Monday, May 28, 2007

This Has All Been Wonderful

Saturday marked the third anniversary of Slack LaLane's unfortunate inception, and on this Memorial Day, we pause not to remember those who deserve and who've earned our respect, but instead to celebrate three long years of casual racism, misguided misogyny and equal parts self-aggrandizement and self-deprecation. It's been a remarkable run.

Thirty-seven months ago I received a phone call from my longtime associate Don Fiedler, who wanted to emulate our friend Mulgrew's burgeoning success by starting one of them blogs. As is custom with our good ideas, nothing materialized immediately -- we were impeded by the simple task of finding an online moniker for the site.

In May of 2004 I sat in my apartment listening to some hilarious stage banter from a bootleg of the popular rock band Phish's 5/28/89 show, and our eventual blog's name jumped right from the Maxell XLII to the free blogger template. Donnie dropped by for an evening of Yank'ums baseball, and we filled out some basic information. The rest, as they say, is histor...ical lameness.

About 1,100 days have elapsed since that fateful evening, and since then we've published 1,540 posts, some of them short blurbs, some epic narratives, some news and some opinion, some about sports, some about politics, but most about complete and utter nonsense. We've tried to be your sherpas in the quest to tackle boredom, your Internet wrangler, your web shepherd, the mercury in your online thermometer. And even though Fox News curiously credited us as a legit news source on its heavily watched 7 pm newscast, I feel as though we've done our level best to earn a reputation as a fierce playground of irreverence.

But as I've begun to realize, there's only so many times you can write a post with the phrase "a total Schiavo" in place of "no-brainer" (27, actually). Did I really substitute "craisins" for "crazy" in 53 separate posts? And how many times can we make fun of the handicapped, the blacks and the Jews before it loses all meaning altogether?

So if this blog started by borrowing its name from the words of a certain Vermont foursome, maybe it should borrow from their graceful exit as well: "This Sunday, I got together with Don to talk openly about the strong feelings I've been having that Slack LaLane has run its course and that we should end it now while it's still on a high note. Once we started talking, it quickly became apparent that Don's feelings, while not all the same as mine, were similar in many ways -- most importantly, that we both love and respect Slack and the Slack audience far too much to stand by and allow it to drag on beyond the point of vibrancy and health. We don't want to become caricatures of ourselves, or worse yet, a nostalgia act. "

I've often said that bloggers and blog readers employ the perfect combination of exhibitionism and voyeurism. I've loved sharing our world with everyone, but sometimes, for one reason or another, it's best to shut the drapes. The writing's been on the screen for quite some time now. Between my real job and the music blog I so often plug here, Slack's sadly become an afterthought in our world of mighty procrastination. And instead of letting the quality steadily decline, the time to close the curtains has officially come.

We started out as yucksters making some weird jokes, but eventually we fell in love with the community that sprouted in the comments section. And online relationships begot real friendships, and I've truly met some great people through this endeavor. I'm not sure I'll miss posting daily, but I'll certainly miss reading the perspective so many of you brought to the blog in between meetings and classes and social events. Many of the names have changed from the early days, but everyone who posted a comment made it possible for us to last this long. Three years, 650,000 visitors and 1.1 million hits later, we're flatly out of gas and ready for bed.

For those of you that can stomach music talk, I'll still be posting regularly over on my Hidden Track outpost, and I'll probably be starting another niche site by the end of the summer. And if you're really jonesin' for some Slack attitude, you can e-mail us at and we'll send you a shot of our boobies and the top offbeat story of the day.

And since I can't find a clever way to sign off forever, I'll just link to a song I wrote many years ago for occasions of this magnitude:

Class is dismissed. Yous're all on your own now. Thanks for playing.

Friday, May 25, 2007

I Don't Even Wanna Know

Top medical journal blasts "designer vagina" craze

Ever since I found out about Ron Albertson's penis reduction surgery, as well as his wife Sheila's potential vagina enlargement, I've been very interested in the exciting world of genitoplasty. Now I can't wait to get married and buy my wife a designer cooch.

Slack Link of the Day: Only two words necessary -- Gay Robot.

Thursday, May 24, 2007


Those wacky Coen Brothers are out with a short clip involving Steve Buscemi that's worth an afternoon screening. I got nuthin' else:

And on that note...I'm finished, done. Amuse yourselves.

Monday, May 21, 2007

My Mother, The Director (y futbol)

My mother called me yesterday inviting me to the elementary school production she's been charged with patiently directing. The woman's genuinely the nicest, sweetest, most generous person on this planet, and yet the following conversation still ensued:

Mom Cowboy: "It's not Broadway, obviously, but it's something. You know, some of them are really good, some of them are retarded. Everyone tried out and I tried to get everyone involved. There are special ed kids in the play."

Ace Cowboy: "Oh, so when you said 'some of them are retarded' you meant that some of them are actually retarded?"

MC: "Yes! It's a riot, it really us. The lead is hilarious, he's great, and some of the other ones are pretty good, too...and then there are a bunch of kids that aren't so good. I have one Chinese kid that doesn't know he's retarded. One kid has Tourette's. It's going to be hysssssterical, you're gonna laugh in your chair the whole time.

AC: "That does sound fairly unmissable. I'll try my best."

I really want to put in for a press pass so I can live blog this thing. I hope Tourette's Kid has a big part in Greased Lightning.

It's Kaká! It's Gerrard! It's midfielders looking lovingly into each other's eyes and holding a ball! It's the UEFA Champions League final!

This homoeroticism ends at 2:30 EST when AC Milan looks for revenge against Liverpool for the greatest comeback in European history, the night the Reds overcame a 3-0 deficit to defeat the I-tals on penalties. I doubt this one will be the scorcher it was in 2005, but it's the last meaningful soccer game involving an English side we'll watch 'til August, and coincidentally it's a Scouse Special. I started the season at the Red Lion, I'll end it in the same spot.

I think we're in for far less than six goals in this one, but let's look back at Istanbul for a look at total fucking awesomeness:

For a more in-depth view of the final, let's check in with our good friends over at That's On Point. I like Liverpool 2-1. Mark 'em.

Well Freakin' Done, Denny

It's been a busy day here at the ol' oficina, but not busy enough to keep me from offering up this little political quiz...

The striking woman with presidential candiate Dennis Kucinich is:

A. His kid's friend that helps with campaign appearances
B. His co-star in the new documentary "How Tall Do Some Redheaded Chicks Look Next To Hobbits from Cleveland?"
C. His $499 state-of-the-art sex robot named "Roja Awesome"
D. His 29-year-old hippie wife from Upminster, England

If you guessed (D), you know more about the Congressman than I do (or you realized those other options were lamer than FDR's legs). Rep. Kucinich is indeed married to this fine, young thang, and the story about her in yesterday's Sunday Times UK is worth a read.

Among the great pieces of information you'll find out about this potential first lady: She's got a tongue ring, the signature on her business e-mail comes from Kama Sutra, he proposed on their second meeting and married three months later, and somehow, Shirley MacLaine got herself into this article.

I know I'm poking some fun here, but I'm a fan of these two finding each other. It gives hope to everyone out there, even commie dorks. Anyone else think the little guy is packin' enormous junk?

Friday, May 18, 2007

Gimme Six Shlitzeses...Or Whatever's Free

It's been a long week for everyone. Well, fuck all'a youse, it's been an incredibly long week for me. So I'm just gonna fall asleep at my desk until I can head outta here, and in the meantime, you should all enjoy this awesome 1970s beer mersh for Shlitz Malt Liquor starring the Average White Band and Tommy James & The Shondells. Wow.

It ain't Schmidt's Gay, but it's something. It's something, alright.

Slack Link of the Day: A few friends and I hit the Bowery Ballroom to catch the ever-popular !!! at on Wednesday, and my lazy ass just posted a review an hour ago. If you're into sweating your ass off to pure-energy dance-punk bands, check these guys out.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Idol Worship in Brief

Here's an interesting, albeit buried info-morsel from the NY Times:

"Derek Jeter singled in the first game of Wednesday’s doubleheader to give him hits in 92 of his past 100 games. According to the Society for American Baseball Research, no player in the 1900s had a hit in as many as 92 of 100 games. The last player to do it was Wee Willie Keeler, who hit in 93 of 100 games 1898 and 1899."

Lost in this broader stat is the fact that Jeter has hit safely in something like 72 of his last 75 games. It's certainly been a slow start for the Yank'ums, and most of them are playing like their shoes are tied together or like they have some fucked up chromosomes, but you can't put that on the Captain. Over the course of two seasons, this guy is putting together one of the sickest stretches in batting history, and he deserves to at least be given a rusty trombone by someone.

I just love stats, and this one's pretty cool. Standing ovation for the dude with the well-intentioned yet wholly inexplicable fade haircut.

Slack Videos of the Day: Allright, nobody's above a good fart joke, and today we've got two videos surrounding the best of the flatulence -- the first video is an anchor losing his shit when his co-anchor toots on air, the second is probably fake, but it's one of the better videos of all-time, steppin' on ducks or otherwise. Aflac!

Okay, one more, because I just can't even believe this one. Colonel Fritzy sent this one over a few minutes ago, and I've already sent it to like 5,000 people and their wives and children and pets:

Long live the US Armed Forces...military intelligence, baby.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Ohhh, the Humanity: You Got Served, Yo

Chiptole Bob sent this one over today. I have no words. At all.

The least that little girl could do was stick the landing, no?

Man of God, Man of Hate, Man of Death

It's always sad when someone dies. But while it's sad to lose any life, a man of such active hate deserves no good will in death. I don't come to praise or bury the now-deceased Jerry Falwell, I just thought I'd note that the world lost a real dipshit today. And I'm the asshole.

"I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'" --J. Falwell

What did they help make happen? 9/11! Sorry to see a man lose his life, but I'd like to see the transcript of his first meeting with Satan.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Bangin' the Ottoman

Since I just spent like 10,000 words on English football, I figured I'd put this post on top of it to entertain the non-soccer fans. But now that this post is on top, I bet it's gonna try to dry hump the shit out of the post beneath it. Dear lord, this video is frighteningly awesome.

I also make sweet love to my door and my ottoman on a regular basis.

A Long Summer Awaits: EPL in Review

I'm an obsessive, but at least I can recognize my own behavior. And over the past nine months, nothing has touched the immense passion I've re-discovered in myself for the Beautiful Game.

The season kicked off in August with a 7:30 am wake-up call and a solo trip to the Red Lion for an unfortunate Liverpool draw with (Gary) Sheffield United at Bramall Lane. It concluded on Sunday with Slack co-founder Don Fiedler on my couch for the conclusion of the relegation battle that saw West Ham United defeat the Premier League champion Manchester United to avoid demotion. In between, the world's best and brightest treated us to one of the best complete sports seasons I've been fortunate enough to follow.

Chelsea flirted with the quadruple, Manchester United searched for the treble, Arsenal debuted its youngsters to the world, my Liverpool's headed back for its sixth taste of European glory, and three great friends and I spent a week in the United Kingdom for a Football Fantasy come true, five matches in seven days that included a night in the same stadium as the one and only Morten Gamst Pedersen.

So let's take a look back at the creature that stole my weekend sleep, starting with some serious categories and winding our way closer to the usual offbeat Slack-type nonsense. Without further (Freddy) ado, with a clever assist from Donnie, here's my EPL Year in Review:

Best Offseason Transfer: Dimitar Berbatov -- Tottenham Hotspur
How do you say "Hey, at least you did one thing right this year, Martin Jol!" in Bulgarian? Andriy Shevchenko surely commanded the most coinage and column inches to finally join Chelsea, but the 26-year-old Berbatov has clearly been the best signing of the summer transfer window. The most consistent player on a wholly inconsistent Spurs side, Berbatov scored 23 goals in all competitions for Tottenham following his transfer from Bayer Leverkusen.

With Jermaine Defoe and Robbie Keane taking turns completely disappearing, and with goalkeeper Paul Robinson blowing goats (I have proof) on a regular basis, Berbatov stepped up for the sputtering Spurs and almost single-handedly led them to European play next year. The big clubs will come calling in the months ahead, and both Arsenal and Manchester United would love to add his services up front, but I don't see Big D's swarthiness leaving White Hart Lane behind. Can Jol really let that face (or that awesome watch) get away? I doubt it.

Delayed Chernobyl Effect Syndrome...of the Year: Shevchenko
Twenty years after the biggest nucular disaster in history, Sheva finally succumbed to the radioactivity coursing through his Ukranian veins and delivered the most retarded first half since Corky Thatcher laced up his velcro boots for West Bromwich Albion in the late '80s. Sheva showed flashes later on, but we fully expect him to grow an arm out of his abdomen by the time he's transferred back to Italia.

Best Midseason Transfer: Javier Mascherano -- Liverpool
Strange that one of the biggest disappointments of the August window turns out to be the best midseason pickup. I'm not saying Liverpool would have been knocked out of the Champions League had they decided against acquiring the Argentine, but snatching the role-less midfielder from West Ham at the close of the January window looks like another brilliant move by Buster Bluth Rafa Benitez. Like Arthur says when Linda Marolla asks what it's like to be on a yacht, "It doesn't suck," and picking up Monster Masch certainly didn't suck for the Reds.

Momo Sissoko returned from injury a step slower and, surprisingly, even more inaccurate in his passing. Mascherano filled in admirably in the holding mid role that Sissoko grew out of, and by taking the first-team spot, he breathed some much-needed new life into a Liverpool side that only had one thing left to play for: Champions of Europe. Masch came in and fit in, immediately, kinda like that New Guy with Sideburns who came into Shawshank and filled the inmates with hope. Let's just pray AC Milan doesn't have the guards shoot him in the prison yard before game time on the 23rd. And if he can convince his good buddy Charlie Tevez to jump ship and join the Reds this summer, he'll officially be the greatest signing of Rafa's tenure.

"Tough Season, Dude" Award: Juan Pablo Angel -- Aston Villa
Angel clearly does not deserve his place in the EPL Review Show opening credits every Sunday night any longer. The Colombian international probably enjoyed suffered through the second-most bizarre season of anyone in the Premier League (we'll get to Carlos Tevez in a minute). Angel had one of those days back in mid-October when he missed a second-half penalty kick and scored an own goal for 10-men Tottenham within the span of two minutes.

First team before that day, Angel started only four matches for the remainder of the season and was used sparingly off the bench. Villa boss Martin O'Neill then buried Angel when he brought in young, virile strikers in the form of John Carew and Ashley Young. Finally, O'Neill gave the club's former top scorer the Old Yeller Treatment, shot him in the head and buried him in the Meadowlands (they shipped him off to the friggin' Red Bull New York on a free transfer). Rough year, but at least he's got this awesome photo to his credit:

Bizarre-oh World Award: Carlos Tevez -- West Ham United

Mascherano and Tevez made some strange third-party deal that nobody quite understood and bolted Corinthians for West Ham on the final day of the August transfer window...then promptly had no impact whatsoever on the football there. None. Ningún. The Hammers failed to win any of their next seven games, registering six defeats and a draw (scoring only twice in that span). Expectedly and quite deservedly, Tevez's club then sacked Alan Pardew in the Great London Alan Swap of Late 2006 (Pardew, out; Curbishly in) after the manager inexcusably and inexplicably could not find a place for either of his imported Argentines.

Tevez finally opened his Premiership account on a gorgeous free kick against Spurs in early March (embedded above), and then we're talkin' floodgates. The 23-year-old put the surely demoted West Ham on his back and personally led them from the drop zone to safety, scoring seven goals over the club's final 10 games of its campaign to avoid relegation. He gored through the ManU back line and scored the club's only goal in a 1-0 win at Old Trafford to complete the Great Escape, and in last weekend's huge match against Bolton he netted two and set up a great volley from Young Mark Noble.

Oh yeah, and there's also the matter of Tevez's involvement in one of the biggest scandals in the recent history of English football: Several teams have threatened multimillion-dollar lawsuits over the Premier League's failure to dock West Ham points in regard to the controversial transfer. So all summer long a loud, obnoxious furor will surround a man that doesn't even speak the language of the people arguing about him (and now he's pullin' a Vlad Guerrero and refusing to even try). Nine months ago he was a star on the rise following the World Cup; now he's a lightning rod for the bottom teams and an acquisition target for the bigs. Not a bad year for Carlito.

RIAA Envy Award: Premier League Sues YouTube
I will never understand the motivation behind the companies and organizations that pepper legal action against the people spreading their gospel. Sure, copyright protection is a major priority for anyone with tangible property, but talk about biting the teet that feeds you...this is either idiocy or lunacy, or both. I could probably write 2,500 words on this alone, but I enjoyed our friend from That's On Point's succinct and well-phrased take -- go over there at some point and read it. In any event, many YouTubes remain, but they're slowly coming down. Bollocks.

(Relatedly, I read at least five well-written soccer blogs a day, and they're all fantastic, but if I were to give out an award for must-read daily coverage of the sport, the aforementioned TOP gets my vote.)

Horror Challenge of the Year: Ben Thatcher on Pedro Mendes
I'm guessing Man City's Thatcher spent much of the afternoon asking Portsmouth's Mendes, "Oy, what in the bloody 'ell does Pompey mean, mate?" When Mendes failed to answer his repeated inquiry, Thatcher had no choice but to deliver a vicious elbow for seemingly no reason. These replays make me weak in the knees:

Earned Nickname of the Year: Arjen Robben -- Chelsea

I couldn't find a photo in the Google Images scrap heap that accurately portrayed the Dutchman's running style, but if you've ever seen Robben sprint the length of the pitch with possession, you'll know why my colleague Don Fiedler started referring to him as "Jazz Hands." I'm actually a huge fan of Robben's, but if I could slip him a note after a match one day, it'd definitely say "Dude, stop running like you're air-drying your nail polish. P.S. Why do you look so old?"

Carl Pavano Achievement Award: Matthew Upson
In search of upgrades all over the pitch, West Ham signed the central defender from Birmingham City for a minimum of six million pounds at the end of the January window. My friends and I happened to be at Villa Park for his Hammers debut, and we watched as he limped off about 30 minutes into the first half (to a chorus of boos from a former rival club). Upson missed a month for his new team, returned to start the March 4th match against Spurs and limped off 11 minutes into that one. If you're counting at home, that's six millions pounds plus salary for 41 minutes since February 3rd. New West Ham owner and Icelandic biscuit magnate Eggert Magnusson can't be diggin' that horrific investment, although I think he's busy singing "I'm the one who said just grab 'em in the biscuits" to truly care. And Pavano still sucks more than anyone, ever.

First Annual Mark Viduka Award: Mark Viduka -- Middlesbrough
Just because. The guy's a beast, a part-Croat, part-Ukranian, all Australian beast. He looks like he should be playing rugby or lifting cars over his huge head for sport. Love that Viduka.

Injury of the Season: Paddy Kenny -- (Gary) Sheffield United
Back in November, Sheffield goalkeeper Paddy Kenny had his eyebrow bitten off during a midweek brawl. Let me say that one again: The guy had his eyebrow bitten off. But that's not even the worst part. The Sun reported the culprit was a mate that had just admitted to sleeping with Kenny's wife. That's not a decent night.

Glenn Roeder Caretaker Manager of the Year: Les Reed -- Charlton

In the middle of that Great London Alan Swap of Late 2006, caretaker manager Les Reed (pronounced: Lez) parked himself on the Charlton bench and didn't move or show expression. Charlton earned four points in seven matches under him, and he exited as quickly as he became manager. Awesomely, he was last seen spotted on the United States of Fulham sidelines with caretaker manager Lawrie Sanchez.

Deadwood Dan Dority Eye Gouge of the Year: Joey Barton
Barton and Man City teammate Ousmane Dabo could have also taken home some sort of Kieran Dyer v. Lee Bowyer Same Team Melee Award, but Barton's indiscretion was more violent and the Dyer v. Bowyer tiff happened outside the training ground. So scratch that thought like Barton scratches retinas. But Barton's assault on Dabo can only be described as a brutally savage outwardly Oedipal reaction that has no place in soccer or society. I boo this man.

Scottie Pippen Award: Nemanja Vidić -- Manchester United
You know how good quarterbacks like to buy their offensive line Rolexes and steak dinners? Well, (Her name is) Rio Ferdinand should buy his defensive partner a car, a house and a team of hooker stewardesses to go with his new private jet...really, whatever the hell he wants. Rio gets al the credit, but it's the Serbian and/or Montenegran that's been responsible for so much of the success of the Man U back four. Just wanted to get that out.

Everything's 60 Million Bucks Award: Everyone
As the relegation battle escalated, all of a sudden everything became bathed in the light of $60 million. Clint Dempsey's goal was worth $60M to the U.S. of Fulham, Yossi Benayoun's line clearance and Tevez's goal in the final match against ManU, Phil Jagielka's hand touching the ball before halftime of the Wigan/Sheffield game, Paul Jewell's ball sack, Neil Warnock's toenails. I love the fact that these teams are playing for something, but it's time to put this one to rest.

Goal of the Year: Michael Essien -- Chelsea
We had some great candidates this season, with the real best goal being Ronaldinho's bicicleta against Villareal earlier in the Spanish campaign. But let's stick with the EPL -- we had two wonder strikes from Matty Taylor (vs. Everton from 45 out and the Arsenal volley), Robin van Persie's stunning running volley, Xabi Alonso's own-half strike against Newcastle, an absolute stunner from league-leading scorer Didier Drogba against Everton, Obafemi Martins' thumping power drive against Spurs, Paul Robinson's ridiculous goal over fellow Britkeeper Ben Foster, and so many more.

Those are just the ones I remember off the top of my head, and I bet I'm omitting some great goals. But the winner belongs to The Bison, from the highly anticipated December matchup of Chavski and Arseweb. With Arsenal leading 1-0, Essien absolutely nails one from well outside the area, bending, hitting the post and going in the net. The final replay on this thing shows you just how crazy this hit was. What a hit, son:

Player of the Year: Cristiano Ronaldo -- Manchester United
Was thre anyone else? Drogba put up an early season charge. Essien made his case known when he played all over the field with exceptional skill. But when it comes down to it, nobody had a greater impact on their team than Ronaldo. He used to be all flash, but maybe all it took for him to finally be a player of substance was getting his teammate Wayne Rooney tossed from the World Cup. The rumors of his banishment from English football weren't only exaggerated, they were stupid as hell. It's a good thing for Red Devils' fans that Sir Alex ain't a man of emotion over reason. Even though he's a pretty boy pussy, there isn't a player in the league that can match his pace and the excitement he brings when the ball hits his foot.

Now all we have left is the first FA Cup final at the new Wembley and the Champions League final in Greece; only two more serious matches before a long summer unfolds before us.

Hey, at least I'll get to sleep in on weekends. I'm freakin' tired.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Try the Nitrous Cookies Next Time

Almost everyone missed a superb story in Wednesday's Detroit Free Press, a tale of corruption in law enforcement and the inherent evils of police power. But I don't care to tackle that difficult subject.

Flipping the Caesarian script, I come to praise Office Edward Sanchez, not to bury him. The 28-year-old Detroit cop arrested a suspect in April of last year, confiscated the suspect's marijuana, kept it for himself, baked it in some brownies with his wife, flipped the fuck out, called 911, and then was allowed to resign gracefully and quietly from the force. Now that is an officially fully.

A year later, two days ago to be exact, the Free Press ran the 911 call from Officer Sanchez, and it's...well, it's fucking awesome. The husband and wife team claims to be overdosing on some pot brownies, and you can tell it's taking every ounce of strength for the dispatcher not to break out in laughter at these n00bs.

About a minute in, Sanchez says "We made brownies and I think we're dead, I really do." At another point he complains that time is moving really, really, really slow. But the call is five minutes of pure bliss, and I urge you all to head over to the DFP and check it out now.

Slack Link of the Day: This has gotta be one of the better headlines of the year: "Vegas run by gays and Jews, says magician".

Slack Video of the Day: Deputy Girardin passed along this classic link of Patton Oswalt slaying Conan O'Brien with his anti-old person sex rant (and his take on those KFC bowls is brilliant).

Slack Song of the Day: Let's check out the Fantastic 4's take on Sly's In Time from 12/17/04 at the Subterranean in Chicago. If you cats dig it, you can stream or download the rest of the show from Eric Krasno, Robert Walter, Cheme and Adam Deitch here.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Share That Love With Someone Else

Tough-talkin' Tony Blair announced his official resignation today, effective June 27th. I kinda have a soft spot for Tone Loco, and I'm gonna be a little be sad to see him go.

I know he made the silly decision to follow Bush into a silly war, but I just loved the way he stood up and said, "Ya know, America's our friend, and we're gonna do what we need to do to continue being their friend, even if it means ruining my legacy forever." You have to love how fast he smacked into that wall, Wile E. Coyote style.

When we were over in England a few months back, I was shocked at the level of shit this guy was eating from the press on a daily basis. They skewered him in every paper and on every channel (all five!), unloading on him with the equivalent of a sock full of pence. So you won't have ol' Tony to kick around any more, and in honor of the break-up of Bush and Blair, let's look back at this video of the two of them singing Endless Love that someone put together eons ago:

Good times, good times. Did I really just write a post about Tony Blair? I hate this blog sometimes, I really, really do.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Bills Fans Are Real Americans

Gotta love Buffalo Bills fans...well, you actually don't. But you could.

I'll be right back with some breakdancing...if you're nice.

Slack Link of the Day: Perhaps because he killed two people in cold blood and got away with it, perhaps not, but famed actor and killer OJ Simpson was kicked out of a Louisville restaurant the night before the Kentucky Derby this weekend. Not surprisingly, his lawyer played the race card. I wish I were making that up. If I were the manager, I woulda just let him stay and taken all the sharp cutlery out.

Slack Video of the Day: Kaptain Eli Booty informs me that the good people at Slate have put together a hilarious animated video of one of Mayor Guiliani's lesser moments. Classic stuff.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

If You Don't Like It, You're a Communiss

I promise, it ain't any of that hippie shit most of you despise so intensely. Just do your ol' pal Ace a favor and take six and a half minutes today to watch this video. Make it full screen, even. And if you don't like it, enjoy your bread lines, ya proletariat fuck.

That's just one of the cooler videos of's even got a bonus live version of Long Black Veil at the end. Danko lovin'. So sweet.

Slack Link of the Day: Annie Lennox, you can safely break out your "feels like I'm walkin' on broken glass" line after gate-crashing partygoers just ransacked the shit out of your home. My folks always asked why I didn't throw more big parties in high school, and this is precisely the reason why. Denise Fleming is a tampon.

Slack Link of the Day II: So ESPN and ABC have struck a deal to be announced later today with Cox Communications to offer shows and football games on demand for the cable company. But get this: You can't skip the commercials. As part of the deal, Cox will disable the fast-forward feature for this new on-demand programming, which pretty much negates the whole purpose of having DVR in the first place. As if we needed more reasons to hate the Worldwide Leader.

Slack Video of the Day: Over in Pullin' 'Tubes, I just posted six pretty cool videos of the White Stripes, !!!, The Beatles, Talking Heads, Jeff Beck and the Allman Brothers Band. Get over there.

Slack Song of the Day: I'm lookin' at Robert Walter's Super Heavy Organ this fine morning, so here's Maple Plank and Kickin' Up Dust (with Stanton Moore) from June 30th, 2006.

Monday, May 07, 2007

Cinco de Janquis: Wang Maos 'Em Down

A perfect day nearly begot a perfect game. If I may paraphrase the philosopher Al Czervik: "Hey Wang...don't tell 'em you're nasty."

But our story doesn't begin with the Taiwanese sinkerballer's mound mastery on this warm Saturday afternoon in the Bronx. The day originally had designs on being a grande Cinco de Mayo celebration, and we were the 10 Jerks to do it, and do it right. So in honor of the great Battle of Puebla victory over the French in 1862, the motivated duo of Handstand the Elder and Witz organized a trip to Yankee Stadium for a beisbol-related fiesta.

As has been the norm on past Jerk Tours, homemade custom T-shirts became item Numero Uno on el agenda. Subconscious and/or overt racism notwithstanding, the 10 of us sent in our requests to Handstand and His Heat Press weeks before gameday so we could each don the jersey of our favorite, mostly terrible, Hispanic Yankees of all-time. Were any of them actually from Mejico? No, but in our defense, neither Erubiel Durazo nor Elmer Dessens ever played for the Yankees, and I'd say at least six or seven of us think all brown people are Mexicans (even the Indians (both kinds)).

Despite the fact that none of us drove a car, we met on the roof of the parking garage with a platter full of Jersey-style Sloppy Joes and two packed coolers full of cerveza -- Tecate, Sol y Dos Equis -- for three solid hours of tailgating. Shortly after our arrival the official ceremony began, a beautiful affair narrated by our own Yankees radio announcer, Juan Sterling.

We sat in our makeshift dugout on the ledge of the garage, and Sterlinguez called us up one by one to accept our jerseys and pose for an official photo. "Los fanaticos del Yankees, saludan Alvaro Espinoza, Oscar Azocar, Cecilio Guante, Jose Vizcaino, Ruben Sierra, Luis Sojo, Jose Cardenal, y los hermanos Melido y Pasqual Perez." Gotta love that Señor Cardenal was strictly a first-base coach on the Yankees and yet he still gets the jersey respect. Wave 'em on, Jose.

We all took a ceremonial double-shot of Jose Cuervo before heading in, 'cuz as I've often said, I like my tequila to be warm, and to be Cuervo. We entered just before the first pitch of this 3:55 matchup of Chien-Ming Wang and former terrible Yankee Jeff Weaver. We could tell things were gonna be interesting on this day when catastrophe struck almost immediately. Our seats were second row from the top behind home plate, and I knew for sure one member of our crew would be drunk enough to fall over and cause serious damage.

Turns out, Handstand almost imitated his moniker when he lost his footing stepping down a row and fell straight down. Thankfully something broke his fall; unfortunately it was a large woman that didn't suspect the hit. For them it was scary, but for us, oh good lord. Picture for a second sitting there as your drunk stocky friend in a gheri curl wig and a Pascual Perez shirt loses his feet and throws a vicious blindside hit on a heavy-set woman in a Giambi jersey. And this sack was mean, like LT on Jaworski as Donnie Fiedler put it.

At first we winced and grew concerned, but when they both seemed okay, and when Handstand couldn't get his foot unstuck and laid on this woman's back for a solid 25 to 35 seconds, we started to giggle. And if you can even half-imagine this scene in your head, you can also imagine how intense our laughter eventually became. I couldn't breathe at one point. My ribs began to hurt. Even when we stopped we'd continue again in quick spurts, prompted by nothing. That was the physical comedy we needed to welcome us to el dia perfecto. Handstand eventually bought her a beer, and they posed for a couple of pictures. Good sport, that Giambi.

Like our drinking, Wang was dealing all day. I've never been to a game in which anyone came close to going the distance like this, and the buzz was palpable. Throwing fastballs almost exclusively, not only was Wang tossing a no-hitter, he hadn't walked or hit a batter, and nobody had reached. The no-no was one thing, but we all knew this was more special than that. Inning after inning went by and we cared less and less about the offense. Apparently I cared less and less about baseball altogether, seeing as I took 30 seconds to take a picture of this woman's jacket with my friend's camera and then used it in the next shot of her jacket I took with mine. I like it. I think I can win something cool with this shot. Don't fight me on that; I'll cut you.

The Yanks broke it open in the sixth and the only thing left to do was sort out the whole Perfect Game nonsense. It was around this time that three members of Team Jerk left to hit up the Pinstripe Club for the Kentucky Derby. One's an Alabaman and our only non-Yankee fan, but the other's bona fide, pinstripes through and through. This is a perfect fucking game in the 7th inning and you're gonna change shit up right now? You're gonna walk out on this?

I heard afterwards that Fox did everything they could to jinx Wanger. But if C-M-Dubs wants to blame anyone for the Ben Broussard homerun, it's those kids, our so-called friends. You just cannot walk out on what could have been just the 18th perfect game in MLB history for a two-minute horse race that most definitely would be played in its entirety some time later. That's inappropriate, that's inexcusable, that I don't forgive (J. Dignan, 1996).

Although now that I look back, maybe I shouldn't have said "This fucking guy is batting .188 this year" before the pitch.

The disappointment sank in pretty quickly, but we couldn't frown for long. What a day for us, just a perfect outing for a group of assholes on a sunny sports-dominated day in May. Mayweather and De La Hoya would get us through the night, but the day belonged to the best Asian pitcher in the American League East (that's right, I went there). Wang may not have been perfect on this day, but aside from the blindside tackle and the beer Witz poured on the FBI Special Investigator, we surely enjoyed one of the more perfect days on record.

Slack Post-Script of the Day: The Yankees also added Roger Clemens to the mix the following day, making this weekend more than just a momentum builder for the ballclub. I love the people filing out of the woodwork to claim this does nothing for the Yankees and how much money they're wasting. His ERA will go up for sure, but you're crazy if you don't think this was a total no-brainer, a real Schiavo. Clemens, Andrew Buttchin, Wanger, Moose and Hughes when he's healthy? Get the fuck right out of here with any talk that this is a bad move.

Slack Two Cents of the Day: Yeah, so maybe Mayweather "won" the fight. I'd agree with that. But there's something wrong with a sport where the overwhelming non-aggressor can win like that. Oscar took the fight to him, and Mayweather one-punched and ran like a seventh grader in a bitch-fight. This is the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world? I gotta say, I was a much bigger fan of Floyd's before this boring un-spectacle. Boxing needs an enema.

Slack Video of the Day: We all love the "Montgomery Flea Market: Just Like a Mini-Mall" dude, a true Internet celebrity if ever there were one. Apparently this guy randomly made it onto a Jay Leno segment, and while it's not particularly funny, nor does it directly reference his sicky sicky dance moves, but it's the Montgomery Mini-Mall Man, and we should all support him. Peep this.

Slack Song of the Day: This morning I'm lookin' at Big Red and Big Nerd, the wonderful Trey and Phil combo -- here's a sweet They Love Each Other from 2/12/06 at the Beacon.

Friday, May 04, 2007

Weekend Caption Contest

My friend T found this great shot...let's have at it on this photo:

"Sorry, lady, I only fuck black chicks."

T had a couple of classic ones as well - this one's my fave: "Wanna play a little game called Just the Tip? Although I should warn you...I'm an expert at shooting people in the face."

Hack away, folks. And have yourselves a great little weekend...

Spread That Shit, Yo

My usual Friday morning bagel slides out from the industrial toaster in the office cafeteria, and I grab some foil, two pieces actually, so I can wrap it up tightly and suffocate the warmth.

I walk over to the schmear station, and I'm met with the usual slew of ragtag options -- cream cheese, cream cheese with veggies, cream cheese with other shit, different types of jelly, and the tub of butter that sits where it sits. I make a B-line for that tub, with the B standing for Butter Me Up and Lick Me Dry, zero trans-fats on this chiseled, buttered body. Shit, I'm rambling.

There's a woman in front of me, taking her sweet-ass time. She's chatting with the girl next to her, something about files or pantyhose, I'm not paying attention. Pigs (Three Different Ones) plays on my iPod, and I'm off in a Floyd World. The Floydster. I'm thinking about Les Claypool playing this one at the Riviera in 1999, how that's still stuck in my head. I'm thinking about how to properly pronounce the word "charade" like a real Brit. I'm thinking about how badly I want to crawl into my bed with a 60-box of assorted Munchkins and smother myself in undersized baked goods and slumber.

That's when I realize it's been about a minute since I stood behind this woman. What the shit is goin' down here? Seriously, it's butter, it's bread, it spreads on quick and we all move on. Right? Right! Now move before I bend down to tie my shoes and instead slice your achilles with this butter knife I've acquired. Before I get my chance to deliver pain, she turns around...

Butter Girl: Oh, I'm sorry, am I taking too long?
Ace Cowboy: No, no, I don't even want to go to my desk.
BG: It's just that, this butter is acting weird.
Ace: (totally deadpan) You're saying we have weird-acting butter?
BG: Yes! It's not breaking apart.
Ace: Is that what non-weird butter does? Breaks apart?
BG: Okay, I'm done now. All yours.
Ace: Thanks, I'll get out my pick-axe.

She smiles and wonders whether I'm witty and charming or the biggest asshole in the office building. Little does she know, I'm both.

Slack Video of the Day: Our friends over at WebjunkTV have some definitive proof that Family Guy steals liberally from The Simpsons. I'm not sure how new this theory is, but kudos bar to them for compiling the smoking gun. I'll pretend this never happened.

Slack Flashback of the Day: With the Kentucky Derby tomorrow, let's look back at the 2000 running, when I decided Churchill Downs was both the greatest and worst place in the world. I can't tell you how proud I am to re-read this line I wrote: "She may not have seen a horse all day long, but at that moment she was staring eye-to-eye with a horsecock."

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Road Trip

I'm off to sunny Pennsylvania for work...enjoy your pebbles.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Scousers Make Me Fist-Pump

And then they moved onto one of the matches I told youse all to watch this month, Liverpool defeated Chelsea after 120 minutes of grueling football and seven penalty kicks to advance to the finals of the Champions League. I'll spare you a long-winded recap of my incredible elation at this moment and instead point you over to Oh You Beauty where you can read my long-winded comment.

Needless to say, the Kop at Anfield must've been pretty psyched up tonight, just like in this fucking awesome clip of the Liverpool crowd that my man Mike from That's On Point just posted:

Anyone interested in a quick trip to Athens? Greece, not Georgia.

Unrelated Headline of the Early Evening: My associate Nodnoc passed along this article today, with a headline that was surely intentional: "Royals To Get A Taste Of Angels' Colon."

Who knew rim jobs were part of Kansas City's baseball strategies?

Keep Your Day Job

...Until your night job pays. And my day job sucks right now. Sucks, as in, I gotta do actual work. It's a travesty. I'm calling shenanigans.

Anyway, whilst I toil, enjoy this little video someone put together in response to that awesome Montgomery Flea Market Mini-Mall mersh:

And in a late addition, here's the perfect use for a catapult -- my friend TDJ found this one, and it's really a must watch clip:

God bless the Internet. It's gonna catch on with videos like these...