AS predicted, jocksniffer radio hosts, listener calls, emails, texts, et al are myopically fixed on Michael Vick’s return to the NFL. The Philadelphia Eagles officially announced the signing of Vick, the man who served hard time for crossing state lines to engage in illegal dog fights. The animal abuse, cruelty, torture & execution, were just incidental to going from Virginia to Georgia to do it. Though a case could be made for just going back to Virginia once you made it to Georgia, which I’ve done myself.
At the Eagles press conference Vick, whose criminal acts fit the FBI profile for serial killer, apparently memorized a list of cliches. Learned behavior is something a sociopath is very good at doing. He is being mentored by Tony Dungy, a former NFL coach & born again Bible scholar, who has his own tragic history. The etymology of both their names aside, I have never enjoyed puppet shows after age 5. The debate over whether or not Vick deserves a return to the NFL took up 99% of ESPN program content today ( August 14 ), running the gamut from the inane to the insane. Best of British luck, ya’ll. . ..
AND 99% of those people discussing Vick are not only ill equipped to do so, they can barely articulate the real issue– has he rehabilitated himself ( ty Arlo )? So, as he goes over to sit on the Group W Eagles bench, I’d like to pose a question the great unwashed can all have an opinion on, and even more to the point, it’s at their level of intellect. Here goes—
Do you think the Eagles will cut Vick if he dogs it?
“Hey! thatsa pretty fonny. You canta fool me boss. Thosa Transformahs ainta racists, theyah battlebots they donta race!” Chico Marx
Let me get this straight. There are some people upset about racism in the new movie Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. The pervasive destructive disregard for life, property and national treasures, that’s okay? Not to mention the dogged possibility of damage to Megan Fox. And the veritable lake size puddles of oil they leave behind. I’d be an idiot of the same stripe as they are, to read as if I’d ever condone racism. But the superficial, knee jerk reactions of such people do nothing but actually pour some of that bot fluid on the flames.
They learned a big word once—stereotype. But they learned it in the context of an explanation with negative connotations. Am I even allowed to use negative? Stereotypes, as with the verbal equivalent, the cliché, exist for one reason—they are experiential human shorthand. If it waddles like a duck, we then see a duck, not some poor kid in a mascot suit. Unless of course, it is some kid in a mascot suit. Personally, I have seen just about every stereotype in real life, these jerkoffs complain about. It would be fine with them to have a white trash moron, an Italian mob goombah, a Jewish anything, but not a person of color who isn’t in Mensa? Could’ve been worse, they could’ve had Tyler Perry in drag Transformer. . ..
Bullshit. They are the people with the problem. It is so intense of a problem, they see racist in the use of the word people. In the Sixties, I was a second generation Italian, a teenager with long hair, a beard, wore sunglasses & drove a Corvette. If you knew anything about life before you were born or say, Heaven forfend, read a book, you’d know that was a set of characteristics sure to get you special notice by authorities. Luckily, I never did get any harassment. Because I was lucky and behaved myself, and never got caught the few times I power shifted, burnt rubber and wore a hundred miles off my tires. The only time was when a guy on my softball team, a police sergeant, advised me to be careful of the company I kept. He was right too. And I did. However, if you don’t think I got a taste of prejudice back then, you are culturally bereft. Sure, I had the ability and the option to “clean up my act,” a popular phrase of that era. Oddly, even when I did, I was still the same iconoclastic individual. My attitudes and foibles were internal. Have some groups had unfortunate extra attention? the sad answer is yes. As always, I ain’t here to do an exegesis of race relations. Just to point stuff out. Did I look like a small time drug dealer though? you betcha. Was I? Nope and that rhymes with—okay, but just that one time. And I was drunk. . ..
But including a dumbass black character in a movie is anathema? What! there no stupid blacks? how do you explain Martin Lawrence? You obviously don’t listen to WFAN. While possibly not the only choice for a movie character, if it’s an urban scene, what fits more for the point it makes? an African American with GQ cover looks and two doctorates? or some street thug. All y’all are just hater players. BTW why are you even at that movie? oh—Megan Fox! Sexist ahole huh. Or just hetero and enjoying yourself. I’d say lighten up, but I’m no racialist, you get the picture. Maybe. . ..
“Ha hah ha. Shoo, everybody knows they gotta lottsa juice in Florida. They come frommah Noo Yawk for the sunny shine!” Chico Marx
Manny Ramirez, eagerly ( LOL ) awaiting his return to Mannywood and the Dodger lineup, has caught some new attention himself. This because he is a stereotype—of a ballplayer caught using performance enhancing drugs. Apparently someone he’s been associated with has a father who is a doctor. A doctor can write prescriptions for said PED. Voila! This conduit from outside the US, up into Florida and servicing predominantly Latino jocks, is now under scrutiny. Again may I state: Boston, you are hypocrites & phonies. Have a nice day.
Wowie zowie! God didn’t waste anytime with the dead celebrity trifecta. Banging them out like ARod in batting practice. Only God can do it in the actual games too. Yeah sure Alex has had some good at bats the last few days—90 games to go hombre. Sorry, got off track there. So, Farrah Fawcett, Ed MacMahon, and Michael Jackson are at the Pearly Gates. Saint Peter sees Farrah, looks at his big book and says—-” Angel! go right in.” Ed steps up. Peter says-” Heyo!—you have all ready won. Go on in.” Then he looks at Michael Jackson, looks at the book. Looks at Michael again, then back at the book,* he asks — ” Moonwalk, eh! you were an astronaut?” Michael squeaks, ” Uh yes. Yes I was. An astronaut.” St. Peter smiles, ” Welcome to Heaven.” St. Paul throws Peter a look. Peter looks at paul and says – “Hey have you ever heard him sing She’s Out of My Life? The way his voice breaks at the end. That’s Heaven.”
*Take 2: St. Peter looks down at his book, looks at Michael Jackson. ” Oh dear, it’s Jackson. Whew–I thought they said Michael JORDAN. . ..”
Now if he can only keep his hands off the cherubs. Good night everybody! drive safely and don’t forget to tip your waitrons.
It’s good to change things up. So, in honor of Thanksgiving, the second major US holiday in a 10 day period this year! I will do just that. Time to pick on another medium. Magazines.
There are so many awful mags to choose from and though they are often difficult to differentiate, I have one in my sights. Before I do, I’d just like to report, albeit maybe 7 years after the fact, on magazine covers. You can walk into almost any library in America now and see displayed on its shelves, lots o’ skin. The kind of pics, when I was a kid, your dad had hidden in the garage underneath Popular Mechanics. To be fair, and probably due to all that hard work of Gloria Steinem & her feminists in the 70’s, now it’s both female and male skin.
One of the pioneer men’s mags still extant, is ESQUIRE. They had scantily clad ( a dated, yet apt phrase, if I ever saw one ) women & illustrations by a guy named Vargas. Appreciating his work was a rite of passage for boys in that era. This was pre-Playboy. Can you imagine! if not the Dark Ages, it certainly was not so nakedly out in the light. Make that the spotlight. It’s that selfsame ESQUIRE I am about to rip a new one.
Now, in the 21st century, ESQUIRE is a compendium for all that is wrong with humans. They are a publication aimed at upscale men, or wannabes, in the 21-49 demographic. Features are always about how to dress, dine, drink, drive, drives ( sex ) and yes, even die. ESQUIRE never met a word beginning with the letter D it couldn’t publish 2000 words on it’s slick, pretentious pages.
ESQUIRE magazine at it’s inception was for men who are heterosexual. It ostensibly still is, unlike contemporary GENTLEMAN’s QUARTERLY ( GQ ), which is umm, metrosexual. . .. While being told black wingtips is the go to shoe for the serious grown up man on a monthly basis, is Hitler-like enough to make me bristle, the ads are truly something special. Somebody please explain to me what demo guy considers this a desirable kind of scenario? Five men, one woman? This is a family kinda blog, so I won’t use the word that scene brings to mind. It’s routine for ads in ESQUIRE and GQ though. In the name of full disclosure, I’m forced to admit, if the bashes I went to as a young dude are any measure, that disturbing ratio is about right! Maybe I’m just having difficulty accepting reality. Again.
What I really want to address ( undress? dress? redress? ) are the full page ads, sometimes a 2 pager, with no women to get in the way of good old homoeroticism. They often depict a naked or scantily clad male, surrounded by a male model mix of adoring and diffident chums. Oh boy! ( pardon the expression ) now there’s a party. Why wasn’t I invited? OK, I’m not good looking enough. But still! In the minds of twisted advertising people, they calculate a woman friend will open ESQUIRE and imagine her male companion in this setting, immediately run to Barney’s in Manhattan and do a Pretty Woman level shopping spree/music video montage for him. Deep in their fashion slave hearts, all the hot chicks wanna be Richard Gere ( the pre-white hair version, natch ).
If you got this far ( cough ), you’re likely puzzled. Why does this guy even know this stuff? Research, and I just like magazines. Also, I got it at the library; I sure wouldn’t pay for it. Hey, I really wanted to write how there are probably more than a few people out there who think the Pilgrims were racists because no black people were invited to the first Thanksgiving. No fear, things changed over the next 300 years. Slavers apparently being the 1660’s analog to the bussing of the 1960’s. Now we are all here and we all have so much to be thankful for annually, on the third Thursday of November. Me? I’m thankful I don’t own , or ever will own, a pair of black or any other color wingtips. That’s just shoe-ist not racist.
So much more to say, so much antipathy for typing & filing via dialup. Yet, I am compelled to add, is there anything more heartwarming than hearing barely articulate morons call in sports talk radio on Thanksgiving and share their golden memories of boxing? I am thankful for the off switch. I bet all of them were wearing boxer shorts & black wingtips too. . ..
National Public Radio is not something I turn to much. I listen to a comedy news-quiz show Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me, and that is it. Also the local affiliate chose not to hire me, more than once, so, who needs them.
However, I just bought a new radio, so while tuning in the 3 stations available in this hick burg, I heard an NPR news piece. A deputy mayor in a Texas town is attempting to eliminate the fashion blithely named saggin‘. If you don’t know what it is, believe me, unless you’re sightless, you’ve probably ( & unfortunately ), seen it. It’s a ludicrous affect, of wearing pants, by predominately young males, really, really, stupidly low. If you’re old enough to remember Dan Ackroyd’s SNL plumber’s crack bit, you got it.
Almost 40 years ago a trend started among teen African-American males. They took the look of what was obviously the result of hand me down clothes from big brothers being too large, and made it a fashion. This evolved into leaving a belt unbuckled & open, dangling phallically. Suggesting naturally, homey was open for business. Then the underwear above the rim look followed. Now, underwear is for L7’s & the real playa, is showing butt. Next stop: Junkville.
This saggin’ statement began in prison. Use your imagination. It is about as much a style as wearing your hat sideways. It’s rebellion, the last resort of the surly & the unimaginative. It is most certainly not a right stipulated in the US Constitution. Yet, somehow, and pardon the pun, it is covered. I must be stoopit, because I thought there were laws against public lewd behavior and indecent exposure.
I suppose we should give them civic awards for mainstreaming homoerotic displays and aiding in desensitizing us for what surely awaits. When a bogus fashion trumps decency and a real sense of self, the world is a sadder place.They might be showing us they don’t care what we think. I think they are showing us what they are. Literally.
For those keeping score: the vampire movie was number 1 last weekend, dropping that dreck to second place. Halle’s flick? did not do well.
Imus will reportedly return to radio Dec. 3, on WABC-AM NYC. OK. Good. Can’t wait to hear what happens. He & Capitol Hillary will be going at it as soon as that studio light goes on air.
Now: the number one movie at the box office is: WHY DID I GET MARRIED. The number one question is WHY IS IT NUMBER 1? I demand everyone who paid to see it be fired. It’s based on a stage-play by Tyler Perry and features a virtually all black cast. The first fact is always troublesome. The latter is a head scratcher. . .. If a non-African American made that hiring ‘ choice, ‘ they’d be Imus-cized by Sharpton & Jesse. I think that is racism. I also think 99% of stage-plays don’t translate to big screen well. Too er, um stagey.
I’m not foolish enough to suggest producers can’t chose who they work with on a project. I support it as the best possible way to do anything. For example; Ms. Clinton won’t be employing Don Imus to do her PR in 2008. It’s a comfort level thing ya’ll. She should work something out with Mr. Obama though.
The separate but equal syndrome of American Society is pure bullshit. I was once competing for a radio job against 60 people. It was finally down to three candidates. The woman had emergency surgery, the other guy was too fruity, so I got the gig. If any African-American had jogged by that day, they’d have been hired. Mainly because the Nazi loving, Midwest moron who was General Manager hated me. I won’t say why. Though, my possession of an independent mind, didn’t help.
All us Rainbow chillunz can have our ars gratia artis in the USA. Especially if it comes up $$$. There is an overnight sports talk host on the same station Imus once worked BNH ( Before Nappy-headed Hos ). He’s black & for his bumper music he almost always uses music by blacks. It’s the stuff he likes to hear. It’s great material too. Yet, imagine if Imus had only played ‘ white ‘ musicians—which he absolutely did not. Or anybody.
A really good actor, Terrence Howard, who broke through with the movie Hustle & Flow, which was just as much about making it in the music business as pimping hos. When the song It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp, won the Oscar, he was asked if he planned to make a rap record. Howard smiled and essentially said he was an actor and his personal taste was more James Taylor. Not only is he a good actor, he’s brave! For the record: I liked both the song AND the movie. Nothing is ever true to life, if you’re the one living it. But that flick gave the uninitiated a taste. BTW I was never in the life, but I ain’t uninitiated.
Imus be back, soon. Bad Black flick number one. That’s living in America, if I may quote the late James Brown, King of Soul & well known nutcase. This coming week Why Did I Get Married will compete for the top spot with a new Halle Berry melodrama & a vampires in Alaska movie: 30 Days of Night. Hey, WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT!!!
Go Halle—Go Halle……
* Happy Birthday Sharon, wherever you are
Calling all the baseball experts—pro or otherwise—pretty please, explain again how payroll means a damn thing. Teams win or lose on the field when & if players perform. Money is bullshit without 1 more run than the other guy when the game ends. I demand the New York Yankees open their books; seems the last 5 plus years somebody is not making those critical buy the World Series payments!
The season is too long. Major League Baseball needs to adopt a tier system. European football uses it, depending on the previous season W/L record, teams are promoted/demoted. The ‘ lower ‘ league/tier teams would also have their own playoff series and the ultimate winner rises to the higher level the next year. This eliminates that red herring payroll excuse.
Actually, I had rooting interests in 2 other teams, also now out of the picture. Hmmmm yeah I might be the Jinx of Url! I won’t name names, no sense in publicly prolonging anyone else’s annual agony. However, I will take credit if the Hypocred Sox* win another game. Because I will assume the historical Bostonian position and root for any team that ain’t them.
Now to the winning Cleveland MLB baseball club: it is 2007. Change your fucking shameful name & lose the damn cartoon face of your haybilly franchise. No wonder the USA is dissed around the world. WE are imperialistic idiots and way proud of it too. Fitting, how this happened on Columbus Day! If you can’t connect those dots, forget about it. BTW Cleveland Red Herrings sounds good to me. . ..
Sigh…..after the Sixties I became a Zen Catholic. I hated no one with compassion for all. Then, a few so called friends betrayed me and I was sorely tested. Having been an under the radar draft dodger, I can’t say I soldiered on. I did my best mainly because my loathing for involuntary communal male cohabitation, i.e. the penal system, superseded my need for vengeance. Though revenge being a dish best served cold, I could still be in the playoffs. Probably not.
Now it seems I’ve reverted to my youth. The cumulative effect of failure in career & romance has worn me out. The events of 2004 exploded what was left of my resilience, because I began to hate name callers & boneheads ( read: all things Boston ). This was as the result of my personal 3 Strike Rule. Red Sox ownership alluding to the NYY as the Evil Empire, quickly adopted by their fan-base was strike one. Next the sucker punch of Alex Rodriguez by the trog Varitek, in full catcher body armor was next. Strike three was the death of a young woman during the Boston celebration for winning a playoff series! it wasn’t even the World Series for God’s sake. That and the repeated practice of Boston pitchers throwing at and often hitting Derek Jeter, finally tore it.
This was all before the Great Depression of October ’04. That was the coup d’ etat de tutti capo. I no longer respected the suffering of the Boston fans. I’ll leave it there. As I’ve all ready sunk to their level, no need to give them another chance to rise above NY, albeit a former New Yorker.
So. . . what happens next? I ain’t watching anymore baseball this year. I can’t wait for 08 though. I’m sure the Yankees will fire their old accountant and get a big time free agent CPA, maybe 2! who will double up on those WS payments tout de suite.
*©2006 JukeofUrl Productions
Wow! it’s football season. Every fat white, beer drenched ahole who ever passed out on his high school football field ( after the game ) is having an orgasm. This is because, whether they ever did a full uni windsprint, they imagine they could’ve played in the NFL.
Major sports should be judged by what their alums do. Recent NFL examples would be Michael Vick and what’s that name again, oh yeah, O.J. Simpson. Give Simpson his props, he has evolved in 10 years. This time instead of a hunting knife, he was packing a handgun for the big game. Sure, baseball has the unfortunate steroid posterboys like Jose Canseco & Mark McGwire. But what gets lost constantly and conveniently is, the NFL pioneered ‘roid abuse.
Football is a terrific sport. BUT it has been co-opted by big time college programs, which, in the guise of revenue for other collegiate pursuits,( such as actual fields of study) ram illiterate thugs through their doors, who major in the study of fields made of turf. Then somehow ‘ graduate ‘ to bling, strip clubs & professional thuggery. All for the love of the game, no doubt.
It burns me that all the national & local sports programming shove baseball into the trunk, with their girlie mag collections and kiss football ass. An obvious psychological transference from the unattainable hottie du jour; Jessica Alba will do. Even I’m not immune to her. BTW all you jock sniffing db, I saw her before you did in the TV Flipper remake, while you were all placing bets on some random college football game. WE all know where your hearts & mouths really are.
So here we are, six months of meathead hosts drooling and asking ‘ coach, ‘ how they’ll defense the pass attack of some Division lll school. Searingly cerebral radio. The lack of vocabulary skills only surpassed by the amount of sucking up. AND all that airtime devoted to picks every week. Now that’s entertainment.
Well, if football can return every year, I can trot this one out again. Is there anything more shameful and telling, that says more about the United States, than the NFL franchise in our nation’s capitol, here in the 21st Century, is called the REDSKINS! A slur, once the equivalent of the word nigger in the argot Americana. Any who are offended by that historical fact, instead of checking the NFL injury reserved list to facilitate your betting, you could look it up.
As for my own personal integrity, I lament Jessie’s choice of projects. No Good Luck Chuck for me. I’ve got Dark Angel Season 1 waiting in my Netflix queue.