Sports fans can be like rock jerks too.

This(the title) is a link into the world of oddly literate sports fans. The blog represents a campaign to free the great Darko Milicic (often called the human victory cigar) from the clutches of the Detroit Piston Bench.

Darko is a 19/20 year old kid from Serbia drafted by Detroit in 2003. He makes about 4 million a year, but plays at most only a couple minutes in a game. He will either be the greatest ball player of all time, or a complete bust. Most people believe he will prove himself to be the latter: He doesn't play except for the final minutes of a Detroit beat down, because he pretty much sucks.

The jokes found in this site may be unintelligible for the non-NBA following nerd. Yet I believe it may surprise some of my readers to find this level of arty criticism on a sports page. The high snobbery of criticism extends far beyond music and art my friends. Enter Free Darko and experience a new kind of nerdmanship.

(I would skip the Mark Clayton article, he is just a retired NFL receiver and writes poorly.)

Quote of the day, and a stork analogy

But the greatest menace to our civilization today is the conflict between giant organized systems of self-righteousness -- each system only too delighted to find that the other is wicked -- each only too glad that the sins give it the pretext for still deeper hatred and animosity-Herbert butterfield

Intelligent Design Parody found while "surfing the information superhighway":
- from the Institute for Stork Research and Science

- Two different theories exist concerning the origin of children: the theory of Sexual reproduction, and the theory of the stork. Many people believe in the theory of sexual reproduction because they have been taught this theory at school. In reality, however, many of the world's leading scientists are in favor of the theory of the stork. If the theory of sexual reproduction is taught in schools, it must only be taught as a theory and not as the truth. Alternative theories, such as the theory of the stork, must also be taught.
Evidence supporting the theory of the stork includes the following:
1. It is a scientifically established fact that the stork does exist. This can be confirmed by every ornithologist.
2. The alleged human fetal development contains several features that the theory of sexual reproduction is unable to explain.
3. The theory of sexual reproduction implies that a child is approximately nine months old at birth. This is an absurd claim. Everyone knows that a newborn child is newborn.
4. According to the theory of sexual reproduction, children are a result of sexual intercourse. There are, however, several well documented cases where sexual intercourse has not led to the birth of a child.
5. Statistical studies in the Netherlands have indicated a positive correlation between the birth rate and the number of storks. Both are decreasing.
6. The theory of the stork can be investigated by rigorous scientific methods. The only assumption involved is that children are delivered by the stork.

Spinoza the bear

I am not a big man, nor even exceptionally brave. I am not driven and I have little ambition. I have never been incredibly successful, and I have often failed. Yet as I sit here drinking a beer and typing on a computer I am confident that I am missing out on nothing. I am a beast and I have no worries.
I think of a bear playing with a plastic ball at the zoo and I smile: I am like that bear. My life, is easy and comfortable. I need only a simple distraction to remove any boredom or sadness from my life. I hate sickness and pain, but I find pleasure in simply taking up space, and beating the shit out of things when I get angry. Even my anger fails to bother me: I am a bear, rising on my hind legs and taking some swings is what I do. If I did otherwise I wouldn't be a bear. I like sleep, I like swimming, and I have no interest in what the rest of the zoo is doing. I don't care about a damn thing, except my food, my territory, and perhaps when the time comes, my cubs. I don't look for justification: I am a fucking bear. That is it's own justification. I don't envy the elephant, the jackal, or the birds. They are what they are, and I am what I am.

"I am what I am"- both God and Popeye describe themselves in this way (Popeye says, "I yam what I yam" and God speaks in Hebrew, but what can I do? I type in proper english)
"I am what I am" is the expression of the divine. The expression of analytic necessity, the expression of self justification. There is joy in this expression. There is necessarily joy in this expression.

Hippie logic

I saw this on a t-shirt at the coffee shop:
If war is a crime then warriors are?
I think the conclusion the shirt wants us to make is: criminals. That is, if war is a crime, then warriors are criminals.

QED right?

I am not satisfied that the antecedent "war is a crime" necessitates the conclusion "warriors are criminals".
If menstruation sucks, then menstruating women?
If homosexual acts are illegal, then homosexuals are?
If the environment is polluted, then environmentalist are?
If anger is a gift, then people who make you angry are?

Eat a dick hippy. Eat a self-righteous dick.

More on Rasheed, American Hero:

Here is a list of facts that explain why Rasheed Wallace is the best player in the NBA:
In response to NBA fine for wearing his shorts too long, Rasheed wears his shorts extremely short in a nationally televisied affair. This look is combined with high "old school" socks. Think Maurice Lucas, circa 1978.

Ejected from playoff game after receiving one technical while on the bench and another without saying anything.

In the process of arguing with an NBA official, accidentally drooled on the man

Got thrown out of the McDonald's All-American Game.

"I'm not Jesus or nuthin."

Reporter had to go to the student union arcade to try to find him to do an interview because that's where he always was, playing NBA Jam or Mortal Kombat II.

In 1994 pre-tournament interview with Tom Suter drew the profound metaphor between team chemistry and jello..."See, we are like the dust...we just need to be mixed in right so we can gel."

RAW on Game 7 pressure: But don't think he's putting any additional pressure on himself to get the team over that hump. "Pressure?" he said, spitting the question back. "This isn't pressure and this is not pain. Afghanistan, Iraq and that other place Croatia and Bosnia - now, that is pressure. This ain't nothing but a little hoops

Got in a fight where he threw the ball off Luc Longley's head as soon as he entered "the league."

From the Detroit News: "To say that Rasheed Wallace is less than thrilled to be meeting President George W. Bush on Monday is an understatement. When asked about the Pistons' trip to the White House, Wallace said, 'I ain't going to say shit to him. I didn't vote for him. I'm not excited at all, it's just part of the thing.' Said Chauncey Billups: 'He ain't lying, either. He won't say nothing to him.'"

Wore a Carolina Basketball sweatshirt as he announced his intention to go pro after his sophomore season.

Attempted to brawl with former teammate Chris Webber…in a pre-season game.

Rasheed had a foul called against him which sent Howard to the line. Surprisingly, Ra disagreed with the call. After Juwan missed the first free throw, Rasheed started clapping and yelling, "THAT BALL AIN'T GONNA LIE, THAT BALL AIN'T GONNA LIE!"

"Every time he took a shot he said `Don't worry young fella, I get paid for this. I get paid for doing this to you'," - Kwame Brown

Take a slow ride! Take it Easy!

You know a band rocks when their rock anthem commands you to relax, and it still rocks.

These guys are assholes

(click on title for link)
I've been thinking about signing up as a private security guy in Iraq. The main reasons not to, are of course, my appreciation of my life, and the cost of being a corporate tool in the most complete sense. To be honest though, the corporate tool thing isn't as clear cut as one might think. I am not some teen prone to gross over simplification so I will pass on the claim that being a soldier for the state is the same thing as being a soldier of fortune. I will just say that the division is not as clear as guys like me, like to think.

Look at how these Hizballah jerks are being used by their handlers. They are sent on some dumb ass mission to kidnap and kill some Israeli troops defending a border. They are not doing this because it will help their cause (does anyone think this will lead to the Islamification of Israel?). They are doing this because Syria needs the U.N off of it's ass for their involvement in the assassination of the ex-prime minister of Lebanon. My friend got killed by Hizballah for a similar reason--Syria wanted Israel of it's ass after an air force strike on one of its "freedom fighter" camps, so Hizballah sniped him. Whether you are serving your state, or Halliburton, you are ultimately just an expendable peace of meat. Your service, and your orders, may have nothing to do with your values or your interests. To paraphrase Mongo from Blazing Saddles, you are but a pawn on the chess board of life.
So yeah, while the soldier of fortune goes and fights for more money than the soldier of state (or the soldier of god in the case of Hizballah) all of them get dicked around by their commanders.

I would probably pay money to be at Gladiola right now, and I bet the same reasons I have for wanting to fight there (revenge, hatred, anger, etc.) are similar to what motivates the Hizbollah troops to engage in their stupid ass raids. Except I really don't share their allegiance to the will of Allah, but aside from that, is fighting for wealth so less noble than fighting for these reasons?

Perhaps I am being too critical: the article said some of these guys rode "scooters" across the border. Anyone who goes to war on a Scooter can't be all bad.
Shit. Reading Spinoza has turned me into a peace loving nerd. I guess I'd rather earn my money waiting tables for Palestinians than go fight Islamic militants in Iraq.

This is why the internet is useful.

In the last post the badassery of Skeletor was challenged. Someone (I'm looking at you, Rockczar) mocked his effeminate voice. Someone else, (Krouchdog) decided to mock Cobra Commander. I, in my great wisdom, remarked that Starscream (a character so awesome no one would even think about joking about) also had a bitch voice.

Today I typed the word, "Starscream" into a google image search. I find out, in less than a second, that the same guy who did the voice for Cobra Commander, did the voice for Starscream! In less than a second all of my inadequate ideas, organized themselves into a compete unity. STARSCREAM SOUNDS LIKE COBRA COMMANDER BECAUSE HE FUCKING IS COBRA COMMANDER!
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! How cheap is my childhood? How did I not know this? How many hours of GI JOE and Transformers did I watch, only to be constantly tricked by crappy illustrations into thinking Starscream and Cobra Commander had distinct voices?
Did the same guy ad lib all of their dialogue? I mean shit! They are the same character once you look past the giant robot fighter jet / helmet guy distinction. They both whine. They both always cheat. They both betray even the bad guys.

All of my life I thought there were two beings to look up too. Starscream and Cobra Commander. Now I find out it is all a lie. There is just some jerk with a pussy voice.

Skeletor is awesome.

It may be nostalgia. It may be my overwhelming need to forgive. But still.
Skeletor is awesome

The re-impowerment of Dan

It has been almost a month since I have had the pleasure of hot water and the ability to cook. For several weeks now, gas has been restored to my neighborhood but because I could find no certified plumber to reconnect my house, I was gasless. These jerk plumbers have cancelled appointments, came down with illnesses, and if when they eventually showed, were planning on charging upwards of 400 dollars. This morning I decided that this was bullshit. While I understand on account of insurance issues why the state requires certified technicians to take care of gas lines I decided enough was enough. I went online, read up on the technical issues, grabbed a big a wrench and some WD40 and turned on my own gas. Since I didn't have a pump to cause a vacuum in the line, I did the next best thing. I turned on my stove (the only manual control for gas) and simply waited until gas came through. It took about four minutes for me to smell gas. I then tried to light the gas. At first it wasn't concentrated enough to ignite but eventually it worked. I turned on the burners on high and after a few more minutes was able to light the pilots. I then went to the furnace and failed to light the pilot. I figured if I closed all other the lines around between the furnace and the stove, the suction created from the burning gas would draw the inert gases from the furnace line. I was right. After about a half hour of labor and thinking I have managed to even get my water heater working again. I am going to take a hot bath after I finish cooking some rice.

The moral of this story is not that I am resourceful or smart. This has already been demonstrated countless times. The moral is that I (we, everyone) have to stop imagining that experts somehow possess magic that we can't possibly learn. I can't believe I acted like an impotent douche bag waiting a month for some Vatterott College certified plumber to fix my home. Sure gas leaks can be dangerous, but why should I have faith that the asshole who is willing to charge me 400 dollars actually cares about my welfare. Plumbers, psychologist, doctors, and so on, are all great and really helpful if they are actually competent and care about you. However, kissing the ass of the mysterious wisdom granted by a certificate is fucking stupid.

Portraits of dead guys

This (to the left) is my favorite portrait of the greatest of men; Spinoza. The artist does a good job capturing Spinoza's famous tranquility without making him look like a pansy. He appears confident, and relaxed, like a european aristocrat with a jewish face.
I always wonder what these famous people actually looked like. I saw a show on the discovery channel where some scientist was trying to recreate George Washington's face as a young man. All of our drawings of him are after he lost his teeth and his hair and so our image of him is kind of like our image of our grandparents--we have no idea the type of presence he had when he was in his prime. When the guy showed a computer image of him with a strong jaw line, red hair, and straight back, he looked like a total bad ass, not like some gummy coot looking for dentures. Seriously, the picture of him as a strong young man sort explained why he was always called a natural leader, and why everyone assumed he would lead the revolutionary army. He looked like a total hardcore warrior.

I was also thinking, since portraits are usually pretty generous to the subject (its not as if someone was going to paint an unflattering shot of Napoleon) how ugly were some of these guys? Look at this drawing of Descartes. He could not have been a pretty man.

this is one of the greatest comic books ever!

Look at the cover price.

Shit. Burdon really is the best. When I thought all my books were floating around the city, it was the loss of these simple and great comics that saddened me. I've been flipping through my collection and while I think I'm going to give my nephew the vast majority of them, I will keep the carrots, and the other silly stuff. I can't get over how good they are.

In this one, a monster plagues a city, and a liberal (who was disgusted by the needless fighting) gets his arm bitten off by the monster when he tries to give the monster a "peace sandwich". Invincible man finally defeats the monster by hitting him at max overdrive speed, and upon impact a monkey pops out of the monster's mouth. Later the monkey's owner comes by and demands his return. Mr. Invincible reluctantly agrees to return the monkey after nifty boy points out that the crummy monkey probably poops all over place. This leads to perhaps the greatest line in any comic. You can read this line by clicking on the black and white comic

Comic kick continues

Maybe I like violating copyright rules, but I like showing my friends the best comics online. This one is by Bob Burdon, creator of Flaming Carrot comics. Click on it to read a legible version. It is great.

More shower fun by a retard

Alright. I was so delighted by Hagen's funny "penguin taking a shower" comic, I thought I would look at his other comics. Honest to god this was the first one I found. Now that I have read two "animal in a shower" comics I think I have a better grasp of the comedy Hagen is trying to throw down. The animal, see, is wearing a towel! But instead of saying "Rats", this time the text explains that a wet lion in a towel looks absurd! Now I get it! The penguin looked stupid too! HA HA HA! Hagen you are the best!

Munchos

I am still trying to find ways to eat well here in New Orleans. Today, while looking for more chef boyardee over-stuffed ravioli, I happened upon bags of Munchos. Back in the days of hebrew school Munchos were the shit. Nothing could beat the taste of fried dehydrated potato and so with fond nostalgia I bought two bags. Now, after eating one, I believe many things beat this taste. Many things indeed.

What the hell happened? Is my youth completely spent? Am I to find no joy in video games, candy and salty chips, ever again?

Holy Christ! My Teeth are so white!

I finished my seven day teeth whitening system. And fuck a nut bag, my teeth are white! Shit yeah! Damn. I can walk up to any lady and give her a big shit eating grin, and she will love it. She will look in awe upon the glorious white bones protruding from my gummy gums. She will know that I have passion, and she will want to taste that passion. For she will know my mouth houses white sympathetic teeth, teeth that can sooth her soul, teeth that can shake her to her knees. She will lust for my incisors and beg for my bicuspids.

yet i fear.

i fear she will see my yellow molars. For the advanced whitening system (the very same that dentists use) did nothing for my molars. Alas, if she glimpses my stained "grinders" the romance may be lost, and my white shining spell, defeated.

AH, I forget myself. My canines will make the woman tremble in ecstasy. Molars be damned! My incisors, canines, and bicuspids are enough to woo any woman!
Excelsior!

Robot Wand revisited

Howdy Ya'll

My friend Matt, emailed me this link after reading my post about the guy with the robot voice in Syracuse (I think it was this post that inspired him, it might also have been the last one). In this video (click on the title to watch the video) a t.v. host is trying to interview people who have voice problems on account of surgery or something else equally tragic. The host busts a nut laughing at the funny voices. He feels really bad about it, but cannot control himself. I too have experienced something like that. When the current round of "intifada" broke out in Israel in 2000, I was in a military meeting in which my group was briefed about the nature of the violence and what we should expect. A bunch of people had already been killed, and it became apparent that our term of service would be violent and shitty. Also at this meeting was one of the biggest idiots in my group. He had a penchant for killing bugs. Don't get me wrong, he was a nice guy-- not a sicko. He had a stupid man's pleasure in making bugs go crunch, not a sadistic one. But even more stupid than that, he liked to talk about his bug killings. I'm serious. You would sit there and be talking about democracy, nationalism, military tactics, what have you, and this guy would come up and tell you about how he had just found this cockroach and stepped on it. He was a moron. Anyway, so in this meeting, I notice a pretty large beetle walking around. More engaging than this, I notice that the moron had also noticed the beetle and was completely focused on it's scurrying. This was pretty funny in itself. This idiot was so entranced by this bug, he was oblivious to my staring at him, and the words of the officer. Funnier still, the beetle walked right towards him. The morons face got all excited and he put down this huge stomp on the beetle. When I see the moron look up with this huge satisfied smile, my friend and I start giggling. At this point each of become aware that both of us saw the same thing: it really occurred, and it really was funny. As my friend and I hear each other try to suppress our laughter, we each have to laugh even more; and so on and so forth. Eventually, after numerous outbreaks and stifles, and despite being yelled at by the officer, and being reminded of the seriousness of the meeting, we both completely explode and laugh violently for about 15 minutes. We keep laughing even while we are forced to do pushups as punishment.
It was funny as hell, but really the magic of it all was the attempt to suppress the laughter: I knew full well that what I was doing looked horrible, and made me look incredibly insensitive if not insane, but this awareness only fueled the fire.

The video is great. Enjoy.

I am a Player

It wasn't too long ago, I thought of myself as homeless and destitute (while maxin' in a heated pool in Florida). Now I have a home, and a job. My days are full of mad cap schemes and pluck. My heart glows with power as my healing factor expands outward to all the less fortunate of my ravaged city. I eat chef Boyardee out of a can, and nutri-grain bars for breakfast. I operate solo--no friends, no nothing. So last nights exchange at the bar was a chance for me to express my bad ass independence. I had just gotten off of work, and since this bar is on my way home, I like to stop by, have a beer, and watch whatever basketball game is on the T.V.

I stop in just for 15 minutes, or however long it takes to down a beer. Anyway as I sit at the bar, these two chicks go and sit in the two stools surrounding me and proceed to talk to each other as if I wasn't between them. I try to ignore them for awhile, (I'm too tired to think of anything smooth to say) but eventually one of them asks me what game I am watching. Sadly, all that was on the T.V. was football, and I don't give a rats ass about football (unless its the Huskers). So I respond "neither really, I just wanted a beer after work." She says, "where do you work." I say, "I wait tables... I don't mean to be rude, but I spend all day having to act friendly to people, and I don't have a refrigerator at home. I really just come here to have a beer and be left alone."
Her and her friend then both kind of just sit there looking at the wall and silently drink their beer. Its great. Two happy talkative girls, become morose and quiet. I sit between them drinking my beer, no longer pretending to watch the television. They awkwardly try to figure out a way to leave their seats without looking obviously put off. This awkwardness makes me smile, and then, when I realize that that see me smiling for no reason, I begin to laugh and smile even more.

Eventually they got up and started chatting up some other guys. I know guys are supposed to be all open to talking to chicks and what not, but christ, I didn't want to join in their dialogue or make witty japes. If they want to feel at ease with themselves, they should talk to Alf.

GreenPeace makes a bone headed play

Click on the title to read about a great boner committed by Greenpeace.

I like bluepeace way better.

Basketball season started tonight: Why you should care:

Recently a friend of mine explained in his post why he hates sports. I can’t disagree with anything he said. Sports talk is usually stupid, and I too, can't seem to care about soccer, pro-football, baseball, tennis, golf, and countless other games. Hell, I don’t even like women’s basketball. But I like real Pro-Basketball. NBA, European, Brazilian, what have you— if it’s professional men’s basketball, I will probably enjoy watching the game.

Why basketball? It has the best combination of explosiveness and grace. You see some guy go from an all out sprint to a complete stop, to a four foot leap, and then he finishes with a 16 foot arc shot. There is something impressive about the balance between bustin’ a nut using all one’s strength to leap in the air, and then trying to gently flick a ball into a hoop. And if that sounds stupid (or overly erotic) think of this:
1) TeenWolf 1 is awesome. A wolf playing basketball is great. TeenWolf Too (2) is not awesome. A wolf boxing is just horrible
2) Of any sport, what would you want to watch Spiderman play? Baseball? Tennis? Football? Come on, the answer is basketball. It is the best showcase of superhuman abilities. That’s why I like watching pro-ball. I always sit there and say “holy shit! how the fuck did he do that?”
3) I too hated high school jocks. They were jerks who had reason to believe that their mediocre skills merited special attention. This is the same reason today why I hate most of the people in bands or in the "local scene" and all the attention they get or think they deserve. The pro-basketball players are not the morons from high school. No one you knew from high school was good enough to play at their level. It would be like me hating Mick Jagger because some jerk hipster in a basement band thought he was cooler than me. Face it. Even if you did know a jerk in high school who made it to the NBA, he might of been arrogant because even though he was a nothing at the time and only in his teens (and considering where most NBA players come from, impoverished), he knew that he was going to be far wealthier than anyone he had ever met in about three years.
4) The phrase "Slam Dunk".
5) Rasheed Wallace

A local coffee shop opened!

Howdy Co-Actors!

The Rue on Carleton has opened! I now have a place to sit and type on my porto-robotnikon while drinking hair curling expresso. This reopen has given me a place to sit other than my house. I also found out I won't get a refrigerator until Nov 16. Because of this fact, I decided to buy some of that tooth whitening nonsense I've been hearing so much about. I figure if I can't buy any fresh food, I may as well whiten my teeth. If all goes well in 7 days my teeth are going to be whiter than they are now.