipe the existing hard drive, which had somehow become virus-infested (nice anti-virus stuff, Best Buy). Then that drive totally crashed, so new drive. $300 later, the computer has a new drive (and the old version of Word, which is SO much better than 2007).

But the scroll thing still isn't working. And now, neither is the CD-DVD player, which they forgot to install the driver for.

And now, the coup de grace. The suction piece for the M key has come off, and after five attempts to model glue it on, has torn off again, gotten lost and vanished in the quilt Sonny the Pug is snoring on. So I'm literally banging on the baseboard to get the m key to work--which is quite annoying, frankly.

I swear, that if I had enough money, I would remake the scene from Office Space and take this thing out in the backyard and destroy it with a bat. But, since the other computer sucks just as bad, I think I'll just settle with calling this thing a piece of shit on my blog--as I pound on the m spot to get it to work.

On the day the U.N. announces that man-made climate change is undeniable..

Yeah, that's snow. In Pearland, Texas. And it didn't just flurry, it stuck. In fact, it's still snowing as I write this. The missus and I had a snowball fight.

So, Al Gore and you other U.N. phonies, I humbly invite you to go blow yourselves.

See, I told you so--The end of the American newspaper industry

On election day, I posted a bit about how that day would be the death knell of the media--specifically, the print media. I wrote this: "(G)et a good look. (The current media's dominance) ends tonight. The media, as we know it, is about to die. And a well-deserved death it is."

Looks like I was right, but a whole lot faster than I ever expected. The Tribune Company, owner of the Chicago Tribune (duh!) and other papers, has already gone bankrupt. The New York Times, the paper I most despise, is hemorrhaging money, has put up their building as collateral on a $225 million line of credit and is looking to dump other assets, including the Boston Globe and its 17 percent stake in the Boston Red Sox (a fact that, if I were a Red Sox fan OR a Yankee fan, would seriously piss me off). The Miami Herald is already up for sale. Cox Newspapers is in dire straits. The Washington Post hasn't said much yet, but you know they're hurting.

The problem, or so the talking heads say, is that advertising revenue is decreasing rapidly. And that's true; and, it's also true that a lot of that is due to the economy. But all those papers and paper conglomerates were suffering before, as all of them were rapidly losing readers. A lot of people don't realize that papers can't set their ad rates; they're set by an established system that directly links circulation to ad prices (this is why the Dallas Morning News got in a lot of trouble a few years back, because they were lying about their circulation and were overcharging advertisers). Fewer readers=less ad money=less revenue. The problem is compounded when you consider that a lot of advertisers will pull up stakes because they're not reaching the readership they want.

Why the loss of readership? That ain't the economy's fault. That's the fault of the papers themselves. Folks aren't going to pay to read tripe they consider garbage when they can look at it online for free and/or check other sources for the same price.

Papers are obsolete; their leaders are too arrogant and stupid to recognize it. Maybe they'll get it when they're all unemployed or the papers go to Web-only formats with a much smaller staff.

But remember, I called it first.

To the bitch down the street

Dear Bitch, whose husband wears t.u. garb even though he went to Cougar High:

First off, fuck you. You're a snob. But that's not the purpose of this missive. Your bumper sticker is. You know the one: "When Bush took office, the price of a gallon of gas was $1.46."

OOOH, that's deep. It's also utterly fucking pointless. How so, ho? The price of a gallon of gas tonight is $1.42.

Fuck you, bitch.

Jingle THIS, jewelry companies

Have you seen the new Kay Jewelers commercials? If you're a guy, you certainly have, through no fault of your own--they're played about 40 times every football game. I've seen the "couple" of the goofy dude and the HOT redheaded deaf check enough times to see that he's given her at least six different things.

(Note 1 on this: This is the PERFECT woman--hot, easily impressed, willing to give up some good action and she's DEAF. You can scream at the TV, call Tony Romo all kinds of horrific names and she's not gonna give a shit! She's also fake, which figures, because there is no perfect woman.)

(Note 2: Homeboy in that commercial has the best job in the world! He blunders through one goofy take at trying to sign something, gives a gift and gets kissed at least 75 times, so they can show off all the new bling perfect fake deaf chick is getting for Christmas. If Homeboy existed, he alone would get the nation out of its economic doldrums.)

Ok, back to the major point. Of course, at the end of the commercial, there's the annoying jingle: "Every kiss begins with Kay." Cute. Sugary sweet.

And, if they ever did a focus group with REAL men, they'd find it probably prevents 15 percent of men from ever going to Kay Jewelers, because they FUCKING HATE that jingle. You want to do it so men are interested, Kay? Try this: "Get this stuff and you'll get laid." Same beats, fits perfectly. Most guys don't just want a little kissy kissy, they want the beaver if they get the bling bling. Screw the kiss--you can get that after happy hour.

Amazingly, though, Kay may be off the hook for the worst jingle/slogan/whatever for a jewelry company, because Jared be in da howzz. I don't know who Jared is, but I'd really like to kick him in his jewels, because his shit be annoying.

You know what I'm getting at: (Gasp, incredibly fake smile: "He went to Jared!" gasp again).

So he went to Jared--does this make up for his other deficiencies, like he bought that lovely tennis bracelet with money he got from dealing crack or working overtime at the bath house? Or did he get it at a discount, after buying something for his wife (which you, by the way, are not)?

Things to ponder.

But that's not what makes it so annoying. It's the fake gasping, gleeful smiles and envious glances from the other women in the commerical--damn, sounds like one of them just had a great orgasm, not got diamond earrings. If it were reality, it would be more like this: Girl gets earrings. Other chicks give not a fuck where they're from, but glare in disdain. Earring girl looks at them, flips them the bird and says, "SUCK IT, BITCHES!"

So that stuff with the other chicks? Fake. Also annoying. So stop. Try this tactic, Jared: "Get in, get out and get to the bedroom faster." Guys likey.

Or, all jewelry places could go with the best motto ever, from my boy Ron White: "Diamonds--that'll shut her up."

Lousy, crappy, no-good, very bad day by 10 a.m.

Today sucks ass. I am officially decreeing this a suckass day, even though it's 10 till 11 when I write this.

I have my reasons. I will disclose them now. If you read all this and dispute my reasoning, please feel free to comment and then screw you very much. It's a suckass day.

Suckass day really started last night, when the Redskins came out flatter than Gwyneth Paltrow's chest for a game they absolutely, positively had to have. The Ravens kicked their ass all over the place last night, through essentially no credit of their own. The Redskins sucked. Their quarterback is confused, makes the same mistakes repeatedly and has no internal clock telling him to GET RID OF THE DAMNED BALL. The coach keeps on calling the same damned plays that don't work, require too deep of a drop from a quarterback who won't GET RID OF THE DAMNED BALL.

I raged on the Redskins last night--for the first two posessions. Then two things happened: the dogs (all of them, including Sonny) were scared to be around me and I quit watching in favor of House of Saddam.

Note: That House of Saddam thing on HBO is a great miniseries and reminds of how much of a son of a bitch Saddam Hussein really was. But, I apologies, lefties: the world was SO much better with him around. Please stop scuffing the floor and huffing about.

That brings us to this morning. Actually, my lack of sleep did that, considering I don't think I was able to doze off until 1 or 2. This not-sleeping thing is leaving me as frustrated as a priest (a straight one) at a strip club.

I must have fallen asleep sometime, because that's when Deuce went and got in the cabinets. In there, he found some of Sonny's hip medicine. The stuff looks like squares of chocolate or something and smells good enough that I have stop Jaime' from eating one every time he comes to visit. Well, I didn't get to stop Deuce, and he dragged it out of the cabinet and ate some.

By some, I mean all.

I read the bin when I found it this morning and saw that it did not say, "IF CONSUMED IN MASS QUANTITIES BY YOUR IDIOT SILKY TERRIER, THIS MEDICINE IS FATAL." So I decided to let the process play out. It did, as Deuce puked all over the bed, all over the bedroom, then went upstairs and puked all over the suffed chair and the floor. But he's MUCH better now, thank you for your concern.

All of this happened while I was on hold with our mortage people, who sent me to the foreclosure division as soon as I called.

THERE'S some good news. Of course, they had to transfer me once they realized that we weren't behind on our mortgage and they really need to watch that hair-forclosure-trigger they've got for the other 98.5 percent of callers.

I actually was calling because we FINALLY got some money from the insurance folks for our storm damage. Apparently, they didn't think we got hit by more than a squall, because it's less than $2,000. Consider me a much cheaper whore than Julia Roberts, but I'll swallow that and smile. BUT, in order to smile, I had to figure out why the check was made out to me, the missus AND the mortgage people.

Turns out that THEY have to endorse the check too. So I have to send it to them. Return time? Three to five business days. But, at least they won't have to "monitor" our repair progress, so bless them for that. I think they'd get tired of me going back and forth to the hardware store waiting on other shit to come in.

So I have money I can't have yet (but need), a shitty football team and puke all over the house. I'm calling suckass; deal with it.

Top 10 Douchebags, Entertainment Edition

It is difficult -- nay, impossible -- to discuss douchebaggery without giving prominent play to the dumbasses who claim to be entertainers. Their repeated bouts with verbal idiocy cause a stench to emanate from the west coast and New York City that smells worse than a Red Lobster dumpster in the middle of August. It's truly a tough task to limit entertainment douchebags to 10 big ones, because they're almost all full of shit. Unfortunately, they don't use this shit to help fertilize America's farmlands, they use it to tell you, the commoner, how much more they know about politics and global matters than you do. Not that it matters that they really have limited formal education and their only real talent is to sing or cry on command, they = smart and you = stoopid.

This is douchebaggery at its most refined.

NOTE: If you're looking for Keith Olbermann on this list, I apologize. He's such a worthless son of a bitch he's in a category of his own. Where an oft-fired sportscaster with limited abilities and boundless arrogance gets off becoming a factually-deprived political bombthrower is beyond me, but the ratfucker has a following. This is also beyond me, because he's not smart enough to learn how to drive and paints himself as a knowledgeable source on political Americana in spite of the fact he won't vote. Impress me, asshole: parallel park on the way to the voting booth.

10. Scarlett Johansson: In case you didn't know, Scarlett is an Obama girl. That's fine; she's entitled to her opinion. It's her spouting that anyone who doesn't think like her is untermench that makes her despicable. Scarlett thinks that if you vote Republican, you're just a bad person that she could not possibly be friends with (much less screw). You see, she doesn't hang out with people of such hateful ideas and limited intellect--not that she's ever met a Republican, of course. Here's an idea, Scarlett: Go back to playing a 20-something bimbo with nice tits. Even for a douche like you with limited acting ability, that shouldn't be too hard.

9. Michael Moore: We all know this douche, though his prominence has become limited over the past few years (maybe it's because more people are figuring out he's full of shit? NAH). But did you know that Mikey the fact king of the working stiff, does a lot of work in Canada to avoid hiring union labor in the U.S.? Douche!

8. Barbra Streisand: There are but a handful of people who have pontificated badly about politics than Babs has. She has moved into the electronic age now, putting her ideas down on a very confusing and poorly written blog, fraught with spelling errors. When her fuckups are pointed out (frequently difficult, because nobody can figure out what she's writing about anyway), she has her PR peons release a statement saying the people who read her tripe were just too stupid to understand its meaning. That'll get you douche points by itself.

7. Tom Cruise: If you join a cult, you're an idiot. If you publicly pimp said cult, you're a moron. If the cult is Scientology, you've given tens of millions of dollars to it, honestly believe in some guy named Xenu and think your kid is the reincarnation of a lousy sci-fi author, your name is Tom Cruise and you're a douche. And, just when you think Tom's getting a clue back with his role as Les Silverman in Tropic Thunder, he goes totally NoCal in his awful portrayal of Claus von Stauffenberg in Valkyrie. Total douchedom.

6. Alex Rodriguez: I have a problem with athletes who think they're bigger than the game they play. GA-Rod certainly does, as he proved by opting out of his contract last year during game 4 of the World Series (don't give me this crap that he didn't know Scott Boras was going to do it). I also have a real problem with any dumbass who dumps his wife and two kids to shack up with the whore who's number 2 on this list. By the way, GA-Rod, she's not your "Fucking Soulmate"--neither of you have a soul.

5. Rose O'Donnell: In honor of her holocaust of a blog, we'll do this one her way.
used to be the queen of nice
lost her fucking mind
now just a vicious dyke with no talent and an enemies list longer than the 100 years war
hates bush, hates barbara walters, hates trump
really hates cute little hasselbeck
hates christianity
hates everyone, really
had a bad variety show for one episode, found out that everyone else hates her
hows the view from crazy douche?

4. Hanoi Jane Fonda: If we go by lifetime achievement, she's number one and it's not even close. But it's been 40 years since she was really relevant and her whining against Iraq was so pathetic that we'll just let her know that she's such a piece of shit that she's not even one of the best pieces of shit. She's just a geriatric whining bitch. Back during Desert Storm, the F-4G Wild Weasel pilots had a shirt made up that said, "Fuck you, Jane Fonda." The sentiment still applies. She can drop dead whenever she wants.

3. Susan Sarandon/Tim Robbins: Sarandon used to be the bigger douche of this braindead power couple, but Robbins is such an asshole that he's grabbed the family prize. These two are so deep of the left end of the gene pool that they named one of their kids (John Henry) after a murderer they thought had been framed and worked hard to release. Once the guy got out, he promptly killed someone else. I'm sure that's Bush's fault, even though he wasn't in office. Oh, and Timmy--when someone points out you're too fucking stupid to know where to vote, that doesn't make them a scumbag; it reinforces your douchedom. Meat.

2. Madonna: Compares Bush and McCain to Hitler. Endorses the cult of Kabbalah. Forces cult on her kids. Writes childrens books while still living a disgusting profanity of a lifestyle. So old she uses polygrip before giving a blowjob, but still considers herself a sex symbol. Gives us images like this:

FOR THE LOVE OF YAHWEH, STOP IT, GRANNY! You're old, you're stupid, you're revolting and you're a douche! Only gay men and ugly, sexually repressed women like you anymore, so shut up and leave the rest of us alone!

1. Sean Penn: Formerly married to number 2, Penn's the easy winner because he's not only an asshole, he's confused movies with reality. He not only snuggles with Hugo Chavez and other anti-American scumbags, he acts like he's straight out of a Louis Lamour novel. If you dare, go read his blog on the Huffington Post. It's verbose self-congratulation (he really thinks he's a big star in the slums of Venezuela, for example) mixed with really fucked-up political ideas and more than a mix of simple arrogance to boot--with a plotline that comes right out of Hollywood. He's arrogant, he's stupid, he's not sure if he's on screen or off. That could be very confusing, so we'll simplify: Sean, you're just a fucking douche.

Touchy waiters

I'm a pretty easy guy to keep happy at a restaurant; I'm even easier to keep sated at a bar. Give me my beer, keep it coming and I'll tell you when to stop.

The other day, I went to my favorite local dive with the Missus and a friend of the blog, who we will call "Metro." We were watching football, which one is apt to do on a Sunday afternoon. They had $2 Bud Lites, which was a good thing. The Missus even ordered me one while I was in the can, which was great.

So I drained it. The dude who was watching over us saw I was done brought me another one.
That's good.

But when he did, he came up from behind, put his hand on my shoulder and put the beer down.

I kind of gave that "huh?" look that you give when something happens you don't expect--sort of like Baylor winning a football game.

Metro and the Missus both noticed it and thought it odd. A few minutes later, the guy came back to check and make sure everything was ok. Hand on shoulder again.

Once, coincidence; twice, knock that shit off. Three times--Cheney, what do you do then?

I was going to find out, because he did it EVERY FUCKING TIME HE CAME BY THE TABLE. For three hours!

If you're a chick, that's cool. In fact, that's kind of hot (if, of course, they're hot). If it's a dude, you sort of feel dirty and violated. By the time he left, I felt like I needed to go to a battered bar-frequenter's shelter.

I would like to say that he didn't do it to Metro. I guess I should feel flattered. All I know is, the beer didn't come fast enough for that to be acceptable.

I really hope that, this weekend, he doesn't think we're on familiar terms now and tries to grope me. That would be...awkward.

Bath and Body Works Blows

Dear Best Buy and Home Depot:

You both suck (Home Depot, you fucked up by making me wait an hour to get 17 fence pickets today). But you pale in comparison to Bath and Body Works--at least, the one in Jonesboro, Arkansas.

A good friend of the blog, who is hard-wired into the scene up there, tells of four girls, between the ages of 11 and 14, who raised some money for St. Jude's Children's Hospital in Memphis.

Not a little money--$11,000. They were going to use the money buy Christmas presents and other essentials for the poor kids at the hospital. One of the places they were going get stuff was Bath and Body Works.

The kids were thrown out by the manager, who didn't want that many minors in the store, accompanied by one adult. The mother explained what they were doing and how much money they had to spend, and the manager responded by saying they could wait outside while the mom shopped.

That didn't fly well--neither did the attempt to give them a coupon of $10 off of a purchase of $30 or more, to be used while the girls waited outside.

There's incompetence, there's shitty service, and then there's a complete lack of human decency. This Bath and Body Works hit the trifecta. One wonders if it's company policy.

Top 10 Douchebags Currently Drawing breath

I don't know exactly what it is about election season, but it seems like everyone in the world has to bare their ass for all to see. The douchebaggery quotient is off the scale every cycle, with people trying oh-so hard to make themselves out to be the biggest pieces of human refuse on the planet.

I will not include politicians of the current vintage (save one, and I have ample reason for his inclusion) in this list, because that's too touchy and, frankly, I don't think any save Joe Biden qualify. So fuck you, Bush-haters, go somewhere else.

A lot of those people will be honored in the next post, which is the top 10 entertainment douches. But there are some people out there who Madonna and Sean Penn just can't touch, no matter how hard they try. And here are a list of those people:

10) Jacques Chirac, former president of France: This guy is one grande merde. This freaking scumbag was violently opposed to the war in Iraq, to the point where he berated the president to his face during a press conference. This made him a hero to the American left.
What those dumbass leftists DIDN'T know is that Chirac had a vested interest in stopping the war, and it had nothing to do with his moral compass, which spins faster than Boy George's head at a men's water polo match. Chirac was trying to keep his sugar daddy in power, plain and simple. Chirac had been in Saddam Hussein's back pocket for more than 20 years, transparently helping them build their weapons programs (the CIA and Mossad called the Osirak reactor, which the Israelis blew up in 1982, O-Chirac in his honor). He had also helped them skate around U.N. sanctions put in place after Desert Storm, for which he was paid beaucoup bucks. When Chirac left office, candidate Nikolas Sarkozy made it clear he'd look into Chirac's dealings with Iraq and his other illegal activities, so Chirac and his sack of shit buddy, prime minister Dominique de Villepin (head) tried to have the French intelligence agencies spy on Sarkozy and make up his alleged involvement with a bank known as Clearstream, which allegedly gave Sarkozy kickbacks in exchange for support. It didn't work and the two were caught.
American Bush-haters still revere Chirac, but they're too stoopid to do their homework anyway. If they did, they'd find out he's just a shitbag politician with a rap sheet that would give a Chicago pol a hard-on.

9) Jimmy Carter, 39th President of the United States: There has probably never been a more genteel, soft-spoken bucket of shit than the Man from Plains. Though he hasn't been relevant for nearly three decades, Carter hasn't let that stop him from criticizing every move made by George W. Bush from the instant he came into office.
Carter has tried very hard to promote himself as a dignified man of the world, a diplomat with a conscience. What he is is a hard-left dumbass. His weak handling of the crisis in Iran in the late 1970s led to the fall of the Shah, the rise of the Ayatollah Khomeini and the Iran-Iraq war--which, in turn, led to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, Desert Storm, 9/11 and Operation Iraqi Freedom. Carter has no problem condemning the Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom, while ignoring the fact his ineptitude helped cause them. There's also his pussyish response to the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan and his moronic highly liberal domestic policies, which led to a major recession (THAT was a recession, you mindless liberal boobs)!
So, Carter got his ass kicked in 1980. But he didn't go quietly; he has since snuggled up with the likes of Hugo Chavez, Fidel Castro, Saddam, Hamas and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Basically, if you hate America, Jimmy Carter loves you. And that's why I hate him.
Well, that and the fact that he called my wife "little lady" when she interviewed him, and she's taller than the damned midget. So, there you go: Carter's a socialist twit who hates America and, from what I've learned, is a sexist pervert. Yeah, he's a douche.

8) U.S. Rep. Charles Rangel (D-NY): Ol' Charlie is the head of the House committee that helps write the U.S. Tax Code. You know, the one that crawls up your ass every April and takes your hard-earned money. Well, not if you're Charlie--then you lie and don't pay takes. When you're writing the code and then ignore it, you're a douche. Take a bow, Chuckles.

7) Cindy Sheehan: Her son was killed in Iraq. That is a tragedy. That she took his death and transformed it into an effort to get herself in front of every camera in America is disgusting. She even ran for Congress, for God's sake! She's a zero, whoring her the memory of her son (who didn't like her) for personal advantage. Douchebag!

6) Vladimir Putin, Godfather of Russia: Ok, there are thugs, there are dictators, and there's this son of a bitch. The guy is former KGB and is running the world's largest country (by land mass) like it's the Gambino Crime Family. He's also trying to restart the Cold War, which is just what NOBODY needs.
A few years ago, he suckered President Bush into stupidly saying that he'd seen into Putin's soul and found his intentions to be good. I find that hard to believe, because he has no soul. He's just a very suave douchebag.

5) The ISI and Pakistani Military: The ISI is that Pakistani Intelligence Service. The Pakistani military is...well, the Pakistani Military. They are also scum. The ISI created the Taliban and kept them alive after the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan in 2001. The continue to support them, arm them and keep them from getting their asses handed to them by training and housing them in Pakistan (which is why the Predators show up all the time). The Pakistani Military is supposed to be fighting the Taliban in the northern parts of Pakistan, but they show up, puss out and leave. Now, after another ISI group hit Mumbai last week, the Pakistanis have pissed-off Americans to the north and REALLY pissed-off Indians to the south. And they only have their own douchebaggery to blame.

4) Mohammed el Baradai, chairman of the International Atomic Energy Agency: Hoo boy, his this guy a shithead. Actually, I take that back--he knows exactly what he's doing, and that's trying to put up a smokescreen so some muslim country can build a nuke and throw it at Israel. el Baradai, for the past six years, has tried to stop any inspection of Iran's nuke facilities and continues to maintain that those crazy fucks are building these facilities in a nation awash in oil for peaceful purposes only. The Syrians build a secret nuke site and the Israelis blew it up last year, so who does ol' Mo get pissy with? You got it, the Jews. The guy's transparently full of shit, but he continues to operate like he's the only guy in the world who has the right answers. No, Mo, you're just a douchebag.

3) Hugo Chavez, Moron-in-Chief of Venezuela: What is up with dudes in oil-rich countries implementing economic policies that bankrupt them? Ok, two decades ago about half the world was communist/socialist. It failed everywhere. So what's Hugo do, after stealing power? Try to implement communism (oh, I'm sorry, his personal ball-licker, Sean Penn, says it's "Democratic Socialism") and be president for life! Of course, he also supports terrorists and nations hostile to the U.S.--all things in the douchebag playbook.

2) Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Lunatic-in-Chief of Iran: This motherfucker has done a whole lot more than irritate the U.S. and kill some of our boys through his transparent support of Shiite insurgents in Iraq (YES, LIBERALS, IRAN IS INVOLVED!) He is building a nuclear bomb. This is not good when it's in the hands of a sane person, but this asshat wants to bring back the 12th Imam (which, according to Shiite tradition, can only occur at the endtime). In other words, he wants to start Armageddon. I think we all know how he intends to do that. This makes him a douchebag.

1) Osama bin Laden/Ayman al Zawahiri: Douchebags who need no introduction. Fuck you clowns.

Someone call the fashion police!

Let us start this post by agreeing to the following: it is stupid to name your colors names beyond the basics like blue, green, red, or whatever. Going beyond color descriptions like "burgundy" is just pretentious.

If you're an NFL team and you've never been above .500 in your entire freaking existence, coming up with names for your colors is not only pretentious, it's moronic.

Meet the Houston Texans, color morons.

Tonight, Monday night, the Texans are wearing "Battle Red." This is their alternate jersey, as opposed to their "Deep Steel Blue" and "Liberty White" combination.

To the rest of the world, this means they have white jersey/blue pants and blue jersey/white pants combinations. There is NOTHING special to their colors, yet they've named them like they're mysterious or dynamic.

They sure as shit don't make them win. They just make them sound like a bunch of haughty snobs who routinely get the shit kicked out of them by the Titans and Colts.

And then we have "Battle Red."



Ok, giving extra names to your colors is bad. Making your players wear outfits that look like they're wearing long underwear or prison uniforms at Santa's Penal Colony is utterly frigging ridiculous.

The Texans, once again, suck. But for the love of God, will someone stop them before they design again?

Some adult left behind

Ever wonder how one gets a job at Walgreens? Well, apparently a solid gasp of basic addition and subtraction is not a requirement to rise into management. The following sign was found in a Walgreens in Round Rock, Texas this past Friday.


Now, I may have flunked out of engineering (twice), but I do know enough math to know that either constitutes false advertising or utter stupidity. No child may be left behind, but some adults never got out of the starting gate.