Archive for December, 2009

Currency of FUEL

December 31, 2009

I should have saved my emotionally biased pick for the Bears to step it up for Monday Night. I am dissapointed in myself and I have let down my finest fan base. Forgive me, I love the Bears and rooted every second for that gunslinger from the mountains to take down that Cheese Pumping Ex Packer. Oh, a great victory and even better the Bears were able to add a bit of drama and confusion in the NFC playoff picture. The TV gurus are salivating on thrones of cash, the ratings will be up and the additional last minute fantasy factors are making more people than ever interested in obscure games. I look forward to another four day weekend adventure.

For tonights topic, I wanted to veer away from the norm, ho ho, and travel into a discussion about reversed racial tendencies. There are racial tendencies across both lines, and the human ability to discriminate may be in some ways embedded in our neurons from the outset. Animals travel in packs, fish in schools, and early man waged miniature bloodbaths in tribal wars. Packs can benefit the individual and allow for greater population sizes. Look around you, goddamnit (expletive was not towards my loyal reader, rather towards the soul shattered ignoramus who continues to breed hate and intolerance and who will never read this article).

I remember it from an earlier time in the journey buying beer and tobacco in the suburbs of Chicago. Already a year behind most of my friends in age, I tried to keep pace by providing supplies for enhanced memory making with my earliest compadres. My cousin and myself smoked our first Cuban cigars in Eighth Grade, blacked out and puked all over a house and lawn in the same night. It was my undertaking and intention from the get go. ANYWAYS, when purchasing illicit goods, it would always behoove the purchaser to scope out who was selling the item so they had a gig to whirl up. Or, on better nights and in the good old days, a college kid would work behind the counter and the deal was done from the get go.

When things weren’t so simple, as they often weren’t, there was one rule: avoid women of any other color, race, nationality, anything amigo. They hated the white man, the suburban kid whose mom didn’t take a raft across an ocean and who didn’t have to cook and clean for years to put a son through college. I can understand the resentment at large, but even out of white people as a whole I seem to be a bigger target for foreign women who display stubborn adherence to petty rules and constantly voice mindless complaints about my demeanor or manner.

I tried to cash a check at a currency exchange, and the lady almost called the cops on me because I crossed out a phone number I was writing down for her to verify that I worked where I said I did. I felt like I was getting a fucking CIA background check, and I feel that a lot of it was unnecessary. You used to be able to toss checks around like nothing, and the fact that mine was good as gold made it even more irritating to me when she made me let another customer go in front of me so she could take care of me after, then she still didn’t cash it. Fifteen more minutes of my life wasted on a mindless numb-skull who thinks the fact they are “doing their job” makes them a defender of the planet. I shocked myself when I walked out without inducing a racial comment or remark about how my left nut could out think her in an IQ test. She wasn’t worth it, and my protest would be silent. Fuck you, your job and your rules, I don’t need ’em. I still got that money and invested it in the streets bitches, and they ain’t named Wall and we don’t wear suits.


Funky Xmas Outcomes, Play resumes MONDAY

December 28, 2009

A veteran’s grumbling affair is an all too kind a way to put December football after strange Christmas feasts and the once a year stop by church, grabbing some bread for the road to beat the crowd to the parking lot. My picks were busted, and besides the Giants getting creamed, I got reamed by most of the boys. Whose allowing Manning to sit out the half with an undefeated season lying in the balance? Is this really an act of courteous manner, resting up for the play offs and giving the second team to clock some game time minutes that could be valuable, or is it BS forfeiting chances at NFL immortality with an undefeated season? Hmm… Tiger’s out of golf, Urban’s out of football, two Chicago teams are looking to ax coaches and I only made dough on a few games this week; I smell signs of the apocalypse.

My Monday pick has to be a hard bet on the Vikings whomping Chicago at home, and I’ ll be willing to give more than fourteen to the dreary dreadful Bears. My cold bones tell me the game might stay somewhat low, and the mark of 42 doesn’t look that tenable with the slow NFC North in the Windy City night chills. I need a good hit going into the final week and through to yonder playoffs, and I’ll be able to have some more time without the holidays to catch up on some old games I need to watch.

The Bowls approach, but I detest the bureaucracy of the BCS system and really didn’t get as revved up as I did the previous Capital One Bowl Week (pause to inhale the reek of corporate underpinnings and foul play). Some new ideas have come to mind to battle these thoughts of greed and ignorance I see awaiting my every turn. I am going to do a young entrepreneur interview with an old friend of mine who happens to be our age and doing quite well despite the recent economic downturn. I will also be starting a World Cup Countdown sections in hopes of preparing my readers in hopes in interesting them in this summer’s premier global sporting event, showcasing the best teams in the world competing live via satellite from Africa for the first time.

So long for a rotten Sunday of picks but nonetheless entertaining football (more on that later), I hope to be writing in celebration tomorrow as I watch my Bears *who I still hope to win secretly, and I hope the upcoming holiday week (see Deja vu) treats you with a gentle start. Cheers and Sleep Sound.

Winter Omens

December 27, 2009

So LT and the squad with the most from the coast took down Generous Jeff and the wonder-struck Titans by much more than a field goal, but the over was a good pick and so was San Diego. Money in my pocket, and the constant search for 2 out of 3 winners continues. Happinness reigns supreme (momentarily).It is said by a famous fleecer, whose name I won’t mention but whose spirit I will forever bask in, that 2 out of 3 is the magic number for any sort of consistent gambler, and if such a lifetime average cannot be maintained, then you’d probably switch your hobbies to flying kites and vintage lesbian porn. A fleecer is one who shears, and this advice has probably been the third or fourth serious tip on life I have committed to memory and intend to follow. Don’t ask me for the other two.

Well a few more days and it’ll be a fresh decade for our modern homo sapiens, and I for one am crossing my fingers and hoping we can get our shit together as a species or else not too many more decades are going to be celebrated, or endured. Every one has seen the already infamous Time headline, “The Decade from Hell,” a clever play on an obvious concern that any literate human being who gives a half piece of shit about their environment has about things getting pretty grim, and honestly my lovely readers I am not impressed. Doom and gloom is an easy sell (see Pam An’s tits and quarter beers at a NFL football game), so it makes sense as to why Richard Stengel wants to crowd limited prime-real-estate news space with fantastic acts of desperation and abominable displays of man’s degradation of natural reason and universal inter-connectivity. Sometimes stark, bitter reality is the best medicine for a dying man, but at this point I think as a race we are in the Hospice and only ought to be entertained by deep red wines and succulent teenage lips, ahoy!

Despite the current nausea of dysfunction in almost every sector of society, my heart is warmed by two things: football and a certain celestial sign I received tonight breathing in the gentle smoke of a Marlboro Red. An arrangement of stars caught my attention in the southern sky above the roof of my sketchy neighbors house (I think my line of sight pointed that way because I often like to search through the windows and look for signs of illicit behavior that I can use for blackmail or friendship, more to come…); their shape was very distinct and I immediately took my eyes in the direction the arrow formed by these billion year old balls of gas pointed at. It was a mid-line moon in the western sky, beautiful and glowing in the brisk winter night. The snow’s reflection brought memories of an exstacy experience, and I felt connected with the heavens for a second. Halleluia!

Today is the eve before football day. Sunday has become glorious, I deeply love my new religious devotion to the NFL and FOX TV…God I never thought I would think such a thing, but honesty is how man grows. This means the picks are in my compadres: stack the money and I’ll get the ice and the glasses so we can play some ball.

1) Houston -1 @ Miami 45.5: A risky game to start off with, but I like Miami taking this one down in the under. It seems like a strong bet for me, and I like the new Miami feel this year with Williams back in good form and a linebacker crew looking fit to knock skulls and suck marrow. I think this is going to be a fun game to watch with the high flying Houston offense grappling with a clock eating Miami run game, but I think that intangible combined with the onslaught of Bell, Porter, and Taylor will give the Dolphins the edge in a game under 45 points.

2) Baltimore @ Pittsburgh -3 42.5: Polamalu out means Steelers defense is moderate at best and Ravens offense has a good shot to gain yards. Look for Ravens to upset, but don’t give the Steelers a point at home, despite any clear obvious halftime margins. Both offenses are about even statistically, and Big Ben does have the ability to put together shocking 2:00 drives, real heart wrenchers. The Ravens have a top five defense, and so betting the D I think the men in deep purple will be royalty tomorrow with the under in cold Pittsburgh weather.

3)Oakland @ Cleveland -3 32.5: I have been on a Raiders friendly as of late, and that mixed with the fact I can’t figure this game out makes it a make or breaker this week. Oakland’s offense is anemic, don’t get me wrong. But Cleveland, come on, their defense gives Oakland a once in a lifetime shot at a defense worse than their own. After beating the Broncos and the Steelers in two out of their last three (66.6%), they have proven of late that they can win against decent teams, and Cleveland is that at best. I like Oakland Shockers (see all of Raider Nation making said hand gesture) in the over with some gunslinging second rate quarterbacks going over third rate defenses.

4) Jacksonville @ New England -10 43.5: New England, December, Bill Belicheck, Patriots offense, playoff standings looming. I like New England, but I don’t know if their hit or miss offense will cover the spread and the over. I got excited on this game given the circumstances when I first saw it, but now I am concerned and think New England won’t cover the spread and the Jags will give them the game. So there it is, I have learned in betting to take caution when a gut feeling is over ridden by a more reasonable examination of the situation. I think the Pats win, but the spread is busted and the score is in the under with some rainy weather. Heed nature’s signs my friends.

5) Denver @ Phildelphia -7 41.5: Westbrook is back, and the Eagles offense has looked impressive in previous weeks and is storming on a 5 game win streak. I think this is my utter ball buster of the week pick. I absolutely despise Kyle Orton and think  his early season success in Denver was quite Grossman-esque, and I would hate nothing more than to see the useless Broncos make another useless attempt at the playoffs. I like Philly big, and the Broncos are big losers when the December chills come swooping, so I’ll be taking the Eagles with the over.

6) Jets @ Indy -4 40.5- Vegas is trying to incite some bets, and they can have mine. Colts in the under, win some easy money with at least a late game touchdown winning rally by Sir Peyton himself. The Jets have a strong defense, but the Colts definitely have it in them to put together an undefeated season and take this game by more than a field goal. However, it might be a grindhouse, so take the under to make as much coin as possible.

7)Carolina @ New York -9 42.5: I think the Giants defense makes its presence known on an up and coming Carolina quarterback, but Matt Moore’s QB rating has been rising steadily and I think Carolina keeps the game close and comes out with a victory. I have a lot of issues with this particular game and QB this week (I don’t like putting both NY teams down in games that could seem like easy bets), and the 6-8 v 8-6 reminds me of the 5 v 12 game in the March brackets. I like the Panthers, who look thirsty to finish strong in December in the over with offensive minded QBs taking looks downfield at both Smith recievers.

Seven is certainly my lucky number tonight, and I will have sweet dreams of victory and jungle love. Sleep well dear passengers, tomorrow we land at our dear home town on a fine Sunday.

Saturnalia Pigskin Explosions

December 25, 2009

Ho ho ho, peace to good friends and foul enemies today. I couldn’t give a shit what the Illinois statey bastard deputees are up to right now, and it is my humbles of opinions that each ought to have his own a few nights of the year, and Christmas is one of them. A quick pick before the prime rib comes out and the young cousins begin assaulting my large, welcoming 22 year old frame. Football on both Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, I love it. Religion has no claim on the American superpower of pigskin. Families and friends are all good and dandy, but give us unabashed violence and a case of light beer please, and make a plate of nachos, so our primal urges can be quenched and our minds are given peace for a moment in time. Chargers cover the spread (-1 at some places) and the game goes over (48 is the current line at the MGM). Look for Johnson versus Rivers, ground versus air, with the air prevailing and the Chargers snapping Jeff Fischer’s win streak in a game won by something like a field goal. Here it is, there you go, and holiday cheer to boot. What a lovely fucking day!

The Worst Sort of Rude Fuck that ever Existed, and Peace to Good Men

December 24, 2009

Picture this amigos: front row in a tiny Chicago venue (think Fillmore pre-globalazation) with the one and only Dandy Warhols blasting tits within kissing distance; oh the shock and terror that rang through our souls and swam in our veins. Sweat poured from every gland that night for each member of the crowd,  and the madness that fouled every corner and crevice of the room was both contagious and overpowering. Moments like these, where a man  finds himself totally lost somewhere between pure awe and the sudden awakening feeling that comes from a good ejaculate dispensary, were hard to come by those days and I remember this one well. Exhaustion and booze riddled anxiety brought us into a crowded house. Luckily my friend Chuck’s and my own meandering skills, along with some pot, brought us to the front of the house next to the worst kind of acid head there is. Talk about a catch 22.

Typical types of sons of bitches often cross my path. HE had a particular type of top hat, and appeared greasy and slime-filled from my initial inspection. Ganja, officer. We talked loosely amongst our new crowd, and within the context of our drug jargoned speech, the slick character overheard our discussion which probably featured an utter disregard for the law and all “social” conventions of church and state (fuck separation, who needs either of ’em really). We were defenseless, and this sick individual was prowling steadily in our direction. If the crystal ball would’ve told me sooner, we could’ve avoided this strange interaction altogether, but perhaps it was good for both of our heads in the long run.

“E-bombs, anyone?! Are there drugs anywhere,” I yelled unabashedly towards the rear of the crowd, making my head and my intent known in every direction. “Fucking anybody seen Dig, is there no snow for the mountain climbers!”

No one knew what the hell I was screaming over. Except him. “Yeah, acid hits.”

Immediately, out of both me and my associates mouth flew, “How Much?”

“20 bucks,” he shuddered and looked sketchily over both shoulders. I hated dealing with conspicuous black men and dirty looking smack heads. He might have been the culmination from both of those classes worst evils. I glanced quickly at my associate and began to fumble with my wallet as should be done in any drug transaction to buy time. Any idiot could buy dope at a show, it was about getting away with the score.

“Naw man,” he laughed and turned away. What the fuck? Who, why, what? All the major journalism questions popped up and slapped at me relentlessly. I had a gamut of responses at this point to choose from, and I’m glad in hindsight that I was not completely drunk on whiskey at the time. Things would have gotten worse in a hurry.

“What kind of shit eating lawn gnome move is that,” I muttered towards Charles. He looked at me in a way that indicated his deepest sympathies. Oh well, the show’s introduction was within the hour and we still had time to find more brain busting chemical cocktails for the affair. We were two very Gatsby, very southern gentlemen representing the scene that night. Things were expected from us. No beating up of junkies or searching violently in the shadows for dark longings and midnight passions.

The night was remarkable and the set list was quite entertaining. The Dandy’s were well known by us at the time, and I hope they felt acquainted with the mad men of Chicago screaming in hoarse overtones for “Big Indian” at the end of a two hour too long set that night. Mahalo friends, and good tidings for Christmas and the weekend football picks. Bears Monday Night mayhem? Cutler’s redemption? Favre’s silencing? Really, who cares? Enjoy the love energy of close one’s and sing songs near pine needled tree’s. I will smoke and think about life.

Post Mortem

December 24, 2009

Ho ho ho, joy-schpackled delightful wishes to all my snow riddled compadres. Christian Doomsday predictions loom ever so large, and the foreboding nature of any holiday season seems to again to have slipped around our gills. Can you feel the squeeze? Holiday shopping, house cleaning, and the sick adoration of brand name 3rd world goods peddled behind polo players and Alaskan mammals are on the rise. Idle hands are those ripe for the devils pick, as well as brains ballooned by constant sonic and visual dribble, making all of us suspect. It is difficult and hard work to get past the barriers man hurls at himself on a daily basis, but the rewards are rich and sticky with THC crystals.

Ironically enough, the U.S. government, our trusted servants, will be working overtime trying to pass a hottly contested healthcare bill on the 24th. At least their hands won’t be idle, the bastards. Well any news about working government officials is good news to me, as I think everyone ought to sleep in the bed they make, and there ought to be some drawbacks to the political life. There are the unnecessary evils that come with the business, including public harassment and harsh, stark judgment and criticism during times of personal crisis. However, the public is a necessary evil; it is the stopgap for the shit that leeks out of Washington and other spheres of society where rational and law abiding behavior is a must (see Larry Craig and his army of airport sex soliciting hippocrite nazi scumbags). “…he giveth, and he taketh…” (see sleep in the bed you make)

Enough attention to these perverted sex junkies, let us focus on the nature of the business our socialistic regime will be attending to this Christmas Eve. There will be a vote, which barring any major political shifts in the next 24 hours, that will in effect be the first piece of major healthcare legislation passed in a couple of decades. It has been the focal point for political analysis and debate over the last several months, and now there is some light peeking out from the end of the tunnel. The proposed bill’s benefits include:

• Make health care a right for every American.
• Eliminate the insurance industry’s ability to deny coverage to those with pre-existing conditions.
• Eliminate the insurance industry’s ability to cut people off once they get sick.
• Create a requirement that insurance companies spend at least 80% to 85% of their revenue on providing medical care – not administration, advertising and profits and CEO salaries.
• Make the health insurance market more competitive – and reduce the ability of the insurance industry to make massive, semi-monopoly profits.
• Put in place a whole battery of consumer protection regulations that will help rein in the health insurance industry.

Seems a bit wordy and jargoned in spots, but overall reducing the uninsured number down to 23 million and at least making an attempt at changing the mess of a system we have in place is a good start. Nothing is perfect, however, and he public option, a government run healthcare plan which ideally helps stimulate competition amongst insurance companies and drive down prices, seems to be slipping away.

Aside, please. Informed voters are strong citizens who can get pulled over with bags of grass in their pocket and unflinchingly retort any question snickered by a cop or statie slime cruiser. Claim your constitutional rights and pull your goddamned heads out of the storm clouds of MTV charged gossip girl media loving bullshit. Iran is on the verge of going nuclear, and the Chinese and Russians are going to let it happen. The petrodictatorships are on the rise, change the damn channels and turn on the lights(god save the queen if a newspaper were bought).

Oh fuck all of this curious twisting and playful caressing, meat is in order and ought to be served. We are witnessing the death of man, creative thought, and OBJECTIVE persepective. Either you’re with us or against us, and bub you better be with us. We make your clothes, connect your phones, laminate your plastic charge cards and rip their hairy ends from your wife’s bikini zona negra. We do it all you see, you insufficient incapable bastards. You need us now, with your bank loans for educations that teach you how to make enough money to pay bank loans and get bitched at by old ladies until linear time finds a snuggly resting place. Oh yes, its out there Rube, out there and ready.

Where are the last of the hate filled, angst riddled pot smugglers who don’t give a shit about the body and blood but only want a warm room with a newly purchased glass bong, a radio, and a black plastic baggie filled to the brim with lesbian porn to spend the night with. What danger do they bring? I have to admit that they might be the only safe one’s out there, with wacko-loon fuckers blowing up abortion clinics and not letting their kids drink from a plastic straw out of fear for “dangerous and genetically altering” chemicals that might have slipped down the assembly line unnoticed and unexpected. OUCH! That sandwich baggie wasn’t as harmless as we thought, should’ve been a little more careful!

Violent towering viceroy overlords look down on us. This was the shit of legend and the piss of a fantastic one in a kind and once in a multiverse sort of disaster. The electronic fluctuations we currently witness on TV and read about in the news are teeming with delusions of fantastic societal suicide, and every one of you will go down if the chips are still on the table. Pay your debts, clear your plastic shiny cards, sell your unowned overinsured cars and buy a bag of pot as you walk off the lot. Off the grid, back to the tribal unity that man found in the earliest days of our species existence. Where is the island? and don’t touch the goddamned cooler with my name on it!

It has been a frightening and puzzling mystery to me trying to understand the conscious experience of another person these days, a peer or as close as you can get to one. What if I smell what he touches<vice versa>? Yikes. This is dangerous ground, despite our mirror neurons firing blindly with the result of religious weeping fits and complete karmic compassion, when our animal instincts are explored and the mind is looked at piecemeal, things get tricky. Fucking run on sentence bullshitters.

SO if you think the world you experience may be slightly different than your neighbor, think about the world of a Roman citizen 2,00 years ago listening to the stories of Jesus. All of a sudden, joining a faddish/cultish anti-Semetic racial-religious tribe seems pretty appealing. The Way, wow. It has one hell of a ring to it, seems perfect for something like Monday Night Raw Wrestling. Manly and artistic, bold and bloodied senseless.

Betting Braggards Always Are Fleeced

December 23, 2009

A good Monday for the Bangeranger. In typical New York smack junkie fashion, the garbage men rolled over a woeful Redskins defense. The 45-12 whomping was exactly as I saw it: Tom Coughlin, though becoming scenile and impotent, can still ‘will’ the hell out of a team as a post season looms shadily amidst the horizon. Score points and win dough, easy does it. Grasp and clutch dear to these words my friends, they may get you through the roughest grindhouse you could ever imagine. Expect the unexpected.

I enjoy getting a good Monday Night call, and the game was watched much more competitively (at least in the first quarter) between my younger brother and myself. He was suckfished into rooting for those godforsaken Miracle Whipped Washington Redskins. Vegas had gotten to his head, and the odds played the man. Oh well. Maybe it takes less than a black dope slinger and a .45 Magnum in the glove box to teach him how to handle his bets and wagers. I suppose it takes different strokes for different folks, la da da da da.

I refuse to “issue speak” today, ahemm. It almost seems like fishing for crosseyed trout in a treasure chest, utterly senseless and wasteful. Oh god it’s all completely fucking pathetic. Sub prime ass peddlers calling an audible for the public option (watch those fat insurance/GlaxoSmith ‘legal’ drug hoochers get rich at your expense), so passe. Muslim insurgency and sadistic car bombs will be in the news until they invent flying cars, then the news will shut down and civilization will cease to thrive because those bastards will get at everything in sight with pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails. Sheer chaos. They believe OH SO MUCH MORE DEEPLY than any clergyman down at the parish confessional booth. They want obedience to the book (which they call the Quran, but might as well be the goddamned Cat in the Hat in terms of divine inspiration), and they don’t take kindly to side discussions and friendly, poking banter.

Mas Football

December 21, 2009

Doom for some and great victory for others: this is the prognosis for every Sunday between mid September and February. Atlanta beat the Jets, making them even more obscure, but the heartless Patriot’s offense failed to put up the numbers I needed in their win over Buffalo (though Moss had a game winning TD and 7 catches, thank you). Green Bay, those bastards, gave up a last second touchdown to the Steelers and failed in a gut wrencher. I should’ve guessed better, ye fates.

I know I took Washington as my pick for Monday, and my confidants on the inside stand by this pick; but I am off that horse and believe no more in destiny or fantastic warrior football from a 4-9 team. No, the upset is over. Games have been low this week, so it leads me to believe the average will settle nicely with a high scoring Monday mash, with those Giants winning. I already took down the Jets, and again I think the law of averages will settle for a win with the garbage men. They are 1-8 against the spread as of late, and it is time for them to pay off. New York cronies of mine, take delight, our Christmas wishes are up for grabs, and I hope I’ve been a good little sports better for all of our sakes (for reference sakes, the line is -3 NY with the over/under at 43.5).

More Football, and an Award Winning piece of prose (nonfiction)

December 20, 2009

Of course one of my favorites from the previous post faltered to the Cowboys, a team I had written off in December, but the game was at home and Ware was a hard nosed killer out for blood. He terrorized the Saints front, and forced two key fumbles to seal the victory for the boys from Dallas. This spells doom for the rest of my picks from yesterday, so what’s the matter in sending out a few more predictions and curse countless other organizations by this obscure wordpress blog.

Big winners this week, and if you’re looking to pocket some extra cash for those long sought after holiday desires, follow this way. Houston over on St. Louis (a batch of pitiful scrubs), New England and Moss’ redemption over the Bills (T.O. a non-factor), and look for the Packers to beat the Steelers on the under. Hmm, what else can be said?  I think Atlanta is going to destroy The JETS (an anti-NY week I suppose) andI like the Redskins in the Monday Night game at home. Their defense is superior and I love watching the garbage men of New York bomb out of contention. Perhaps an emotion pick, but as a rule one out of four bets should be driven by some extreme hate or contempt for a team.

New News Old News, Its All News. The international energy conference in Copenhagen really made no legally binding or action-oriented strategies, and reports have indicated that scientists feel ‘fed up.’ How could you blame them? There were numbers floated and distant dates like 2050 were mentioned , but how can we afford to look that far down the road? Plans for the next 6 months, one year, that is what we need. Immediate oversight and accountability is key for any movement of change, and a successful effort in this particular arena will require unique and unprecidented cooperation amongst nations. More to be seen later, but I don’t know how many more generations will be able to quietly idle in limbo as we seem to do on most issues of the day. Problems are getting bigger and our out of date systems are getting weaker. Be weary of coal burning Chinese bank note collectors!

A sweeping gush of Pelonis-powered industrial hot air is really comforting in this cold, bleak ridden weather, so I took a walk through my portfolio and I’ve found us a real treat indeed. The music is good and the moon has brought high tides and massive waves of positive vibes. I am in fine spirits, and hope to share some of my favorite (and, incidentally, award winning) pieces of prose  with you.

College Spring Break Story Contest 2008 Winning Submission

The third day of waking up with daiquiris and playing beer-beach volleyball all day led to a more than predictable blackout. After coming to, I realized it was a little after 10PM and I was in a limousine heading to a house party. I knew no one in the area and recognized none of my friends were around, but I was with three girls and they seemed to be having fun. I had a beer in my pocket, cracked it, and thought I might have died and gone to heaven.

Once we got to the house, after introducing myself as “Mike from the beach” with the girls saying in unison “Haha, we know,” I realized I might be in some trouble. A huge house, newly remodeled, full of frat guys, awaited the arrival of Mike from the beach, and they couldn’t have prepared for what was coming. Bold and brazen from drinking all day, I walked in first introducing myself to anyone I could meet. There was only dudes in this bodega, but it didn’t stop me from making rounds like I was running for a senate seat.

I found myself being tackled from behind, and realized in a drunken haze that this guy wasn’t trying to kill me, but was a good friend from high school. I took a shot with him and my mood soared as I was convinced I might be safe. After reblacking out, I found one of the girls in the limo, jumped into the pool with her, and began taking off clothes and making out ferociously. She wanted to hot tub, so we went inside into the bathroom of this million dollar house and cranked the jets on the tub. After a nice session in the Jacuzzi, we threw on our wet garments and joined everyone else in the living room.

The result of this trip was the owner telling me to dry off, me telling him to **** off, and then swinging at the guy next to him. I woke up the next morning with a sore hand and face, an explanation about being picked up because my friend at the party called me a ride to avoid a murder, and a phone number from “limo girl” in my contacts. A daiquiri cured my headache, and the story I took away wooed at least three more unsuspecting ladies from that fateful week in Florida.

What can I say, the kid can write.

Merriweather Post Route

December 19, 2009

Pulling out of the local quickeemart tonight, my lights happened to glaze past two youths going at it in the back of a parked car. Nothing strange or warped about this… perfectly healthy, perfectly normal… but given the location of my local quickeemart and the proximity of the car to its entrance, things had to have gotten weird for some of the patrons. Fridays always bring starry eyed lovers out to fornicate on stitched leather, with sweaty rear ends clapping against back seats.

Enough teenage fantasy… today’s comment will include something I am somewhat morally opposed to: the overt shout out. I have to bestow one this evening to my friend’s at Pitchfork, who do such a nice job at the end of the year by comprising a 50 BEST of 2009. Such lists are a critical component in determining what and who to target in certain actions that may or may not involve music piracy on the information superhighway. Pitchfork is just one link in the vast network of music literature sites online, and I recommend a full perusing of them. ALL OF THEM.

Now to the meat of the beast. Reading the top 50 list, I naturally started at #1 and wasn’t surprised to see Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion. The title is reminiscent of something like Terrapin Station or even Sergeant Peppper’s. It has a Scarborough fair vibe to it, hinting at something almost medieval and mystical, yet appealing to our primal urges to dance and be strange. It took me about five or six listens to get something real out of it, to at least latch a hook onto the mass-heap of confusion the initial listening can bring.

Having listened to Panda Bear and hearing A.C. a few times in college, I realized the music was unique in that it was characteristically unable to be characterized. I didn’t realize that these minimalistic yet utterly chaotic and complex vibrations could sound so damn good. There is a reason this album is a number one, but it is forewarned that it often takes a few listenings to really get up and move with it. How freeing it is though, like when the THC finally takes over the brain, when some understanding or haphazard guess could be made to it’s purpose and place in the scope of the musical multiverse.

Merriweather made it’s voice heard, and A.C. has taken over. It is a multi-layered and multi-timbred digital symphony that is able to speak to core human elements and emotions, the sort of love ( Put on the dress that I like/ It makes me so crazy, though I can’t say why), loss (Then the ecstasy turns the writhing light through our windowpane/Now I am gone, I left flowers for you there) and man’s instinctual drive to make his voice heard (You got a real good shot/Won’t help to hold inside/Keep it real keep it real shout out) that makes the hair on your spine stand.

It seems a bit like excessive praise, but this album really opened me up personally (as well as a lot of other listeners out there) in regards to what quality music could be comprised of. Open mindedness in everything is good, as it leads to growth. More on Buddhism later, but in the spirit of seriousness I appeal to your good reason and intellect to listen to this album once, give it a week’s rest, and do it once or twice more. Take this doctor’s word for it.

Saturday we have a football game, and the Holiday’s (though sometimes bogged over by familial inconveniences and lousy weather) bring another omen of the impending SUPERBOWL. Yes, the finest moment of the sporting year… Super Bowl XLIV will slam into our skulls and save us from the dreary wintertime blues February 17th. I like to play the odds, so here are some interesting numbers I would like to bring to your attentions.

1)GoDaddy is putting up add space, so 20 to 1 the first halftime full-nipple breast will be shown since Janet Jackson’s lame nipple patch.

2) I like the Cardinals as a sleeper pick right now, and I will be so bold as to say mad man Kurt Warner will take them deep into the playoffs, barring an early match up against Pistol Peyton’s Colts (one of my Miami Deuce). I am weary of those damned Chargers, however, and as in any bet there is risk involved. If they beat Cincinatti this week and their defense is able to keep Palmer’s wily coyote ass on the ground, they look to continue an 8+ game win streak. Going deep against my two picks, depending on the draw, I like San Diego and Minnesota (though I despise that cheese packing rat with all my chicago soul) making long runs. Lots of premier players this year that have stayed healthy, and the coming months should be exciting and heart wrenching for pimps and altar boys everywhere.

3) Playoffs is momentum my friends, and that leads us to the conclusion the Colts could square off against the sons of anarchist tribes that reside in the hillside mansions near San Diego. This spells trouble, or fateful coincidence. Last season, the Colts were knocked off in the first round by the Chargers, and since then Pistol has thrown for 33 TD’s and been accurate with a completion % (percentage) of nearly seventy (70). I believe he’s been using last season’s disappointment as a firm ground for motivation this year, and I stand with the most fearful and disgusting state in the union with deepest regret.

4) NFC, I guess its best to be frank at times when betting sports, and I will make my second pick to be the pheonix force that hails from America’s bayou gem of New Orleans. The metropolis is still in a rebuilding  and redevelopment process(see most accounts) in the aftermath of that hurricane(though its citizens have displayed incredible resilience and courage on all levels and are to be commended), but is now represented by a premier team with premier players and has been given a badge of pride and a reason to believe. Hope is a powerful force, and team’s of destiny can make or break the bank.

Obviously neither of my picks is longshots, but I enjoy putting money early on gunslingers and team’s on the verge of historic and remarkable undefeated seasons. Maybe I will regret this for months, but an early call is always worth putting on paper.

Sionara, prepare the shears, nothing will hold us back.