It's New Year's Eve, Not New Year's Steve

Busy getting ready for a party here, but I wanted to wish everyone a Happy New Year, from our tribe to yours.*

Back with more awesome bloggy stuff in 2007.

* I'm reading a book called Urban Tribes, about folks in their late 20s and 30s who delay marriage and form a sort of makeshift "family." I'll explain more later.

I Feel Dead

So, yeah, James Brown died on Christmas. In tribute, here's a nice video of him drunk or high or both on a TV interview:



You know who else is dead? Gerald Ford. Unfortunately, I can't find any video of the former president drunk on TV and also, because of that whole copyright thing, there are no clips of Chevy Chase falling down the stairs on YouTube. So here's a transcript of an SNL skit with Chase as Ford instead.

(Thanks Verd.)

We Wish You a Merry Christmas

I know it's a little late in coming, but the staff of S&S (that's me and Sam and Max) would like to wish you and yours a very merry Christmas, even if we haven't been able to get into the spirit this year. At least it's not as bad as these guys:



Speaking of Christmas and YouTube, here's a bunch of those old holiday specials from the 1960s and '70s that have been edited and re-dubbed for cynical Scrooges and perverts.

And finally, remember all our troops overseas this Christmas... by turning up the Freedom Rock, man!

Catch y'all on the flip side, yo.


Meowy Christmas from the S&S staff.

(Thanks Verd.)

My Dating Life: Or, For the Love of God, Can Something Just Go Right for Once?

In the span of the past 36 hours, two girls I like have both sprung hitherto unknown boyfriends on me.

In times past, this would have aroused in me a veritable storm of disappointment, anger, and soul-sapping despair. But these days, I can no longer fail to see the humor in the train wreck that is my supposed love life.

Actually, it's more like watching the Detroit Lions play. Once you let go of any attachment you as a fan might have, it's just damn funny to watch the many and varied ways the Lions find to lose games. It's as if, week in and week out, no matter how big a lead they might have (the times they have one) or how terribly the other team plays, by the end of the game they inevitably, ineluctably keep their appointment in Samarra.

(Note: This may be the first time anyone has used both football and a W. Somerset Maugham story as a metaphor for the futility of dating. Yay me.)

I may try giving a ring to one other girl tonight and see how that gets screwed up. After that, I think it might be time to go on romance hiatus for a while. I do have plenty of books I'd like to read, and to my knowledge none of them has a boyfriend.


This man is not me.

If I Make It Through December

Last year around this time, I compiled a list of some of my favorite yuletide tunes. This year, because I've been unable to muster any enthusiasm at all for Christmas, I present a Scroogian list of the holiday songs that I hate the most.

"Wonderful Christmas Time" by Paul McCartney
Does anybody like this piece of shit?

"The Little Drummer Boy" by Various
I've never liked this damn song. All those stupid pa-rum-pa-pa-pums annoy me, and let's be honest: Why would an infant trying to get some sleep want some moron kid around him banging on a bongo? Baby Jesus was just being nice.

"Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" by Elmo & Patsy
It was kind of funny once. In 1984.

Anything by Mannheim Steamroller
One of the things that would keep me awake at night shuddering with fear and rage (if I let it) is the fact that there are people who buy albums from the fucktard known as Mannheim Steamroller. I mean, a lot of people. I don't know any of them, thank God, but the thought that they are out there -- flying airplanes, running Fortune 500 companies, quarterbacking the Detroit Lions -- fills me with dread.

"Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" by John Lennon
Yoko Ono shrieking "a very merry Christmaaaaaaaas" makes my ears bleed. And war is obviously not over, so you were wrong, dipshit.

"Happy Birthday, Jesus" by Unknown
There are two songs with this name, and the one I'm talking about has this retarded chorus:

Church bells ring-a-ling, angels sing-a-ling,
"Happy Birthday, Jesus."
Snowflakes ting-a-ling, sleigh bells jing-a-ling;
"Happy Birthday, Jesus."

I don't know who sings it, and in fact I haven't heard it in more than 20 years, but circa 1978, WJR in Detroit played it so often it got burned into the part of my brain normally reserved for memories of being molested by priests. Every now and then I remember the priests and this song, and they're both so terrifying I promptly repress them again.

"All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" by Spike Jones, Various
How about all your teeth, kid, after Santa brings you a nice knuckle sandwich?

"Do They Know It's Christmas?" by Band-Aid
No, they don't. Now shut the fuck up.

Merry freakin' Christmas, dear readers -- wake me up when the Rose Bowl is on.

Fall 2006 Bowling League Report

It's been a rags-to-riches-to-drinking-Sterno-in-the-gutter roller coaster ride of pin-busting strikes, inopportune gutter balls, laser-guided pickups, and headache-inducing splits. A regular Cinderella story, only it includes the part of the story where Cinderella's in her mid-40s, 150 pounds overweight, addicted to crack, and working a shit job to care for her six squalling brats while Prince Charming, disinherited for the very public scandal known throughout the kingdom only as "Goatgate," sits on his ass eating pork rinds and downloading Internet porn.

Hey, I'm just trying to capture the spirit of the thing.

So, yeah, after busting out to an early first-place lead -- the zenith of which was in October with an asskicking, nigh-untouchable 23-5 record -- our team collectively caught the dreaded suck flu and we've been unable to recover. It looks like we're going to be limping into third or fourth place with a rather less impressive 34-27 finish. My final average will still resemble that of an untrained chimpanzee. We feel shame.

Damn. I was already clearing a spot on my toilet for another trophy, but it looks like that will have to wait at least until winter league, when I hope the suck flu clears up and we get back to delivering a world of pain to our opponents. A world. Of. Pain.

The Beast from the East?

There seems to be a thriving wigger hip-hop scene down in Columbus, which some say may upset the balance in the East Coast-West Coast rapper rivalry. Especially since this dude locates Ohio in the east. Maybe he meant the Eastern Midwest.

Anyway, Florida now gets to experience the subliterate Ohio State rage that is normally reserved for Michigan. This l33t all-star gangsta makes the "Sleepy DJs" look all Eminem and shit, yo. Wait, Eminem's from Michigan...


Dayum, yo shit be up in mah faaaaace!

(Via EDSBS.)

Be Adequite

I missed this originally, but it's pretty funny. Attention-seeking slut Actress Lindsay Lohan apparently issued some typo-filled, incoherent statement after Robert Altman (M*A*S*H, A Prairie Home Companion) died:

I am lucky enough to of been able to work with Robert Altman amongst the other greats on a film that I can genuinely say created a turning point in my career ... He left us with a legend that all of us have the ability to do.

I hope when the time comes for her memoir to be released that she writes it all by herself. Then at least it would be funny. Maybe more pictures of her boobs (NSFW, you pervert) would help too because, you know, sluts are cool.

In other movie news, "director" Uwe Boll has been challenged to a game of trivia by a consortium of dorkwads:

We've met him on his terms, in the boxing ring. Is he man enough to meet us on our terms, in the trivia ring? Or is he willing to admit that he's too chickenshit to take on a bunch of wimpy, pasty nerds in something where he might lose?

At this point, it's probably fair to wonder if this isn't just Boll's next publicity stunt. Like Shatner before him, he's starting to become too self-aware and exploitive of his own suckiness to make it very much fun. Pity.

An Eccentric Day

Friday was Eccentric Day at Bell's Eccentric Cafe in Kalamazoo, and the beer flowed freely (well, I paid for some of it) and so did the drunken stupidity. I started drinking at 1pm, and finished the night about 13 hours later in the back of a van full of random strangers in the Burger King drive-through. I don't know who those people were, but I do know that never before had a Whopper tasted so good to me.

I made it home Saturday around 7pm, by way of Arcadia in Battle Creek and Dark Horse in Marshall. And then what? Straight to Arbor for a few more beers. Needless to say, my Sunday wasn't very productive.

Pictures: Mine | Mike's

Food Fight

This little controversy has been going on for a while, but I'm only just now getting around to paying attention to it. In November, GQ food critic Alan Richman wrote an article (with accompanying podcast) in which he slammed not only the cuisine of my favorite city, but also the city itself. He said, among other things:

I know we are supposed to salvage what’s left of the city, but what exactly is it that we’re trying to cherish and preserve? I hope it’s not the French Quarter, which has evolved into a illogical mix of characterless housing, elegant antiques stores, and scuzzy bars, a destination for tourists seeking the worst possible experience.

He concluded with a sentiment I agree with:

I think people either take to the city or they do not. They buy into the romance, or they abhor the decadence. I know where I stand.

Although I might add that the reverse is true as well: the city takes to you or it doesn't.

The Times-Picayune immediately lambasted Richman for ignorance and inaccuracy, and columnist Lolis Elie also hammered home the point that Richman doesn't even understand the difference between Cajun and Creole. (Lots of people don't, but lots of people aren't award-winning food writers, either.)

Finally, Richman responds to the Times-Picayune ("a third-rate newspaper") in an interview with a New Orleans web site.

My take? I'm not a food critic nor do I possess a sophisticated palate, but I'll repeat what I've said on numerous occasions: I've dined in Paris and I've dined in New Orleans, and for my money New Orleans more than holds its own.

So I guess you could say I know where I stand too, and it's not with Mr. Richman.

Yet More College Footbaw News

Not so fast, Florida. According to America's Finest News Source, the BCS has determined that no team is good enough to play in a title game against Ohio State.

BCS Determines No Team Worthy Of Facing Ohio State In Championship Game

COLUMBUS, OH—In what many BCS officials are citing as "proof that their flawless system indeed works," no Division 1-A college football team was found to possess the sheer excellence required to face Ohio State, the No. 1 ranked team since...

The Onion also reports on what gifts players are getting from the different bowls.

Meanwhile, a Buckeye has seized control at college football blog Every Day Should Be Saturday, and his Nickelback-loving ass is making some changes...

Don't let the sweatervest fool you: As reported here last month, OSU coach Jim Tressel worships Satan. Also, he seems to have a problem disciplining all those top "student/athletes" that play for him.

Here's hoping for a meteorite to strike Glendale on January 8. Go meteorites!

Only 18 More Shopping Days Until Christmas

Shopping under normal circumstances sucks. Shopping in December really sucks, especially when you have no idea what to buy anyone. I'm not particularly motivated to get out there right now, either.

Holiday Advertisers Seek Coveted Dicktard Demographic

I suppose there's still time to order stuff online, which would at least allow me to avoid all the dicktards. But I still don't know what to order. And I'm broke.

Screw it. Maybe all my family members and friends are getting crap from the free room at work this year.

Update: For you dicktards who aren't too lazy to shop, here's some couponage:

Friday, 12/8 only:

• 40% off DVD box sets

Thursday, 12/7, to Sunday, 12/10:

• 25% off a book
  
• 25% off a CD
  
• 25% off a DVD

Boils and Goils

Monday morning I woke up with this huge boil on my neck. It was red, sore, pulsating, and threatening to murder my cats. And it's all due to this stupid ingrown hair that I tried unsucessfully to pluck for about two weeks. I've had ingrown hairs before, but this is my very first boil. Needless to say, it sucks.

The experts (read: "Google search") say the best thing is to put a hot compress on it, and maybe some trusty antibiotic ointment. So after a few days of doing that, it's still red, sore, and pulsating, but it's lightened up considerably about the cats.

In totally unrelated news, I've set a new record on the dating sites. That's right: an email written, sent, read, and ignored all in the space of about 20 minutes. Why bother with all the suspense of waiting, anyway?

Stupid Beer News: Frank Booth isn't the only one who hates warm beer. I probably shouldn't be trying to date anyway; it could lead to marriage... and death.

Urban Meyer Is a Bitch

Following November's Football Armageddon, I was lukewarm to say the least about a second Michigan-Ohio State game on January 8.

But I'm totally disgusted by the screw job Michigan received today, courtesy of the BCS voters who vaulted a not-that-good Florida team over Michigan for a chance to play in the title game against OSU. Not because Florida has done anything spectacular in the last two weeks (it had a lot of help from Reggie Fish to beat Arkansas), but mainly because the voters and numbnuts media talking heads didn't want to watch the Wolverines face the Buckeyes on a neutral field.

But there is no "no rematch" clause in the BCS. You're supposed to vote for the two best teams, which I believe an honest appraisal shows is Ohio State and Michigan. Therefore, I believe many of the voters who snubbed Michigan were not voting in good faith. And I think most of the arguments against Michigan amount to "We don't want to see a rematch." Not valid arguments.

I won't rehash my objections here, but instead point to Brian at Mgoblog's excellent rebuttals to the lame objections to Michigan.

So the system that was instituted after the last screw job Michigan got in 1997, when it "shared" a title with Nebraska, is now delivering the same screw job to the Wolverines. Not to mention forcing me to root for a 92-0 Ohio State victory over the Florida Gators, whose head coach, Urban Meyer, is a shameless, whiny bitch who has been lobbying BCS voters like a cheap politician for the past few weeks.

At least Lloyd Carr and Michigan will never sink to that lame level.

Anyway, time to crush USC in the Rose Bowl. That's something Bo would have loved to see. Not to mention something I'll love to see.

Ah, college football...

Buying Indie in Ypsi

A few awful pictures from the weekend's Shadow Art Fair are up on Flickr. I mostly bought myself a bunch of stuff I don't need, instead of getting other people Christmas gifts, as I was kinda sorta intending to do. That's because I'm a selfish jerk. Oh well, either way, I'm helping to Keep Ann Arbor Funky and Keep Ypsilanti Real. Word.

Art and Beer: The Foundations of Civilization

Don't believe me? Ask any reputable historian and he'll tell you.

This weekend, the locus of civilization is in Ypsilanti, at the second Shadow Art Fair being held at the Corner Brewery. I'll be there, barring horrendous weather conditions that prevent me from driving the Little Engine That Couldn't. (As of this moment, it looks like our area will be spared the worst of the winter storm, but unfortunately it doesn't take much to send my poor little pickup spinning into a ditch.)

It's a great kickoff to the upcoming Buy Local Week, December 4-10, sponsored by Think Local First. Why wait until December 24 to do all your shopping this year? Get off your ass, get some great gifts, and help support local artists and business owners in the process. Oh, and have some great beer, too. See you there.

Tia Jacobs Is a Filthy Whore

So I have these nude photos of Tia Jacobs, and I was thinking of putting up a site to show them off to everyone on the whole Intarwebs. But then I thought, no, she's such a skanky ho bag that she doesn't deserve her own web site. So enjoy my blog instead.

All right, so I don't have any idea who Tia Jacobs is. I think she's some wrestler's wife or something, but loads of people still get to this page by searching for her on Google. And this is all because over a year ago I posted my spam poem epic and "Tia Jacobs" was one of the spammer/authors.

Anyway, here are some other interesting recent searches that led people to my blog:

• bums drinking listerine
  
• ann arbor bar maynard kick stomach
  
• hells angels smoking cigars
  
• tiki bands located in Michigan
  
• God protects drunks and fools
  
• video of couple caught in affair
  
• captain picard's homepage

But mostly it's all about Tia Jacobs. That filthy, filthy whore.