A Monument to Jerky

I think that there should be a monument built to commemorate the role that jerky played in westward expansion. Without the nourishment from dried, salted meats explorers would have had a much more difficult time on their long treks west. There are many monuments that speak to the sacrifices made during westward expansion, but none specifically to the role that jerky played. I think the monument should be placed in the Cumberland Gap where Daniel Boone first blazed a trail through the Appalachians, creating one of the first Anglo-European settlements beyond those mountains.
There were many obstacles to the westward expansion. As in all great explorations, one difficulty that arose was how to keep everyone from starving to death. Throughout time dried, salted meats have been pivotal in exploration because they provided a way for meat to be preserved for a long period of time. Meat provides essential protein and nutrients needed for the strenuous journey through the wilderness. Jerky has been important to exploration for many centuries, but I think that this monument should focus on Daniel Boone and his passage through the Cumberland Gap into Kentucky.
The monument should be placed on the Wilderness Trail—the trail that follows the gap through the mountains—to signify the importance of opening up the road west. The focus, however, is on the dried meat so the monument itself should be of Daniel Boone gazing out over the frontier enjoying some delicious jerky. It should be made of locally quarried stone so that it will not be an eyesore in the surrounding natural beauty. Daniel should be dressed in historically accurate attire with his hand shielding the light from above. In his other hand, he should be holding a piece of jerky while he tears it apart with his teeth. There will also be a plaque that explains what the monument is all about.

“This monument was erected in 2009 to commemorate the pivotal role of jerky to the expansion westward. It was imperative to be able to carry meat that wouldn’t spoil to feed the hungry explorers as they bravely widened the Wilderness Trail through the Cumberland Gap to make it easier for the settlers that followed. Here you see the esteemed Daniel Boone gazing to the frontier ahead. He is enjoying some delicious jerky. This is probably venison jerky as deer are plentiful in these woods.”

I believe that the monument would technically be a national monument because the area in which it should be placed is a National Historical Park. The funding, however, could be raised privately. I would certainly enjoy contributing to such a great landmark, as would other jerky enthusiasts that I know. Also, with some artfully placed advertising I believe we could raise funds from jerky producing companies such as Jack’s Links. Perhaps they could sponsor the monument.

I don't know Lloyd, the French are assholes.

Sounds like the French are taking a break from surrendering to plan their roads with amazing hilarity. If you cruise through the article here you'll see what I mean.

French hosehound does something kinda funny

So the French have dumped diplomacy in exchange for using city planing to take little jabs at each other. In a classic case of "hold me back"--where you say you're gonna fight someone but in reality you are just praying that your friends will hold you back long enough for the bouncers to throw everyone out of the club, where you continue to scream obscene things as you book it to a cab and thank god you didn't just get the shit beat out of you--two warring cities have placed one way streets that face each other. They outsourced the planning to the great great great grandson of the man that planned the streets in Boston, Seamus the Drunken Dancing Leprechaun the Sixth. Who, coincidentally, used the same tools for the planning of the roads as his predecessor, 18 pints of Guinness, a DUI arrest, an angry Polynesian hooker, a crayon and some construction paper.
While I'm at it, since our special teams writer apparently doesn't have enough vacation days from his 'freelance writing' job to read or write this blog, I would like to add this:

Tom Brady is gay.
Bill Belichick is a cheating hooker with a sex tape.
Manny Rameriz is a lazy bitch.
David Ortiz is fat.
The Boston Garden is a terrible venue.
The long chicken sandwich? It long chicken sucks ass.
Special Teams doesn't count.
France sucks.
Authority is awesome.
Bush was a genius.
Obama sucks.
The sky is green.
Ninjas are awesome.
Samurais can suck a big one.
Steven Seagal is a phenomenal actor.
Jim Rome is the best sports commentator ever.
Even though you punched me in the face, you still a little bitch.
AND I'M GLAD THE WHALERS MOVED!

Suck it bitch. Lets rumble!!!
( I love you, but I need to jumpstart things )
( But you did punch me in the face)

Welcome Back.

I know that no one reads this crap anymore, but I am determined to write anyway. I am sitting in class right now and felt the overpowering desire to get some more Freedom, Glory and America in my life. So that's it for now. More to follow.

Scattered thoughts on tonight's hoops

#1 UConn vs. #20 Syracuse- 7 pm, ESPN- The Orangemen will try to dethrone the top-rated Huskies on their own turf. Coach Calhoun's team features four talented guards (two of which are super athletic and lightning-quick), a double-double machine at power forward, and a 7-3 monster from Tanzania in the middle. They have some serious talent but their lack of a true three-point shooter hurts their ability to pull away from teams. The Huskies instead rely on being bigger, faster, stronger, and more talented then there opponents. Jim Boeheim will no doubt break out his vaunted zone and try to force UConn to shoot over the top of them but, as we all know, ZONE DEFENSE IS FOR PUSSIES. Guards Kemba Walker and Jerome Dyson will slice through it, big Jeff Adrien will power through it and Hasheem Thabeet will simply dunk over it.



#3 UNC vs. #4 Duke- 9 pm, ESPN- I can't describe to you how much I hate the Duke Blue Devils. Whether it's their pedophile-looking coach or there insistence on only recruiting little, white tryers who can only shoot, flop, whine to the refs, and look like they have downs-syndrome Duke pisses me off to no end. Old white guys love Duke because they "play the game the right way" (translation: aren't able to dunk),"hustle" (translation: not talented), and "fundamentally sound" (translation: white). These same old white guys decry the "thugs" (translation: tattooed people) who are "selfish" (translation: dunk) and "don't have respect for the game" (translation: black). Hey, old white guys (Dickie V. I'm looking at you), I don't want to generalize but chances are that you are a racist. Also, I'm sick of all the dick-sucking for these Cameron Crazies, why does the TV camera angle at Duke have to be different than at all other 300+ basketball schools? What fucking TV executive decided that TV viewers don't want to see the coach and the bench but rather 2,000 painted-blue losers who have way, way too many choreographed cheers and dances. Seriously, all you "Duke fans" (translation: racists) get a life.

I'm back, bitches

OK, so it's been about six months since Freglomerica last exploded into your brain. In the interval a lot of very fascinating stuff has happened to your intrepid punter. And by "a lot of very fascinating stuff" I mean alcohol and by "has happened" I mean poisoning. Kinda, seriously, call my mom, she'll tell you. A lot has also gone down in the grand scheme of things. Let's check the scorecard:


-America elected its first black president: +20 points.
-Said president is a Democrat: -5.
-Democrats are just as frustrating/annoying/bad at governing as Republicans: -15.
-Red Sox make the playoffs without Manny: +3.
-Red Sox make it to the ALCS sans Manny: +5.
-Red Sox lose to Devil Rays in ALCS without Manny: -5.
-Manny absolutely murders the NL: +5.
-Manny carries Dodgers to NLCS: +5.
-Manny loses to Phillies, setting up Philly vs. Tampa for the World Series: -6.
-Manny still isn't signed and people are acting like he's Hitler: -10.
-Holy Taco breaks ground on new stadium: +10
-Patriots get set to avenge Super Bowl loss: +2.
-Tom Brady's knee explodes seven minutes into first game: -a billion.
-Pats gut out an 11-5 season but miss playoffs: 0.
-Peyton Manning wins MVP but loses in first round, the story of his life: +5.
-Cardinals make the Super Bowl: +4.
-But lose to hated Steelers: -6.
-Sarah Palin names child after Bristol, CT because that's where ESPN is headquartered: Mrs. Palin, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

Final tally: +12 minus a billion??

Anyway, this is not a complete scorecard so I expect to update this shortly. Let it be known that Doug the Punter is back and blogging. Shout it from the rooftops, kids. And if I stop writing then feel free to make fun of me in the comments in the most personal, degrading way possible. We're all in this together.

Fourth of July Aftermath

Independence Day got very interesting for me. Here's a song about it that came from divan inspiration. My apologies to Old Crow Medicine Show and their song "Wagon Wheel."

Heading down south to the land of the sand
Thumbin' my way around Block Island,
Staring at the road, pray to God I see headlights
Been wandering around for five good hours,
Makin' my way through brambles and flowers,
Hoping to Rhodey, I don't see the Felders tonight

Block Island is the place where I'm a heel,
In Block Island I sleep wherever I feel
Hey, Blo-ock Island
In Block Isle I survived the wind and the rain
Next day felt like I got hit by a train
Hey, Blo-ock Island

Running from the warmth of Yellow Kittens
I was born to be the drunkest on the whole island
My belly liked the Coors Lights, I drank some bourbon, too
North country couches kept a-calling me
It wasn't my house so I had to up and leave
But I ain't turning back to see who kicked me out

Block Island is the place where I'm a heel,
In Block Island I sleep wherever I feel
Hey, Blo-ock Island
In Block Isle I survived the wind and the rain
Next day felt like I got hit by a train
Hey, Blo-ock Island

Walking in the morning, wish I had a smoke
Caught a cabbie I knew, he remembered Ted's joke
I was heading east for Old Harbor, thank God he remembered me
And I gotta get a move on fit for the sun
I hear someone yellin' at me
And I know that she's not the only one
And if I die Rhodey
At least I didn't pee

Block Island is the place where I'm a heel,
In Block Island I sleep wherever I feel
Hey, Blo-ock Island
In Block Isle I survived the wind and the rain
Next day felt like I got hit by a train
Hey, Blo-ock Island

AhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHH ... good bye ev-wee-buddy

It is a sad, sad day for me. Mike and the Mad Dog, the greatest radio show sports-related or otherwise ever, has come to an end. Chris "Mad Dog" Russo was let out of his contract by WFAN 660 New York. I remember listening to Mike and Chris pretty much everyday from the time I was six to the time I was 13 in my dad's car on the drive back from school. Whenever I was back within range after that I would make a point to listen to these pioneers of radio. Their style of sports talk radio has been copied by virtually other show out there, to the point that it seems absurd that a sports talk show could take any other format. These guys were so good it didn't matter that they were pretty much always talking about New York sports and I'm a Boston fan.

They were entertaining and engaging. They didn't say outlandish things just to get ratings unlike virtually every other hack radio man. They would spend time talking about boxing matches from 40 years ago or other obscure events and they made them interesting. My favorite thing that they did was when they read a baseball players stats off year-by-year and discussed his hall of fame merit ("That was a ha-yuge year for him, Dog. Ha-yuge."). These guys were so much better than anything WEEI has ever produced. Where WEEI makes me hate sports Mike and Chris made me enjoy them. They were the Cadillac of radio shows and I am truly sad to see them go. Best of luck to them both, from a fan.

Manny and Mike and the Mad Dog leave within two weeks? I should be on suicide watch or something.

In which Ted and I get alliterative...

Ted: I like alliteration

pampered pooch pooped on the plywood

Doug: pampered pooch pleasantly pooped on the plywood
your turn
Ted: paraplegic pampered pooch pleasantly pooped on the purple plywood
SLAM!
Doug: you want to play that way?
fine
paraplegic pampered pug pooch pleasantly pooped on the purple plywood piano purposely put there by Peter Parker
Ted: polly pockets' paraplegic previously pampered pug pooch pleasantly pooped on the purple plywood piano purposely put there by Peter Parker, not peter pan, who previously purchased polly's precocious pug and pretty purple piano
HAHAHAHAHA
this is the most fun i have had in weeks
Doug: you repeat, cheater
Ted: i don't get credit for the repeats
Doug: ok
Ted: shit
we need to blog this
Doug: polly pockets' paraplegic pampered pug pooch pleasantly pooped on the purple plywood piano purposely put there by Peter Parker, not peter pan, who previously purchased Parker Posey's powerful, potent poster of Paramount's Powder
Ted: you dick
blog it
pleeeeease
Doug: i gotta buy Who tickets
you do it

In which Ted and I expose our inner nerds...

Ted and I are jocks and as such it is our job, no our constitutional obligation, to make fun of nerds. (Hey buddy, you get a load of that nerd?) However, deep within every jock there is at least an ounce of nerdom hovering below the surface of our once manly (now overweight) physiques. Today we had an IM conversation in which our inner nerds emerged:

Ted: fuck shit
i want to play zelda again
fuck shit
Doug: your boss still there?
Ted: yeah
Doug: fucker
Ted: now there's two of 'em
Doug: uh-oh, they're multiplying
Ted: i want to freeze one with my boomarang, then shoot my sword at him, but i'm down a half a heart
sucks
Doug: beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
beep
Ted: no
Doug: beep
beep
beep
beep
Ted: just down a half
Doug: beep
beep
oh ok
Ted: not TO a half
Doug: gotcha
Ted: jeez, scared me

Manny Withdrawal Support Group

As I mentioned in my last post there are some burning questions to which I need answers.

How do I treat Jason Bay?

How long do I hold a grudge against ownership/management?

I'm I trying to have my proverbial cake and eat it too?

Why is everyone siding with management?

Is it wrong for us to have that countdown clock?

Am I being a bad fan?

Who does Theo Epstein think he is?

When can I take my Manny jersey off? (hint: never)

When am I allowed to sober up?

I don't know the answers to any of these questions but I'm sure I'll delve into them over the next couple of weeks. Fucking thing, sucks!

I'm I stupid or is everyone else stupid

I like Peter Gammons, I have nothing but respect for the man but his most recent article on Manny is a total and complete piece of garbage. In it he claims that the Red Sox had no chance whatsoever of making the playoffs with Manny this year. Is he insane? Has he gone senile? He claims that Manny would've held the team hostage for the next couple months with his antics. Oh, I'm sorry he didn't fucking set a record for his hustle to first base against Lackey the other night. It would've really mattered too because the guy after him hit a home run that would've given the Red Sox a 2-1 lead. Oh wait, the sox were losing 6-0 at the time and the next hitter also grounded out.

Gammons also asks this ludicrous question: "Was it worse to take performance-enhancing drugs to perform better and win, or to decline to play and steal money?" STEAL MONEY? STEAL MONEY? HE FUCKING WON THEM TWO GODDAMN WORLD SERIES. Also it goes without saying that taking steroids is much worse than not hustling down the line (the fact that he raised the question is beyond comprehension). I know its fashionable and all to not give older guys extensions nowadays but if anyone ever desereved one before the season it was Manny fucking Ramirez. This ownership group is so fucking full of themselves its re-goddamn-diculous. They are the ones who acted like spoiled brats by not appreciating what Manny has done for them. Sure, Manny can be a handful and a pain in the ass but so what? He wins baseball games. Sorry he couldn't cure AIDS and lower gas prices while he was at it.

The real question, which I will get into in much more depth tomorrow, is how do I approach the rest of this season. I still love the players on the Red Sox and still like the team but the ownership can go fuck themselves for all I care. They drove their best player out of town. But if they make the playoffs I'm going to have to deal with all these Manny-haters saying, "I told you so." And I fucking hate being told I told you so. This fucking sucks.

Also what's this with everyone talking management's side in this case. No love for the working man? Fucking scabs. I wish I was at Fenway for Bay's first game. That fucking canuck. I'd yell, "The Bruins play down the street you fucking hoser!" And start Manny's Better chants all fucking night.

FUCK!!!!

Farewell, Sweet Manny

Well all the fucking retarded media types and arrogant Red Sox ownership/management just got their wish. They traded away the best hitter Boston had since Ted Williams (yes, better than Yaz). All he ever did was win two fucking World Series' for this ungrateful group but because the previous owners/general managers signed Manny they never liked him. They tried to give him away since day one and when he delivered season after season they ignored his accomplishments and acted like the ingrate that they claimed Manny was.

Yeah, it was always an adventure in the outfield for Manny. Yeah, he was never very open with the media and got summarily ripped for it but who fucking cares. Let me tell you kids about another Boston left fielder whose defense was criticized and the media hated. His name was TED FUCKING WILLIAMS!!!!! And Manny has brought more titles to Boston than him!!!!

So in the end Boston got two titles and Manny got $168 million. Yeah that's a ton of money but when you think about how much cash the team made off Manny's accomplishments its a drop in the fucking bucket. Hell, I spent at least $2.7 million on World Series merchandise. Yet the owners wanted Manny to keep kissing their asses when it should be the other way around.

RBIs and World Championships. That's what Manny does. Unfortunately it will be some fucking crazy left coasters who don't give a shit about the Dodgers who will be benefiting from it now. Anyone who thinks that this is Manny's fault should shoot themselves in the fucking face. Anyone who thinks it was the ownership who stored up enough goodwill points with the fans that we should just accept whatever they tell us has things ass backwards. It's Manny who should get the benefit of the doubt. Epstein can trade for Orlando Cabrera all day every day but it was Manny who won that fucking world series. Not those arrogant pricks in the luxury boxes.

Anyway, goodbye, Manny. You were too beautiful for this town. There's at least one fan out there who will miss you. I'll see you in Cooperstown.

I will eat your soul in badminton

Today my company has its annual picnic. I'm not exactly sure what to expect. There's a pool, but I can't take my shirt off in public. There will probably be adult beverages, but I can't get too drunk. There will be food, but I can't gorge myself in front of my coworkers. However there will be badminton and I'm the best fucking badminton player in the whole damned state.

How did I get so good at such a pussy sport? My answer is in two parts. First, your face is a pussy sport. And second, I took a class for it in college. Yeah, while you were sitting in Medieval and Renaissances Studies 110: Western Encounters with Islam or concealing guns in your glove compartment, I was swaggering around the gym, kicking people's asses in badminton; that's how awesome my school is.

Sure, half of my what-surely-must-be-a-school-record 46 singles badminton wins came against girls who didn't want anything to do with badminton (or a sweaty, screaming, overweight badminton ace) but a win is a win and I still beat some pretty stiff competition. Seriously. Just ask the former Division I-AA All-American defensive end who was the badminton instructor. I wiped the floor with that 6-4, 280 lbs. meat stick. It wasn't very hard either.

What? Your asking about my 1-2 record against that one kid in the class? Well, that doesn't count. He was in shape.

So anyway I'm going to burn so many bridges today playing badminton they might as well call me Nero.

What's up 12-year-old daughter of a junior partner? Bam! Your done, NEXT!

How's it going morbidly obese and repulsive staff accountant? Bam! Get the fuck out of here, NEXT!

Think you can hang with me unpaid summer intern? Bam! Tell your girlfriend I said what's up.

That's it, I'm done, retiring undefeated and untied. See you Monday, fuckers.

This guy hates freedom

Comments:I am furious with your scamming company on behalf of my wife. We purchased the two (removed company name) products that the store said were the correct product to receive the manicure or pedicure voucher. When we enter ed the UPC Codes into the appropriate webpage your scamming system stated t hat these were not the correct product even they were. It stated that they had to be the ones with the special green plastic label and they were. Yo ur stupid Customer Service Supervisor RN (if he really was) said I did not know what I was talking about even though I was reading the webpag e to him. He then said it was the blue numbers on the bottom or top of the products. I told him there were no blue numbers on the top or bottom of e ither bottle. I demanded he send my wife the voucher. He refused and hung up on me. I called back and another representative tried to say that (product removed) did not do this, but some other company. I don't know what kind of con game (removed) is playing on God-fearing American citizens b ut be assured we will never buy anything that you produce unless you immedi ately send a voucher for my wife via overnight mail. A copy of this note i s being saved to use to report your company to the Better Business Bureau a nd the Ohio Attorney General's Office for fraud. You are low down terroris ts. I would rather be robbed by a street thug with a gun to my head than b y you terrorists who hide in your white color jobs and rob people of what t hey are due. At least a street thug does not claims to be anything other t han that. I trust that God brings economic failure to your company to punish you for your treatment of good people.

Yankees Sign Richie Sexson to Tentative Deal

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
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Ok that's enough, it's jus...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
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Sorry about that but I ca...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
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WOW, that's a good one. How the mighty have fallen. This guy wasn't good enough for the 37-58 Seattle Mariners but the Yankees bring him in. He's barely hitting above the Mendoza Line (.218) with less RBIs than part-time catcher Chris Ianneta (30). I guess New York brought him in to face leftys (he's 21-for-61 against them this year) but really? I got nothing against Sexson personally but he's pretty washed up and I find it hilarious that the vaunted Yankees rescued him from the scrap heap. What's next? Jose Lima to steady the rotation? Eric Gagne to shore up the bullpen? Carl Everett to help clubhouse chemistry? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
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The Stereo

Fort Sumter, Archiduke Ferdinand and Pearl Harbor are all phrases synonymous with the opening of unbelievably violent and horrific conflicts. Sadly, they may soon be joined by "NO DISC."

Thus read a local man's car stereo when he attempted to play a compact disc featuring Robert Johnson, the father of the blues, and Old Crow Medicine Show, an old-time string band.

The man, only identified as Doug, returned to his car this afternoon after having lent it to a friend for nearly a week. Shortly thereafter relations between Doug and the car's stereo quickly took an ugly turn.

Upon entering the car Doug inserted the CD. Instead of showing it's usual "TRACK 1" on its display the defiant stereo simply read, "NO DISC." Visibly annoyed Doug pulled out of the parking lot hoping that the problem would work itself out. It did not.

Compounding the problem was the fact that Doug's car is black with a black leather interior, devoid of any semblance of air conditioning and the sunroof was broken by Doug's idiot brother.

Doug acknowledged that the heat played a significant factor in what will surely go down as a day of infamy. "Yeah, the heat was a bitch. I knew it would be but I guess I just wasn't ready for it. When I opened that door I got a rush of pure heat, directly from the bowels of hell. My mood turned."

After about 60 seconds in the car Doug began to become concerned with his car's stereo. "What the fuck," he muttered to himself. Figuring the problem would fix itself, he drove on.

Having driven for several minutes in the sweltering car Doug began to perspire, at first just a little on the brow and collar but shortly thereafter this typically jovial 22-year-old would become a raging inferno of hate, drenched in sweat.

At nearly the precise moment that Doug crossed the intersection of Hillside St. and Randolph Ave. he realized that the stereo would not fix itself. Wagon Wheel would not pour out of the car's speakers to quiet the anger building inside him.

"What the fuck is going on here?" the driver exclaimed as he ejected, and promptly reinserted, the CD. The stereo's display stared at him, "NO DISC."

"I know there is a goddamn disc in there, you piece of shit!" yelled Doug. Thinking that perhaps the volume was all the way down he turned the knob clockwise. The ill-fated knob had succumbed to the heat hours ago and was nothing more than glob of melted rubber. Instead of raising the stereo's volume Doug had instead succeeded in getting rubber all over his hands.

"That was definitely a low-point. No question. I wanted to turn the stereo up but instead my hand looked like I sneezed on it but if the snot was black... and smelled like cancer," Doug recalled when asked about the Melting of the Knob.

Having seemingly failed to turn the volume up Doug switched the stereo to FM. Sure enough WPLR was blaring the Alabama Song by the Doors. So it wasn't the volume. When switched back to CD mode, the stereo still read, "NO DISC."

Doug's patience was completely gone at the point. His hair and shirt drenched in sweat and his right hand caked in molten rubber. Doug snapped. (WARNING: Explicit language to follow)

"WHAT IN THE FUCK, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF GODDAMNED SHIT STEREO! YOU HAVE ONE FUCKING JOB ON THIS WHOLE DAMNED PLANET AND THAT IS TO PLAY ME MY FUCKING CD! I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO IT BUT YOU BETTER FUCKING PLAY THIS CD OR IT'S OVER!" Doug bellowed at his car.

"NO DISC," the stereo mocked him.

"THIS FUCKING THING...SUCKS. FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU GODDAMNED SONOFABITCH!!!" This round of expletives was punctuated by Doug's angry display of the middle finger to his stereo.

"NO DISC," the stereo read, calmer and crueler than ever.

"FUCK YOU! YOU HAVE ONE FUCKING JOOOOOOOB!!!!!!!!!" The crescendo built to awe-inspiring levels, passing motorists on the road stared with a strange combination of amazement and horror at this sweat-soaked man hurling obscenities at a seemingly innocuous piece of machinery.

"GWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA........" This was no longer English spewing forth from Doug but rather a primal, guttural sound that continued for nearly half a minute, growing louder. This time, not just content to abuse his stereo verbally, Doug removed his hand from shift lever and brought it forward, violently. The ensuing collision would change everything, forever.

His hand throbbing and with a deranged grin across his face Doug, brought his hand back from what he surely thought would be a decimated car stereo, eager to see the end of his nemesis.

Quoth the stereo, "NO DISC." It was completely intact.

"This isn't fucking over you snot-nosed, arrogant piece of crap," Doug said with relative calm. Still, he was jabbing his finger into the tape deck to drive his point home.

Still minutes from his destination, Doug turned the stereo off and decided to actually pay attention to driving, and not sweating.

"This isn't over between me and that fucking stereo. I've gone through all the proper channels and completed all the appropriate paperwork, crossed every T and dotted all the lower-case J's. It's war and I'm going to bring the motherfucking pain," said Doug with a unsettling amount of composure.

Considering Doug must commute home in less than 90 minutes the stereo's time may be running short or, perhaps, its time is just beginning...

Reason #14,738 Why I Love Manny

During a pitching change in the 6th inning of yesterday's game Manny decided to make a couple calls inside the monster. I would cut off my left hand to be in Manny's five.

News from the Underground

A tired man once told me, "F*ck this, I'm going to sleep." I didn't really understand what he meant until this past weekend. Details forthcoming...

Snakes! Nasty Snakes!

So it turns out that it isn't a great idea to drink snake wine. Yeah, snake wine. Gross. It's some sort of booze, with a fucking snake in it, and some sort of snake eggs, and a few drops of death.



I may or may not have drank some of this evil, evil devil juice on Freedomas Eve (the night before America Day) and there may or may not have been a gay dance party to the song "Brandy." Oops.

Happy Independence Day!

I know I'm a bit early but I'm going to be away for the rest of the week. Hope everyone has a great Fourth of July.