Sorry. Wrong hole...

Someone's getting on the Lonely Island Wannabe train. In his defense, the lyrics are pretty funny ("In my defense, those holes are so close together...") and the pseudo 80's/90's "video" is excellent; sort of a hybrid between a video for a 1985 arena rock band and something 'N Sync would have done.

Enjoy.

Pac-Man to Detroit?

According to THIS article, it looks like Adam "Pac-Man" Jones might be headed to the Detroit Lions. If you think about it, it does make a little sense. The height of Jones' professional success came in Tennessee when he was playing under Lion's head coach Jim Schwartz.

Well, it's not as if the Lions have anything to lose. They can pay Jones peanuts and he's got to be an improvement over whomever he replaces. Chris Houston? Jonathan Wade? Ughh.

And of course, there's the economic upside. We're talking about Detroit, people. This is a city with unemployment rate hovering around 50%. With Iverson taking his game out of town, single moms and struggling college students (those are both politically correct terms for "stripper," for the obtuse amongst you) throughout SE Michigan and Windsor really need someone to pick up the slack.


Coming soon to a Vu near you?

We're Number 239!!

So yeah, I went to public school. So what? After my folks' nasty custody battle when I was twelve, my Dad and I split the state of California. We bounced all over the southwestern United States, eventually landing in Reno, NV.

I transferred in to Earl Wooster High School (Home of the Colts!) on October 31st and that place remained my home for the next 3.5 years. Now, as a kid that had moved around a lot, WHS didn't seem particularly special. Definitely more white-bread than I was used to. I think we had like 15 black kids in the whole school, half of whom were related and 3/4 of whom all played sports. There were some Mexicans and a few Asians--nothing near what the ratios were like in my hometown hood of South Sacramento--but other than that it seemed pretty normal.

We didn't have a ton of "college-bound" kids at WHS; My school was made up of jocks, rednecks and kids from some of the more ghetto areas of Reno. Probably 20% of my graduating class was accepted into a four-year university right out of college. We had a few girls make the Ivy League and one dude get into Stanford, but other than that it was pretty much Tier II State U for everyone else that went to college after graduation. We were much better known for being of the two premiere football factories in the state than we were known for smart kids...that was always the province of the "rich" schools across town, like Reed High or Reno High.

All these years I've been making cracks to my friends and peers in academia that I was a "product of the public school system" and to please not hold it against me. So imagine my surprise when I discovered today that a new study published by NEWSWEEK ranks WHS--my alma mater--within the top 1% of all public schools nationwide.

The study specifically ranks the "Top 1500 Public Schools" and then goes on to identify that these 1500 comprise the top six percent of all public schools in America tested in such a manner. Good ol' Earl Wooster High falls in at #239 overall. Yup, in the whole nation.

Obama getting his campaign on at the WHS

Damn. Go figure, huh?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

As someone that has spent over a decade (off and on) as a bartender, I pretty much despise Amateur Hour. For years, the idea of going out to the bar on a Friday or Saturday night has always sounded absurd...I mean, why would I? On the weekends the bar is packed to the gills with people that only drink on rare occasions and have no idea how to handle themselves when they do. Umm, I'll pass. Give me a Sunday or a Tuesday night out anytime, thank you.

It's for this same reason that I hold a particular hatred for the Amateur Holidays. New Years Eve? Terrible. 4th of July? Can't stand it. It's the same principle as a Saturday night out, but to the fourth power. No thanks, I'll stay home and avoid having my shoes puked on, thank you very much.

However, there is--and has always been, for me--one exception to the Amateur Hour rule: St. Patrick's Day. I fuckin love St. Pat's. It's my favorite holiday of the year. Maybe it has something to do with the time I spent in Savannah, GA, home of the world's largest St. Patty's Day festival. Maybe it's because wherever you go on March 17th it's a complete shit-show from sunrise to sunset. Maybe because it's 24 hours of watching people furiously grasp at that elusive thing known as "fun" and try and ride it as hard and as fast as they can.

This might have something do do with it as well.

Truth be told, it really doesn't matter why. The fact of the matter is that today, on my favorite day of the year--whether you're partaking or just observing--I have one thing and one thing only to say to you: Sláinte, my friend.

Neil Young gets the last laugh

I miss the 1970's. Not that I actually remember them. I mean, I was technically around (for about a blink) but I was too young to have any memories. Regardless, I miss just about everything the 70's represent, not least of which is pop music that's actually...well, actually good.

Just when you thought you never wanted to hear anything "Pants on the Ground" ever again, Neil Young* proves you (and everyone else) wrong.

Fuck you, Skynyrd.



*So yeah, it's actually Jimmy Fallon and not Neil Young. Who cares? It's still awesome.

Is it just me or is that Betty White on your inner thigh?

As those of you that follow this thing know, we've seen some terrible tattoos in our time. We've even seen a few that are so ridiculous--so audacious--they turn terrible on it's ear and somehow emerge as pure awesomeness.

Yep. It's rare but it does happen. Anyone recall the Swayzaur? Yeah, exactly.

However, even the Swayzaur pales in comparison to this masterpiece in sheer absurdity.

Holy fuck, right?!

Not only do we have a Mt. Rushmore-esque panorama of Golden Girl deliciousness slathered across a set of thighs (the owner of which definitely seems too young to recall Blanche, Rose, Dorothy and Sophia in prime--or post-prime--glory) but we also have the phrase "Stay Gold." For those of you too young to recall, "Stay Gold" is the most famous quote from the 1983 movie The Outsiders, a quote that's actually in reference to the Robert Frost poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay."

All in all, this tat is a masterpiece in homage to the 80's. Sure, it won't look too pretty when it's owner is carrying it around 30 years from now, but I think that's a small price to pay to rock such unadulterated awesomeness. Even if only for a little while. Cheers.