Relaxicating.

That's what I'm doing. Relaxicating.

It's Shabbat. Let's talk football.

Shalom, friends. I have a few things to say before I forget, so here goes.

I was 10-4 with my predictions last week. I don't know how good Vegas did with their predictions, but I think 10-4 is pretty good for a first try. That's a much better percentage than James Caan had last week on NFL Total Access, and I'm not even an actor. Tune in for this week's predictions.

Last week's predictions started a little back-and-forth with someone I will keep anonymous. He's a NY Giants fan, and I'd hate for that information to sully his otherwise solid reputation. And I don't want him to think that I don't enjoy every second of those exchanges.

This past week, he reminded me, without remorse, of the utter grotesquery of my beloved Titans, with a side dish of how good the Giants are. He's right. We really stink, and they're really good, but I still hope Eli gets some mental fasciitis somewhere in November and the Eagles can score some touchdowns 1, 2, 3.

But, in good faith, I believe that I should honor his team's excellence by, as he asked, saying something nice about the Giants. I'm going all in and saying three nice things about the Giants.

Take a photo, send a memo, call your parents, because I'm not doing this again.

Three Nice Things About the Giants

1. Bill Parcells is my all-time favorite coach. Mainly because he's called The Big Tuna, but also because his football genius is limitless. That's why you lift all them weights.

2. Lawrence Taylor is the first person I'd take to a brawl. If it weren't for Richard Marvin Butkus and John Harold Lambert, I'd call him the greatest linebacker ever. I still might.

3. Eli actually looks like he belongs in his big brother's league.

My Marriage Depends on Danica Patrick

Dear Danica,

I know that you don't know me and that you're probably not really interested in taking on another obligation. Those NASCAR truck races are probably weighing heavily on you these days.

But, listen, I need a favor. Please stick with IndyCar. Please.

My wife's exact words were "I will divorce you if you get into NASCAR."

You're married, right? You know the stakes. Help me out. Stick with IndyCar.

See, here's the deal. I don't give a damn about NASCAR, but I am a big fan of Andretti Green Racing and that's your team. I mean, damn, who wouldn't like a team with you, TK, Hideki, and Marco. Christ, that's like John, Paul, George, and Ringo. You'll have to sort out who's who.

If you bolt to NASCAR, as a fan of AGR and you as a driver, I'm going to have a hard time not paying attention to your career, even though you're signed on with Tony Stewart. That won't matter. I'm a loyal fan and too dumb to not pay attention to something I'm already sort of interested in.

See, I like car racing. The sound, the repetitive rhythms of a race, the infinite minutia that goes into fielding a team, and the amazingly complex strategery that goes into winning a race.

And, besides, I've been down with Girl Power since Sporty, Scary, Posh and them, so I support your career for the same reason I read Betty Friedan or listen to Queen Latifah. I'm into paradigm-challenging women. And, you not only qualify, but you kick ass at it.

And God knows NASCAR could use the revolution that you'd bring.

So I'm caught.

Do I support the rights of women to drive fast as lightning in supercharged cars or do I maintain domestic tranquility?

I'm stuck.

So, here's my solution. Stick with IndyCar. You and I both know it's cooler. The cars go faster, look more like spaceships, and you might be the one to dethrone Dixon or Dario.

Speaking of, ask Dario why he went back to IndyCar. I bet he'll tell you because it's cooler. And because Ashley didn't want her husband messing around with NASCAR no more.

So help me out. Or, alternatively, call my wife and tell her that it's not worth divorcing me over.

Thanks,

Adrian

I Like Books

Editor's Note: Don't blog before you've had coffee. I had a whole thing going and then, because I wasn't really awake, pressed the wrong button. Whole thing deleted. D'oh.

Anyway, my point is this. The week begins in 32 minutes, so I'm getting this one in at the wire.

Here are my predictions for NFL Week Four. I'm tired of Peter King and all the stat freaks having all the fun. Now, don't get me wrong. I love Peter King and the stat freaks, but I want in.

Federales: I am not encouraging gambling. I am encouraging clairvoyance. In fact, I don't gamble. I'm too cheap. And I'm just trying to democratize the process.

Football + Me = American democracy.

Oh, and by the way, the managment assumes no responsibility for blown predictions, untoward logic, misapprehension of the statistics, financial loss, family strife, personal shame, or other acts of God, natural disasters, or unforseen idiocy. Readers are obliged to consider all known knowns, unknown knowns, known unknowns, and unknown unknowns. You're all adults. It's your money. I'm not responsible.

So, here goes.

Detroit @ Chicago: Chicago by at least 14. I'm tired of Jay Cutler, but he can be on when he's on. And Chicago has too many potential weapons for this to not be their day. I'd love to see an upset, though, because Jay Cutler's a baby and Stafford and the Lions are so in need.

Cincinnati @ Cleveland: Cincy by a touchdown. This could be the fiasco of the day, but the Bengals seem able to cobble it together at a better rate of success than the Browns. Again, it's a question of potential weapons.

Oakland @ Houston: Texans by a dozen. Two words. JaMarcus Russell. Two more. Jeff Garcia. The Raiders are in a deep, deep QB hole. Even their backup doesn't want to have anything to do with them. And can someone remind me about Week 2 against the Titans? Damn Andre Johnson.

Seattle @ Indy: Peyton Manning by 10. No Hasselbeck? Seattle's cooked. At Indy? Overcooked. Pierre Garcon + Reggie Wayne + Donald Brown? Burnt to a crisp. This might be the embarrassment of the week. Can I get an amen that Peyton may be the most beautiful QB to watch, but also the most boring? He's like the Nicolas Poussin of QBs: graceful, balanced, cerebral, but almost totally devoid of a pulse.

Tennessee @ Jacksonville: Titans by 3. 0-4? I'll have to sit shiva if they don't win this one. I just don't see Jacksonville beating the Titans. MJD be damned, he's not the whole team. Titans, you're on notice. Keep this up and I'm gonna start looking for a new set of receivers to care about. And a new secondary. And new special teams. And, LenDale, you may not be fat anymore, but you're not good either. Get it together, guys, my Fall Semester's riding on you.

Giants @ KC: I hate to say it, but Giants by 17. They're arguably the best team in the league right now (arguably), and Eli actually looks like a guy who has won a Super Bowl. Ron Jaworski forgive me, but I think the Giants are the team to back this week.

Baltimore @ New England: Spoiler alert! Flacco by 7. I just think that the Ravens are going to win this one. NE's been too inconsistent, and I just don't think this defense is going to be ready enough. I might be wrong as striped pants and a plaid shirt, but I think the Ravens are good enough, if not the best team in the league right now. Yo Joe!

Tampa Bay @ Washington: Bucs by 7. I know they stink, but I just have a feeling that the Skins are in downward spiral mode. They're a half-decent team, but they're hiking uphill in hard bottoms on mossy stones. How's that for a belabored image?

Buffalo @ Miami: Bills by 5. Can't figure out why. I think TO's gonna be on a mission, those backs will be competing against each other towards a beautiful pas-de-deux, even the defense seems like they might be a help. Somehow I think the Fins are on borrowed time this week.

Jets @ Saints: Saints by 10. I want to bet on the Sanchize, I really do. And I love that defense, even after what they did to the Titans. But Drew Brees has been impressing me since he came to South Bend as a Boilermaker. And did you all see that video where he's throwing at a target? He's freakish. And they're at home. J-E-T-S? N-O-P-E. Sorry guys, I want you to win, but the Saints are rolling downhill on a snot-greased track.

Dallas @ Denver: Did I mention that I hate the Cowboys? Broncos by 3. This'll be decided by unforced errors. But I think that the Broncos can make this happen, especially if Moreno and Marshall get hot.

Rams @ 49ers: Niners by 14. The Rams suck. I'm sorry Missouri people, but they do. And the Niners are looking good. And I'm not stupid enough to argue with Singletary. He might take his pants off.

Chargers @ Steelers: Steelers by 2, maybe. The Chargers are dangerous as a mother. But the Steelers are underperforming. Home field advantage? Weather will be a factor. Dick LeBeau wins it for the Steelers.

Packers @ Vikings: Best game ever? Doubtful. But the Favre-a-thon rolls onward to victory. It's a home game, Peterson's frightening, Harvin's frightening, that D's frightening. The Packers are frightening, though, too, so I'm saying Brett Favre's ego and pride connect on a late touchdown. Vikings by 7.

An Alternate Manifesto

I'm not trying to pick a fight. I'm really not. In fact, I'm rarely trying to pick a fight. Honestly. I know none of you believe me.

Either way, I have something to say about being a fan.

I am a fan. Almost to the point of stupidity. See, I went to Notre Dame, where I learned what it meant to love football. In fact, of all the things at Notre Dame that I learned (that wasn't Art History related) loving football was the one thing that is going to stick with me forever. Anyone who ever went knows what I'm talking about. Michigan people know what I'm talking about, but they're infuriating. Like Ohio State and USC people. In fact, I flat out hate any team that Notre Dame is playing.

Anyway, back to my point. I recently read an article in the NYTimes. Well, online. Print newspaper is on the way out. Which is a tragedy because reading a real newspaper is one of the great pleasures of the modern world.

This article I read was about a guy named Michael Tunison, who wrote a book called The Football Fan's Manifesto. I haven't read it. But, like a good academic, I get the jist of it, so I'm going to make an argument about it. Not really, I'm just going to tell you what I think. Like a good academic. I hope I didn't just blow anybody's cover.

Kids, that's called sarcasm. I'm kidding. No I'm not. And, now we're in an Eddie Izzard routine.

Anyway, Tunison makes an argument in this article that I'd like to publicly disagree with, as a fan of football.

First of all, Mr. Tunison claims that the cutoff point for selecting a team is age 8. Actually, he says that in the book. The interviewer refers to it. Got to get the citations right.

See, now, this is ok for me, because, following that rule I get the Steelers, who are certainly fashionable now, because they're the reigning champs. But, then, before I was 8, they were the greatest team ever. This was the tail end of the Bradshaw, Harris, Stallworth, Swann, Steel Curtain Steelers. The greatest team ever. The quintessential dynasty. Hapsburgian. So I'm set.

But I'm disputing the rule.

I think fandom is aggregate. It builds up like sediment over the course of a lifetime. Sometimes this is for a single team, like I am for the Irish. But, I also think that one may accumulate a multitude of teams of which one is a fan.

An example. Myself. I've always watched the NFL. I'm pretty certain it was my Dad's doing, but my Mother will watch the bejesus out of a football game, too, so it was probably a team effort.

I am an Eagles fan. And a Titans fan. That's where I'm at right now.

But, I think that fandom is about self-determination. Like the floating can. It's a screen onto which we project our identities and it is a source from which we draw identity. It's dual and multi- if not polydirectional.

Now, I need to not put words into Tunison's mouth. Here's the quote, from the NYTimes:

For a diehard fan, however, there’s so much of their personal identity wrapped up in which team they root for that turning their back on that team amounts to something of a personal betrayal.

I fully agree with the notion of fandom and identity, but this issue of personal betrayal doesn't make sense to me. Because I think that identity is, like fandom, an aggregate. It builds up like sediment.

Point of order. I've just made a circular argument. I'm aware of this. I don't care because, to an extent, all arguments are circular. That's so contradictory arguments roll right off.

Anyway, I am an Eagles fan and a Titans fan.

And a Steelers fan, because I was when I was a kid.

And a Broncos fan, because I have family in Colorado, and because I love John Elway. And the Three Amigos.

And a Cardinals fan, because I have family in St. Louis. I'm talking Neil Lomax. The Arizona Cardinals and the St. Louis Rams are both dead to me.

And a Ravens fan, because I used to live in Maryland, with a dude from Baltimore, to boot. And Joe Flacco went to Delaware. I did too, but before he was there. But how often does a Blue Hen become an amazing pro QB right down the street like that?

And an Eagles fan, because somewhere along the line, when I was a kid, I had an Eagles helmet, which may have been both a sign and source of allegiance. And because I lived in Philly.

And a Titans fan, because I live in Tennessee. Which is why I'm a Grizzlies fan, but that's a different sport. Same argument, different sport.

See, that's my departure from Tunison. I don't understand why one cannot accumulate a multiplicity of fanhoods for a number of teams with which one's life has brought one into contact. It seems natural to me, like having a favorite pizza joint in every city you've lived in.

I'm sure this will infuriate a number of people. Hopefully it won't get me thrown out of my Fantasy league, but Fantasy people probably already know what I'm talking about. I was just yelling because Ronnie Brown just scored a touchdown. And I don't give a damn about the Dolphins.

And I really hope that the good people of Philadelphia, Art first among them, will forgive me. But do know that I am with you above all others.

You may have noticed that I am both an Eagles and a Titans fan. How, you will want to know, would I deal with the blessed day on which the Eagles and Titans meet in the Super Bowl? This is utterly possible. Probably not this year, but it is. And some of you will think this is a contradiction, that I can be a fan of both simultaneously. An impossibility. And some of you will notice that this is a win-win, a rather convenient situation for me. This is true.

Now, a practical dilemma. What of those days when the Eagles play the Cardinals, or the Titans play the Broncos, or the Steelers or the Ravens, for that matter? Well, then I'm with the Eagles, or the Titans, because, as I've already said, the Arizona Cardinals are dead to me, and John Elway retired, and this isn't the Steel Curtain. What about the Ravens, who are still in Maryland and still have Joe Flacco? I'm with the Titans because, like so many things in life, you've got to pick your battles.

What of that blessed day? Super Bowl Infinity, Eagles vs. Titans?

I will be happy. And I will be sad. Because that's what being a fan is about. Being happy when things go well and sad when they do not. Just like when I get to eat pizza at my favorite pizza place but know I won't be back for a while.

Happy when things go well and sad when they do not. Like so many things in life.

See, football does explain everything.

I Hereby Declare the Recession Over

See now, don't you all feel better? It's official. It's over. Following the propaganda that I've been fed by the liberal media (Hey Bill O, Hey Rup), I think it is about time to call this and go home. So, if Bernake and Obama are going to wait and wuss out with their predictions that the economy is only improving, and not yet back to full bore Rosie the Riveter strength, I'll do it for them.

The recession is over.

I have proof.

I, like many other Americans, have a portion of my life in hock to these legalized usurers we call the credit company. Now I'm not going to act like I didn't bring this upon myself. Everyone who ever signed up for one of those little plastic cards o' doom is complicit. But don't you dare think that I don't think that they're not usurers. And don't think that I don't know that the Bible prohibits usury. (Leviticus 25:37) Why is it, by the way, that Leviticus seems to be the only Book of the Bible that anybody actually reads or talks about? Always with the laws and what God forbids. What about the Jesus parts, where we learn to be nice? Or the Apocalypse, which is so useful for the imagination?

But I digress.

So, I called Chase this week. Chase, the Bank. Not Utley. Called the bank and told them that I had been offered a better deal by CITI. Oddly enough, that incessant avalanche of credit card company mail actually did something for me once.

Anyway, I told them I had a better deal and that I was going to leave them and go to CITI if they didn't have any deals. Credit, when it isn't like slavery, is like free agency. You got to take the offer that's best for you.

So I said to the woman on the other end of the phone "Do you have any offers to make me that would give me reason to remain your customer?"

She said "No."

I couldn't freaking believe it. In a country where I receive at least two credit card solicitations every day, the company that already has me has no interest in keeping me.

So, if my math is correct, they don't need me.

Which means that they must be doing ok, if they can afford to lose customers.

So, if my math is correct, big business in America seems to be doing ok.

Now, you and I both know that it's you and I that the recession actually screws over, but the companies all think it's about them, so we'll roll with that, if only for the sake of argument.

So, if big business is doing ok, and this recession all started when big businesses began to fall apart--Enron, Freddie Mac or whatever it's called, AIG, hell even NASCAR got worried for a minute--then this recession must be over.

So, there it is, recession over. Back to all that prosper.

I'm going to watch the Notre Dame game. I encourage you all to do the same.

It's Rosh Hashanah, after all. And this is the day of rest. (Leviticus 23:24)

Yelling at the President

OK. This is idiotic. Liberal people, blogosphere, 24-hour news cycle, people I know, whoever.

Can I try to make a point?

You all know about this guy, Representative Joe Wilson (R-SC). He's the one who yelled out at Obama recently. Called him a liar to his face. In Congress. All over the interwebs.

I think we've got this all wrong.

Joe Wilson needs to be commended, not vilified.

Hear me out.

I agree with all of you that it wasn't the most respectful thing to do. After all, Obama is the President and, even if you don't want to respect the man, you do have to respect the Office.

And I agree with all of you that think Wilson made a jackass of himself in public. And, even greater a sin, the fact that he didn't have his facts straight. If you're going to call someone a liar to their face in public, make sure you know what you're talking about. Now you look like twice a jackass.

But here's my problem. Why are we all making such a big deal out of this utterly miniscule breach of decorum?

First of all, this is a democracy where we are all ensured the Freedom of Speech and the Freedom to Demonstrate. It's right there, number one.

Moreover, we are all entitled to bear our own political (to say nothing of religious) ideologies. Notwithstanding previous national shame invited at Salem and under McCarthy, amongst others, every one of us is allowed to object to the political beliefs of another. Our right to do so is protected in our foundational documents.


One of the countries we, as a nation, took many of our political ideals is England. Even though we threw them out, we learned more than a few things from them. Thank you also to the French, who taught us more. In England, every year the Monarch enters into the Houses of Parliament. In this circumstance, the Monarch is a guest of the Houses and must thus bear them a certain deference. Like when you go to someone's house for dinner. You follow their rules. It's an act of courtesy, amongst other social civilities.

I don't see why we're all making such a big deal about Joe Wilson, a member of Congress, vocalizing his objections. Our Congress, which has proven itself to be woefully unable to move beyond partisan sandbox contests and nearly backward momentum, needs a little more fire in the belly. A little more piss and vinegar, if you will. They're not doing anything already. Except getting in the way and making things far more complicated. You can agree with me on that whether or not you're a Democrat or a Republican or a whatever.

Obama ought to have yelled back. He's not being assertive enough anyway.

All I'm trying to say is that the issue of a Congressman yelling at the President, who is a guest in another's chambers, and needs to get a little less mellow to begin with, might not be such a big deal.

Because there are way more important things to get all undone about.

We've got people being shot at and dying because they can't get help.

The streets where I live are so destroyed in parts they've actually got topography.

The National Parks are being left to the wayside because we're spending the money on bombs.

Everybody I know is trying as hard as possible, but the kids still need to be better educated.

This isn't some partisan back and forth arguing manners race gender marriage guns bailout mortgage pissing contest kind of thing.

We're gonna wreck this contry and the whole planet with it if we can't get our shit together and quit fighting with each other over minutia. We need to fix this jackassed country because we're all better than this. You know it and I know it.

But I still think we should stop yelling. And start having normal civilized conversations.

Why I Love Living in America

This is from Gail Collins in The New York Times. 4 September 2009.

Remember, kids, footnotes are the difference between research and theivery.


As the summer of ’09 slinks off into the sunset, let’s take a minute to reminisce. Who would have thought, when it began, that we’d spend two whole months burying Michael Jackson? Or arguing about whether or not Barack Obama wanted to pull the plug on grandma?

I think we have a theme, people. “Ghoulish” is not a word you normally attach to “vacation season” except in certain teen-slasher movies. Yet here we are.

Passions about health care ran so high! Just this week, we heard about a clash of demonstrators and counter-demonstrators in which one man got a piece of his finger chomped off. Without taking sides on who started the fight, I am going to come right out and say that this is a bad plan. You cannot achieve universal health coverage by biting off somebody’s pinkie.

Anyway, let’s see how much attention you’ve been paying:

I. Match the locale and the protester:
A) Man with loaded handgun strapped to his thigh shows up for an Obama town hall meeting.
B) Man carrying assault rifle shows up at Obama speech to veterans.
C) Congressman holding town hall meeting is greeted by a raucous crowd including at least one participant packing heat.
D) Congresswoman holding a “Congress on Your Corner” event at a local supermarket is greeted by demonstrators, one of whom has a pistol holstered under his armpit which falls and bounces to the floor.

1) Phoenix
2) Douglas, Ariz.
3) Memphis
4) Portsmouth, N.H.

*****

II. How my state spent the summer:
A) The governor is being sued by a cocktail waitress, who claims he assaulted her outside a nightclub; the lieutenant governor is facing felony charges for misusing state funds; the junior U.S. senator admits he had an affair with his campaign bookkeeper.
B) After the governor was impeached for trying to sell a Senate seat, his wife tried to help support the family by competing on a TV reality show, where she ate a tarantula. When last seen, her husband seemed to have embarked on a new career as a professional Elvis impersonator.
C) A hot race for governor was interrupted when prosecutors indicted three mayors, two state assemblymen, five rabbis and a guy who was allegedly running an organ-trafficking business.
D) Two Democratic state senators switched parties, throwing control to the Republicans, then switched back again. One of them is under indictment for attacking his girlfriend with a broken glass. The other one was named majority leader and promptly tried to give his son a $120,000 Senate job.

1) New Jersey
2) Nevada
3) Illinois
4) New York

*****

III. Rep. Michele Bachmann of Minnesota or Sarah Palin?
A) “Right now we are looking at reaching down the throat and ripping the guts out of freedom in this country.”
B) “The America I know and love is not one in which my parents or my baby with Down syndrome will have to stand in front of Obama’s ‘death panel’. ...”
C) Refuses to fill out her census form.
D) Urged people to be “armed and dangerous on this issue of the energy tax.”
E) Going to China to address an investors forum sponsored by a Hong Kong brokerage firm.
F) “Only dead fish go with the flow.”

*****

IV. Affairs to remember (Match the admitted adulterers and their quotes)
A) “I made a very difficult decision to tell the truth. ...”
B) “Let’s not make decisions based on hyperbole.”
C) “I haven’t done anything legally wrong.”
D) “There was a gentle shyness ... that I found endearing.”

1) Senator John Ensign
2) Basketball coach Rick Pitino
3) Sheryl Weinstein, mistress of Bernie Madoff
4) Gov. Mark Sanford

*****

V. Match the reality TV stars:
A) “I had no idea how fuzzy it was ... and how all-encompassing that richness of flavor was going to be.”
B) “She’ll call me like, almost like a lame fish.”
C) “The photo shoot was so much fun. It was like going to Disneyland.”
D) “I was jumping up and down going, ‘Thank You, Lord.’ ”

1) Jon Gosselin, of “Jon & Kate Plus 8”
2) Michelle Duggar, mother in “18 and Counting,” who is expecting her 19th child.
3) Tom DeLay, after his invitation to compete on “Dancing With the Stars.”
4) Actor Lou Diamond Phillips after beating the ex-governor’s wife in tarantula eating.

*****

ANSWERS: I. A-4, B-1, C-3, D-2; II. A-2, B-3, C-1, D-4; III. Bachmann: A, C, D, and Palin: B, E, F; IV. A-2, B-4, C-1, D-3; V. A-4, B-1, C-3, D-2

Raising a Teenager

In case you need a little help. For parents and children to read together.

I really don't try to be hateful, but sometimes I'm forced into it. That 3 Doors Down song that they play during the Geico commercials is one of the largest and most foul, steaming road apples I have heard in recent memory.


Is this what we are giving to our children? I mean, seriously, is this the soundtrack of teenage angst these days?

OK, kids, gather round. Adrian's going to tell you a little story.

When you become a teenager--when you turn 13--you are given a slightly small window (16 should be a goal, 17 a breaking point, 18 the absolute last tolerable moment) within which you are going to be able to act like a lunatic. For whatever reason you select. It's sort of a social pact that we have with ourselves. A quick burst of the nutty, and then you go on and start to act like a normal human being again.

When you get there, this teenage period, part of this won't be your fault, which is why the rest of us will only resent you, not hate you outright. It'll be the raging hormones, which will require music.

Music that you will need to somehow reassure you that you're the only one who gets what it's like to be you. You know what? You are. The rest of us aren't you, so you're going to have to keep that in mind if you want to make any of this work.

3 Doors Down, and their stupid Let Me Be Myself song, are not going to help. Even if you think it will. It's too melodramatic, and what you don't want is melodrama, because nobody will take you seriously if you're being melodramatic. And, to boot, the lyrics are total crap. "If you don't mind"? Who are these people kidding?

As I've learned by watching my show, Weeds, thug means not having to say you're sorry.

So listen to something with a little quality. The first three Metallica albums are good. Someone who I hold in high esteem when it comes to metal argues for the fourth, but I'm not going to tell you to go four deep just yet. Pantera's first two--Cowboys from Hell and Vulgar Display of Power--are sublime. Must haves. I am quite fond of Sepultura's Arise and Death's Individual Thought Patterns, though I caught onto them late in the game. I am not well enough versed to recommend individual albums, but Anthrax and Slayer are required. And, to add, because you don't want to limit yourself or become an apolitical moron, listen to the first Rage Against the Machine album. And spend some time looking at the cover and thinking about it.

Parents, if you should become alarmed by the sounds coming from your child's music delivery device, let me offer this advice. Listen to it yourself. It'll help you deal with the child, who will be acting like a lunatic. And you'll have something to listen to together later.

Time to Pray

Dear Jesus,

Please don't let the Irish be terrible this year. Not terrible like when I was there. The years of which we do not speak. Let them be respectable. And, if you can, competitive. For a good, credible bowl game. Thanks.

Adrian

Interruption of Thought

I had a Ben Street moment today. I was in the car and 94.1 in Memphis was playing Simon and Garfunkel, which is nice because I got sick of them a while ago and it's nice to remember that they're worth listening to. But they followed that with Huey Lewis and the News. Which was amazing. So I rushed into the house and bought me a Huey Lewis and the News album on the iTunes. I feel pretty good about this.

Titans Notes

1. Turnovers, gentlemen. Turnovers are the reason teams lose. Remember the Baltimore game from last year? I do. It broke my heart. Don't turn it over.

2. Speaking of, someone inside the Titans organization please tell Vince Young that he needs to stop throwing under pass rush pressure 3rd quarter picks. He's done it before. A lot. He threw a pick 6 tonight that was just unnecessary. It was the difference between a win and a loss. He's good enough to fix this, but someone needs to tell him.

3. In other Vince Young news, he needs to be given credit. The pick 6 was unfortunate, but he's otherwise been putting the right foot forward, at least as of now. He's using his arm. He's using his legs. Seems like he's using his brain, which can be problematic at times (see #2).

4. Matthew Mulligan, TE (Maine), needs to be given a place on the practice squad. Not that I don't think he's good enough to play on Sunday, but there's Alge Crumpler, Bo Scaife and Jared Cook already on the squad. Crumpler should be let go after this contract expires. Not without a hardy thank you, but because Scaife--if he's still around--is already a starter quality TE and Jared Cook may be as well. And Crumpler will be at the end of his career when this contract expires, so let him retire. And someone should probably begin thinking about getting him on a Hall of Fame ballot. Getting him in is the choice of the voters, but I think he's nomination-worthy. And Matthew Mulligan is Sunday-worthy. So the Titans need to keep him around. I'm still not sure what to do with Craig Stevens, because he deserves to play as well. If either of these guys are free agents, some smart team will pick them up.

What the hell?

I'm not kidding. Facebook just notified me of this:

It's August 29, you're feeling frisky, Share some gifts, wild one.

Trust Me. I'm a Doctor.

A friend of mine may have just hurt himself, so I shouldn't be joking. But I'm not. For real. And he'll live. So, even if I was joking, it'd be ok.

I've made a brief list of things that I think people should look to first in certain medical situations. Either alone or in combination, try:

Water.
A Drink, but just one.
Ice.
Heat.
The Dark.
Aspirin, or whatever your painkiller of choice. But be careful with that prescription stuff.
Screaming.
Smashing something.
Taking a nap.
Zoning out
An apple.
Television.

There you go. You can thank me later. And you don't have to say "wow, that really worked." I know already. But pass it on.

Incidentalish Notificatiating, not all football

1. Google really stinks sometimes. I wanted a picture of The Duke (fig. 1) and thus typed "The Duke" into Google. All I got was John Wayne and some other knucklehead who thinks he's called The Duke. Then, Google Images even found me some crap soldier from a cheezy movie character called The Duke. And not the cool Duke from GI Joe. Google didn't come up with a single thing that was on topic until I typed the word "football" into the search. This is unacceptable. Google isn't going to live up to its promise until it is able to know what I mean all the time, even if I don't say it clearly.

2. Matthew Stafford is looking pretty decent. I think the punditry that believes Culpepper should start is probably right. But Stafford looks like he's got this mostly under control. As much as you can expect from a guy in his position. More than Sanchez. But, then again, Indy's defense isn't Baltimore's. But I still see this Stafford thing working out ok.

3. Memphis kicks ass. Your town doesn't have Graceland. Or Stax. And I don't care where you're from or what you think, our BBQ is way better than yours. I'm not saying it's the best city in the history of the universe. I'm just saying that Memphis kicks ass.

4. People complain about all the stops in a football game. When else are you going to go do all the other stuff that you need to do? I mean, damn, the games are on for 9 hours in a row some days. You've got to get some other stuff done. I've so far only been watching for 3 hours and 36 minutes and I've cleaned the whole house, eaten two meals, aired out the rugs, did all the dishes, and been writing this craziness. Commercials suck. Watching football is the best way to get things done.

5. "More better" is not proper English. I'm talking to you, J.T. "The Brick" from Raiders Television Network. And anybody else who wants their English to get more better. The er takes care of the more. It's like Bigger and Deffer. You just get bigger. Like when you take steroids, which, kids, makes you stupider, too. Now, big we can understand, so bigger makes sense. Def we can understand, so deffer makes sense. Along those lines, if we have better, what's bett? Somebody get me an etymology.

6. The Raiders need a new stadium. I'm not saying that they deserve one, but they field they play on looks like trash. Sharing a stadium with a baseball team is, at the very least, horrific for the aesthetics of the field. Only god knows what playing on it is like.

7. At some point recently, I made a list of things I would buy next time I had some superfluous money. Which frankly makes no sense in the middle of a recession. But my only two items were wireless video game controllers and more visors. I need to reprioritize. What I need is an XBOX 360, so I could become a professional Madden player. That'd be sweet.

8. Sometimes, the best art is the kind of art that's good to look at for about 20 seconds and then be able to forget about.

9. It's actually true. The early Black Eyed Peas stuff is pretty dope. I just got my hands on Behind The Front, their 1998 debut. So far, I'm impressed. Which makes that 3 for 3 with J5 and Dilated. They never stopped making good hip hop in California.

10. That lost ball wasn't JaMarcus Russell's fault. You need better blocking on the end of that line. Someone coming all that far around the end should be able to be pushed out of the way. That tackle needs to sort that out.

11. The left side of the Saints' O-line needs to block better. That screen at about 5:00 of the 1st quarter could've gone for 10 more yards if those two would've blocked better.

This is a Great Idea

Ritchie Smith Associates has a plan to plant trees on Plough Boulevard on the way to the Memphis Airport. Lots of them. Canopy trees and about 650 smaller trees.

This is a really good idea. We all know that Plough Boulevard is one of the world's most uniformly dull roads to have to look at. Much to its credit, the road is really fun to drive on. Everyone's going about 15-20 miles over the limit, it's got lengthy and graceful curves, enough space that it isn't usually traffic-ridden, and bridges a very long expanse that brings people into and out of Memphis.

There's a good article on this in the Flyer this week, but I just wanted to spread this idea a bit to the wider world. Because I think it matters to everyone.

America is beginning to look like hell.

I've been loads of places, mainly because my parents drove to everywhere when I was a kid, so I've been to most of the contiguous states, and I've been to Hawaii. So I've been lucky enough to see a huge amount of this country, which is a wicked land indeed. The land. The stuff we didn't mess with. The San Francisco Bay. The Na Pali coast. The Badlands. Maine. Even New Jersey, which remains the greatest of the states in this union, is really truly beautiful in the places we didn't go and wreck.

I'd argue the primary reason for one of these dilemmas--the one that pertains to Plough--is that we, as a nation and voting citizenry, haven't done hardly worth a damn for keeping the infrastructure together. Plough Boulevard, frankly, is a nice road. But the stuff around it isn't worth looking at

How many pot holes can you think of that you've driven past recently?

If the number is more than 10 in a week, your neighborhood needs some work. Mine does. Lots of Memphis does. Lots of everywhere does.

How many roads can you think of that don't have trees on them?

I can think of lots. One of the biggest roads in Memphis--Union Avenue--apparently used to have loads of trees on it. Then they cut them all down and replaced them with Chik-Fil-A and a Schnucks and a dozen Walgreens and MacDonalds and Wendy's and all that crap. Now, on one level right now, I'm not arguing against these chains. I'm just enraged by the fact I can't drive down lots of roads under the cover of trees. There's plenty of roads here that have trees. Just like in New Jersey, when I was a kid. Just like where my parents live now. Like lots of places.

More trees make for better experiences. For people coming and going to Memphis to and from the airport. For people who live near them and get to look at them. For people that walk under them in the heat. For people that drive under them and don't get a glare on the windshield.

Ya smell me?

You probably don't. Cause the trees help filter the air.

Plant the damn trees. You've already got my tax money. Quit spending it on bombs. Give it to Ritchie Smith and everyone else who wants to plant trees. It'll make everything nicer. I promise.

I'm Having a Thought

If, and this is a large if, the Eagles win the Super Bowl, I don't want to hear a damn thing about this being about Michael Vick. People are already talking about how Vick is some kind of total change of everything. Which he is. But he's not a trick that will somehow be the only reason it happened. First of all, we all know that he's going to be some kind of part of some kind of post-Wildcat offense. Yes, we're post-Wildcat. But, back to the point, Vick is neither good enough on his own nor so particularly unique as to single-handedly bring a title to this--or any--team.

I am sick and tired of all of this spectacularization of single players. This is a TEAM SPORT. None of these players can do it alone. Peyton. Tom. Kurt. Big Ben. Eli. And they all have rings. Think about all the rest of the people on those teams. So let's just shut up about Vick altogether. And Favre too. I don't want to have to talk about either of those two until the postseason.

Things We've Been

Yngwie Malmsteen Ain't Got Jack on Me.

This is the sound of me getting excited for football season.

Bored Half to Death Now That Football is Over.

No Matter What You Will Hear This Weekend, Otto Graham is the Best Quarterback to Have Ever Played Professional Football.

Fly Eagles Fly.

Go Irish.

The Web's Only Officially Sanctioned Adrian Duran Blog

Amazification. On the web. For free.

This week's recipe.

Hey.

Julie.

Make my recipes.

I want to get paid like you.

I just ate this one, so I know it's good.

See, the semester just started today, so I needed to eat some food that was good for me. If you ever get that need, here's the way to do it.

Eat more vegetables. You. Yeah, you. You need to eat more vegetables. Me too. I got this advice from my Ph.D. advisor, who will remain anonymous here, if only to prevent her from being bothered by it all.

See, the thing is, vegetables are really good for you. They have all the stuff in them that allow you to go and eat all the stuff that you'd usually want to eat. Think of it like this. Eat some vegetables. Between that, eat normal food.

Here's one way to get a dose of the veg. I'm listening to Fats Domino right now, if you're wondering the setting. Damn. Don't even try to tell me that you give Fats Domino the credit he deserves. None of us do. It's a crime.

Get a bunch of vegetables from your local vegetale provider. The fresher and more localer the better. Keep that as a rule. Unless your local stuff stinks, then get the best stuff you can. And, localer isn't a word.

Get at least four or five different things. Onions. They come in different colors, so get at least two. Peppers. Same with the colors. Broccoli. Green onions, which are different than a green onion. Some people call them spring onions, I think, but once you hear Booker T and the MGs, you don't hear the same. Go nuts. Get a bok choy. For real, they're good.

Here's the secret. Vegetables are about texture, not flavor. Yes, I know that they all have flavors, but that doesn't matter here. Point conceded. This is a texture thing. Vegetables as vehicle of transmission. For flavor. And mastication stimulation. You know, chewing is fun again. It ain't just a means of getting whatever merde d'automne you were going to eat into your craw and thusly out once more to the earth.

Cut the vegetables up. Enjoy this part. Cutting veg is fun. There's something primal and outside about chopping up vegetables. It's an experience of conquering nature, which is sort of curious to a kid from New Jersey.

Get a wok and get yourself some canola oil. It's ok, you're a grown up now. I use Knife Brand, but that's cause I don't know any better. I'll take advice on better brands if you've got it. Go to your local Vietnamese supermarche, or whatever you've got that sells the stuff you would make non-American food with. While you're there, get some hot chili stuff. It's sort of liquidy, sort of seedy, looks red and hot. Green top. And get some fish oil and some soy sauce. The stuff in the little packets does not count. You're cooking. This is not fast food. You need to take your time while making this. Get an hour. Get your partner-spouse-whatever to watch the kid(s) and zone out. You'll have to cover for them at some point, or make enough for you both. But fair is fair.

Cover the bottom of the pan with canola oil and put in about a half a teaspoon of the chili stuff into it. More if you like heat, less if you're a wuss. Don't over do it, but test your heat threshold, it's nice when you find the sweet spot. See, already the veg is a means to an end. This is a heat delivery system. Get the oil hot. Not stupid hot, but hot. Give the wok one of those cooking moves that gets the oil to move around and spread on the bottom of the wok.

Put the veg in in the following order. Onions. Peppers. Brocoli. Hard parts of the bok choy and/or green onions. Not the tips of the green onions yet, or the leaves of the bok choy. Honestly, I leave out the leaves.

There are intervals in between. Actually, the way I do it is to cut in order. Cut onions, put in wok. Cut peppers, and so on. Of course, clean the stuff. Don't be a barbarian.

While you're cooking it, splash it with soy sauce and fish oil. Splash it. Don't drown it. There's too much damn sauce on everything here. Think about what you'd normally get and cut it in about 1/3, 1/2 if you don't like lots of sauce to begin with.

Get it all in there and cook it right to the point that you want. While you're cooking it. Look at all the colors and remember to stir it in different geometries. Circles, triangles, use them all.

Now, here's the part I forgot. If you want to put meat in it, you've got to plan for that. Shrimp are ideal, but I know some of you have shellfish issues. Tragedy. Eating things that come from the sea is amazing. Otherwise, chicken. I'd avoid cow or pig, just for the sake of weight. Trust me. You can eat a cheeseburger tomorrow. Remember...the vegetables!

Get the meat all cooked up and ready before hand. Don't do anything to it. Just pan and oil until it's cooked the way you want. If you're doing a whole chicken, that's really nice. The rest, just cook it and shred it. D0n't put any crap on it. No bread crumbs. No shaky, from-the-drawer spices. Just in the oil. For some reason, I like to do the shrimp in vegetable oil, but chicken in canola. Whatever, I'm making this up as I go along.

Then, once you get the veg to the almost, might just be about right there in two and a half minutes point, put the meat in and get that hot again. Then, about 45 seconds before you think it's gonna be just right, toss the tops of the green onions it and give it a few last stirs to wake it up and notify it of its impending demise.

Eat it.

I think, because it's made in a wok, that it's best eaten with chop sticks. I hope that doesn't make me racist, but I watched a lot of 60s cartoons when I was a kid, so please forgive me.

There you go. It's chicken and vegetables. Or shrimp and vegetables. Eat it. You'll feel better and be able to justifiably go and eat garbage the next day. Like a goat.

Sanity Update

According to The New York Times, The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America voted to allow non-celibate homosexuals to serve as clergy.

Add them to the list of the Churches that do what Christ said to do.

The Unbearable Crapness of Basterds

Unfortunately, Quentin Tarantino's new film Inglourious Basterds is crap. I'm a fan of Quentin Tarantino, so don't think this is that kind of hate. We've all seen Pulp Fiction, which is brilliant even though it's the default whenever someone has to prove how brilliant and whatever pomo Tarantino thing he is. And whether you've seen it or not, Kill Bill is probably his greatest success to date. It's honorific and informed and fun and immaculately stylized, with a score that is probably his best pound for pound, to say nothing of the performances, which are all career toppers and buttressed by the true stars of the film, Gordon Liu and Sonny Chiba, who Tarantino is smart enough to call upon to please all of us nerds who want our kung-fu movies authentic. And, despite whatever people blabber about, the violence in Kill Bill is better than the violence in Reservoir Dogs because it's just as violent, but poetic. More musical. Choreographed, the way kung-fu movies are supposed to be. It's a master class in study. Like all of his films, to be honest, but what I'd describe as supreme within his career.

And Inglourious Basterds has all of that. It's grotesquely violent at times. Look away gross. There's tons of killing--guns of all sorts, blades, explosions, even a bludgeoning. So nothing we haven't seen already. The irritating part is that some of it's pretty worthwhile. Brad Pitt deserves some kind of award for doing the heavy lifting. The other half is done by Christoph Waltz who, with Pitt, picks up the slack left by just about everyone else. And they're both absolutely hilarious. Laugh out loud when it's racist and inappropriate funny. Their performances are nothing short of brilliant. But the rest of it stinks.

The plot, so you know what I mean. Pitt is Lt. Aldo Raine, who the Nazis know as Aldo Apache, because he's part Apache and because of some other really racially sensitive footage that has to do with white people's version of Apaches. He leads a bunch of Basterds through France on a mission that ends up being an attempt on Hitler's life. That's all you get. I may slip and give up more later, but you are hereby warned, so stop now if you don't want to risk it.

Like I've said, none of the other actors--save Denis Menochet who appears at the outset as the farmer Perrier LaPadite--are doing anything to help. The guys who play the Basterds themselves could've been any of a million generic role actors. They had good writing, so the characters were funny, but the actors didn't do anything to distinguish themselves. Blah blah blah, they whole rest of the cast was C- at best, believe me.

Apparently, it's some weird rite of passage to make a WWII movie. Hanks, Eastwood, Spielberg, Benigni, Affleck, I'm talking to you. Not all of you do it well. Tarantino, you too, buddy. Yours stunk. Just like Benigni's and Gump's.

See, here's the problem. WWII as a topic for entertainment is just plain inappropriate. I'm not innocent. I've seen far too many of these movies--The Dirty Dozen is my nominee--and I've played that Call of Duty game. But my wife's right, it's just gross. Even humor doesn't make it ok. Benigni, this means you, testa di tufa. Mel Brooks hardly, barely gets away with it. And I'm not really sure he does. Tarantino's not only not funny enough to pull this off, but he monkeys with history.

See, the final climactic to do is one big ejaculatory, retaliatory, masculinist fantasy. One that we all want. Me. You, I'd bet, if you're at all human. Everyone I can think of, I hope. But it's cheap, and unnecessarily glorifying of unnecessary and cruel mass violence. That most of us would probably consider prosecuting ourselves, but should nonetheless recognize as needless, thus inhumane and disgusting, violence.

And you cannot mess with this kind of history, even within the context of a movie.

And what really ends things for me is that every trick, every stock idea or gimmick, or plot maneuver, or character trait, or framing device, or scene catalyst, or whatever, is something that we already know Tarantino can do. We've seen it all already, in all of his other movies.

Listen, buddy, if you want to be the arguably most interesting pop director of the 1990s, that's cool. I'd probably give it to you anyway, just because I think you've earned it. But if you want to keep on being someone we need to care about, if you want us to keep going to see your films, if you want us to give you any more respect, if you want to continue to credit yourself with A Film By, you need to do something new. Remember what happened to Woody Allen?

If you think you're some kind of Antonioni-level guy, you need to bring it better.

In one way or another, I've seen this movie before. And so have you. Crap.


In other crapitude this week:

Chris Johnson and LenDale White, you are on notice. Javon Ringer deserve to have both of your jobs. Step it up or you don't get to start.

Breaking Yoga News

New Moon Kundalini Yoga and Meditation tonight, Friday 21 August, at Give Yoga from 6-8pm.

Tonight's yoging is for charity, for children with AIDS.

Multi-Tasking Heroics

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong

And he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure

And it's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life

Let it be known, Chad-Esteban Johnson-Ochocinco is my new hero. Not only did he kick the winning field goal last night against the dreaded Patriots (as a wide receiver, no less), but he is one of the funniest people going right now.

This is how he said sooth yesterday, after the victorious boot:

“This year I’m gonna be myself. But I’m gonna be very productive at the same time. It’s gonna be hilarious.”

This is my new mantra for the upcoming academic year. I remember someone once saying something wise about spoonfuls of sugar and medicine. I think we should all adopt this as a goal. Being productive, honest to ourselves, and hilarious.

See, students, learning can be fun. Giddy-up.

Thank you for calling. How may I infuriate you?

What the hell is going on with Customer Service in this country? Am I the only one who is annoyed with how I've been treated as a consumer recently?

First, on a flight back from my freakin' honeymoon, of all events, I ran into what must have been a bulldog dressed like a US Airways flight attendance. To set the scene...it was a redeye, so everyone was sort of tired and wanted to sleep. As we all settled in, I noticed two things.

Numero uno, the airplane was colder than death. Absolutely frigid. I was wearing three shirts and trousers, as my Anglish friends would call them, so I wasn't underdressed. The guy two seats over wasn't so lucky. He was wearing a t-shirt, some of those fancy little Keen slipper/sandal/sneakers, and a pair of those short hiking shorts, which I guess are meant to let us all marvel at his massively sculpted quads. Bad choice, bucko. It was so damn cold on this plane that at one point I saw the guy with his whole body, head included, tucked into his t-shirt. It was sort of hilarious, sort of pathetic, but that's how cold it was.

The second thing I noticed was that it cost $7.50 for a blanket. You know, one of those napkin-sized scraps of synthetic fleece that does nothing but conduct static electricity and keeps you warm from, say, your knee caps to your ankles? It's not bad enough that I can't get something to eat unless I leave the continent, but now I have to freeze half to death just to get home. So, like a normal consumer, I went to ask the aforementioned bulldog if she might be able to raise the temperature to something in the ice water range. She flat out said no and looked at me as if I was trying to strip her of her last oxygenated blood cells.

So, that's where we're at as a nation. Not only have our airlines gone to hell in a handbasket, to the point that makes Greyhound look good, but the people who staff these flights clearly don't give a damn about the people in the airplane. And, to boot, the vultures in the boardrooms have made it such that we now have to pay to maintain a body temperature in the double digits.

Then, just this past weekend, I was flat lied to by hotels.com. I went on the web to reserve a room (more on this later) and was given the impression that, probably because of that recession that no longer exists, I was given a great deal that included free parking at said hotel. When I checked in, the poor guy who worked the desk--who was, in fact, a beacon of good customer service--asked how I was going to pay for parking? Confused, I asked what the discrepancy was and we decided that it was best if I called hotels.com and see what they thought was going on. So I did.

The first charmer I spoke to hung up on me. The second insisted that I had made the reservation with an agent and then insisted that I was mistaken when I told them that I had, in fact, made the reservation online, where I had read the Homeric tale of the mythic, evaporating parking deal.

So, apparently, we have reached the point where the customer service people are allowed to call us liars, right after their company lures us in with a deal that doesn't actually exist. At least in Communist Russia everyone knew the breadlines were going to be there.

Sweet.

So, in the spirit of Sarah Palin, I'd like to sit on whatever death panels get to judge the future fates of US Air and hotels.com. Let's just say that they won't be offered any counseling.

Freaky Friday...minus the Lohan.

I'm not trying to gloat, but I totally called it. I've never done that before. I said on Monday that the Eagles should sign Michael Vick. And, in a brilliant maneuver that totally outshined the return of Mr. Gisele, they totally did. Totally. I even got to see Rich Eisen, Jamie Dukes, and Hall of Famer Rod Woodson (I'm still waiting for that call) draw up plays for Vick and McNabb. Sexy time. See, I told you I could tell the future.

So, my Mom's actually been reading this, which I suspect means you'll all meet my parents at the BBQ. Anyway, she has a theory that is way too good for me to not relay to you all. She was reading about this sphere thing I picked up from the Kundalinerds. Turns out, as my Mother sees it, this sphere thing is remarkably close to what Bella does in those Twilight books. Now, I haven't read those books, cause those look like lame vampires, so I can't verify any of this, but who am I to argue with such an idea? Especially because it means that yoga people are vampires that can walk around in the sunlight without incinerating. Now I'm totally terrified.

Let me make a few other points rather quickly, before I have to go. The game starts in 17 minutes and I'll be damned if I'm not going to watch. I want to see if the J-E-T-S start M-A-R-K. To be honest, I don't really C-A-R-E, but I'll feel bad for Kellen Clemens if he gets bumped again. That's cold, man. Pennington had it, then got traded, then got revenge. Then Favrvrvrvre came and stole the job, now Sanchez seems to be annointed as the next guy and poor Clemens just has to suck it up and compete for the job? Cold.

OK, my other points:

1. Tom Brady is not human. I'm about to hear about how he didn't play up to expectations, but it looked like something else to me. Don't get me wrong, I really hate all sports teams from Boston, except the Bruins, because I don't care about hockey. So, I have no reason to hope for Brady's success, especially because he was probably the reason McNabb was throwing up in those huddles late in Super Bowl XXXIX. Except that we might be watching the greatest ever, which I'm always game for. I mean, the guy hasn't played in a year and he had a 97.2 passer rating. That's higher than everyone but two QBs from last season.

2. The Eagles need to get to work on their red zone offense. This is getting ridiculous. Look at this box score. I know it's preseason, but that looks like the Eagles should've won that one. Except their first team didn't get the ball in the damn end zone. That is totally unacceptable with this many offensive weapons. Damn.

3. I couldn't be happier that the Raiders beat the Cowboys. I think Jerry Jones is unbearably irritating. He might be the nicest man on Earth, I don't know him, but his demeanor gets in my craw. Too smug, too loud, too visible. It's amazing that Ralph Wilson and Dan Rooney didn't put him in time out. Oh, well. Good for the Raiders.

4. Matt Leinart needs to worry about his job. Tyler Palko looked good last night. And, I love him already cause he was sort of the reason Joe Flacco went to Delaware and then became Joe Flacco.

5. I'm officially starting the Kurt Warner must be in the Hall of Fame campaign. I have no pull with the voters, but the voters are drawn from journalists, and it'll be a few years until Warner's eligible, so maybe I will get to vote. This dude's been to the Super Bowl three times. Won the first. Lost the second and third to two damn good teams, so there's no shame in that game. Hell, even Tom Brady lost to the Giants, who maybe sorta probably shouldn't have won that one. Anyway, he should get in for not only being an amazing quarterback, but also for being what seems like the nicest dude in the universe. I mean, he's shouting out kids from the sideline of a preseason game. That's class. For real.

Okey dokey, I'm out. Going away for the weekend, so there won't be any of this for a few days. Something tells me that you'll survive. If all else fails, watch the games.

Rope-a-licious

I just found out about this today. My friend Jaclyn makes these necklaces, out of climbing rope and other kinds of rope. I don't know much about making jewelry, but I think these are pretty cool.

I'm kind of hoping she'll make me a big gold dookie chain out of that flourescent rope, with a big gold Mercedes-Benz charm, so I can look like the cover of Paid in Full.

http://www.jaclynmayer.com/

Jobyl Wants Another Recipe

This one's for you Kilogram.

I stole this one, too. Bonus points for the science experiment aspect.



Take a can of sweetened condensed milk. Submerge it in water and weigh it down so it doesn't float above the surface. Boil it for three hours.

Apparently, dulce de leche comes out of the can when you're done.



By the way, the new Wu-Tang album is excellent. These guys only get better with age.

I'm still not sold on True Blood, but I keep watching. I'm not convinced that the writing or acting is all that good, it's totally gross sometimes, and I've seen vampires done better --best by Stoker, second prize to Marvel Comics. And, it was oversold to me. Someone told me it was all about filthy dirty Southern vampire sex, which it's not. There are real characters and real events and real plots that really evolve. I'm just not sure they're that great. But it's passable and I've got nothing to do since Prison Break ended.

Yoga Tip of the Day

Apparently this is true. If you wave your arms over your head, like a Sims person having a mental meltdown, it's actually a kundalini yoga move. I guess it sorts out your arm chakras.

Does this make anyone nervous?

I had this whole long thing written about this, but it got me depressed, so I threw it out. I'm not about being depressed. My sphere is depression proof.

I had a strange food experience today

Is there a twelve step program for sugar?

Whoever is in charge of this cupcake renaissance deserves a Nobel Prize. Or at least a Daytime Emmy.

I had a cupcake today from a place called Muddy's, here in Memphis. And I have to tell you all about it. Not to gloat but because Americans eat crap food and need to wreckanize quality when they see it.

First of all, I had the sugar shakes for about an hour afterward. Which is not only a sign of quality, but of divinity. The strangest thing about it wasn't the quantity of sugar, though. It was the duration and character of the taste experience.

First of all, it was a mint chocolate chip ice cream flavored cupcake, which might be the most amazing phrase I've ever heard. See, I love ice cream to begin with. Blue Bell makes the best I've ever had. And don't try the gelato argument, all you fancy people. I love gelato and I will show you where to get the best stuff on earth if you're nice, but I'm talking about ice cream, not gelato. And if you haven't had Blue Bell, don't come at me with some other Turkey Hill or Haagen-Merde or whatever junk you want to try to push on my block. Eat some Blue Bell and get back to me. Even the Ice Cream Depot in Milltown isn't as good, which is saying quite a lot.

So the first thing I noticed was that my teeth actually felt the cool of the mint. For real, like a breeze that followed the contours of my teeth. Boring people and dentists (not the same group, mind you) would say that that was my tooth enamel degrading. Yeah? So be it.

After that, it hit my taste buds, where it actually tasted just like mint chocolate chip ice cream, even though the mint was in the frosting and it was a chocolate cupcake. See, now I understand what the food show people mean when they talk about ingredients synthesizing, though I think I figured that out with pizza decades ago.

See, now here's the weird part, when I knew I was having a pan-dessert, transcendental experience. After a few seconds, after the taste had faded from my mouth, I actually felt the flavor of mint in my lungs. When I inhaled, I felt the cool rush of mint flavor that I had had on my teeth a half minute earlier.

You wanna talk about some next-level shenanigans. This was like looking through your third eye, man. Serious. Feeling taste? That's what I'm talking about.

Muddy's on Sanderlin in Memphis. Apparently it's across from the yoga studio, so you can frizzle fry your sphere with sugar when you need to.

Idiocy makes me mad.

File this under philosorambles. I spelled it Phile the phirst time. No joking, my brain totally shuts off sometimes. I'd appreciate it if someone else can admit to that.

Can somebody explain to me what it is with these crazy rookies? Already, Michael Crabtree has lost his mind and refused to sign his contract. It's preseason, dude. Sign the contract. And now BJ Raji isn't even in the state of Wisconsin? And they're not the only ones. There's a handful of them. Seriously, what is wrong with these dudes?

I've got a thought on this.

SIGN THE CONTRACT.

I'm not claiming to understand the whole situation, and you all know that the odds of me being a 1st round draft choice in the NFL is about zero. Too bad. I got me some moves. You should see me on the basketball court.

But anyway, what is the dilemma? If it was me, and I was one of those dudes, this would've been done the day after the draft. You need a few hours to wrap your head around the whole NFL Draft thing, and everybody and their brother probably wants to get a picture, which is fair cause it's the NFL for God's sake. But why are these guys holding out? Rich Eisen has a great theory: it's the agents. He reasons that it's the 1st contract that gets the cash to the agenst best. Fair enough. But, guys? You've spent your whole lives doing things to get to this point. And now you're holding out for more money?

Money?

See, this is my problem. It's not about the money for me. For me, it's what in the name of whatever is making these dudes so dense that they're going to give up this whole possibility for money? It would make sense to me, if it was me, that this would be a certain fulfillment of a life's work. Even better, the moment at which that life takes a step forward. All I'm saying is that these dudes should SIGN THE CONTRACT. Then, thank the universe that you've been given this chance. Then you get to go play football. Think of the fun. Good thing I'm not somebody's Momma. They'd have to get a security guard. I mean, for real, am I the only one? I know Jay-Z talks about it.

It's the Roc.