Hi

I just experienced the situation where I was annihilated and attempted to not puke all over my parents' new carpet (it's really shiny), then succeeded, then felt exhilarated because I didn't ruin their carpet, then realized this situation essentially never happened even though it seemed like it did continuously after almost 18 similar situations over the past two years.

Uh, I have a lease, a dog, and a girlfriend. Literally 90 percent of all the stories in my life have no meaning.

Crap.

Home for Christmas

Look, I love Christmas,

I get to go home, get doted on, be told how awesome I am by my family, and generally not hate myself. Then I still hate myself because it sucks.

I wish "home" was where I actually lived in real life, so I could spare myself the several hundred dollars it costs to come "home", be fed approximately twelve dollars worth of booze, be given a crappy piece of salmon that would barely suffice as actual food where I actually live eleven and a half months out of the year, that is significantly shittier than the fish I prepare myself in actual life on an almost daily basis, (which costs like two dollars and tastes awesome because I don't live in a goddamn landlocked state in real life!) but whatever floats their boat...

I've been told I'm a thoughtless bastard but god DAMN I come by it honest.

Quick followup: Before I sobered up slightly, I deleted 18 people, all of whom have first names starting with the letter A, before realizing that this ludicrousness was not only stupid, but an enormous waste of time.

Sometimes I wish I'd just stayed a teetotaler. Not really, but damn life would have been a lot easier.

My mom just tried to add me on Facebook.

OK, look, I’m sure you probably went through this nonsense three years ago, and this is one of the stupidest things you could ever have a crisis about, but I guaran-fucking-tee you did not make the following mistakes in the year 2005, AKA when Facebook had “exclusivity” and was only available to college kids:

A: Attend college

B: Take a remarkably expensive Europe trip where you redefined the amount of alcohol the human body could consume without consequence (I’m not even bragging, it’s shameful and I don’t regret a bit of it, although in 40 years I will).

C: Have every compromising photo of you get posted on Facebook because at the time, and this is the key component: HAVE YOUR ASS TAGGED BECAUSE THE SITE ONLY PERMITTED STUDENTS TO LOOK AT IT!

I mean Facebook’s got it all. Body shots: check. Mohawk: gloriously featured, in several colors. Me motorboating Danish high school girls: you bet. All that shit is there, 100 percent. Several times I’ve just wanted to scrap the old account and start a new one under the false pretense that I was hacked or something, but the vast majority of the friends that I actually care about would see through that crap immediately.

So, I have to make the following decision: either pretend that I’m a choirboy and submit it all to privacy settings (which would take hours, and let’s face it, I’d rather delete the account), or delete the account.

Jesus, that was easy. Thanks for listening. Simply because every good picture of me taken in the last six years is on there, I’m keeping it. But I’m going to trim my account from its current 377 people to 50, and use it as god fucking intended: for friends.

Have a great weekend.

My ideal best man's speech, in haiku

I'm not going to ever do this actual speech because I respect the wishes of the bride and because I know what it's like to grow up Southern Baptist, but this is the actual best man's speech I mean to give tomorrow for my best friend. And you bet your ass it's in haiku, because any speech that isn't is not only dishonest, but really fucking boring. So for the world, a chronological history of my relationship with my best friend, in haiku:

1999:

Matt Gross is an ass.

He should crash his stupid van

Into the woods, douche.

Early 2003:

You turned 21?

I would like for you to please

Buy me alcohol.

2003:

Damn, who really knew?

Hoobastank is in the house.

They suck less than Bush.

2004:

Andy Nelson's house.

New Year's party was awesome.

I got her not you.

2005:

Fab four was all good.

William was and still remains

One crazy bastard.

2006:

Campaign party hop.

Fred Phillips is a douche bag.

Coors Light fucking sucks.

2006/2007:

Red Hook ESB.

The turning point in our whole

Beer drinking careers.

2008:

Let us go to Bell's.

It is the Mecca of the

Whole beer drinking world.

2009:

As you can surmise,

I am a fucking moron.

I will not deny.

2010:

Please come to DC.

Sharon and you should learn how

Stinkbugs really smell.

2011:

Congratulations!

Dude, you landed a truly

Kickass awesome girl.

My speech is going to blow chunks tomorrow (and I likely will do the same) but I hope this makes up for it. Good luck and much happiness and all that shit!

A Clearly Canadian Riot

While it’s probably impossible to condone a riot, it’s not too hard to understand the general motivation behind them. A group of people, disenfranchised with their political or economic situation, angrily convene to show their displeasure in a town square or public place. Bricks are thrown, cars are burned, businesses are looted, people are jailed, no one involved wins. The idea is that some form of greater good is achieved by the action, which is supposed to inspire policy change or improve awareness of a community’s issues.

So when I awakened this morning and the only topic anyone was talking about was people rioting in Vancouver about the stupid Stanley Cup loss, I paused for a moment of introspective reflection before coming to this conclusion:

Sports are stupid.

That doesn’t mean I won’t still watch them, and that doesn’t mean I won’t still write about them. There was a time in my life not that long ago when I would have thought the Vancouver riot was the coolest thing ever. It would have seemed honest, passionate, metal. I would have said; “wow, those fans are a lot better than the fans of the teams I root for.”

Now I’m just saying “wow.”

I understand that the whole “riot” basically consisted of one pile of burning rubble and one overturned car that some 14 year kid in camo pants kicked the shit out of. From the reports I’ve read, it spiraled out of control because the police essentially weren’t prepared for it. I’ve been to Mudvayne concerts in open fields that looked more dangerous than this “riot.”

What is this, a James Cameron movie?

Sidenote (fuck you, Grantland!): In college I denied myself the pleasures of booze and women for the first two years to essentially go to as many metal concerts as possible. I realize now that these things didn’t have to be mutually exclusive, but at the time I didn’t know that. The Mudvayne show, which took place at the Pickens Speedway in Pickens, SC, was one of these shows. I think there might have been a track there, but I didn’t see it, it basically was an open field with a stage, a food stand, and turnstiles. At this show, I’m not really sure why there was a bonfire, but there was, and it got really big. Now I’m all for bonfires and metal shows, but it would have been a lot more enjoyable for all involved if the bonfire had been located somewhere not IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GODDAMN MOSH PIT. Kind of like how the commute home from Game 7 for Vancouverites (Vancouverans? Vancouvans?) would have been a lot more enjoyable without overturned burning cars in the road. It’s an apt comparison, since nobody died in either situation as far as I know.

Imagine this with 300 pound rednecks moshing around the fire.

It’s incredibly stupid to risk prison time because you got drunk at a hockey game and decided to burn some cars. Nobody over the age of 19 is saying “those are some awesome fans up there in Vancouver, eh!” I’ve watched sports for a long, long time. I’ve suffered some pretty horrible losses from my teams, and I’ve taken them way too seriously. The Titans losing the Super Bowl in 1999/2000 is probably the most similar loss to a Game 7 Stanley Cup loss that I’ve suffered with a team I was rooting for. You know what I did after that game? I went home and played NFL2K on my Dreamcast. No cars were harmed. I felt like shit for about three days, and then I moved on.

You have fires and stupid people, I have this.

UT blowing the SEC championship game in 2001 was a pretty awful experience. Furman blowing a pretty easy run to the I-AA national championship in 2004 against James Madison, that one really sucked. The Ravens’ smackdown of the Titans in 2008/2009 – I got horribly drunk after that one. After the Rusty Smith game against the Redskins last season (as the one Titans fan in the Redskins bar) I didn’t want to speak to anyone for hours and by all accounts was an insufferable prick for a couple of days. It’s not worth risking your relationships to brood over what millionaires or entitled prick college football players did or didn’t do on a playing field. Nobody gets upset when Nic Cage makes a terrible movie. I get taking sports too seriously. I’ve been there, done that, and bought the jersey.

Here are some things to riot about: lack of AIDS research funding; lack of green technology funding; coalition wars with no timetables for pullouts or transparent goals; an Energy department willing to allow BP to slide on numerous safety violations leading to the Gulf disaster; out of control deficit spending by administrations from both major political parties and a lack of an alternative to those parties; ousting politicians for twitter penis pictures; Glenn Beck; Ke$ha; antitrust practices from major media corporations; a reliance on foreign oil that is becoming less necessary; a three year recession brought on by the misuse of technology and idiot bankers; the longest sentence pieced together with semicolons I’ve ever seen.

Riot about one of those things, and I’ll bring the matches and lighter fluid. But sports aren’t worth it. Especially hockey.

Nothing to Say

Me too, Big Sexy, me too.

Do you think real sports columnists sometimes wake up and say to themselves the following?

“Damn, I have nothing to write about. I guess I can write about LeBron?”

I kinda do. Because I’m sitting here wanting to post something and I don’t have anything. I thought I was going to do a UFC tiers list, but I lack both the desire and the knowledge base to do such a thing. I could write about golf since it’s here in the District this weekend, only I know less about golf than I know about knitting. I could write about the difficulties of starting in MMA that few people really know about, only I’m not one of those few people. I could write about hockey, except I’ve watched a grand total of one hockey game, all season, and the only thing I’ve read about it is that the goalies hate each other. I could write about LeBron, but I’m pretty sure I did that on Friday and with Game 6 going the way that it did I don’t have one change to make or statement to retract. I could write about the greatness that is the spicy chicken sandwich from Chick-Fil-A, but that would make me a corporate sellout (I wish, I would totally write that for money). I could write about the LSAT, except that I’m contractually obligated not to write about the LSAT, like it’s Fight Club or something. I could write about pollen, but that would be boring and stupid. I could write about Chuck Norris’ failings as a political pundit, but sometimes a link says a thousand words. I could rate wines, but considering all I buy are $6 bottles, you might as well just go to the store and try them yourself.

Action jeans? I can't say I'm not interested.

This blog somehow morphed into a railing against sports media, which is one of the stupidest things anyone could rail against. And I’m afraid I’m about to do it again, because quite frankly, I just don’t have anything else to say.

The coming NBA lockout is one of those things that not a lot of people understand. The NBA just concluded its best, most exciting, most watched season in a very long time, and should be ready to capitalize on the NFL’s giant greed-fueled lockout that might be the dumbest potential work stoppage in the history of the planet. Trouble is, the labor deal negotiated between NBA owners and players is unprofitable to the owners, meaning they are being asked to lose money by the players. It’s an unsustainable business model that favors the current players, but not future players of a league weakened by financial trouble. The timing of this couldn’t be worse, but it needs to be done.

It is very likely that a hard salary cap, like the one in the NFL and NHL that dictates how much a team can spend on players per season, will be negotiated. Baseball doesn’t need such a thing to work, because they make all of their money from TV thanks to it essentially being a nightly program for six months (and other reasons that I’m too lazy to explain). A hard cap will prevent teams like the Lakers and Mavericks from amassing huge payrolls through the various cap exceptions presently available that cause the salary cap to be considered “soft”. It also will force teams to dump players and potentially lead us into a crazed scenario where a significant percentage of the players in the league will change teams, not because GMs are making moves to improve their teams, but because they have to get under a cap figure. There are going to be a lot of contract buyouts and waived fringe players from these teams.

The point I have with all of this, is that respected national media writers have ignored the potential brave new world the NBA is facing. Monday, Jason Whitlock wrote that the Miami MoHeatOs need to blow their team up and trade one of their Big Three players, as this team isn’t set up to win a title. If the labor deal coming was going to be a similar one to the one we have now, it wouldn’t be prudent to move one of those guys. They’re all in their primes and there’s no way the Heat could get close to equal value for any of them. But what if the new labor deal ended up FORCING one of them out the door? What if the hard cap figure came in below their current payroll? I don’t know if this is possible, because it’s been ignored, but I imagine it's very possible.

Last night, Bill Plashcke proclaimed “It’s time for Lakers to recapture some Magic and trade for Dwight Howard.” Terrible puns aside, this headline and article make absolutely no sense. It’s not going to be “time” to do anything until the labor agreement is settled. His proposal, for the Lakers to trade Andrew Bynum and Lamar Odom to the Magic for Dwight Howard and J.J. Redick, makes sense from a basketball perspective, and he argues that well. But what if the Lakers, suddenly $30 million or so over a hard cap, have to buy one of those guys out or trade one of them for a fringe player? If this is the case, and I believe it will be, then the likelihood of this trade is zero. So why write the article? I guess these guys have to write about something.

Sucks to be them.