My brother Michael is so in love with the idea of John Calipari as the new UK coach, I tried settling him down with a rather bizarre question:
"You're gonna get a life-size blowup doll of Calipari for your room, aren't you?"
Michael in about 0.000047 seconds: "If he brings championships to UK, yes I will."
So after bemoaning the state of my lifeblood, UK Basketball, a just four days ago, I have something new to worry about ... whether John Calipari will end up being a good coach at UK. Oh, and staying away from my brother and that doll.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Revving Up The Chipper
On Saturday night I tried to recapture the spirit and thunder of my younger years. Went and saw a solid concert at a small but hip venue (Asobi Sesku was the band, and we caught them at the Rock & Roll Hotel). It was a band I had never heard before but I went ahead and trusted Kelly's opinion that they were good. And, luckily to his credit, they were. I would have had to thrash him otherwise.
The part about reaching back to my younger years was that I drank a bit and also stayed out way past my bedtime. And I didn't have the wife with me, so really it was like a whole new man. More my alter ego, The Campbler (who likes to gamble, drink a lot, talk sports and reel off curse words in public), and less Campbell (devoted husband extraordinaire, faithful employee and generally sweet guy). My normal self did wisely kick in just in time to stop myself from buying the dreaded 3 a.m. greasy pizza slice from the dirthole joint in Adams Morgan.
You see, whenever you mix all these things together, or have a bad case of food poisoning, have way too much to drink, do shots of Sambuca or get punched in the gut by The Blob, chances are you will turn on, as I lovingly call it, The Chipper. Because to hurl with such force does sound like a wood chipper, as evidenced here. I won't get into too many more details, other than to take a moment and honor the best chipper moment in film.
Needless to say, I survived the night. Things didn't go so well over at casa de Kelly. The Chipper was in full force over there, word has it. I'm telling you ... it was the pizza. Stay away from that pizza, people. It's disaster.
The part about reaching back to my younger years was that I drank a bit and also stayed out way past my bedtime. And I didn't have the wife with me, so really it was like a whole new man. More my alter ego, The Campbler (who likes to gamble, drink a lot, talk sports and reel off curse words in public), and less Campbell (devoted husband extraordinaire, faithful employee and generally sweet guy). My normal self did wisely kick in just in time to stop myself from buying the dreaded 3 a.m. greasy pizza slice from the dirthole joint in Adams Morgan.
You see, whenever you mix all these things together, or have a bad case of food poisoning, have way too much to drink, do shots of Sambuca or get punched in the gut by The Blob, chances are you will turn on, as I lovingly call it, The Chipper. Because to hurl with such force does sound like a wood chipper, as evidenced here. I won't get into too many more details, other than to take a moment and honor the best chipper moment in film.
Needless to say, I survived the night. Things didn't go so well over at casa de Kelly. The Chipper was in full force over there, word has it. I'm telling you ... it was the pizza. Stay away from that pizza, people. It's disaster.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Welcome to Uncertainty
I need Norman Dale. UK is looking for a new coach. It's better to just do it now and get it over with. Pat Forde, a former Louisville journalist that I loathe at almost all times, wrote a well-rationed piece that pretty much sums it up. Mark Story has a subtle reply column. Both are right, and this scenario is just confusing from all angles. Just like Billy G was. I'm not sure who UK will get, but holy shit I hope they take it more seriously than they seemed to have last time around.
In all, I blame myself just as much as UK and everyone else. I miss Tubby Smith, but I did openly bitch about him when things weren't going well. But still, he was a top-shelf, class a guy and never got a fair shake from the residents who refused to accept a black man at the helm. Yes, racism still rings loud and true in the bluegrass state. I'm thrilled that he is kicking ass and happy in Minnesota. He deserves that much after all the hell he took in Lexington. But I miss him and wish he'd never been fired.
But to the main point, UK now needs a coach. I thought we could get someone strong two years ago, and from the moment he was hired I hated Gillespie. On the Bring Something to the Table Scale, he was eating crumbs with the mice. And no matter what, you just can't treat the UK job like a hobby or a totalitarian state where nothing you do can be perceived as wrong. It doesn't work like that.
UK fans may be crazy, but we're crazy because we're wickedly loyal. We treat that team like the English treat their soccer clubs. Loyal to the death, for better or worse. NITs won't get it done. 8-8 league records won't do either. No matter how much we tried to forgive the VMI and Gardner-Webb losses, there are some things we just cannot handle happening in Rupp Arena. I'm not sure who they will get, or how soon. And in a way, I don't mind waiting if it means getting the right guy ... whoever that is. I'm a little lost. Hunting for a new head coach is never fun. It means trouble. And we've had too much of it lately in the place that used to give me so much happiness.
In all, I blame myself just as much as UK and everyone else. I miss Tubby Smith, but I did openly bitch about him when things weren't going well. But still, he was a top-shelf, class a guy and never got a fair shake from the residents who refused to accept a black man at the helm. Yes, racism still rings loud and true in the bluegrass state. I'm thrilled that he is kicking ass and happy in Minnesota. He deserves that much after all the hell he took in Lexington. But I miss him and wish he'd never been fired.
But to the main point, UK now needs a coach. I thought we could get someone strong two years ago, and from the moment he was hired I hated Gillespie. On the Bring Something to the Table Scale, he was eating crumbs with the mice. And no matter what, you just can't treat the UK job like a hobby or a totalitarian state where nothing you do can be perceived as wrong. It doesn't work like that.
UK fans may be crazy, but we're crazy because we're wickedly loyal. We treat that team like the English treat their soccer clubs. Loyal to the death, for better or worse. NITs won't get it done. 8-8 league records won't do either. No matter how much we tried to forgive the VMI and Gardner-Webb losses, there are some things we just cannot handle happening in Rupp Arena. I'm not sure who they will get, or how soon. And in a way, I don't mind waiting if it means getting the right guy ... whoever that is. I'm a little lost. Hunting for a new head coach is never fun. It means trouble. And we've had too much of it lately in the place that used to give me so much happiness.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Vegas Observations, Pt 4
OK, last section (I think). A few more thoughts as I wrap this up. As said before, catch up with parts 1, 2 and http://thispixelatedlife.blogspot.com/2009/03/vegas-observations-pt-3.html if you need to.
>> Gotta give it up for Matt, who surprised us all with his commitment to the tables. Cards be damned, he powered through and sat at the poker tables raking pots for around 40 or 50 total hours. This was enough, I think, to earn him a free spot in a high buy-in poker tourney the next time he is in town. Of course, I would have asked him about it had I been able to pry him away from his seat.
>> Must say, Caesar's is a great sportsbook to watch games. 8 large projection screens. Smart employees. Loud speakers. Hell, they even have the restrooms within spittin distance so you are not pulled away very far. I ended up hanging out with a crew of guys on spring break from Connecticut. This is because all my compadres were off playing poker or being pissed at each other. Hmmm, speaking of that ...>> Agent Zero! Scott Summers! Silver Fox! It's Wolverine the movie! When the hell does it come out again?
>> Be careful what you wish for when trying to save money by crashing with friends. We're all grown men, and I guess it was a matter of time before words were had over the sleeping arrangements. Me? I'm a floor guy. Can't remember the last time I claimed a bed. Give me a comforter and two pillows and I will take one for the team and crash on the floor. Well, we had a gigantic room so it should never have been an issue, but sure enough a good deal of alcohol thrown in and tensions boiled over. I'll spare the specifics, but Luke and Sean had an epic battle over who slept where. It spilt over into the next day and all but killed the momentum of the weekend. I think hate beams from their eyes are being thrust from Cincy to Lexington as we speak. Come on, fellas, be adults and hug and move on. But it was damn funny to watch.
>> Luke pointed out this infomercial that had escaped me until now. It's four women and 100% D-bag talking on a couch about small penis size and how terrible it is for men. What the fuck? I was enraptured by this program. Wow, talk about highly offensive to men. I mean, come on, no good comes of this. I'm getting a wee tired of all the programs/pills/ads/whatever all spelling out how horrifying it is for a man to hear this stuff. Not every man needs Viagra, but you'd never know it if you watched any major sporting event. Christ, you'd think all women in the world were going unsatisfied. Just wait until they start advertising sex pills for women on E! and Bravo. Then the shit will really hit the fan. You know it's coming, ladies. Don't say you weren't warned.
>> The highlight of every trip for me is the Saturday night run at the Hard Rock Casino. Love it there. Never have bad luck there. Cool people. Great tables. Great music pumped throughout the place. Hell, they even have Aerosmith chips and a full display of Steven Tyler apparel. So you know I love it. This year was no exception. Luke and I had a thrilling run for a couple hours. We met some cool people, all of whom stayed around the table for a healthy session. By the end of it all, Luke and I combined took more than a grand from the Hard Rock. It easily helped us pay for the hotel room and cover some of our losses from earlier. In all, it was a fitting bookend to yet another fabulous excursion to Vegas. Next year we'll hopefully have a bigger crew. And individual rooms. And less Wolverine.
Vegas Observations, Pt 3
Thanks for catching up with me and my Vegas ramblings. Be sure to start with Parts 1 and 2 before proceeding. Done? Good. On with the ramblings ...
>> There is nothing better to remind you of home than sitting next to two chain-smoking horse racing fanatics. Shitfire, these two were something else. They were from Missouri, and they had a love of horse racing that rivaled those in Kentucky. Of course, their love of cigarettes would make any Kentucky tobacco farmer proud. But these two got it done. They were making 7-9 bets on races taking place at 4 different tracks across the country, and they knew what they were doing. The guy was hitting trifectas like I was putting down vodka/tonics; many and often. They gave me a few tips and won me some money while I was watching the hoops, so that was nice. Bonus gambling money and getting to cheer on the ponies always hits a warm spot in my heart.
>> 53 viewings of the Wolverine trailer into my trip, and I got to say I am a tad nervous about the handling of one of my favorite X-Men characters, Gambit. The dude is a cajun card player with exploding playing cards and an electric bo staff. That equals badass in my book. Yet in this movie it looks they have a makeup loving frenchman with perfectly coiffed hair and silk shirts. You already know my opinion on silk shirts. They better not screw this up. Maybe I am looking into it too much. I mean, I have seen the same 4-second clip of him 53 times now ... and counting.
>> The Wynn hotel and casino is a massive operation. How massive? We drove by a 6-level, two-square block parking garage. For its employees. We may be in a recession, but the Wynn at least gives its low-paid workers a place to park.
>> Stryker! Emma Frost! Beak! It's Wolverine the movie, coming May 2! I think everyone in Vegas has their tickets already.
>> With Vegas looking for any way to attract tourists to come there and spend money, they have appealed to a new low of retarded, lazy, stupid Americans. Yes, they are renting, renting, those motorized scooters for you to go about your day in the casino. Because apparently walking, elevators, moving walkways and all the casinos virtually connected so you can go from one end of the strip to the other without seeing the sun is too much stress for people. We can't get people united around solving the recession or global warming, but let's spend our time coming up with ways to make us expend even less energy. Brilliant. Thankfully, I was just one of many who called these guys out on their collective douchebaggery. It was fun.
>> There is nothing better to remind you of home than sitting next to two chain-smoking horse racing fanatics. Shitfire, these two were something else. They were from Missouri, and they had a love of horse racing that rivaled those in Kentucky. Of course, their love of cigarettes would make any Kentucky tobacco farmer proud. But these two got it done. They were making 7-9 bets on races taking place at 4 different tracks across the country, and they knew what they were doing. The guy was hitting trifectas like I was putting down vodka/tonics; many and often. They gave me a few tips and won me some money while I was watching the hoops, so that was nice. Bonus gambling money and getting to cheer on the ponies always hits a warm spot in my heart.
>> 53 viewings of the Wolverine trailer into my trip, and I got to say I am a tad nervous about the handling of one of my favorite X-Men characters, Gambit. The dude is a cajun card player with exploding playing cards and an electric bo staff. That equals badass in my book. Yet in this movie it looks they have a makeup loving frenchman with perfectly coiffed hair and silk shirts. You already know my opinion on silk shirts. They better not screw this up. Maybe I am looking into it too much. I mean, I have seen the same 4-second clip of him 53 times now ... and counting.>> The Wynn hotel and casino is a massive operation. How massive? We drove by a 6-level, two-square block parking garage. For its employees. We may be in a recession, but the Wynn at least gives its low-paid workers a place to park.
>> Stryker! Emma Frost! Beak! It's Wolverine the movie, coming May 2! I think everyone in Vegas has their tickets already.
>> With Vegas looking for any way to attract tourists to come there and spend money, they have appealed to a new low of retarded, lazy, stupid Americans. Yes, they are renting, renting, those motorized scooters for you to go about your day in the casino. Because apparently walking, elevators, moving walkways and all the casinos virtually connected so you can go from one end of the strip to the other without seeing the sun is too much stress for people. We can't get people united around solving the recession or global warming, but let's spend our time coming up with ways to make us expend even less energy. Brilliant. Thankfully, I was just one of many who called these guys out on their collective douchebaggery. It was fun.
Vegas Observations, Pt 2
Before you read this, be sure to check out Part 1, as it lays the foundation. Now, on with the random thoughts:
>> Perhaps my biggest screwup of the trip was being drunk and believing that Sean would find one of the apps on my iPhone particularly amazing. When it's quiet and you turn on the lightsaber app, you can move the iPhone around and it sounds like you are swinging a Jedi knight and kicking some imperial storm trooper ass. OK, maybe I am already making myself sound like a dork, but trust me, when you are hammered and looking for a quick laugh it's a solid go-to. Anyway, Sean was clearly not drunk and after hyping it and showing it off, he proceeded to call me a loser for the next 72 hours. Damnit, I'm an idiot. Let's just move on.
>> I don't mind advertising, but holy hell if you could not feel the effects of the bad economy with the ads during the basketball games. Hugh Jackman is playing Wolverine in a Wolverine movie. It's coming out May 2. These facts are seared into my brain. May 2, May 2, May 2. Wolverine. OK, got it.
>> Luke had a rough go at the start of it with the sports gambling. He played lots of parlays and lost the first games in them right away. Then he made wrong choices in betting the points or the money line. But luckily he rebounded Friday night, with a rare-for-him three for three sweep in NCAA games. That's him showing off his three tickets while slightly inebriated at the Luxor. Good job, dukey.
>> For the first year in six or seven that we have all been going to Vegas, I chose to leave Sunday morning, avoiding the dreaded Black Sunday. This is because, as is tradition, we normally kick ass in the gambling Saturday night and then get cleaned up all day Sunday as we wait for our late-night flights. Vegas does this on purpose, I know it. They bring in the tough dealers, the dice that feel like lumps of coal, and no one is drinking so everyone is in a bad mood. We all know we have to go home, and it sucks. So I left at 10 a.m., and it was fantastic. I won't forget this sure-fire move.
>> Sabertooth! Gambit! Blob! Deadpool! Wolverine! It's Wolverine, the movie, coming May 2! Mark your calendars!
>> Perhaps my biggest screwup of the trip was being drunk and believing that Sean would find one of the apps on my iPhone particularly amazing. When it's quiet and you turn on the lightsaber app, you can move the iPhone around and it sounds like you are swinging a Jedi knight and kicking some imperial storm trooper ass. OK, maybe I am already making myself sound like a dork, but trust me, when you are hammered and looking for a quick laugh it's a solid go-to. Anyway, Sean was clearly not drunk and after hyping it and showing it off, he proceeded to call me a loser for the next 72 hours. Damnit, I'm an idiot. Let's just move on.
>> I don't mind advertising, but holy hell if you could not feel the effects of the bad economy with the ads during the basketball games. Hugh Jackman is playing Wolverine in a Wolverine movie. It's coming out May 2. These facts are seared into my brain. May 2, May 2, May 2. Wolverine. OK, got it.
>> Luke had a rough go at the start of it with the sports gambling. He played lots of parlays and lost the first games in them right away. Then he made wrong choices in betting the points or the money line. But luckily he rebounded Friday night, with a rare-for-him three for three sweep in NCAA games. That's him showing off his three tickets while slightly inebriated at the Luxor. Good job, dukey.>> For the first year in six or seven that we have all been going to Vegas, I chose to leave Sunday morning, avoiding the dreaded Black Sunday. This is because, as is tradition, we normally kick ass in the gambling Saturday night and then get cleaned up all day Sunday as we wait for our late-night flights. Vegas does this on purpose, I know it. They bring in the tough dealers, the dice that feel like lumps of coal, and no one is drinking so everyone is in a bad mood. We all know we have to go home, and it sucks. So I left at 10 a.m., and it was fantastic. I won't forget this sure-fire move.
>> Sabertooth! Gambit! Blob! Deadpool! Wolverine! It's Wolverine, the movie, coming May 2! Mark your calendars!
Vegas Observations, Pt 1
OK, so it's going to be hard to properly recap my entire trip to Vegas, but I need to at least share some random thoughts and experiences that were had. I know this is going to take a bit of space (I'm a long talker and get a bit winded) so be prepared. Here's a brief rundown of the major players in last week's epic trip:
Me: You know me. Avid gambler. Lover of life. Vodka and tonic cravings.
Luke: Former roommate. Broke. Likes small boys. Ok, scratch the small boys part. Cool guy. That much is true. Also, terrible fantasy football player.
Sean: Loves poker more than life itself. Scary, but true. Married. Is 145 years old. That fact is in question. He just acts that old sometimes.
Matt: Barely know him, but only as the assface from my fantasy football league that we all like to pick on who we love to hate. Works for UBS. Is a Republican. I think that pretty much tells you all you need to know.
Caesar's Palace: Where we crashed for the weekend and site of most of my sports gambling.
Wolverine: Yeah, the Hugh Jackman character. There's a Wolverine movie coming out, did you know that? You will by the end of these posts. They sure slammed the point home hard.
And now, onto the random thoughts and observations from my trip:
>> In the bathrooms at the Paris Hotel and Casino (a great spot for sports gambling and watching, though Dan hates it for some unknown reason), they have French lessons piped through the intercom. Only it's not typical lessons like, "Hello" "What time is it?" and stuff like that. No, the lessons they pipe in are more for the discerning French student. "Is that an eclair in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" "Shit, where did I misplace my wedding ring?" "Your dress is lovely. It would look lovelier on my hotel room floor." This is the kind of stuff they were teaching us. Don't say the casinos don't give you every tool at your disposal to try to get laid.
>> Actually, if you are looking to get some action, it's best to be a woman in Vegas during March Madness than a dude. Holy crap, there were like 2,000 men for every one woman in Vegas. It was bad. Normally you walk around Vegas each night and you cannot help but notice all the women dressed to the hilt hoping they will get let into the trendy clubs and dance halls I would not be caught dead in. But during March Madness, we all remarked that the normally super hot women must have stayed in LA, because they weren't there. It was a bummer from a pure Whore Watch 2009 viewpoint.
>> Speaking of hot women, we did have a celebrity sighting. And no, while we did see former UK star and father of 900 babies Antoine Walker kicking it in Caesar's, that is not who I am talking about. And I have to admit, had it not been for the wife constantly watching this crap show, I would have never been able to pick Holly Madison (of Girls Next Door fame) out of the crowd at a burger restaurant. She was remarkably shorter than I thought she was (shorter than me) but I cannot deny that she was pretty hot. Even for an ex of Heff who ditched him for the Cris Angel jackass.
>> Fellas, trust me, you are not impressing anyone with the half-undone silk shirt rolling craps with one hand and dangling a cigar in the other. Especially when you sound like you are a high school dropout from Indiana. I don't care if you cashed in all your savings so it looks like you have millions in chips in front of you. You are not cool. I repeat, you are not cool. Furthermore, one way to piss off everyone and ensure that you won't make money is to be a gargantuan dick and try to dictate play at the craps table. This asshole yelled at the people he didn't want to have the dice and then accosted the drink lady and cursed out two older guys for rolling 7s. This kept up for about 25 minutes until everyone kept passing him the dice and betting the Don't Pass line. Worked like a charm. I was only watching this happen, but it looked like fun.
Me: You know me. Avid gambler. Lover of life. Vodka and tonic cravings.
Luke: Former roommate. Broke. Likes small boys. Ok, scratch the small boys part. Cool guy. That much is true. Also, terrible fantasy football player.
Sean: Loves poker more than life itself. Scary, but true. Married. Is 145 years old. That fact is in question. He just acts that old sometimes.
Matt: Barely know him, but only as the assface from my fantasy football league that we all like to pick on who we love to hate. Works for UBS. Is a Republican. I think that pretty much tells you all you need to know.
Caesar's Palace: Where we crashed for the weekend and site of most of my sports gambling.
Wolverine: Yeah, the Hugh Jackman character. There's a Wolverine movie coming out, did you know that? You will by the end of these posts. They sure slammed the point home hard.
And now, onto the random thoughts and observations from my trip:
>> In the bathrooms at the Paris Hotel and Casino (a great spot for sports gambling and watching, though Dan hates it for some unknown reason), they have French lessons piped through the intercom. Only it's not typical lessons like, "Hello" "What time is it?" and stuff like that. No, the lessons they pipe in are more for the discerning French student. "Is that an eclair in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" "Shit, where did I misplace my wedding ring?" "Your dress is lovely. It would look lovelier on my hotel room floor." This is the kind of stuff they were teaching us. Don't say the casinos don't give you every tool at your disposal to try to get laid.
>> Actually, if you are looking to get some action, it's best to be a woman in Vegas during March Madness than a dude. Holy crap, there were like 2,000 men for every one woman in Vegas. It was bad. Normally you walk around Vegas each night and you cannot help but notice all the women dressed to the hilt hoping they will get let into the trendy clubs and dance halls I would not be caught dead in. But during March Madness, we all remarked that the normally super hot women must have stayed in LA, because they weren't there. It was a bummer from a pure Whore Watch 2009 viewpoint.>> Speaking of hot women, we did have a celebrity sighting. And no, while we did see former UK star and father of 900 babies Antoine Walker kicking it in Caesar's, that is not who I am talking about. And I have to admit, had it not been for the wife constantly watching this crap show, I would have never been able to pick Holly Madison (of Girls Next Door fame) out of the crowd at a burger restaurant. She was remarkably shorter than I thought she was (shorter than me) but I cannot deny that she was pretty hot. Even for an ex of Heff who ditched him for the Cris Angel jackass.
>> Fellas, trust me, you are not impressing anyone with the half-undone silk shirt rolling craps with one hand and dangling a cigar in the other. Especially when you sound like you are a high school dropout from Indiana. I don't care if you cashed in all your savings so it looks like you have millions in chips in front of you. You are not cool. I repeat, you are not cool. Furthermore, one way to piss off everyone and ensure that you won't make money is to be a gargantuan dick and try to dictate play at the craps table. This asshole yelled at the people he didn't want to have the dice and then accosted the drink lady and cursed out two older guys for rolling 7s. This kept up for about 25 minutes until everyone kept passing him the dice and betting the Don't Pass line. Worked like a charm. I was only watching this happen, but it looked like fun.
Jonzing For This Movie
I've always been a big Spike Jonze fan. He's done some great movies, and I think he and Michel Gondry are true visionaries with an ability to tell a unique story when given the proper work.
Jonze is a skater boy who ended up becoming quite the film buff. He directed Adaptation, Being John Malkovich and did all the work on the kick-ass opening sequence for Lakai's Fully Flared. Now, he's made a movie out of probably one of the best children's books of all time. A book about love, adventure and fear. I've got high hopes for this one, so he better not let me down. Judging by this trailer, I think we're in good hands.
Jonze is a skater boy who ended up becoming quite the film buff. He directed Adaptation, Being John Malkovich and did all the work on the kick-ass opening sequence for Lakai's Fully Flared. Now, he's made a movie out of probably one of the best children's books of all time. A book about love, adventure and fear. I've got high hopes for this one, so he better not let me down. Judging by this trailer, I think we're in good hands.
Monday, March 23, 2009
What I've Read: Eclipse
It was somewhere around 8 or 9 years ago that I randomly needed a book to read at an airport and picked up Degree of Guilt by Richard North Patterson. A legal drama about a TV news reporter that has been raped, it was a novel that I found gripping and written with a voice that I was taken to immediately. He made legal workings and courtroom dramas less sappy like Grisham does. Instead, he puts the focus on the characters and the current events that shape the story. After reading Degree of Guilt, I was hooked. I instantly bought three more novels of his, and they just kept getting better and better. First off, his characters crossed over and shared stories in other novels, and they more complex than the crap you get from Patricia Cromwell or James Patterson. Over time, his new releases would take on more complex subjects, and I found them even more gripping and intelligent in their descriptions of varying viewpoints. All are courtroom/legal thrillers, but the thrust behind them was always unique: gun control, abortion, a woman as chief justice, political elections. Everything was poignant and timely and rational and thought-provoking and read like nonfiction. I loved it.
Eclipse is his latest, and it tells a fictional tale of an African national who returns from America to lead his people against an oil conglomerate and the country's ruthless autocrat. The story, while entirely fiction, feels so real and present that I could not help but feel it was, or could be, a prediction of possible events to come.
Wow, this is rather flowy and gushing in its praise. But that's what happens I guess when you find an author that gets its hooks into you. I like that he has an immediacy to his issues and presents conflicting and knowledgeable opinions. If you've got a hankering for a solid read, I definitely recommend his books. The wife doubted me at first, and now she's read almost all of them. How could you argue with that? This is a woman who likes crap TV on E! and Style. If I can get her hooked on this stuff, I think I am winning the battle slowly but surely.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Vegas or Bust
Making my way westbound today. Heading out to that oasis in the desert. The place where dreams and bank accounts are grown and shattered (hopefully the former for me).
That's right baby, I am headed to Vegas. That wonderland where all my gambling desires are fulfilled. A smaller crew is headed there than in year's past, but we'll somehow survive. Normally this trip is done over MLK weekend with all my buddies from fantasy football, but because of the inauguration of the savior, prices were too expensive to leave DC that weekend.
So we pushed the date back to coincide with the opening of the NCAA Tournament. Sure, I did think I would be getting to see UK play instead of having to watch them in the fucking NIT last night, but whatever. I will get my kicks rolling 6s and 8s at the craps tables, sprinkling in the occasional 9 (neuf!) in honor of Kelly and our epic roll in Montreal with Fat Tony.
It's always funny talking to friends about Vegas, because it always comes down to two camps. 1) My guy friends who are pissed at me for going and watching college hoops from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. without a break at the sportsbooks; and 2) The female friends who wonder where I am eating and whether I will see the sun or hang out at the pool. Ummm, no pool (there is plenty of gambling to be done), no sun (who goes outside in Vegas when there is NONSTOP tournament hoops on (which includes more gambling), and as far as the eating goes we will have our ceremonial high-end meal (big bloated dinner at Del Frisco's) while checking scores and heading back down to Old Vegas and the Hard Rock for more ... well ... gambling. You get the picture.
So if you need me, you know where I will be. Here or here. Nowhere else.
That's right baby, I am headed to Vegas. That wonderland where all my gambling desires are fulfilled. A smaller crew is headed there than in year's past, but we'll somehow survive. Normally this trip is done over MLK weekend with all my buddies from fantasy football, but because of the inauguration of the savior, prices were too expensive to leave DC that weekend.
So we pushed the date back to coincide with the opening of the NCAA Tournament. Sure, I did think I would be getting to see UK play instead of having to watch them in the fucking NIT last night, but whatever. I will get my kicks rolling 6s and 8s at the craps tables, sprinkling in the occasional 9 (neuf!) in honor of Kelly and our epic roll in Montreal with Fat Tony.
It's always funny talking to friends about Vegas, because it always comes down to two camps. 1) My guy friends who are pissed at me for going and watching college hoops from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. without a break at the sportsbooks; and 2) The female friends who wonder where I am eating and whether I will see the sun or hang out at the pool. Ummm, no pool (there is plenty of gambling to be done), no sun (who goes outside in Vegas when there is NONSTOP tournament hoops on (which includes more gambling), and as far as the eating goes we will have our ceremonial high-end meal (big bloated dinner at Del Frisco's) while checking scores and heading back down to Old Vegas and the Hard Rock for more ... well ... gambling. You get the picture.
So if you need me, you know where I will be. Here or here. Nowhere else.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
A New Kind of Experience
Today is Selection Sunday. For someone from Kentucky, this gets marked on the calendar along with birthdays, Derby Day and when the beginning of college basketball begins.
But for the first time in my memory that I can aptly recall, Selection Sunday will not be viewed by me. This is because my most beloved sporting treasure, UK basketball, had a crap season because it has an even crappier coach. I loathe and despise the man unlike anything I know. I hated it when the (racist) jackoffs in Kentucky thought it would be better to get rid of a successful black coach (Tubby Smith) and bring in a southern style, single, drink-lovin Billy Gillespie. I think I am now going to call him Coach that Shall Not Be Named because I hate even saying his name now.
The last time we didn't make the tournament was when the NCAA BANNED us from going (thanks to Eddie Sutton for that one). That was in 1991. I was 14 and I don't hardly remember what happened in the years before it.
Today the third-longest streak in consecutive made NCAA tournaments comes to a close. I'm depressed, and I'm not watching Selection Sunday. It's going to be weird. It's going to be depressing.
But for the first time in my memory that I can aptly recall, Selection Sunday will not be viewed by me. This is because my most beloved sporting treasure, UK basketball, had a crap season because it has an even crappier coach. I loathe and despise the man unlike anything I know. I hated it when the (racist) jackoffs in Kentucky thought it would be better to get rid of a successful black coach (Tubby Smith) and bring in a southern style, single, drink-lovin Billy Gillespie. I think I am now going to call him Coach that Shall Not Be Named because I hate even saying his name now.
The last time we didn't make the tournament was when the NCAA BANNED us from going (thanks to Eddie Sutton for that one). That was in 1991. I was 14 and I don't hardly remember what happened in the years before it.
Today the third-longest streak in consecutive made NCAA tournaments comes to a close. I'm depressed, and I'm not watching Selection Sunday. It's going to be weird. It's going to be depressing.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Caveman Times Won't Be So Bad
Got to give it up for mom, she got all down with the technology and sent along a somewhat telling clip about us youngins and our addiction to cell phones and texting. Jay Leno decided to have a little contest between some ruffians and a pair of ole fellers and their morse code. At least I know that if things fall apart, we've got this to rely on. Maybe I should brush up on my dots and dashes.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The GOP: Where Intolerance Happens
The NBA likes its current tagline, "Where Amazing Happens." Well, the Republican Party got another taste of honesty from its newly elected chairman, Michael Steele. Apparently, the GOP is not where honestly happens. Well, you can be honest, but it better agree with GOP guidelines.
To make things quick and easy, Steele said in this interview that abortion is an individual choice and that being gay isn't something you choose to do. Both are HUGE no-nos for republicans, and while they are just fine for a person to have as an opinion, they don't like it coming from their de facto leader. Damn your personal opinions, sir, just spout the party mantra of hate and intolerance and be done.
Nevermind that it was republicans who voted to let this man be their leader. Whatever. He tried bringing a hip-hop style to the GOP, and it looks like his career is about to be 187'd.
To make things quick and easy, Steele said in this interview that abortion is an individual choice and that being gay isn't something you choose to do. Both are HUGE no-nos for republicans, and while they are just fine for a person to have as an opinion, they don't like it coming from their de facto leader. Damn your personal opinions, sir, just spout the party mantra of hate and intolerance and be done.
Nevermind that it was republicans who voted to let this man be their leader. Whatever. He tried bringing a hip-hop style to the GOP, and it looks like his career is about to be 187'd.
Shocked. Shocked I Tell Ya
Let me say I NEVER saw this one coming. Never. Seriously, they were the perfect couple, didn't you think?
But don't worry, I'm sure this is not the single mother Republicans complain about that are ruining society. Naaaah.
But don't worry, I'm sure this is not the single mother Republicans complain about that are ruining society. Naaaah.
Still Damn Funny (Cont.)
All three deleted scenes from last week's Office were great, so I'm sharing them. Watching The Office each week is getting to be quite the event in my household. Primarily because it is 30 minutes of me laughing hysterically while the wife cowers on the couch saying, "I can't laugh at this. It's too uncomfortable. It's so inappropriate for the office. How does no one get sued?"
Yeah, I don't know what to do with her, either.
Yeah, I don't know what to do with her, either.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Fuck You, Grapefruit
I grew up in a pro-breakfast household. My favorite for all time is bagels. But since I cannot always have the best bagels on the planet (from the bagel shop down the street from my grandmother's in Jersey), I decided a couple years back to go total opposite and eat healthy for breakfast. So for the first year or two I ate a banana every day. About 10 months back I got tired of bananas and started mixing it up. Mangoes for awhile, peaches, apricots, pineapple. All good things. But since it's winter, most fruits are not in season except citrus. Oranges are good for juice, but not for eating. So my wife in her infinite wisdom suggested I go for grapefuits.
I like the juice, but have not eaten them much. Now, I loathe their existence on this planet. Seriously, no food item has ever had it in for me like the grapefruit. They are impossible to peel. On Monday and Tuesday, I did the traditional "cut grapefruit in half and scoop out each mini wedge" attack on the fruit. Huge mistake. Several co-workers passed by and snickered watching as I turned that fruit into more of a mushy soup. I even lapped one wedge into my lap. One of them mentioned that she had better success peeling the fruit and cutting it lengthwise like they serve at restaurants. I thought, what the hell, let's give that a shot.
Gargantuan mistake. I looked like Corky trying to play baseball (which is a little bit like me playing baseball). Juice was flying all over my desk like a T-Shirt blasted from one of those air cannons. I at last gave up and tossed the thing. I have one grapefuit left at home, and unless the wife can prove to me otherwise that this can be salvaged, I'm going Gallagher on its ass.
Not Forgetting About DC (Cont.)
I hate politics sometimes. But what I really hate more is guns. I hate guns. Hate hate hate hate hate guns. Yes, I love Gears of War and video games with guns are fun. But that's make believe. This is real, and I hate guns. And I really hate it when guns get in the way of DC getting its due.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Co-opting Hope
I gave up soft drinks almost a decade ago now. I dabble in the occasional ginger ale when a upset stomach busts in, but there will be no pop otherwise.
I preface this because I'm not bagging on Pepsi here because I am a Coke man or some other B.S. I'm pissed at Pepsi because they have co-opted Obama's hope message and plastered the Metro Center station with about 9 million signs and banners advertising their new logo. It's all crap, it's annoying, they look like crap and it ruins all the fun and joy from the inauguration. I hate looking at them. I cannot wait for them to go away.
There, I feel better now.
Sound Financial Advice
I must say, the wife and I have had some spirited conversations about the current economic crisis, especially as it pertains to homeowners. We are not on polar extremes, mind you, we just have subtle differences about how things play out. She tends to lean a bit more toward the "people should know better than to accept loans they cannot afford" while I counter with the "it's hard for random American to not do that when banks are quite good at selling such services to you" and also the "they don't live in DC, NYC, LA or a given massive city where you are inundated with political/financial news as opposed to talk to your cubemate about Top Chef and then going back to your telemarketing or Applebees waitering job" kind of outlook.
It's times like these when, because I'm an idiot, I find joy in the simplicity of message. Like last night's Daily Show, when Jon Stewart gladly showed me why it's insane to blame 'losers' for their financial problems when the people they ARE TOLD TO TAKE ADVICE FROM are equally moronic. The money shot in this video is at the end, but the whole video is money actually.
It's times like these when, because I'm an idiot, I find joy in the simplicity of message. Like last night's Daily Show, when Jon Stewart gladly showed me why it's insane to blame 'losers' for their financial problems when the people they ARE TOLD TO TAKE ADVICE FROM are equally moronic. The money shot in this video is at the end, but the whole video is money actually.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Welcome to DC, Joe
I hate hearing/reading/seeing anything about Joe the (I don't pay my taxes and haven't fixed a thing in years) Plumber. Can't stand him, but it's hilarious that Republicans keep propping him up.
Luckily, he got a warm reception by all of 11 people here in DC to promote his book. Love it. Now, get the hell out of my city.
Luckily, he got a warm reception by all of 11 people here in DC to promote his book. Love it. Now, get the hell out of my city.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Snow With A Tinge of Sadness
I woke up several times last night, checking on the snowfall. The wife and I desperately wanted a snow day. We have these great sleds and wanted to go to the giant hill behind our building and enjoy the first really good sledding snow of the season. Plus, the dog loves it. I could write a whole post just about his love for the snow. But that has to wait for another day.
This is because I have to tell you about Thomas. Thomas is the front desk man at my building. For 15 years he has worked here, a though I have only been living here for just over five of those, he is the closest thing I could call a friend in the building. His eccentric attitude and friendly persona is infectious. He always wore the loudest outfits, from all-purple suits to kimonos and African garb. He didn't know black clothes. His wardrobe is not made up of dour stuff of typical Washington, DC. Instead his attire simply reflected his view of the world.
Over five years Thomas and I had numerous conversations. I helped him setup his wireless Internet at the front desk. Helped him sort mail a couple times on super-busy days when he was overwhelmed. He sings for his church choir, something I did when religion made sense to me and I still had a singing voice (I think I was 12 then). He had a love for Tina Turner, and he talked about her music constantly. I found rare albums online and burnt copies for him, and once helped him burn and troubleshoot a DVD that wasn't working on his laptop. He loved Tina.
I'm having trouble between writing in present and past tense, because Thomas died yesterday. It's so weird. Just a week ago he was behind the front desk doing what he did ... solve everyone's little problems they didn't want to deal with. We had such a good rapport that he would always set aside my mail (and you know I get a ton of it every day) and would always have it there waiting for me on the corner of the counter. I never had to ask for it. Everyone else had to ask and wait; me, it was just always there and he'd give me a smile, ask me how my day was, we'd share a quick note about each other's day and I would move on.
He was gone all last week because he was sick. The wife and I thought he had a cold or something, like everyone else in DC right now. But this morning there was a subtle note on the front desk saying he died. No explanation, just "a sudden illness." Don't know if he contracted something weird, or had an unspoken cancer no one knew about. I have no idea, and I may never know. I haven't stopped thinking about him today. And when I walked into the lobby and didn't see my mail on the corner again, I half thought he'd be back there, ready to apologize and laugh as I jokingly gave him shit for it. It wasn't meant to be. And now it never will be.
I never got to say goodbye, and it may seem silly to write something this long about someone I only knew on such a singular level. Thomas was cool, though, ultra cool. He just had a way of looking at things and never seemed anything less than happy all the time. So here is my goodbye to you, Thomas. A couple good videos of Tina, who at 70 is rocking in a way I can only hope to do when I am 35. Your two favorite Tina songs, Thomas, hope you enjoy them, wherever you are.
River Deep, Mountain High:
Proud Mary:
This is because I have to tell you about Thomas. Thomas is the front desk man at my building. For 15 years he has worked here, a though I have only been living here for just over five of those, he is the closest thing I could call a friend in the building. His eccentric attitude and friendly persona is infectious. He always wore the loudest outfits, from all-purple suits to kimonos and African garb. He didn't know black clothes. His wardrobe is not made up of dour stuff of typical Washington, DC. Instead his attire simply reflected his view of the world.
Over five years Thomas and I had numerous conversations. I helped him setup his wireless Internet at the front desk. Helped him sort mail a couple times on super-busy days when he was overwhelmed. He sings for his church choir, something I did when religion made sense to me and I still had a singing voice (I think I was 12 then). He had a love for Tina Turner, and he talked about her music constantly. I found rare albums online and burnt copies for him, and once helped him burn and troubleshoot a DVD that wasn't working on his laptop. He loved Tina.
I'm having trouble between writing in present and past tense, because Thomas died yesterday. It's so weird. Just a week ago he was behind the front desk doing what he did ... solve everyone's little problems they didn't want to deal with. We had such a good rapport that he would always set aside my mail (and you know I get a ton of it every day) and would always have it there waiting for me on the corner of the counter. I never had to ask for it. Everyone else had to ask and wait; me, it was just always there and he'd give me a smile, ask me how my day was, we'd share a quick note about each other's day and I would move on.
He was gone all last week because he was sick. The wife and I thought he had a cold or something, like everyone else in DC right now. But this morning there was a subtle note on the front desk saying he died. No explanation, just "a sudden illness." Don't know if he contracted something weird, or had an unspoken cancer no one knew about. I have no idea, and I may never know. I haven't stopped thinking about him today. And when I walked into the lobby and didn't see my mail on the corner again, I half thought he'd be back there, ready to apologize and laugh as I jokingly gave him shit for it. It wasn't meant to be. And now it never will be.
I never got to say goodbye, and it may seem silly to write something this long about someone I only knew on such a singular level. Thomas was cool, though, ultra cool. He just had a way of looking at things and never seemed anything less than happy all the time. So here is my goodbye to you, Thomas. A couple good videos of Tina, who at 70 is rocking in a way I can only hope to do when I am 35. Your two favorite Tina songs, Thomas, hope you enjoy them, wherever you are.
River Deep, Mountain High:
Proud Mary:
Seattle Police Beating
It's no Rodney King, mind you, but it's pretty gnarly watching a cop beat up a girl just for flicking her shoe at him. There's no audio, but I doubt she said anything he hadn't heard before.
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