YOU'LL SHOOT YOUR EYE OUT

We're back in the Delaware Valley of The Shadow of Death. We actually got back on Monday, but since no one actually reads this, I didn't think it was relevant to mention it on here at that time.

Wanna see our vacation photos? Well, you can't, because you're not related to me. And why would you want to anyway? Are you obsessed with me or something, like that guy from "One-Hour Photo"? If you think you're going to photograph me having sex with my mistress, well, that's where I draw the line. First, I'd have to pay somebody to be my mistress, and, frankly, the whole thing just doesn't seem worth the effort. Anyway, here's a morsel to keep you sated.




We had a great turkey lined up until the Bumpus hounds ate it, but everything turned out OK at the Chinese Restaurant. And I got my official Daisy Red Ryder BB-gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time!

JUST TAKE THE TRAM TO THE BUS TO THE MONORAIL AND THEN TAKE A BOAT TO THE 2-HOUR LINE FOR THE FUN!

More from The Land of Keeping Your Hands Inside The Vehicle At All Times. We made our obligatory trip to the Diz yesterday. This year, we visited Disney's Animal Kingdom. We saw many ferocious, exotic, and dangerous beasts, and then we finally got to the front of the line. The actual lions, cheetahs, giraffes, hippos and rhinos seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, like many native Orlandoans.

We also visited the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. Apparently, in the future, we'll all be living in a community where they show propaganda films of various countries which were shot in the early 80's. I still want to know how Norway got let into the Epcot League of Nations. What has Norway ever done for us? The biathlon is hardly worth building a theme park attraction about. I also want to know how France is still in. I thought Disney, in conjunction with the Defense Department (and let's face it, they're pretty much the same thing), had outlawed France.

We're flying back tomorrow. Stop all that chatter!

NO HEROISM REQUIRED, SO FAR

We're here. I'm writing this logged in as my sister's second husband's son from a previous marriage. Oh, what a tangled web they weave when first they practice to conceive. I didn't have to use the SkyMall as a deadly weapon, but I do have my eye on a Guillotine Cigar Cutter as a little birthday present to myself after the trip.

More later, especially if my mother and brother-in-law's constant viewing of the Fox News Channel makes me go berserk.

IT'S NOT EXACTLY "LET'S ROLL", BUT I'M HAPPY WITH IT

My wife and I will be boarding a plane at BWI tomorrow bound for Orlando. I'd like to take this opportunity to interject a phrase into the lexicon that I intend to use if terrorists take over the aircraft and a bunch of passengers decide to take it back:

"I don't think you can kill a man with a rolled up SkyMall."

And for God's sake, somebody fill out the damned forms.

HALF RIGHT

The Patriots seem impervious to my influence, but we can always count on the Eagles to succumb to voodoo.

Don't mess with me. Oh no, do not mess with me.

AND MARY AND JOSEPH TRAVELED TO THE HOUSE OF THE MOUSE, AND THERE WAS NO ROOM AT THE SUPER-8

Well, I filled out the yearly company ethics compliance form, so I'm ready to pack it in for the year. I almost stumbled on that Import and Export Control Law question, but it turns out that guys from Cyprus searching for photos of Bitty Schram nude and accidentally reading my sniper jokes doesn't count.

The wife and I are headed to Orlando for Christmas, where I can now get into Disney World and Universal for free due to family connections. I'm practically one of the Bushes when I'm down there now. Now if I can only get an inside track into this place, I'll be all set. I'd sure love to get my hands on a Joseph of Arimathea bobblehead doll!

MORE FUN WITH MS PAINT

YOU FORGOT WHAT'S HIS NAME

Here's my impression of every interview ever conducted about the Blues on NPR:

INTERVIEWER: ...W.C. Handy...Robert Johnson...Leadbelly...Mississippi John Hurt...Billie Holliday...Bo Diddley.

INTERVIEWEE: ...Blind Willie Johnson...Buddy Guy...John Lee Hooker...Muddy Waters...B.B. King...Howlin' Wolf...Etta James...

etc.

There are words where the ellipses are, but they are completely interchangeable from one interview to the next.

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

I'll be using this post to test either the awesome power of my jinxability, or my complete ineffectualness (yes, that is a word).

The two NFL teams I follow, the New England Patriots, who have been my team since I was 9 years old, and the Philadelphia Eagles, who I root for principally because rooting against them may be hazardous to my health where I live, are a combined 19-0 since October 12th, when the Eagles lost to the Cowboys. I haven't mentioned the two winning streaks here in this space, or done much more than merely contemplate this fact, for fear of somehow affecting the outcome of the games. This is irrational of course, but somehow palpably logical nonetheless, based on empirical evidence dating from my childhood (see New England Patriots team history, 1976-2000 for supporting documentation). My capacity for negatively influencing sports teams extends to baseball, where the New York Mets had a lengthy run of fetidness throughout my adolescent years. The Mets eventually had the great fortune to meet the Boston Red Sox in the World Series in 1986, successfully using this team's vast ill-fated nature as a shield against my relatively puny one. No baseball team that I follow has since managed to overcome my deletirious impact, although the teams in question, the Chicago White Sox, Houston Astros, and Philadelphia Phillies, have some serious karma issues of their own. Getting back to the Patriots, they also surmounted my bad mojo, winning their only Super Bowl title in 2002. I still haven't figured that one out. I think I was just having a bad day.

In any case, this year the Pats and Eagles are each on a roll, and nothing I do seems to be able to stop it. Hence this post. I mean, why even have a weblog if you can't demonstrate your natural gifts? So, to that end, WOOOO-HOOOOO!!! Go Pats! Go Eagles! Win the rest of your regular season games, win two playoff games, and you guys are headed to Super Bowl XXXVIII! You can do it! Super Bowl bound! See you in Houston! WOOOO-
HOOOOO!!!

There. To the eventual Super Bowl champs: You owe me.

BACK AND TO THE LEFT...BACK AND TO THE LEFT

There's been another shooting death at Dealey Plaza.

Surviving members of the Warren Commission have already blamed Lee Harvey Oswald for the killing. Oliver Stone is working on a film that fingers LBJ, the Military-Industrial Complex, Pro-Castro Cubans, Anti-Castro Cubans, the Mafia, and aliens from the planet B46-J. Robert Caro is writing a 3,500 page multi-volume work where he never actually mentions it.

REALLY BAD SANTA

YOU SPOKE FRENCH!

Canada, that nice country with all the moose, appointed a new Prime Minister, Paul Martin, today. At his first press conference, Mr. Martin spoke his second language, French, better than Bush can speak, uh, whatever the hell it is he speaks.

That's it. I guess we know the answer to yesterday's poll now.

DOG DAY AFTERNOON

I have tomorrow off. Last week I took Friday off, and I ended up causing $2,000 worth of damage to our car by driving in the snowstorm and skidding off the road into a fencepost. So, here's a poll:

Why will I regret taking a day off tomorrow?

Another even worse car accident. Bad Taco Bell. The condom will break. Yeah right, like your wife is going to give you any. Attacked by angry Starbucks barista after I order a skinny decaf tall caramel latte with whipped cream and then remember I have no money. Wrist injury from downloading too much porn. Wrist injury from after I download the porn. Bad Spongebob. CEO decides to pop in at work, fires everyone on vacation. Blog entry even worse than this one.

View the results Hosted by WebEnalysis

TOP TEN REASONS MEL GIBSON SHOULD USE TO CONVINCE THEATERS TO SHOW "THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST" THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON

10. Filmgoers can use it as a chance to brush up on their Aramaic.

9. Marketing tie-ins with 84 Lumber.

8. 37% reduction of Jew-blaming in the final cut.

7. James Caviezel looks hot in a loincloth.

6. Vatican-approved, unlike Lethal Weapon 1, 2, and 3 (The Pope liked the Chris Rock character in 4).

5. Two words: Mary Magdelene!

4. Nerds in line for "Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King" dressed as Gollum will fit right in.

3. Last Supper scene will help increase sales of Twizzler Combo Packs.

2. Pontius Pilate to be played by Britney Spears in select theaters.

And the No. 1 reason Mel Gibson should use to convince theaters to show "The Passion Of The Christ" this Christmas season is:

1. Our society has completely lost touch with the true meaning of Christmas and has reduced the holiday to a consumer driven frenzy of - ah fuck it, I'm Mel Gibson, dammit, doesn't that mean anything any more?

MY DEAR

In a stunning development today, the Bowl Championship Series has announced that its computers have reversed their earlier decision and named Lagos State University of Nigeria to play Oklahoma in the Sugar Bowl for the national collegiate football championship.

"Well, we received this e-mail from Mr. Obuju Ngeye, son of the former Nigerian foreign minister, saying that we could receive 10% of a $50 million dollar fortune that the Nigerian government had frozen in a Swiss bank account," said BCS spokeman James Caldwell. "Naturally, we were very interested, so we clicked on an attachment in the e-mail, and the next thing we knew, Lagos State was the No. 1 BCS team."

Officials at the BCS say that there isn't much recourse available to them at this point, since BCS by-laws stipulate that the computer results are final. "It doesn't look right, but hey, what can you do?" asked BCS coordinator Mike Tranghese. "I just hope Lagos has a pretty good pass defense, or it could be a long night."

Mr. Ngeye could not be reached for comment, but someone by the name of Kahdri did promise to respond to the story "soon" after we gave him our checking account number.

AN ODE TO ORCHARD PARK

I didn't post anything yesterday because I was riveted to the the local CBS affiliate's telecast of the spellbinding NFL matchup between the New York Jets and the Buffalo Bills, two teams who were only two games under .500 entering the contest, on the lush, beautiful FieldTurf of Ralph Wilson Stadium. My heart leapt as brave Jets kicker Doug Brien lofted two arching parabolas into the evening western New York sky and through the towering uprights for the Jets final total of six points. I did metaphorical cartwheels as stalwart Bills Wide Receiver Josh Reed balletically snared a six yard Drew Bledsoe pass for the winning score with only 13 minutes left in the first half.

The only thing marring the broadcast were those pesky updates in the corner of the screen, detailing the petty, lesser exploits of winning teams that only petty, lesser cities were watching live. Why do we need to know what is happening in the unreachable strata of playoff teams when we can enjoy the courageous battle between two also-rans unfolding before us? The answer, as with the minds of local affiliate programmers, will remain inscrutable to the last.

THE OTHER END OF THE BELL CURVE

In the mail today came the quarterly alumni newsletter from my dear old Alma Mater. This periodical seems to exist to say two and only two things: 1) Everyone else who graduated in your class is doing better than you, and 2) Send us some money.

I suppose there isn't much anyone can do about thing #2. They're always going to need some scratch. Thing #1, though, seems easily remedied. Just once, they could print something along these lines, to make us moderately successful semi-achievers feel better:

William Jablonksi, '89 ChemE. Bill was demoted from assistant operations superintendent at HugeCo when his supervisor caught him playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City on his office PC for 8 hours straight. After much soul searching, Bill decided to quit and start his own web development company. Several months passed as Bill half-heartedly tried and ultimately failed to recruit other unhappy HugeCo employees to join his new firm. The year came to a close with Bill doing his under-developed magic show for local children's parties and submitting vitriolic entries to the HugeCo stock message board on Yahoo. Bill is now planning a hiking trip through Europe with what's left of his 401K plan, to culminate in a pathetic sex and hashish-filled binge in Amsterdam. On the personal side, Bill is a confirmed commitment-phobe with a half dozen ex-girlfriends who no longer speak to him.

SIC SAD WORLD^TM*, VOLUME II

A while back we here at TCP introduced a feature we call "SIC SAD WORLD^TM", wherein we highlight passages, usually quotations, from the media that need no further embellishment, and can be taken "as written", or "sic" in Latin.

Today, we present the second item in the SIC SAD WORLD^TM catalog. This comes from a story by Reuters about a statue of Padre Pio in Rome that is allegedly weeping blood.

A national consumer protection group warned against a possible hoax, saying devotees of Padre Pio had been swindled in the past. "Let's be careful before shouting 'miracle'," the Codacons consumer group said in a statement.

* No, it's not really trademarked. What are you going to do, seize my 1991 Beretta? It's all yours.

RSS, NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH STD

I finally figured out what RSS is, thanks to Salon.com's Scott Rosenberg. My RSS feed is at http://crossbowproject.org/index.rdf, and there is a link below. Aggregate me, baby!

Yes, I do have a college degree, I'm just a little slow on the uptake sometimes. So, who's this Paris Hilton?

BELGIAN WAFFLE

The sports chattering classes are up in arms over Belgian tennis player Kim Clijster's decision to forego the 2004 Olympics in Athens because the Belgian national team will wear Adidas and Clijsters has an apparel contract with Fila.

There's an easy and obvious way for Clijsters to transcend this problem: Play Naked! She may have a slight problem, you know, up top running down shots at any kind of speed, but, frankly, who would even care if she wins? The ratings would be through the roof. In fact, judging from the overwhelming desire of people to see certain female golfers nude, they may have to build an entire new Internet just to handle the traffic to view the videos and photos from the match. It would spark a global boom in web server, router, and cable modem sales and administration, and the resulting good will might convince other female and even male athletes to compete au naturel. Pretty soon, all sports will be played in the buff, followed by all films and TV shows being acted unattired. Eventually, all pop culture will be conducted sans clothing, and then all public institutions, including Congress, will go starkers. And then we'll finally get to see this guy naked.

On second thought, Kim, never mind.

AD HOMINEM

OK, Lexus, I give up. You know what? I'm going to take your suggestion and surprise my wife with a $50,000 vehicle this Christmas by hiding the keys in a snowman, or a toy train, or some other iconic Christmassy symbol. Yup, that's what I'm going to do, because I'm MADE of money. Between my pissant job and this blog, I'm ROLLING in it. Which is why I watch NFL Football on Sundays. I'm living so far in the lap of luxury, it's positively breathtaking, and my viewing habits reflect that. So, I'm going to go right on down to my nearest Lexus dealer and tell the cheerful salesperson to wrap a bow on it and deliver it to my palatial estate so my wife can beam with joy at her new luxury SUV. Now please, get off my ass you motherfucking dickweeds.

SORRY, GUYS

Over the weekend, top female golfer Annika Sorenstam played in the annual Skins Game against Fred Couples, Mark O'Meara and Phil Mickelson. She finshed second in money winnings to Couples.

Unfortunately for many accidental viewers of TCP, she did not appear in her underwear or in the nude, and she did not expose her nipples. Except, of course, for some secret, hot Hot HOT photos obtained by TCP, which I will be not be sharing with you complete fucking morons.

THE SHADOW NOSE

President Bush made a surprise trip to Baghdad to join the troops for Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. A light security detail was used, only selected reporters were notified, and Air Force One used a phony call sign.

Friends of the President say they haven't seen this kind of stealth and secretiveness from Bush since he stopped buying his own cocaine.

AN UNFAIR FIGHT

Britney Spears' new video is called "Me Against The Music".

My question is, since the music is so undeniably horrid, is she winning or losing?

SHORT LIST

In the spirit of transom.org, I've come up with a short list. Try to guess the category.

- I'm on vacation.
- I'm tired.
- I have no inspiration.
- Nobody ever reads this fucking thing.
- I'm a loser.
- Well, not so much a loser as a social outcast.
- Ok, a loser.
- Oh, yeah, my wife is baking cookies, and you can't have any. Nyah, Nyah, Nyah!

Click here for the answer.

THE MAN IN THE GRAY PRADA SUIT

As you no doubt have heard, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger announced to the press that he wore Prada at his inauguration.

In lesser-reported Kennedy clan fashion news, at his grandnephew's kegger, Sen. Ted Kennedy wore, at least toward the end, a vomit-stained Nike T-shirt and no pants.

THE SUN DID NOT SHINE

Let's see...Cat In The Hat Burger King Kids Meal toys, Cat In The Hat special Mastercard "priceless" commercial, Cat In The Hat ride at Universal, Cat In The Hat video game, Cat In The Hat cereal, at least four different Cat In The Hat sweepstakes, even a Cat In The Hat stamp from the US Postal Service.

This movie must really suck.

Yup.

SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND

Ok, old lady in the gym with the bald spot, if you're not going to resort to artificial means to cover up your chrome dome to work out, or even make a stab at a comb-over, could you please not use a treadmill that forces me to stare at your denuded scalp for 20 minutes?

FABULOUS

The Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court has decreed that a ban on gay marriage is unconstitutional.

Excuse me, I'm going to go make a million dollars opening a bridal shop in Provincetown.

Great news for job seekers! The Boston Archdiocese should have plenty of openings soon.

Now maybe that crazy sex machine Barney Frank will finally settle down.

SWEEPING THE CLOUDS AWAY

Now that the season finale of "K Street" has aired on HBO, TCP is ready to release a screenplay it has obtained from one of the early ideas that Steven Soderbergh and George Clooney were kicking around before they even decided to make a show about Washington lobbyists.

I'd have to say they made the right creative decision.

SCHWARZENEGGER INAUGURATED; MILLIONS REALIZE RECALL NOT A PUBLICITY STUNT

After Austrian former bodybuilder and movie star Arnold Schwarzenegger was inaugurated as the Governor of California today, millions of stunned Californians finally came to the realization that the recall election was not in fact a massive publicity stunt tied to the release of the Terminator III - Rise Of The Machines DVD.

"Well, look at the timing," said retired seamstress Wanda Martinez. "I mean, the DVD came out a few days ago, so I just figured this was a big PR campaign. You mean he's really our Governor? O Dios mio!"

"Thank goodness this DVD mess will all be over and we can go back to good old Gray Davis tomorrow," remarked Joseph Watson, a public utility worker, before he was told. Later, after the news spread throughout the state that the action hero would in fact continue to serve out Davis' four year term, Watson shrieked, "Jesus H. Christ! We're all fucked!"

Election officials all over the state answered frantic phone calls from startled voters after it became clear that Schwarzenegger was actually the new state Chief Executive. "It ran mostly along the lines of, 'I thought the whole thing was a huge marketing gimmick', and "what have we done?'," said Contra Costa County Clerk Leo Ongais. "A few people called to see if we were selling the DVD here at the Clerk's office."

The Terminator III - Rise Of The Machines DVD comes with commentary by the director and actors, including Schwarzenegger, an HBO Behind The Scenes documentary, trailers, and a storyboard gallery, but unfortunately, no plan for reversing the projected $60 billion California state deficit. "I mean it, we are seriously fucked," added Watson.

NFL PSA

If you're watching an NFL game, and the announcers say either "he's a fan favorite," or "he's good mentally," what they are really trying to tell you is that the player in question is WHITE.

Thanks. Back to the game.

HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER, A PHOTO ESSAY

"So, what exactly the hell was he doing from May 23rd to November 5th?" I'm sure my imaginary readers are asking themselves. Well, I had these digital photos from this Summer laying around, and I present them to you, my readers, hypothetical though you are, in no particular order and with no explanation. You are encouraged to construct your own narrative, and leave it in my Moral Imperatives.

THAT'S THE "A" TICKET

You've laughed with the Country Bear Jamboree...

You've thrilled to Pirates Of The Caribbean...

You're lining up to be scared out of your wits by The Haunted Mansion...

Now, coming this Christmas to a theater near you, the latest Walt Disney World Theme Park Movie...

It's MAGNETIC!

SCHADENFREUDE-FREUDE?

I don't know about you, but I'm really deriving a great deal of pleasure from hating people who use the word schadenfreude too much.

NAME THAT TUNE...BEFORE MY HOUSE COLLAPSES

Who's peekin' out from under a stairway, calling a name that's lighter than air? Who's bending down to give me a rainbow? Who's tripping down the streets of the city, smilin' at everybody she sees? Who's reachin' out to capture a moment?

Everyone knows...

LET US PRAY


photo courtesy of Salon.com

KEEP YOUR FEET ON THE GROUND, AND KEEP REACHING FOR THE STARS...

What's the deal with Rickie Lee Jones? I was listening to her new song on the local public radio music station, WXPN, and all I can say is, long gone are the days of her sweet warbling on "Chuck E.'s In Love". Now, she sounds like if she were on American Idol, Simon Cowell would leap over the table and smother her with a Hefty Cinch-Sak to keep her from singing, permanently.

Speaking of popular music, a topic about which, admittedly, I have as much authority to comment as say, Walter Cronkite, I've had just about enough of "Five For Fighting". It's just one guy. What exactly is wrong with using, for example, your name? Why must you act as though you are some sort of ensemble? I mean, Ben Folds Five is only three guys, but at least Ben Folds is one of the three guys. Get over yourself.

One more tidbit: if I hear 19-year-old millionaire Avril Lavigne declaim one more time about how "that's how life is" in her lyrics, she'll learn very quickly that life is much less pleasant than the one to which she has become accustomed.

I BOUGHT A DOMAIN NAME FOR THIS?

Why is it that you absolutely positively NEVER hear a golfer utter the phrase, "par for the course"?

Back to my little world now.

MOVIN' ON



Please click here for The New Crossbow Project.

REALLY, IT WORKS

Of the many hardships one endures while watching NFL football, my least favorite is the spate of promos for network shows that run during commercial breaks. One of these promos on CBS is for "Cold Case", a (shockingly enough) police procedural show about, well, you can figure it out. After viewing this promo at least seventy-three times, I have two words (one hyphenated) for the show's star, Kathryn Morris.

Leave-in Conditioner.

TCP'S SIC SAD WORLD^TM, VOLUME I

Some things you read in the newspaper can't possibly be improved upon, and you just have to leave them "as written", or "sic" in Latin. To commemorate these self-ironic communications (just to completely belabor the point, I invented a three-letter acronym), TCP brings you SIC SAD WORLD^TM*.

In today's Philly Inquirer there is a report on wasteful spending of taxpayer funds by state legislators. The last part of the article includes our first ever SIC SAD WORLD^TM item:

One of the more mysterious spending items found in the stacks of legislative invoices is the contract between (Rep. Vince) Fumo and Frank D. Wallace, the former Philadelphia police inspector turned private investigator.

Why does the minority head of an appropriations committee need a $50,000-a-year private eye?

"Sometimes," said (Fumo spokeman Gary) Tuma, "we get tips from people about wasteful spending."

*SIC SAD WORLD is not really trademarked. I stole it from Daria. Sue me. Please. Anything for some traffic.

YADA YADA YADA

Finally, crossbowproject.org works. Yes, I am Master Of My Domain, in a non-masturbatorial way. Whatever.

THAT'S QUITE A HAUL

My wife and I were out driving on I-495, or what I like to call, "The Window To The Delaware River", when we came across a U-Haul truck. As you may know, U-Haul likes to advertise their many locations on the sides of their trucks. This particular truck, in Delaware at the time, was advertising for...Hawaii.

I tried that trip once. The first few feet after you make the turn at San Diego are the toughest.

NINE, EIGHT CENTRAL

The Pentagon today announced that more details have been obtained regarding the kidnapping of Private Jessica Lynch. According to Iraqi sources, Pvt. Lynch was held suspended from the ceiling, scarred with red hot pokers, beaten with a tire iron, scalded with boiling water, shocked with electrodes, and in the most heinous act, forced to listen to the early tracks from the new Clay Aiken album. Asked to comment, Miss Lynch said that she was unconscious the entire time, but it sounds like something that might have happened. She added that she is upset that the Army is continuing to exploit her capture, but would we like to see the new Mazda RX-8 she bought with her book advance?

Meanwhile, the Pentagon also announced that a few more US soldiers had been killed in the Iraqi insurgency, but that none of them were photogenic enough to warrant further attention. And besides, they were dead.

WIL WHEATON UP A HALF ON HEAVY TRADING

It's official: I'm worthless. Well, I'm worth a grand, but that's the official arbitrary zero point. Time to do something about it, I guess, so I've hired Dennis Kozlowski as a consultant.

TCP WOWS THE STREET!

TCP announced today that it has beaten Blogshares idea expectations in the last quarter by, uh, 5,000%! TCP will be issuing an axiom dividend of $3 per share for the 3rd quarter. We have several brilliant hypotheses in the pipeline, and we will be embarking on an aggressive path of notion acquisition over the coming months. Large shareholders (this could be you!) will be eligible for exciting adventures to exotic resort islands to discuss TCP's wide range of investment vehicles and to PAR-TAY! You haven't lived until you see our ice statue of Annika Sorenstam NUDE dispensing Stolichnaya out of, well, you'll just have to see for yourself! Write to Kozlowski Enterprises, c/o The U.S. District Court, District of New York, for a full prospectus.

TCP'S SECOND ANNUAL NBA AND NHL PREVIEW FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T WATCH THE NBA AND NHL

Yeah, I know, second day back, and I'm already recycling stuff. But this year's is different, I'm telling you.

NBA

The NBA is now drafting almost exclusively foreign players and players under 18, due to complicated extradition procedures and lighter sentences for minors. NBA players thus far have served more jail time under the Bush Administration than Al Qaeda. Amidst all the pre-trial hearings, motions for dismissal, and parole reviews, some actual basketball may be played. Here's what to look for:

EASTERN CONFERENCE

LeBron James will be playing for the Cleveland Cavaliers, who secured the rights to his embryo back in 1985 in a very strange lottery ceremony. ESPN will have a camera on LeBron 24 hours a day, 7 days a week throughout the basketball season, and will be offering his liaisons with groupies during road trips on Pay-Per-View. The Cavaliers will definitely not make the playoffs.

Allen Iverson of the Philadelphia 76ers, freed from the tyrannical presence of Larry Brown, will no longer attend practices, shootarounds, team meetings, or any other team function, and will not do anything on a basketball court except dribble the ball and shoot three-pointers during actual games, to which he will be chauffer-driven and brought on to the court in a gilded litter.

The New Jersey Nets will win the Eastern Conference, because somebody has to, but they will be the first team to win an NBA Conference with more than 5 players wearing electronic ankle bracelet monitors. But not the last.

WESTERN CONFERENCE

Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban will be fined "all the money in the world times six jillion dollars" by Commissioner David Stern when he ritually murders a referee at half court after a particularly bad call. Cuban will offer to clean the Porta-Sans at a Phish concert using only his tongue instead. Stern will accept. The Mavericks will lose in the conference finals after they start blocking each others shots.

Kobe Bryant of the L.A. Lakers will be found not guilty of sexual assault at his trial in Colorado after he buys each of the jurors, the judge, the prosecutor, and the alleged victim a $4 million ring. The Lakers will lose in the playoffs after Karl Malone succumbs to Alzheimer's disease.

The Portland Trail Blazers...oh never mind.

The San Antonio Spurs will win the NBA title using their radical approach of putting the ball in the net while trying to stop their opponents from doing so without any involvement with the criminal justice system.

NHL

The National Hockey League is in its final season before labor strife threatens to tear the league apart. The challenge for the NHL this year is, "Will anybody notice us when we are gone?" The smart money says "No." The Stanley Cup will still have to be won, dragged across the continent, vomited on and of course urinated in, though, so here's what to expect.

EASTERN CONFERENCE

The Buffalo Sabres and Ottawa Senators will run out of money for player salaries. The players will continue to play, mainly because most other employers' dental insurance plans will not accept them.

Mario Lemieux, Owner/Player for the Pittsburgh Penguins, will trade himself to whatever team the Penguins are playing that night, and then purposely fire goals into his new team's net. He will then trade himself back to the Penguins and repeat the process. The Penguins will win all 82 regular season games, sweep the Eastern Conference playoffs and be 3 games to none ahead in the Stanley Cup finals before Commissioner Gary Bauer decides it's "bad for hockey."

Scott Stevens of the New Jersey Devils will literally knock someone into next week when one of his punishing checks opens up a tear in the space-time continuum. Stevens will be assessed a 10-minute major penalty, which he will have already served two years ago.

WESTERN CONFERENCE

There's absolutely nothing funny or interesting about the Western Conference of the NHL. Really. I'm not running out ideas, it's just true.

STANLEY CUP WINNER: Um, Anaheim? They won it last year, right? I don't recall.

THIS PLACE IS NO FUN AT ALL

It was Safety Day today. This is the day each year we have to go fight fires out on the fire field with extinguishers. Again this year, I was required, I believe by OSHA regulations, to wear actual clothing under my rubber hip boots and bunker gear, so that was a bummer. Maybe next year.

TSK TSK

Seriously, people, you should all be ashamed.

I mean, four or five months is plenty of time to not update your web site. Jeez!

POLITICS WITH A HUMAN TOUCH...SEVERAL, IN FACT

I've been thinking about attending one of these Dean or Clark meet-ups, but they look pretty lame. I have a feeling these folks would be a lot more fun.

(MY ACHIN') BACK

No, I couldn't stay away. I'm sick like that.

So, what's new in my life, you ask? Absolutely nothing. Aside from the supposedly inoperable cancer I licked using Deepak Chopra's complete oeuvre, the writings of Dr. Wayne Dyer, several forms of homeopathic medicine, and lots and lots of good old fashioned prayer! And the heaviest slate of chemotherapy and radiation my HMO could afford. NO! Not really. I'm healthy as Ivanka Trump's poodle. Well, I have a back thing, otherwise known as a herniated disk, but I won't bore you with the details, aside from the fact that it's between L-4 and L-5, and it hurts to make sweet love to my woman.

Don't expect the often near daily, or at least semi-weekly, entries that were common with my last go at bloggerness. If it's one thing I'm not, it's a blogaholic. I'll put an entry in when I've exhausted every other conceivable method of spending my time, and I have something to write that either makes me laugh or pisses me off. Or I have a link to something strange and/or silly. You know, like 1.2 million other bloggers. I'm nothing if not unoriginal.

How do I know Ivanka Trump even has a poodle? What, do I hang with her at the Tower? This and many other secrets will be revealed in upcoming entries.

audblog audio post

NOTHING EVER LASTS FOREVER...



Well, nude celebrity photo searchers, The Crossbow Project has far outlived its useful purpose, whatever that was, and will be cyber-expunged come next Tuesday. I've long ago run out of anything resembling creativity, and the thought of posting any more of this warmed-over imbecility makes me cringe with disgust. I'll continue to check out the sites of the few people who read this on any sort of semi-regular basis, and many others who don't, since they possess far more aptitude for this medium than I do, but my blogging days have ended. I appreciate any and all support I've received, and I'll leave you with this appropriate soundtrack to my farewell.

ANNIKA SORENSTAM NUDE!



No, idiots, I don't have photos of Annika Sorenstam nude. What are you, retarded? No, even a retarded, I mean specially able, person would know that Annika Sorenstam has never posed for nude photographs. So you must be so completely addicted to porn that every synapse in your addled little mind thinks that anyone whose name appears in a newspaper or who is on TV must, in some sort of fame initiation rite, have a portfolio of nude photos taken. Well, let me tell ya, kids, it just isn't true. It especially isn't true with female professional golfers, and it really, really especially isn't true with Annika Sorenstam.



Now, Annika did appear in Sports Illustrated in the February 24, 2003 issue in her underwear, but that's as close as you're gonna get. I know how difficult it must be for your porn-clouded mind to be able to find a copy of this magazine, so I'm going to help you out. It says "Sports Illustrated" in big letters on the cover, and there is a picture of a bunch of guys in Anaheim Angels uniforms playing baseball. Also, Annika is not in her underwear right on the cover. You have to turn the pages. I forget which page it's on, but try somewhere near the middle. If you are coming down off the porn high, and you have a few extra brain cells to devote to the task, you can try the table of contents and look for a story about "Annika Sorenstam". It will tell you which page number the story is on. Then you can use the little numbers on the bottom of each page to find the pictures of Annika in her underwear.



I happen to actually have in my possession a copy of this Sports Illustrated issue. It can be yours for only $5,000, but you have to somehow manage to send me an e-mail and then send me a money order for the full amount, which I doubt very strongly you'll be able to do, since you are probably already in debt up to your ears from subscribing to a few hundred hard-core porn sites with your credit card. But it's available if you want it. You freaks.

ANNIKA SORENSTAM NUDE!

No, idiots, I don't have photos of Annika Sorenstam nude. What are you, retarded? No, even a retarded, I mean specially able, person would know that Annika Sorenstam has never posed for nude photographs. So you must be so completely addicted to porn that every synapse in your addled little mind thinks that anyone whose name appears in a newspaper or who is on TV must, in some sort of fame initiation rite, have a portfolio of nude photos taken. Well, let me tell ya, kids, it just isn't true. It especially isn't true with female professional golfers, and it really, really especially isn't true with Annika Sorenstam.


Now, Annika did appear in Sports Illustrated in the February 24, 2003 issue in her underwear, but that's as close as you're gonna get. I know how difficult it must be for your porn-clouded mind to be able to find a copy of this magazine, so I'm going to help you out. It says "Sports Illustrated" in big letters on the cover, and there is a picture of a bunch of guys in Anaheim Angels uniforms playing baseball. Also, Annika is not in her underwear right on the cover. You have to turn the pages. I forget which page it's on, but try somewhere near the middle. If you are coming down off the porn high, and you have a few extra brain cells to devote to the task, you can try the table of contents and look for a story about "Annika Sorenstam". It will tell you which page number the story is on. Then you can use the little numbers on the bottom of each page to find the pictures of Annika in her underwear.


I happen to actually have in my possession a copy of this Sports Illustrated issue. It can be yours for only $5,000, but you have to somehow manage to send me an e-mail and then send me a money order for the full amount, which I doubt very strongly you'll be able to do, since you are probably already in debt up to your ears from subscribing to a few hundred hard-core porn sites with your credit card. But it's available if you want it. You freaks.

BILLIONS AND BILLIONS SERVED







We're back from Rochester. Let me just say, Physics students are not necessarily of our species. I can vouch for my niece, who is really an Astronomy student, but as for the rest of them, it's anybody's guess.



The photo above is of the Rush Rhees Library on the campus of the University of Rochester, also known by UR students as "the Nipple of Knowledge", where the commencement was held on Sunday. My niece received her Bachelor of Arts Degree in Astronomy with a minor in Film Studies, which nearly guarantees her a spot in the burgeoning food and beverage service industry, at least for a while. If you have a need for a young lady who can produce an engaging television documentary on the Properties of Local Hydrodynamic and Magnetohydrodynamic Turbulence in Differentially Rotating Systems, please use the above e-mail link, and I'll pass the information on to her.



If you happened to be on or near Interstate 476 at about 10-11:30 PM Sunday night, that was me doing Mach 3.6. Sorry for the sonic booms.

BILLIONS AND BILLIONS SERVED



We're back from Rochester. Let me just say, Physics students are not necessarily of our species. I can vouch for my niece, who is really an Astronomy student, but as for the rest of them, it's anybody's guess.

The photo above is of the Rush Rhees Library on the campus of the University of Rochester, also known by UR students as "the Nipple of Knowledge", where the commencement was held on Sunday. My niece received her Bachelor of Arts Degree in Astronomy with a minor in Film Studies, which nearly guarantees her a spot in the burgeoning food and beverage service industry, at least for a while. If you have a need for a young lady who can produce an engaging television documentary on the Properties of Local Hydrodynamic and Magnetohydrodynamic Turbulence in Differentially Rotating Systems, please use the above e-mail link, and I'll pass the information on to her.

If you happened to be on or near Interstate 476 at about 10-11:30 PM Sunday night, that was me doing Mach 3.6. Sorry for the sonic booms.

PULL MY FINGER LAKES



The missus and I are traveling to Rochester, NY this weekend to attend my niece's college graduation. One of my brothers and two of my sisters will be there, and I can't decide whether to make cheeky references to Jack Benny's chauffeur or Jane Eyre's employer-turned-lover to show how witty and sophisticated I am.



Ah fuck it. I'll just tell a few fart jokes. That usually works.

PULL MY FINGER LAKES

The missus and I are traveling to Rochester, NY this weekend to attend my niece's college graduation. One of my brothers and two of my sisters will be there, and I can't decide whether to make cheeky references to Jack Benny's chauffeur or Jane Eyre's employer-turned-lover to show how witty and sophisticated I am.

Ah fuck it. I'll just tell a few fart jokes. That usually works.

TUBE STEAK BOOGIE



Below is the text of an ad (as far as I can remember it) that runs at least three times per game on every Phillies radio broadcast:

---

MAN: Come on, throw it in there!



(crowd cheering, Announcer voice-over for Hatfield Phillies Franks)



MAN: Put some mustard on it, will ya?



(more cheering, more Announcer voice-over)



MAN: What a dog!



WOMAN: Knock it off, Fred! The neighbors will call the police...again.

---

PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP! Three times per game times 162 games, that's 486 times total. You figure I listen to parts of 50 games on the radio every year, so that's 150 times this year I might end up hearing this putrescent ode to processed pork with distinct overtones of domestic violence. I'll pay good money if you can make it stop. I'm not joking. E-mail me today.

TUBE STEAK BOOGIE

Below is the text of an ad (as far as I can remember it) that runs at least three times per game on every Phillies radio broadcast:

---

MAN: Come on, throw it in there!

(crowd cheering, Announcer voice-over for Hatfield Phillies Franks)


MAN: Put some mustard on it, will ya?


(more cheering, more Announcer voice-over)


MAN: What a dog!


WOMAN: Knock it off, Fred! The neighbors will call the police...again.

---

PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP! Three times per game times 162 games, that's 486 times total. You figure I listen to parts of 50 games on the radio every year, so that's 150 times this year I might end up hearing this putrescent ode to processed pork with distinct overtones of domestic violence. I'll pay good money if you can make it stop. I'm not joking. E-mail me today.

ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO MAKE UP



I knew the New York Times editorial integrity was slipping a bit, but today's issue is ridiculous.



Howell Raines, have you no shame?

ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO MAKE UP

I knew the New York Times editorial integrity was slipping a bit, but today's issue is ridiculous.

Howell Raines, have you no shame?

SCAM SPAM



From my inbox:





My Dear,



My name is Musa Ahrey the son of Dakoba Ahrey, I am still a student of University of Lagos, Please I want you to help me in doing one thing for me. My late father deposited the sum of U$20Million with a local bank here in Nigeria (GLOBAL BANK NIG PLC), my late father wanted to send the money to his friend in USA unlucky for him he died and right now I don't know my father's friend address. All I want you to do for me is to send your account where the money will be transferred as the owner of the money. My dear I have decided to share the money as follows 50% for me 40% to my business partner while 10% will be for you as my eyes over there.





Isn't that just a touching story? Poor kid. As it happens, my bank account is, uh, at the dry cleaners. So, come on TCP readership, let's help Musa out! Send me your bank account number, with the routing transit number, and I'll contact Musa and have him deposit the 20 Million smackers in there today. Pretty soon, you'll be pulling out of the Jaguar dealership with some new wheels after you get your share of the loot.



And that "My Dear" thing has absolutely nothing to do with that week I spent in Lagos when I was in college. Musa is just a friend, I swear.

DIRTY BLOG



When I heard about this, I thought I'd follow suit.



THIS IS A DRILL! THIS IS ONLY A DRILL!



If this had been an actual blog entry, it might have been somewhat funny, and you might have been directed to link to it. Please ignore it as you normally would, and continue searching for information on the CROSSBOW HOME GYM or the BOWFLEX HOME GYM or KAREN GRASSLE NUDE or whatever.



Thank you for your cooperation, from the Department of Blogland Security.

GOOGLE IS GOOD, BUT NOT THAT GOOD



Actual referral from my referrals page:







I understand the sentiment, dude, but really, how is Google going to know who your sister-in-law is? Names, we need names! Try again, and let me know how it goes.

TOP TEN NEW HONG KONG TOURISM SLOGAN IDEAS



Hong Kong recently had to scrap plans to introduce their new tourism slogan, "Hong Kong Takes Your Breath Away" in light of the SARS epidemic. Here's what they've come up with so far as a replacement:



10. That Surgical Mask Becomes You!



9. Come To The Hacking, Phlegming, Aching, Fevery Jewel Of The Orient



8. Visit For The Scenery, Stay For The Hospitals



7. A Vacation To Remember...If You Live



6. All The Codeine You Want!



5. What Better Place To Get Quarantined?



4. Chow Yun Fat and Jackie Chan Dare You To Visit, You Bunch Of Wussies



3. Only a 5% Death Rate, Better Than The Bronx



2. Make Medical History!



And the Number 1 new Hong Kong tourism slogan idea is:



1. Hong Kong: Flu-ey!!!!

NEO NAZI



I can't tell if I hate everything having to do with The Matrix Reloaded, or if it's just the machines controlling my brain that are making me think I do.

JOAN OF DORK



Speaking of music, what is the deal with this new Joan Armatrading song, "Lovers Speak"? The lyrics read "I want to learn the language of love/ I want to learn how to flirt". Jeez, Joan, how old are you anyway? You have to be over 50. You're a Member of the Freakin' British Empire for crying out loud. You really ought to get out more. My wife used to teach 7th and 8th grade girls in South Philly who were juggling a half dozen boyfriends each, maybe you can ask them.

MUSIC TO SOOTHE THE SAVAGE CONSUMER



Recently, I've noticed that nearly every time I go to the grocery store, or the mall, or to a sporting event, invariably, I will hear a song which is on a CD that I actually own. For the first few times, this was quite pleasing. "Hey," I would say to my wife, "they're playing the BoDeans, from 'Home'! I own that. How cool is that?" Then, something finally occurred to me. The world is not suddenly catching up to my hip musical esthetic. What's happening is, I am getting old. The music I liked when I was young is now so completely vanilla and unthreatening that it's being played to general audiences to put them in a positive mood so that they will buy things.



So later, I bought an iPod and stored my entire CD collection on it so I could listen to it while at the gym, and ever since, I can't stop buying more stuff. Stuff I don't even need, too, like a wi-fi card for the PocketPC I never use, and the Odd Todd Handbook. I've even memorized my Discover card number. You know, I really think I've stumbled on to a marketing bonanza here. If I can get people to listen to my iPod for an hour, they'll buy anything! Now I just need to market my CD collection to different retail outlets and ask for a percentage of the increased sales, and I'll be a wealthy man. Then I can finally get that Sharper Image Coca-Cola Wurlitzer Nostalgic Soda Machine I've had my eye on.

THAT'S GOOD EATIN'



No hilarious blog entry today. Not that there ever is. Anyway, I spent most of the day explaining to a sales rep that our business is probably irretrievably lost to his competition, and that I didn't make the decision, and that the guy who made the decision hates his company. And he bought me lunch. So, it was a pretty good day.



For more on my feelings on vendor lunches, click here.

CAN I GET THAT DIRECT DEPOSITED?



The Recording Industry Association of America has settled its lawsuits with four college students who offered thousands of copyrighted recordings for illegal downloading. The students agreed to pay sums ranging from $12,000 to $17,500.



In related news, the RIAA also announced that it would pay a lump sum of $100,000,000 to the record-buying public for releasing over a decade worth of Yanni, Kenny G, and John Tesh albums.

KILLER FUNGI



An Army Cavalry platoon searching Iraq today may have found some chemical weapons. "Well, we're not sure what we've found. We'll have to do more testing," said Lt. Valerie Phipps. Lt. Phipps did elaborate that the items found are extremely obnoxious smelling, and could be used as part of a mobile bio-weapons program.



Click here to view a photo of the suspected lethal agents.

THIS IS THE TITLE



I'm adding an entry now, because this is supposed to be a web log, as if I'm keeping a record of something. In this case, it's of my complete dearth of ideas. I've had a migraine the last two days, so coming up with blog ideas is about 1,247,432 on my "list". Not that I have a "list". I pretty much live from moment to moment. Especially when I have a migraine, when I wish every moment would be my last. I'm better now. But I still have nothing to say. Bye.

C'EST LA GUERRE...OOPS, I MEAN...NEVER MIND



The New York Times revealed (login req'd) yesterday that the Bush re-election team will be going after leading Democratic Presidential contender Sen. John Kerry by alleging, among other things, that he "looks French". What the story failed to mention is that the Bush team has a list of other strategies for the remainder of the Democratic field.



John Edwards: "John" sounds like "Jean". Too French.

Dick Gephardt: "Dick" reminds everyone of the French love for sex.

Joe Lieberman: German name. Plus, as a bonus, he's Jewish, so he helped kill our Lord and Saviour (use last one only in the South and maybe Utah).

Howard Dean: Comes from Vermont. "Vermont" is French for Green Mountain. They must be crawling with 'em up there.

Bob Graham: Graham crackers must be French. They are used in fancy pies and stuff.

Carole Mosely Braun: Looks too much like Josephine Baker.

Dennis Kucinich: Um, been seen eating French fries. Who cares?

Al Sharpton: Right. As if we need a strategy. Our strategy is his hairdo.

LIKE YOU EVEN CARE



Hey, I finally added an about page!

HOPE YOU HAD A HAPPY...WHATEVER



Yesterday was some sort of a holiday, I guess. This being a secular society, I've never been quite sure what it is we were supposed to be celebrating yesterday. Here at TCP headquarters, my wife and I celebrated the first Sunday after the full moon following the vernal equinox with the usual fertility rites of coloring eggs, worshipping rabbits and eating copious amounts of chocolate, in honor of Pan, I suppose, or some such deity. Then we ate a traditional meal consisting of a main course of ham...for some reason. And then we, um, well, performed more fertility rites. Then I watched Six Feet Under while she read a book. I don't think that had anything to do with anything, but I thought I'd mention it in case someone knew anything.



Target was closed yesterday. What the fuck?

OH DEAR, OH DEAR



Ok, let me get this straight. We spent the last year or so trying to convince the world that Saddam Hussein's regime had weapons of mass destruction. We sent in inspectors, made speeches at the UN, and built up our military presence. When none of that worked, and Saddam never turned over his WMD, and the inspectors never found any WMD, we invaded the country and toppled Saddam's regime to get rid of the WMD that he must have been hiding.



The war is over, so now we need to rebuild Iraq. Since we feel like we shouldn't have to ask the US taxpayers to do it alone, we're asking the UN to remove its sanctions on Iraq so that some oil money can start flowing in. If you recall, the UN sanctions are in place because the US and the other members of the Security Council were all convinced that Iraq had WMD. Once we took over the country, we looked around and so far we haven't found any WMD. So, what that means is, the US is now in the position of trying to convince the UN that Iraq doesn't have any weapons of mass destruction, so that they will lift the sanctions.



I've got it. I think. Hey, did that rabbit just check its watch?

WHERE'S THE OTHER SHOE?



The war is over. The threat level has been reduced to yellow. It's 80° and sunny out. I'll be attending my fourth baseball game in the last two weeks tonight. The new Christopher Guest movie is out. I hate to say this, but, I think I'm...happy.



I don't trust it. Not for a second.

MOST SOMETHING, ANYWAY



Malibu's Most Wanted, the new film from Warner Brothers opening Friday, has earned the distinction of being the 1,000th Hollywood feature film to portray a white guy acting black. The coveted award nearly went to Touchstone Pictures Bringing Down The House, which, due to a clerical error, was released a few weeks earlier. Warner Brothers Studio chief Dan Fellman was thrilled at receiving the honor. "It's not every day you can make history, and we are so proud. We knew we had a chance when this picture was in production, and we thought we had blown it there for a while, but when that other movie came out, well, we were surprised and happy." Fellman went on, "We at Warner Brothers have done a lot to advance the white guy acting black genre through the years, so we felt it was fitting and appropriate that it would be us to get number 1000. Still, when it happens, you're in awe a little bit."



Hollywood starts on its next millennium of white guy acting black films this summer with Fox's Barbershop 2, In Utah

AS SEEN IN SOLDIER OF FORTUNE

LEAVING SO SOON?



The Houston trip is almost over. Finally. Today, an old co-worker from my former job canceled dinner plans on me because of a work-related emergency. Aside from that, it was more of the same Camp Gitmo-style torture in the training class, which mercifully ended an hour early. Then a con man tried to get my money. It was quite a final day to a memorable sojourn.



The con man was pretty slick, although he didn't have much stick-to-it-ive-ness. He gunned his white rental car and screeched to a stop between me and the hotel room side door as I was bringing back my drive-through bar-b-cue (yes, they have that in Houston, and thank God). He emerged from the vehicle perfectly coiffed with a starched white shirt, suspenders and slacks, shook my hand, and started prattling on in a deep Texas drawl about how he is down here from Dallas and his credit card is maxed out. I simply said, "No, I can't help you, sorry," and he was on his way to another potential stooge. I quickly scurried to my hotel room to await the next bit of strangeness. Nothing so far, although I have until 7:55 AM tomorrow morning.



You think 12 hours is too much time to wait in the airport?

HOUSTON, WE HAVE BOREDOM



Day 3 brought yet another very long day of training. It turns out that the woman who got up and left early yesterday had wet clothes. She had taken another co-worker back to their hotel during a break because he was sick, and it had been raining heavily at the time. She sat there in the class in silent discomfort for about an hour until she just couldn't take anymore. Very odd.



This episode inadvertently led me to having to take in an Astros game alone. I had bought four tickets when I knew I was coming to Houston, in the hopes that I could get three of my classmates to go with me. The guy who was sick and another female co-worker, not the one with the wet clothing, had indicated that they wanted to go, but when the guy got sick, the woman decided, I suppose, that a night out with me would be less preferable than sitting alone watching TV in a medium priced hotel room in a strange city, which is not a unique appraisal. I don't mind watching baseball games alone, but it's becoming too much of a habit. I think I am the only baseball fan left, sometimes. The 18,547 idiots at Minute Maid Park last night hardly qualify. You can build the people of Houston a beautiful new ballpark, but they still can't show up on time, sit the fuck down and watch the damn game.



Well, it looks like Saddam has joined the choir invisible. His head will be shortly on its way to Kennebunkport to be presented to George H.W. Bush in a bizarre Yale Skull and Bones ritual. And now the real fun starts. Not here of course. I'll be on an uncomfortable flight back to my usual boring life all too soon.



Late note: Paula Zahn is interviewing embedded journalist Luke Hunt on CNN. I thought she said something else when she introduced him by his full name.

THE HOUSTON CHRONICLES, CONTINUED



Ok, try this three-word phrase on for size: Strip Mall Churches. That's Houston.



Also, you have the Irresistible Force of Arctic Air Conditioning ever doing battle with the Immovable Object of Stifling Arm Pit Humidity.



My fellow trainees are feeling about as frisky for this class as I am. Today I witnessed the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. With about 5 minutes left in one of the longest days I've ever endured, one of my classmates inexplicably started packing up her things and simply left, while the instructor was in mid-sentence. Another woman in the class had ridden with the first woman from their hotel, so she had no choice but to leave also. The rest of us looked at each other, a bit stunned. The instructor, faced with a mutiny, simply stopped talking and said, "OK, see you tomorrow." Sheer brilliance. If only she had done it 20 minutes earlier.

JUNKET BONDING



I'm writing this in a hotel room in Houston, a city that is a diverse, cosmopolitan mecca of commerce, and also a sprawling, garish, Southern white-trash, Christian Coalition hick town at the same time. And it seems very comfortable in its own peculiar skin. I'm here for a training class, which I intend to mentally process the same way I do reruns of "Wings", which is to say, with extremely detached and very, very slight amusement. So, basically, it's a junket, a chance to escape the mundanity of my normal work week for another, slightly different mundanity in another city.



So far, it's been fun. I was greeted by a wake-up cockroach in my bathtub, which is always a nice touch. The high-speed Internet connection is working, which it should considering you could pay about a hundred migrant workers to hand carry notes back and forth to their destinations for the amount of money they are charging.



I should mention that I once lived in the suburbs of Houston for six years, so this is also a homecoming of sorts. It should give me a chance to connect with some old friends and see the old places, all of which I will probably forego to look at porn on the Spectravision.



More later as my adventure unfolds. Now, where's that remote?

JUST HELPING OUT



Remember, everyone, tomorrow is the end of Daylight Savings Time, so turn your clocks back! This year, of course, due to war restrictions, Department of The Homeland Bill Ridge has asked us to turn the clocks back 2 hours, to help save on foreign oil imports. So Spring Back everybody!!! And make sure to check the batteries in your George Foreman grill, just in case.

DESPERATION HAS SET IN



Ok, I'm so hard up for blog fodder, I've resorted to the Friday Five. However, I'm going to let Iraqi Information Minister Muhammad Said al-Sahhaf answer the questions for me.



1. How many houses/apartments have you lived in throughout your life?



"The Infidels will perish if they continue to occupy our land. Allah has allowed us glorious victories in this marvelous jihad."



2. Which was your favorite and why?



"We will continue until utter defeat of the evil invaders has been completed. Allah is great."



3. Do you find moving house more exciting or stressful? Why?



"Our great and glorious leader, Saddam Hussein, has decreed that all Iraqis should fight in the streets to repel the hordes of vile zionists."



4. What's more important, location or price?



"Allah has given us favor on the battefield, and he will continue to shine on us."



5. What features does your dream house have (pool, spa bath, big yard, etc.)?



"Oh, I'd like a nice Corian countertop, and possibly a humidor. Allah is great."

IF IT DOESN'T WORK FOR US, MAKE IT WORK AGAINST THEM



Once again, because there are tumbleweeds rolling through the space where ideas should be coming from, more e-mail from Texas:







This one is particularly salient, because the conservatives here took their own insipid slogan from the War on Drugs, which failed utterly and is still failing every day, and turned it against everyone's favorite loony leftist, as if Martin Sheen is any threat to the Christian Right Drive for Hegemony. Next up: Don Rumsfeld vs. Ed Begley, Jr.!

IT'S JUST A DUMB MOVIE REFERENCE, PEOPLE!



This is not what I had in mind.



Sorry for not posting much lately. It's a combination of anticipation of a business trip next week, some actual work going on here, and, uh, a complete lack of ideas. And war overload. And the baseball season starting. And the realization that, maybe, just maybe, I'm not the only person with an allegedly snarky web log, and that most people who stop by here are looking for information on the CROSSBOW HOME GYM or KAREN GRASSLE NUDE!!!! Had to get that in. By the way, it's highly debatable whether Karen Grassle even showers in the nude, let alone has her photo taken so that it can posted on the Internet, so, you know, what the fuck is wrong with you morons?



That is all.

BYE, JINGO?

As I do many Sundays, I parked in front of the television watching sports yesterday. There was a full bill of fare, including the men's college basketball tournament, the Players Championship golf tournament, and the first major championship of the Women's golf tour this season, the Kraft Nabisco Championship. The Kraft Nabisco Championship particularly intrigued me for two reasons, one being the presence of the 6-foot tall, 13-year-old Michelle Wie, who can outdrive all the adult women on the tour, and the expected battle between two-time defending champion Annika Sorenstam and the Frenchwoman Patricia Meunier-Lebouc. I watched the final pairing of Sorenstam and Meunier-Lebouc very closely, looking to see if any of the yokels in the crowd would give the Frenchwoman a hard time. This was, after all, Rancho Mirage, CA, near Palm Springs, also known as the place that elected Sonny Bono to Congress.

Much to my delight and surprise, everyone acted like perfect gentlemen and ladies, and when Meunier-Lebouc unexpectedly outdueled Sorenstam and brought a two-shot lead to the final hole, the gallery at the 18th, mostly consisting of corporate executives, old geezers, and various other People of Ungodly Wealth, i.e., Republicans, stood and cheered as the final group walked past. After Meunier-Lebouc finally tapped in the winning putt, once again the crowd exulted, and then urged the French champion to uphold the long tradition of jumping into the pond near the final green. After signing her scorecard, Patricia, along with her husband and her caddy, merrily obliged, and the throng once more cheered the soaking wet winner. It was a terrific scene and made for great television. For a brief moment, I was proud of the American sports spectator, who had put aside feelings of nationalism, the fighting in Iraq, and the diplomatic situation with our ally, France, and had given this French citizen her due as the winner of this prestigious championship with all the fervor they could muster.



But then, I realized, they mostly wanted to see if her nipples would show through her blouse.



And after that, I realized, so did I. They didn't. So I switched over to the NCAA basketball tournament to check out the cheerleaders.

YET EVEN MORE WAR-LARITY FROM TEXAS



Yes, this little Iraq conflict has its lighter moments, as my arch-conservative brother-in-law notes...



I thought you might enjoy this photograph of one of the US Air Force's latest high technology stealth fighter bomber aircraft. It's being prepared to depart for an "unnamed" air base in the Middle East. Of course it goes without saying that you should treat this picture as very confidential, and control any further unsecured distribution of it.

MAMMA MIA



Seen on a t-shirt at the gym today: "I am an Italian Princess"



All I can say is, now I know why Italy got rid of their monarchy.

EVEN MORE STUFF MY RIGHT-WING TEXAN BROTHER-IN-LAW SENDS ME



You know the drill.







This photo was debunked at snopes.com last October. Not that I care much for Daschle, but it's the principle of the thing.

MORE STUFF MY RIGHT-WING TEXAN BROTHER-IN-LAW SENDS ME



In this continuing feature, here is another e-mail from my brother-in-law, who is "keeping it real" deep-in-a-hearta.

MERCAPTAN OF INDUSTRY



My wife, seemingly along with the rest of a tired, weary nation, has finally succumbed to the Atkins Diet. Since I approach most things in my marriage much like the French approached World War II (quick surrender followed by a plucky underground resistance), I am also, for the time being, on the Atkins Diet. This particular regime entails the consumption of large amounts of protein and limited amounts of carbohydrates. To that end, we have been eating a significant amount of leafy and/or stalky green vegetables, such as asparagus. Asparagus has a unique property in that it can cause one's, how shall we say, urine, to, how shall we say, stink. Being an industrious sort, and armed with a high-speed link to a world of information, I discovered that the cause of the stinky pee is a chemical compound known as methyl mercaptan. This is the same compound that is mixed with natural gas so that if the gas starts to leak, a foul odor will be detected. Evidently, methyl mercaptan is a by-product of the digestion process, and accumulates in the bladder within minutes of eating the offending sprouts.



Furthermore, it seems that in a study done by someone whose donors have far more money than sense, only about 40% of all adults tested are capable of producing methyl mercaptan in their urine after eating asparagus, and an even smaller percentage can smell the methyl mercaptan they produce. Apparently, this "ability" is genetically determined.



Well, as you may have already gleaned, I'm a producer and a smeller. This is certainly one of the prouder moments of my life. Not only do I now have one recognizable talent, but two!

WI THE FI?



I just got back from Starbucks, where I was testing out my new Wi-Fi wireless modem for my Pocket PC. It works great, but for some reason, I can't update TCP from there.



The fact that this really disappoints me, not to mention that I even tried it to begin with, I believe amply certifies me as one of the biggest geeks in the universe.

STUFF MY RIGHT-WING TEXAN BROTHER-IN-LAW SENDS ME



My brother-in-law from Texas is a Texas A&M graduate who also works in the oil business. For some unfathomable reason, he e-mails me stuff. In what may just become a recurring item, because God knows I could use some ideas, here is a recent example:



Subject: Dixie Chicks In The News!











TCP, keeping watch on the pulse in the trenches of the man on the street in Middle America since, oh, this afternoon.

SADDAM HAS LEFT THE BUILDING?



In what must be record time, a conspiracy theorist has already spotted possibly deceased Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein pumping gas into his car in the Western United States. "Yup, it was Saddam, all right," claimed unemployed welder Clyde Drucker of Winnemucca, Nevada. "I was picking up a Slurpee at the 7-11, and there was Hussein, filling up his Chrysler Le Baron with hi-test. Damnedest thing I ever saw."



Hussein may have been killed by a precision U.S. bombing raid on Wednesday night, but Drucker is hearing none of it. "Oh, come on, are you kidding me? That's what the government would like you to believe. First it was Roswell, then Elvis, and now this. But I seen him, I'm telling you. He was wearing jeans, an 'Old Navy' t-shirt, and snakeskin boots. Now how could I make that up?" The FBI and CIA have refused comment. "See?" asked Drucker.

CHIEF WEAPONS INSPECTOR



Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld briefed the President earlier this week that the military would use "shock and awe" in its campaign against Saddm Hussein's regime.



Bush replied, "Oh, we're gonna send in Injun's? Good thinkin', Rummy. They're expendamable."

MARCH MADNESS!



Ok, everybody, get your brackets and your entry fee back to me by tonight at 8 PM. I've filled in the first "casualty" already, for your convenience.

IT'S OK. RUMSFELD WILL TELL US ALL WE NEED TO KNOW ANYWAY



All I can say for our intrepid network journalists is: Ernie Pyle and Ed Murrow they ain't.

MEANWHILE AT NEVERLAND, MICHAEL JACKSON ASKS HIMSELF "WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?"



Gotta love those crazy Northwest flight attendants.

TOP TEN WAYS TEXAS IS COMMEMORATING ITS 300TH EXECUTION



10. (Sorry. I screwed up and lost this audio file. Dammit.) Giant cake in the shape of "Old Sparky".



9. audblog audio post



8. audblog audio post



7. audblog audio post



6. audblog audio post



5. audblog audio post



4. audblog audio post



3. audblog audio post



2. audblog audio post



And the Number 1 way Texas is commemorating its 300th execution is:



1. audblog audio post



Well, that's it for audblog. If I ever get the urge to blow another nine bucks, please stop me.

ONLY TEN MORE TO GO!!!



Sorry about that last one. This one is only slightly better, but there is something there as opposed to me taunting you. There are a few seconds of silence at the beginning, so don't stop it until the end.



audblog audio post



You don't know hard it was to synch up the synthesized voice with the beep on the audblog recorder. I must have spent 10 minutes trying to get it even that good.

THE GREATEST AUDIO BLOG POST EVER



audblog audio post



Satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back. Only 11 left!

SICK OF SIGMA



Sorry about not posting much this week. I've been assigned to a Six Sigma team. Despite the Greek-sounding name, it bears little resemblance to a fraternity, except for the vaguely satanic initiation rites. Actually, it's a systematic problem solving process popularized by Jack Welch, former CEO of GE, using many of the statistical methods of W. Edwards Demingzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Sorry.



In other news, I still have 13 more audio blogs left. Make that 12.



audblog audio post

SAILING TAKES ME AWAY



Switzerland, a country with no coastline, won the America's Cup this past weekend.



To fully comprehend the momentousness of this unlikely accomplishment, imagine if, for example, the Jamaicans had actually won the Olympic bobsled competition. Or if the Americans had won the International Cricket World Cup. Or, to get really crazy, if, say, Yasir Arafat and Henry Kissinger each won, for instance, a Nobel Peace Prize!!!



Oh. I guess it wasn't such a big deal after all.

CAN YOU DO JACK NICHOLSON?



Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, alleged mastermind of the 9/11 attacks, has been captured in Pakistan. The FBI describes him as "a master of disguise". Here, take a look for yourself:







Wow. Let's see, he took off his shaikh headdress, put in some contacts, trimmed his beard, and put on a suit. Amazing! I can barely recognize him. No wonder the FBI had such a hard time finding him.



Now, here's Khaild's impression of a guy who's been beaten senseless for the last four or five hours:







Simply put, a tour de force in the art of masquerade. Bravo!

HIS MASTER'S VOICE



audblog audio post

ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD



Phillies......................1

Pirates......................0

Bottom 5th



Enough said.

REFINERY WEEKLY NEWS & NOTES



Production: Yes

Safety: Some

Environmental: Not so much

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WEEKLY SAFETY SLOGAN CONTEST



The weekly safety slogan contest continues. Get your slogan in to The Safety Department by Friday to be eligible. Slogans that contain profanity, lewdness, sexual double entendres and rampant grammatical errors will continue to be rejected.

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HEALTH AND FITNESS NEWS



As it turns out, exercise is good for you! If you can possibly drag yourself to the gym after a soul destroying day at work, we highly recommend it. If not, well, try, um, I don't know, walking more or something. Or buy one of those CROSSBOW HOME GYMs.

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NEWS YOU CAN USE



Arbor Day is coming up. Plant a tree to help release some of that massive guilt that's been building up because you're a cog in the great petroleum machine.

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BLOOD DRIVE



WE NEED BLOOD! We're so desperate, we've decided to toss out that silly sexual history questionnaire. We figure, it's better to get some blood and contract HIV than to lay there and die. It should be good for the pharmaceutical companies, anyway.

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ETHICS LINE

1-800-YEAH-RIGHT



"Make Us Some Money, And Try Not To Get Yourself Blown Up"

YO! SOUTH PHILLY SALUTES YA



Philadelphia crime figure Sonny "Big Trousers" Caramundo expressed his appreciation today at the deal struck by Turkey with the United States to provide support for the imminent war with Iraq.



"That was really somethin'," said Caramundo, a noted shakedown artist with a region-wide reputation. "That was like that time I 'negotiated' with Billy 'Pipe Cleaner' for him to pay me a grand a week or he'd wake up with broken knees. But six billion bucks and $10 billion in loans! Wow, I'm just seriously impressed. I'm gonna have to up my asking price after this one."



After making the pact with the U.S., Turkish leader Tayyip Erdogan said, "We do not want to cast a shadow on our strategic friendship with the United States."



"Huh, that was almost exactly what I said to Louie 'Blue Nose' when I came around collectin' for the Christmas shakes. That Tayyip, he's a real pro," added Caramundo.

I THINK SHE'S TURNING JAPANESE, I REALLY THINK SO



Excuse me, but when did Valerie Bertinelli become Asian?







Just wondering...

NOW YOU KNOW WHY THOSE ACTRESSES TRY TO STAY SO SKINNY







No, this isn't real, just some fun I had with Microsoft Paint. Seems pretty plausible though, doesn't it?

THIS JUST IN...IT'S SNOWING



I've coined a new term for the ceaseless, breathless coverage of winter storms on the Philadelphia TV news shows: The Snowgasm.



Kathy Orr must have broken in 5 times during Tiger Woods' sleepwalk to another golf championship to tell us...what, exactly? "We have a live camera on Center City, and there's still this collection of white, fluffy wet objects falling from the sky! It's like, been doing this for hours! Don't go outside!! Don't drive your cars!!! One to two feet are expected and, uh, uhhh, UHHHH, UHHHHH!!!!!! OH YES! OH MY GOD YES!!!!"



This stuff is even worse during sweeps month, which it happens to be right now. They know we're all trapped in our houses, and we all have this morbid fascination with seeing news reporters suffer hypothermia standing out in the cold, so this is an absolute ratings bonanza. They can all practically count their overtime checks and bonuses. If the storm lasts much longer, I fully expect to see a sports guy and a Sunday female anchor in flagrante delicto in a snow bank on 4th and Chestnut. This just in! indeed.

IT'S OFFICIAL: I SUCK!



Well, the votes are in, and by a 2 to 1 margin, you hate me!







I'd like to thank my mother, for raising me to be such a putz, and the two people who voted for me, or rather against me.



And for the person who voted for me...what's your problem? Can't you recognize putrescence when you see it?

FOR HIS MANY FANS



It's...SIMON COWELL NUDE!











Yeah, I know, I've done this joke twice before. I'm busy, OK?