Friday, March 30, 2007

I'm Back, Baby

Wow. What a week. I've got Mississippi mud on my shoes and D.C. slime on my soul. I need a shower and about 43 hours of sleep.

The trip was far from uneventful, but since I try to never discuss work on this here rag, there's not much I can really reveal. Well, here's one anecdote: Nigh 2 am, this intimidating security lady came up to the hotel in which we raged hard last night. I took the bullet for the room and answered the door as a favor to the severely intoxicated host, where I enjoyed the following drunken conversation with a husky woman that looked like a combination of Cool Runnings star Doug E. Doug and Office Linebacker Terry Tate:

Doug E. Tate: Are you the registered guest?
Ace Cowboy: Absolutely, what can I do for you?
Doug E. Tate: What's your name?
Ace Cowboy: [Last Name, First Name], why, what's up?
Doug: Can I see a photo ID?
Ace: Sorry, I don't have it on me.
Doug: You don't have a photo ID on you?
Ace: No, sorry, my wallet's in my room.
Doug: Isn't this your room here?
Ace: Yeah, but...oh, you're really good. I'll be right back.

Then I sent the host out and he fingerbanged her in the hallway until she let us stay. At least that's what I'm told. In all, we received a small reprimand but were allowed to stay in the room and, ultimately, remain as guests in the hotel. Although, considering the damage we did to that suite, they woulda been wicked smaht to kick us out then.

Minutes later the room service guy came in, and after some of us took a few regular pictures with him, I decided to get an Abu Ghraib photo where I had a cigarette dangling from my lips and I pointed to his junk. Shah was a good man, and patient, and obviously, thorough.

Slack Link of the Day: Here's the best headline I've seen all week: "Catholics angry over naked chocolate Jesus"

Slack Video of the Day: I'm not the only one who's back, though. The Sopranos returns for its final run of episodes next Sunday night. And since I know you've forgotten what the hell has gone on in this show like I have, here's a seven and a half minute recap of the full six and a half seasons. Job well done by whoever put this thing together...



Slack Song of the Day: I was out in Arizona for Spring Training when my favorite touring band set up shop at Irving Plaza, but luckily the tapers hooked us up with some goodies. Here's Tea Leaf Green from 3/24/07 in New Yawk City. Second-set awesomeness.

Allright, now it's time to zone out at my desk for the next few hours...

Thursday, March 29, 2007

A Sperm Bank Story?

From the top of the Drudge Report today: "REPORT: IRANIAN TV SHOWS CAPTURE OF BRITISH SEAMEN"

They really shouldn't be showing that on television...maybe Iran is a more liberal, Westernized place than we ever knew.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Cactus League Crap

Believe it or not, I'm off to the well-trafficked state of Mississippi today. I hope there's a burning of some sort, but I'm not gonna go in expecting it. Just would be a nice bonus, ya know?

So in lieu of any semblance of a solid post, I'm gonna take this opportunity to post five selected pics from the Cactus League Spring Training trip that I think most accurately exude the good times in Arizona. Up first we've got three fatties surveying the scene from the outfield grass at the Brewers v. Angels game in Surprise, AZ. It's a gorgeous photo in all respects. Ithaca is gorges. So is Surprise.

With passover coming up, here's a solid shot of the Brewers' Kevin Mench on first and Eddie Sedar as the first-base coach. Mench and Sedar? That's a good night for almost-Jew jersey names.

Welcome back, Eric Gagne. And welcome back to the Juice, man. Good Lord. This guy could basically be Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart with a little grooming and some pink spandex.

We walked into Tempe Diablo Stadium on Saturday for the Rockies v. Angels game, and this was the first pitch we saw upon entering. Not a bad day when you walk into a small stadium in a warm-weather climate and the first thing you see is Whoopi Goldberg Vlad Guerrero about to beat the shit out of the ball like it's a mouthy woman.

On the way out we caught this advertisement on the back of one of the many bike-pedaled rickshaws -- I mean, I know that's actually a really nice honor and all for Thunder Dan and his establishment, but anyone else find it strange they're bragging about being 11th best? And they really want us to join them before and after every event? What constitutes an event? I say we hit Majerle's place, then go over and run a train through his wife, then hit the bar again.

And that's really all that happened anyway...Phoenix, good times.

Monday, March 26, 2007

United Way Hero

He's known for his "laser rocket arm" more than anything else, but in just about everything I've seen from him, Peyton Manning's also got an incredible sense of comedic timing.

I missed this weekend's Saturday Night Live, but someone showed me the following clip this morning and I nearly spit milk out my nose, which is strange considering I wasn't even drinking milk. Could it have been semen? Oh well, just watch this clip:



Gotta love beating up little kids...only thing better woulda been if they were terminally ill or wicked retarded. Great stuff.

That Love Is The Answer

“Every group has someone that they make fun of…like us with Elaine.” --G. Costanza

I returned late last night from 48 hours of in the Phoenix-Scottsdale area, where more than one-seventh of our time there elapsed with nine of us hunkered down in a Hyatt Place conference room selecting our fantasy baseball squads. Another seventh took place at various Cactus League spring training games, but we'll get to that later.

This is a story about a man, a great man. Everyone's got that friend who is nothing but kind and good-natured, always there in a pinch, yet somehow they're the butt of just about every joke and every sentence in a large group setting. Whether they bring it upon themselves through certain personality quirks is an issue up for debate, but regardless of the reasons, it can get pretty nasty. And our buddy Mitchell VergerDartz III has been that friend for a long, long time.

Compulsive by any definition, Verger’s bald-faced lies are legendary. But his truths are even more shocking, possibly because it’s those admitted truths about which he should be lying. The latest story to emerge this weekend is nothing short of Mastercardian pricelessness.

About six months ago, Verger takes a girl out for an evening of enchantment and potential frenching, and they both have a good time from what we’re led to believe. A few nights later he fills himself with some sauce and feels the urge to drunk-dial this new interest, only his lustful urge manifests itself in the form of an unsober text message. With technology on his side, Verger types out his communiqué of flowery hope to the girl he shared a mere one night of bliss and hits the send button, fully unwilling to convince himself if its silliness.

The message in question? “I believe in us.”

Yeah, I know: That is just so wrong on many, many levels. If Doc Brown’s nuclear-powered DeLorean time machine actually existed today, the date I’d most like to flash back and visit is the night this poor lass received that text in question, just so I could see the look on her face when she flipped open the cellular telephone to find that gem. I believe in us? Dear Lord. I mean, just imagine the shudder of horror and intense spine shiver she experienced after reading that.

Classic.

He never did hear back from her, and to add insult to injury, naturally one of his best friends this weekend regaled us all with the story he's been sitting on for half a year just so he could break it out as an introduction to unveiling his fantasy baseball team: I Believe In Us.

To put some background and color on this, let me jump back more than five years. We were exactly a month removed from 9/11, Derek Jeter was a night away from the famous 2001 ALDS Jeremy Giambi flip play and American Gladiators host Mike Adamle would soon be rumbling down Sheridan Road as Grand Marshall of the Homecoming parade. It was our first year removed from academic life, and this was our first official reunion following the hugs and hand pounds of early summer’s graduation.

As our large crew lined the side of the parade route, Chipotle Bob turned to a group of local high school girls and asked, "You wanna see this kid do the Running Man?" Verger's head sank in his hands -- a patented Verger move that's called Sigh Hands, later re-named Seymour Hands -- as the girls lit up, yelling all kinds of affirmatives and starting to chant "Go, go, go, go!"

So in the middle of a major street with a crowd of high-school girls and collegiate alumni cheering him on, Verger performed a version of the Running Man that'll haunt my dreams forever. And every time we've re-united in the times since that night in October 2001, we've done our best to get him to do it in public. This weekend, we succeeded. It wasn't really public, but at least it was outdoors.

Check it out, ladies. His resume says he's "Internet literate," and I'm damn proud to call him a dear friend:



I can't stress enough how awesome this man is and how lucky am I to have him as a friend, but shit, that's just about the fruitiest Running Man in the history of Running Mans. It's basically a Roger Rabbit combined with a Running Man, combined with a ton of estrogen.

I feel bad for even writing that sentence, but it's probably the most accurate description of anything I've ever put together. I love the kid and there's nobody who makes me laugh on the phone as much as him, but this post had to be written for many reasons.

On a related note, my partner Chuck B and I selected a great team, with our first five picks in a 10-team league being Johan Santana (#3), Lance Berkman (#18), Derek Lee (#23), Carlos Zambrano (#38) and Roy Oswalt (#43). That's about as good as you're gonna do...

Slack Link of the Day: Discovery debuted a show called Planet Earth last night, airing three incredible episodes of what could possibly be the greatest reality show in the history of television. HD was made for nature shows, especially a show of this caliber. There will be a new episode every week for the next eight, I believe, and if you've got HD (or even if you don't I guess), make sure to TiVo this badboy. Unreal.

Slack Video of the Day: If you missed the highlights of Barton versus Winona Division II college hoops final this weekend, you missed out on one of the sickest endings I've ever seen to a basketball game. Winona State is up by six or so with 45 seconds left, and they're about to win their second straight title and 57th straight game. Until that doesn't happen at all...

Slack Song of the Day: In honor of our love-finding friend, I'm gonna let Blessid Union of Souls take this one away: I Believe.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Ninja Cheerleaders

I honestly can't tell if this is the greatest thing Hollywood's come up with or the absolute worst idea ever conceived and actually executed. I'm leaning towards the former. We report, you decide.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Holy Shitballs!

I've got a ton of work to do here...sorry, folks, my employer calls.

In the meantime, let's continue with our "Everybody Beat Women" coverage. This one isn't as egregious as the dude who beat up that 101-year-old lady, but it's pretty bad nonetheless. Throw in the fact that he's a police officer and we've got some serious questions.



Still, women have come a long way since the liberation movement began. Guys get their asses handed to them constantly, and I think if women truly want to call it "progress," they're gonna have to get beat up equally every now and then. There's no way that Clinton chick will ever get elected if women are gonna cry foul every time a dude punches them in the face or the tits. C'mon, buck up.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

How Do You Know It's a Mail Truck?

I never really understood the point of bumper stickers, mud flaps with naked ladies or the "Baby on Board" placards. Why someone would choose to pay a significant amount of money for an automobile and then choose to adorn it with cheesy slogans and tacky accessories just never made all that much sense to me. But I'm only one man, and I'm not so fashionable, as evidenced by my velcro sneakers.

Still, when I was down in Florida for Langerado* I got my first peak at the latest trend in Git'r Dun Couture that absolutely floored me: Truck Nutz, aka Bumper Nuts. I thought I hated ghetto culture more than just about anything outside of Tim McCarver, but as it turns out, I think I'm starting to hate the Style of Sleeveless Flannel even more.

Hey, rednecks, are you fucking serious? You're really gonna stand there and hang an oversized pair of synthetic, plastic testicles from the back of your truck? I've been trying for 10 days to come up with some good jokes for this post and I am about as stumped as Lt. Dan's old legs. I got nuthin'. I can't even begin to wrap my head around the thought process governing this decision.

What would possibly possess someone to be so flagrant in their abuse of social decency? I'm guessing about a case and a half of Busch Light.

Slack Link of the Day: Manny Ramirez wants you to buy his neighbor's grill; just another case of Manny Bring Foreman.

Slack Video of the Day: For lack of anything better, let's go back to the Chicken Dance Compilation from Arrested Development:



Slack Song of the Day: Can You Guess It? No, that's the song title.

*Also, it should be noted I never thanked my host, Miami's EB, for his generous hospitality down in Florida. You the dog now, man.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Bong Hits 4 Jesus

You know what the best part of this whole Supreme Court case really is? All these mainstream news outlets and publications have to report those very words over and over again. Fantastic.

There's just something about seeing the words "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" splashed all over the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times and the Washington Post, hearing them dangle from the lips of several CNN anchors and high-profile legal tele-analysts, listening to people talk about them around the office. I mean, kudos bar to this kid -- it really doesn't get any better than combining the son of God with massive bong blows and getting all these serious people, including nine Supreme Court justices, to talk about it. Simply brilliant.

We gotta take this one step further somehow. I'd like to get Fiedler, Mulgrew, Starbux, Hoobs, Zebra, the Handstands, Fritzy, Matty Mac and the rest of The Jerks together for a brainstorming session about what other ludicrous banner headlines we can get everyone in the mainstream media to repeat in all seriousness. It might make my world complete to hear someone at Fox News or MSNBC use the phrase "Felching Mary Magdalene" or "Rumsfeld Loves Cleveland Steamers" to preface a news story. "Schiavo Fingerblasting" anyone?

What would you like to see some major news outlets print or say?

Slack Link of the Day: The New Yorker's actually got a pretty funny piece in the latest issue, The Wisdom of Children. I like it.

Slack Video of the Day: Remember that dude who lived out of his car for a week for that series of Nissan mershes? Well, here he is getting mistaken for Napolean Dynamite on the red carpet at Ron Jeremy's birthday party. More importantly, Ron Jeremy's birthday party has a red carpet? Man, that's one awesome Jew.

Slack Song of the Day: I'm feelin' a bit of the ol' Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra this morning -- here's a strong show of theirs from Brooklyn's Southpaw on 4/21/2006.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Party On, Levon...Party On, Garth

It's been quite a 10-day stretch for your ol' pal Ace.

One weekend ago I caught 22 awesome cross-genre bands in gorgeous 80-degree weather at the Langerado music festival in Florida. Then mid-week, I became a card-carrying member of the beloved paparazzi when, like my wicked case of the herpes, I spread my amateur video of a wild NYPD shootout all over the Internets and television.

Finally, this weekend, when the rest of the country was all geeked up about green beer and bagels (and hinky green rivers), I couldn't contain my excitement for the Saturday night Levon Helm Band show at the Beacon Theater. Levon Fucking Helm, folks.

And as it turned out, the former drummer for The Band and one of my musical heroes turned in one of the more incredible, emotional performances I've seen in some time. I'll spare youse the full review on this site, but watching Dr. John sit in on Such A Night and Warren Haynes lead Levon's big band on I Shall Be Released may have been some of the finer moments I've had as a music fan.

Oh yeah, let's not forget that former Bandmate and current Amish hideout Garth Hudson came out during a surprise, special second encore for a sweet Hammond B3 solo on Take Me To the River. I snapped about 50 seconds of that magic for posterity:



If you're a fan of The Band, or if you just want to read the fluffiest fanboy review you'll ever see in your whole life, click here for a full recap of my magical evening at the Beacon on Saturday.

Slack Link of the Day: A massive brawl at Madison Square Garden? Where's Jeff van Gundy when you really need'm?

Slack Video of the Day: Two great goals from the Premiership we need to feature this afternoon, so bare with me. The first comes from a goalkeeper's foot from his own half -- you gotta love that, no? Tottenham keeper Paul Robinson has been in terrible form this season, and he's been in danger of losing his starting spot as England's #1 to Watford keeper Ben Foster. So what happened this weekend? P-Rob scored a goal from his own half. On Ben Foster. From 80 yards out. In your face, kid.

The other goal comes from Manchester United's 4-1 drubbing of Bolton this weekend: Cristiano Ronaldo is on another planet right now, and say what you will about his diving, there ain't a player in the world that can match his pace. His teammate Wayne Rooney is really starting to hit top form as well, and one play this weekend featured the two of them taking the ball from their own end to the Bolton net for a goal in about 10 seconds, which was just sickening.

Slack Song of the Day: No frills, just Ophelia.

Friday, March 16, 2007

A Sign of the Apocalypse

Stock up on canned goods, folks. The world is nearing an end.

Something happened last night on The Fox Report with Shepard Smith that defies explanation: I was featured as a legitimate news source. I swear, this is not Photoshopped, this is an actual, albeit hazy, screenshot of the television in my apartment at 7:21 EST.

I'm pretty sure I've beaten the world wide web. The Battle of the Internets has ended, and I have declared myself the victor. I try not to be a huge braggard, but let me take a victory lap here, let me soak this one in, a little Rod Tidwell action.

The YouTube video I posted yesterday (as of publication right now) is the 10th most watched video on the entire sharing site, and the 7th most linked video on the site. More than 100,000 people have watched it and about 300 people have commented on it, mostly fucking morons. Gawker graciously called me a "Citizen Journalist" with great coverage and posted my homemade word "craisins" on its site. I've even licensed the video to several other major news agencies...

This is one of those 36-hour stretches that just makes no sense whatsoever. I'm completely amazed and bewildered. I'm speechless. I am without speech. So, thanks to all of youse that stopped by and read the post -- it made jumping out the window towards gunfire a worthwhile endeavor. Still craisins.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Pistol Shots Ring Out in the Barroom Night

March Madness came to Bleecker Street a night early this year.

It was almost 9:30 on a balmy Wednesday night, and I sat on my couch nearly finished with a Levon Helm Band preview post for Hidden Track that SI.com's Tourney Blog could link to for a story on Pitt forward Levon Kendall. I had just uploaded a few tracks for the site when I clearly heard what could only be multiple gunshots. I wouldn't even say "multiple" -- it was more like an assload. At least 10, as many as 20. Crazy. Dare I say: craisins.

I live in a noisy, debaucherous neighborhood, and drunken amateurs set off illegal fireworks on occasion, but these were gunshots, unequivocally. I hopped right out the window and onto the fire escape as soon as I could compute what was happening, and within three to five minutes at least 30 police units of all shapes and sizes (unmarked cars, big vans, paddy wagons, motorcycles, horses, a helicopter) swarmed to my apartment. Within 10, nearly every cop in the city had mobilized on Bleecker street. You could steal City Hall.

I jumped back in to grab my camera, having no real knowledge of what had just transpired but wanting to document the incredible happenings on my normally safe and secure street. I took this video just about 10 minutes after the gunshots I heard.



Details were shady last night, but this morning we have a bit more of the tragic story. Apparently a lone gunman walked into the pizza place a block away on Houston, and, like a true gentleman, shot an employee 15 times in the back. Verbal Kint once asked, "What if you miss?" I'm thinking 15 shots took care of that.

As he fled up the street with two guns, 100 rounds of amunition and a fake beard (Hey Lois, have you seen my fake beard?) , the gunman encountered two unarmed auxillary policeman and shot one in the head and one in the torso, killing both. He finally met his own demise outside 175 Bleecker Street -- just 100 yards away from me -- when two responding officers shot him to death.

I must hand it to the New York Police Department here. Their response time could not have been more impressive, flocking to the scene quicker than you'd ever expect. I've never seen so many cops rush to a scene so hurriedly outside of 9/11, another (obviously more catastrophic) event to which I was a little too close for comfort. If I were a Man of Cliche, I'd say "There musta been a Dunkin' Donuts going out of business sale," 'cuz they came from every direction, with the speed of a mongoose. Nay, the speed of 100 mongeese.



My apologies for the blurry pictures and choppy videos, but I couldn't concentrate too much on the lighting and I felt strange about asking the police to pose for photos. But here are a couple more shots of the incredibly eerie scene on Bleecker last night, a place known more for fratty NYU types, laid-back Europeans and the gays.

The police shut down a huge square area around the shootings, including 6th Avenue to my right. Traffic snarled. Gaper's delay.

In a weird way it felt like 9/11 for us again. Everyone on my block gathered outside in the search for details, with press reporters canvasing the area for witnesses and quotes, police roping everything off and ushering people back from a large crime scene.

We all came together to trade stories of what we heard and what we were doing, trading misinformation of what we knew and didn't know. One woman heard it was the mafia, another a barfight that spilled out of the establishment up the street, and a few reports placed this crime scene at the Lion's Den, a frequent Ace Cowboy jaunt. One thing's for sure -- nobody knew shit, but we all wanted to talk to someone instead of going back to our apartments.

Beware of the Ides of March indeed. Stay indoors, Caesar.

(It goes without saying that our warmest wishes and heartfelt condolences go out to the families of the victims...)

*The video in this post was also featured on Fox News*

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Pick 'Im Up!

Knight to Cats: The quest to bring The General to Evanston.

But, really, it'll never happen for Northwestern and Ol' Bobby. I think he's still miffed at us for starting that insanely clever, SportsCenter-featured "Hoo-sier Daddy" chant during our home game against Indiana in the 1998-99 season. Man, I still miss Kevin O'Neill.

I'm All For Hitting Women, But...

...this guy is just a wee bit of a scumbag, no? Look at her she's old, I mean, look she's old, she's just old.

"New York’s streets and newspapers were flooded with pictures of a mugger who has attacked at least two elderly women in the borough of Queens, including one who is 101 years old."

If you haven't seen this yet, it might be the most disturbing yet oddly intriguing video you'll see in a long time. It's so ridiculous that I'm almost on his side after this...



I love the old bag's quotation, though: "Rose Morat, 101, told the New York Post she wished she could have fought back: 'Fifteen years ago, we would have had a tussle.'" Tussle it up, grams.

Just once I'd like to punch an old lady in the face. I'm jealous.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Somebody Gon' Get Pregnant

Anyone else think 30 Rock is the funniest show on television right now? The one-two punch of Alec Baldwin and Tracy Morgan, combined with Tina Fey as the straight man, just gets stronger and stronger each week. The writing is genuinely funny, the plot lines are clever, and the ensemble cast is brilliant. Big fan. Thursdays, yay.

The Tracy Jordan character is becoming dangerously close to Tracy Morgan's real-life persona. So is art imitating life here or the other way around? Let's take a look at some evidence:



Now that's some quality stuff right there. I gotta think that's mostly an act, but I love people that are willing to get silly in public.

Alive Again

Rumors of my death have been...well, kind of on target. To borrow a line from Marcellus Wallace, I'm pretty fucking far from okay.

I honestly thought about bagging the Langerado trip altogether, but really, what fun would that be? So I sacked up, flew down to Florida with a fever and turned in potentially my finest hour of fighting through illness to have some fun. I'm doing a curtsy right now.

The festival itself was incredible, and I'm not sure if I've ever seen two straight days of such amazing music. I'll spare youse the review and just point you over to Hidden Track where I'll be discussing this weekend in-depth. But, man, wow, shit, that was sweet.

Here was my weekend setlist (I managed to catch some, most or all of the following sets, all of which were simply awesome):

Soundcheck (THursday night): Trey Anastasio @ Revolution

Set I (Friday): The Heavy Pets > Dubsconscious > Assembly of Dust > Tea Leaf Green > Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings > Galactic > The Hold Steady > Bela Fleck & the Flecktones > moe. > Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks > Trey Anastasio

Set II (Saturday): Toubab Krewe > The Slip > Soulive > Langerado Press Conference > Greyboy Allstars > Perpetual Groove > JJ Grey & MOFRO > MMW > Blackalicious > Michael Franti & Spearhead > My Morning Jacket > Disco Biscuits

Encore: None, I passed on Sunday and hopped on an earlier flight

I may not have died this weekend, but comedian Richard Jeni did. He either died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, or as the CNN article I just linked to indicates, Chris Rock may have shot him. Regardless, I loved Richard Jeni. His Platypus Man HBO Special was a staple of my youth. He cracked my shit up sometimes, especially his bit about how NFL referees should use the mike to discuss their personal problems. So Richard Jeni, this one's for you.

Slack Videos of the Day: Nothing from Platypus Man on YouTube? That's weak sauce. Here's the best I could do from the Jeni camp -- PMS and Red Wine, Political Parties, Gay Baby and Martha Stewart.

Slack Song of the Day: Boston lead singer Brad Delp also passed away this weekend, though not from a gunshot wound to the face. Either way, sad stuff. In tribute to Mr. Delp, here's Foreplay/Long Time, Rock & Roll Band, and More Than a Feeling.

Slack Link of the Day: It's Tourney Time again, and I know nothing. I've been following the college basketball season fairly closely, not expert status, but I've seen enough to know what's what. And I feel confident about 12 of the first 32 games, and I'll probably lose those. But there is one site you should bookmark and routinely check over the next few weeks, and that's SI.com's Tourney Blog. Do it.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

You Be Illin'

On the list of things that are entirely unawesome, waking up with a fever and the Alternating Chills & Sweats the day of a big trip has to be near the top of said list. If I overdose on whatever brand of non-drowsy Tylenol I picked up last night, at least I can say I was trying to squash the pain in order to have some fun in my life. Well, I guess that's how everybody overdoses. But I'm special (needs).

In feeling sad for myself and this awful temporary illness, I thought about Nuprin today. Whatever happened to that fucker? Little, yellow, different, better. I used to love that slogan, and I think youse all did too. I always thought Michael Chang should have been their pitchman, because, hey, doesn't that kinda describe him too?

And then I got to thinking about pitchmen in general, and a grand idea hit me. I've never been to a Buffalo Wild Wings eatery, and until they started increasing their ad presence I'd never even heard of them. But now they have commercials on nonstop, though I still have no clue where they are. Regardless of all that, are these people kidding me by not having Tone Loc do their mershes? Sing it with me now: "She loves to eat at Wild Wings." Wild Wangs, duh, duh duh, da da, Wild Wangs. I'd start eating there every day if they pulled that off. Not really.

Anyway, I feel terrible and I'm off in an hour to the Langerado Music Festival in sunny Florida. I won't be Slackin' it up tomorrow, but I will be posting over on Hidden Track throughout the weekend. So if you're one of the 10 people in the crowd here that enjoys my musical taste, feel free to check in over there for some weekend updates. As for the rest of youse -- well, you're on your own tomorrow. I suggest suicide.

Slack Link of the Day: These letters to the FCC about Prince's Super Bowl halftime performance can't be real, right? Gotta be someone fucking with them. Wow, check this one out, which contains the sentence: "Thanks CBS for turning my son GAY." Awesome.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Just For the Shit of It

Just saw this and had to throw it up here on my way out...



That's awesome. I love YouTube. I'm in love with YouTube.

I've Been Swimming in Raw Sewage

Some of youse expected me to sound off on the Thomas Jones to the Jets trade yesterday. But like the time I walked in on my grandparents fuckin' as the family dog licked some shit, I really don't know what to say here. I love it? Of course I love it. It's a total Schiavo.

The Jets traded down 26 spots in the second round of the NFL draft to #63, but they still own another pick in that round (#59). Even though he split carries with Cedric Benson, Jones has rushed for 2,500 yards over the past two seasons and brings that level of play to a running game that finished 30th out of 32 teams last year. We've got a solid offensive line, we just needed a top-tier running back.

Wanna make a big deal out of his age (29)? Just remember that only once has he rushed the ball more than 300 times in a season. He's got experience but no real wear and tear. He ain't a virgin, but he certainly ain't refusing money to do bukkake scenes just because he loves it so much. I can't confirm that.

So that's it. If we're gonna talk football in March, we might as well talk about the Champions League Round of 16 that's unfolding this week (yesterday and today). My Reds and Fiedler's Blues have both advanced to the final eight, but the two memorable moments from yesterday's action came from unexpected sources: a brilliant goal by Roma winger Mancini in a somewhat shocking 2-0 win and a classic brawl at the end of the Inter v. Valencia match.

I know most of youse couldn't care less about the sport, but check out these videos. If you're not blown away by the athleticism of that Mancini goal I'll refund your money. Just watch as he undresses the defender, totally embarrassing him...



That's gotta be the best one-on-one, create-space-for-yourself goals I've seen this year. Unreal. But it pales in comparison to watching Valencia's David Navarro (not that Dave Navarro) run away from a punch and some scissor tackles like a little girl.



I have no ending for this post, so...stop bothering me.

Slack Link of the Day: You hear about this plane crash in Indonesia? This website has some raw footage of the scene (not the crash).

Slack Song of the Day: I'm stealing this SSOTD from Scotty's Intermezzo post on HT today. From this week's edition of the Grateful Dead's Taper's Section, check out a pretty cool version of the Dead playing Lennon's Watching the Wheels in 1995.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Whores In Heat

I'm pretty busy at the ol' day job here today, so let's instead turn to one of the best "news in brief" kind of articles I've read recently.

Global Warming: now it hits brothels

Brothel owners in Bulgaria are blaming global warming for staff shortages.

They claim their best girls are working in ski resorts because a lack of snow has forced tourists to seek other pleasures.

Petra Nestorova, who runs an escort agency in Sofia, said: 'We have hired students, but they are temps and nothing like our elite girls.'

My heart weeps for the Bulgarian brothel owners who've been hurt by this climate change catastrophe. At least they've hired students, though ther'es no word whether these are high school or college aged students. I think I speak for everybody when I say, "Six of one..."

Slack Video of the Day: This one was all over Deadspin and the rest of the Interweb yesterday, but since I've got nothing better to post in this daily space, you get it anyway: What happens when a dunker in a dunk contest fails to clear an obstacle?

Slack Song of the Day: Some Pat Metheny came on the ol' iPod this morning, right after The Velvet Underground's beautiful Oh, Sweet Nuthin'. And since I can't find that online, here's some Pat Metheny: What Do You Want?, The Sun In Montreal, and (Go) Get It.

Monday, March 05, 2007

My Nephew Is 1? Shit, Quick Year.

Like the main character in Memento, Li'l Red Cowboy has no ability whatsoever to permanently recollect anything. But that didn't stop my brother and sister-in-law from throwing that little fucker a big party yesterday and a nice dinner tonight (he can't eat real food either, so tonight's event is doubly unbelievable). I bet that tiny dude doesn't even say "thank you" for any of this shit.

The two-hour party brought at least 25 kids below the age of four into my Sunday. And if you know me well, you know how much I genuinely love to get my ass off the couch, not hit a bowl first thing in the morning, head out to Lawn Gisland and play with screaming kids for a few hours on a nice Sunday afternoon. Right up my alley.

The party's entertainment came in the form of a goateed guitarist in his 30s, and he did an excellent job of keeping the children amused. Songs segued into one another, broken up only by a celebratory arm pump to the ceiling (you'll see it below, though the sound is about two seconds delayed from the picture for some reason), and until he accidentally knocked a conga drum into my nephew's face, I think he had the entire crowd won over. Li'l Red wanted to hear some kid's songs, instead he walked away with a shiner.

I commend this music man for his abilities to entertain small children through song, but I can't help but laugh at the thought that this guy has to act like a toddler in front of adults...constantly. I wonder what his real weekday job is -- this can't be it -- and whether his employers know that on weekends he's on his knees acting silly and singing the ABCs > Wheels on the Bus, pumping a fist in the air to denote the end of each and every song. I tried to picture him in a suit trying to get the best print trading soy futures when he broke into his Elmo voice.



But who am I to judge? I bet he's much happier doing this on the weekends than I am doing whatever the fuck it is I'm doing.

And this weekend I did nothing. Well, at night at least. During the days I was out and about, but Friday night I stayed home and watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, and then Doc Hoobs came over on Saturday night for Idiocracy. I thought both movies were pretty damn good, though the former had a couple of devices that it could have done without. The latter, I thought it was about as funny a flick as I've seen in some time. Both now come highly recommended from me to youse...

Slack Song Video of the Day: My man J-Cantor sent me this video earlier today, a great clip of The Roots covering some U2 at the NAACP Awards this past weekend. As MakeitHappen77 wrote out for us, here's what the setlist looked like, with Bono looking on in the crowd: Sunday Bloody Sunday Intro > Pride (In the Name of Love) > War (What Is It Good For?) > Pride (In the Name of Love). Well done, members of The Roots, well done.

(I don't even wanna get started on the fact that I woke up at 7:15 am on Saturday for the Liverpool/Manchester United match that ended oh so poorly. Eff you, John O'Shea. Just know that if my Reds give up the 2-1 lead against Barcelona in the Champions League tomorrow at Anfield, you're all goin' down in a big way...)

Whackin' That Horsehide

Don Fiedler Bronx Banter just unearthed this little WPIX gem here...



Whackin' that horsehide?! Hey, isn't that what David Cone was doing in the dugout that time? I wanna write jingles for a living. New job.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

What Would You Do for a Klondike Bar?

I was about to craft a whole post around this "Man blames burrito for paralysis" story, but my man Coach just threw me a bigger and better bone. Okay, that came out a bit wrong.

CNN Money recently profiled a 34-year-old lottery winner named Brad Duke, detailing how the Idahoan Gold's Gym manager spent his $85 million lump sum winnings. It's a quick read and a marvelous tale of fiscal responsiblity, friendship and familial back-scratching, and I request you take a little gander at this piece now.

I think everyone I know would be a bit more aggressive than Mr. Duke, probably buying property around the country and world, splurging on trips for high school and college buddies, and tearing through escort after escort until a chafed penis forced the sad cancellation of such daily Bacchanalian orgies and feasts.

But it's amazing to me with all that money people still go broke after just a few years. This guy is on pace to grow his net worth to a billion dollars in 12 years. It seems to me (and my friend Monk who just said this) he'd make even more money consulting for other lottery winners and taking a percentage of their winnings for doing so.

So the real question is, what's the most extravagant and unnecessary thing you'd buy or do with a virtually unlimited sum of money like $85 million? I say unnecessary because the answer can't be "I'll finally get that heart transplant I couldn't afford," though I don't know many people on the waiting list that read this blog.

If you think my answer's not predictable like Ace Cowboy Presents the Popular Rock Band Phish Reunion at Bowery Ballroom for a Maximum of 200 of His Closest Friends, well, you just don't know me very well. Well, it's either that or get the breast enlargement that I've always wanted but couldn't afford. Spill it, what's on your list?

Like What I Like

The madmen geniuses that brought you such hits as The State and Wet Hot American Summer are back with a new flick. I hadn't seen too much hype surrounding The Ten, but now I can't imagine being anywhere else on opening night. Maybe on my couch. We'll see.

According to Comedy Central Insider, "David Wain's The Ten has generated several metric assloads of hype since screening at Sundance. Word has it, if you loved Wet Hot American Summer, you'll want to have The Ten's abortion. Incidently, if you didn't love Wet Hot American Summer, you're probably in al Qaeda, so you might want to keep it to yourself." Now that's some fantastic writing right there.



And you can see two more videos here...great tacos today, Jake.

Slack Link of the Day: I like this headline: "Dog With College Degree Called to Court." I hate this pun: "The issue gives 'one pause, if not paws, for concern.'" Yikes, that's horrific.

Slack Blog Link of the Day: Ethan over at Strong as a Can is back in business, beginning his full MLB team-by-team season preview. Get on over there and learn a thing or two from an MIT dork that could probably be the 14th best GM in besibol right now. I'm dead serious.

Slack Song of the Day: The Sheik of Araby, Django Reinhardt. Give this one a listen, you're gonna enjoy the nuts out of it.