The future wife and I have been wallowing in our own filth and muscular atrophy (Read: on vacation). When presented with the choice of showering, posting to the MB or watching three-star movies on cable television for the past three days, we have been going for the latter. Here is an incomplete list of the Christmas booty I tallied this year:

• New golf bag.
  
• Dark brown Donnie Brasco leather jacket (see second gangster from the left directly above Bruno Kirby).
  
• Assorted sweaters not of the seasonal print and Cosby design variety.
• Assorted button down shirts of the striped, metrosexual variety.
• Colorado Avalanche hooded sweatshirt that will magically fix the team's goaltending woes and teach Patrice Brisebois how to play defense.
• The books Freakonomics, Teacher Man, Angels and Demons, Slapstick, His Excellency and Idiots At Work.

I will not be posting any 2005 retrospectives that include major news events, major life changing events, places I traveled to, New Years resolutions and any other end of the year bullshit cliches that populate most blogs. I will be spending the upcoming New Year holiday playing in an ice hockey tournament and toasting warm Canadian Hunter with a hirsute family member, his wife, Mister and Misses Chili Dog, Monica, her pretty boyfriend Matt and my beautiful future wife.

Labels: chili dog, kaye, mons, nels, wife, xmas

Ass-vertising equals marketing genius (see the idea in practice here and here). I will admit and make no apologies for my shallow objectification of the female form, but you cannot tell me that hot girls, short skirts and taut asses will not sell some goddamn film.

Labels: tomfoolery

I was pulling for the Indianapolis Colts to go undefeated this season. Not because I like them, mind you, but because I am sick of the 1972 Miami Dolphin alumni celebrating like the worthless, glory deprived, ex-jocks that they are. Their lives are so empty that they follow undefeated NFL teams around the country with a bottle of champagne to open when said undefeated teams lose. In that fabled 1972 season, the Miami Dolphins played only two teams with a winning record. They are proud of this accomplishment? That is like being proud of the valedictorian honor at summer school. I equate their "record" to that of a runt bastard I attended high school with who bragged about going undefeated in NHL '95 on Sega (he failed to mention that he turned offsides and icing off, played against the computer on easy mode and forced unfair trades through the league that netted him Wayne Gretzky, Mats Sundin, Mario Lemieux, Jeremy Roenick, Ray Bourque, Al Iafrate and Patrick Roy). I can do without Bob Griese telling me how magical the '72 season was on Sports Center every time the "record" remains unbroken, too. You know what would have been magical, Bob? Teaching your son how to throw a goddamn football and how to handle his liquor. Were you not on the bench nursing sore fallopian tubes most of that 1972 season anyway? So just shut the fuck up. That goes for all of you.

Sidenote: Dig this video on fainting goats.

Labels: sports, tomfoolery

I think this blurb says it all:

Roberts, who declined to be interviewed, has been in therapy since allegedly being ejaculated on.

Click here for the full story.

Labels: perversion

The California Supreme Court has rejected Tookie Willams, co-founder of the Crips, appeal for a stay of execution. The killing is set to take place tomorrow unless granted clemency Governor Schwarzenegger (insert bad "You're fired" True Lies line here). Tookie maintains his innocence from the murder charges to this day. He also had a thing for the close contact shotgun action:

According to the forensic pathologist, Yen-I Yang suffered two shotgun wounds. One shotgun wound was to his left arm and abdomen. This wound shredded Yen-I's left arm, fractured his ribs, and shattered his spleen, right kidney, bowel and large vessels. The other shotgun wound was to the lower left chest. This wound also fractured ribs and shattered the spleen, right kidney, bowel and large vessels. Moreover, a plastic shotgun shot container and associated wadding were recovered from the base of Yen-I's liver. The pathologist further explained that both of the Yen-I Yang's wounds were inflicted when the end of the muzzle was only feet from Yen-I's body. Yee-Chen Lin was shot once in the upper left face area at a distance of a few feet. She was transported from the scene by paramedics to Centinela Hospital where she died at 7:36 am.

On a lighter note: Congratulations to my sister (and her husband) who successfully delivered a bouncing baby boy early Saturday morning. Tale of the tape: Caleb John; 7 pounds 13 ounces and 20 inches long. I cannot wait to give that kid scotch whiskey, dirty magazines and smokes for his sixth birthday. Maybe even a shotgun.

Labels: crime, death

Video footage of a ten year old girl firing a 50 caliber machine gun (at least it looks like a 50 caliber machine gun in the grainy video). I wish I could say seeing a child with firearms sickens me; instead, it makes me jealous. Notice the way her aim resembles that of one of John Rambo's enemies.

Labels: guns, tomfoolery

It would suck to be homeless in Denver right now. I do not give panhandlers anything for two reasons:

1. I never carry cash or change. I am all about the cashless society written about in the book of Revelation.
2. I prefer not to enable addiction. I am not saying all panhandlers are addicts, but a good number of them are and I would rather not be chipping in on a bottle of Thunderbird (unless they are splitting it with me).

It is not to say that I am unsympathetic to the plight of downtrodden. Our society casts aside those that are mentally ill, unemployed and otherwise down on their luck. I look at the homeless and see tragedy. I am quick to remind myself that if I chose some different paths in life, I might be on that street corner self-medicating and begging for relief, too (whether it be in the form of cheap wine or a half-eaten meatball sandwich that someone tossed in the trash).

I do not ignore beggars like most people do. I acknowledge them, tell them no and go on about my business. I have had some funny exchanges with panhandlers over the years and here are but a few:

Beggar: Spare change, sir?
Me: No.
Beggar: C'mon, man.
Me: No.
Beggar: Do you not have any or do you not want to give me any?
Me: Pick one.

Beggar: I need a dollar, man. Give me a dollar.
Me: I do not have a dollar.
Beggar: ...looks the future wife up and down... With a lady like that I can see why.

Beggar: ...leans over railing of an outdoor cafe and points to my garnish... Hey man, are you gonna eat that?
Me: Yes.
Beggar: You are gonna eat that green stuff?
Me: Yes. It cleanses the palette.
Beggar: It also gets rid of cotton mouth.

Labels: denver, homeless, wife

Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris has fenced off a famous tomb to prevent lewd acts being performed on the sepulcher cover. Apparently the statue's crotch has seen more action than Tommy Lee's. Unlike Tommy Lee's junk, however, you do not have to get checked for gonorrhea and hepatitis after rubbing up on it.

Labels: death, perversion

Across the Colorado front range today, the winds are blowing like a high school girl full of Boones Farm wine in the backseat of a used Chevy Beretta. I am watching the strong winds bend light posts and trees as tumbleweeds, dirt and debris are being strewn across the landscape with intense ferocity from my office window. The building is rattling and swaying and it feels like the windows are seconds away from blowing out. I have got my camera ready in case some shit blows over and madness ensues.

Fuck you, 90 mph winds.

Labels: colorado, wind

Photographic evidence that slays the "You never see a shark eating another shark" theory.

Labels: science