This Just In - Criss Angel Sucks

First of all, Criss, can I call you Chris? If you're going to take a pseudonym, why don't you not spell it like a jackass? I mean, I understand if you're one of those people whose parents thought they were being original and decided to spell your name with all kinds of crazy extra vowels, misplaced consonants and the letter Y. But you, you CHOSE this name and that's the route you went? Interesting.

Anyway, I don't know if any of you have ever seen the show "Mindfreak" on A&E - but it's terrible. It's got "acting" and a production quality on par with porn and is generally pretty uninspiring. In addition to dressing like a model from the Hot Topic catalog CA's deep self love and constant chest pounding/finger kissing/pointing at the sky routine wears thin pretty quickly.

Despite all this, I couldn't turn down the opportunity to see "Believe" the Cirque du Soliel/Criss Angel production at the Luxor in Vegas. It was on my boss' dime, plus, how bad could it be?

Terrible.

This show sucked so badly that even the remarkably hefty woman occupying 1.5 seats in front of me who nearly swooned when CA walked on stage complained. The slow egress from the theater was like listening to outtakes from Ebert and Roper. I have been to high school plays where the curtain call received a warmer response. As a general tip to any performer - if you have to get on the mic and shout "c'mon, I can't hear you" when the audience is supposed to be going wild following your performance, cut your loses and pull the plug.

Aside from the 15 dick and fart jokes (not a huge hit with the Las Vegas middle America crowd - I even saw a guy "dressed up" in a short sleeve dress shirt and a tie), the lack of an cohesive storyline, the interminable monologues, the poorly edited video (at a stage show, a video?!) there was a near total lack of "magic." The big fella walking out behind me with his NASCAR bedecked buddy said it best:

"Man, there just wadn't hardly any magic! I mean, they could have put just about anyone in there and he could have done what that guy did. Other than escaping a straight jacket, but shit, that's just about as hard for him to do as escaping a leather jacket."

My mind wasn't even close to freaking. The only person who really thought the show was a hit was Criss Angel and trust me, this audience wasn't one with overly high expectations.

So, if you're headed to Vegas or just flipping through the channels and see some guy with a bad haircut, a chain wallet and boots that look like they belong to someone named Elvira, just move on, it's not worth your time.

HDA

With all the bad news in the news today - credit crisis, mortgage meltdown, presidential politics, etc., I understand how you may have missed this item, but HDA is nothing to joke about. Affecting literally hundreds of Americans each year, HDA can lead to yellowing of the skin, sweating, vomiting, gastro-intestinal malaise, and general discomfort.

Hot Dog Addiction (HDA) is characterized by an unchecked need to continually ingest long, spherically-shaped, encased meats. Hot Dogs, Kielbasas, Sausages, it doesn't matter to the HDA sufferer. Like many addictions, the need to consume Hot Dogs takes precedence over one's own well being - affecting basic common sense and decision making abilities.

This past weekend, I was brought face to face with this sausage scourge. On Saturday morning we all went to breakfast and the soon to be exposed HDA ordered a massive breakfast and then, at the last second, decided to include a side of sausage. We thought nothing of it at the time...

A few hours later we were at an alumni tailgater with two choices for dinner: hamburgers or hot dogs. But these weren't just any hot dogs. Approximately 14 inches long and 2 inches in diameter, these were some serious swine products. But even 28 square inches of nitrate packed hot dog is not enough for the HDA sufferer. A scant 2 hours later, our friend went running from her seats watching the football game to buy.... You guessed it, an Autzen Stadium gameday polish sausage.

The rest, unfortunately, was fairly predictable - and the fallout was just as bad as one might imagine. It's horrible to see a friend suffer like we did and hopefully you take this blog to heart and watch your family and friends closely, and intervene if you see signs of HDA.

On a side note, The Happening is one of the worst movies I have ever seen. This is relevant because the crazy guy who proposes that plants are causing the problem also has a Hot Dog Addiction and rambles aimlessly at one point for about 3.5 minutes about hot dogs and how much he loves them.

At this point, the list goes:
1. Death Sentence with Kevin Bacon
2. Be Kind, Rewind with Mos Def
3. The Happening with Marky Mark (notice the disrespectful downgrade from Mark Wahlberg)
Stay tuned as I am sure to rent more terrible movies and face ridicule in the near future.

There's No Such Thing as a Platonic Friendship

I have been visiting other blogs over the past couple of days - mostly to see what else is going on out there. Call it (un)professional curiosity. I've found some terrible stuff and some comedic brilliance. You'll notice that we're now keeping track of some of our favorites over there on the right side of the page. Lots of folks call it a blog roll. We'll try to think of something better.

I stumbled across a pretty funny post about people hooking up with or even dating their friends on the best named sites I've found: Burt Reynold's Mustache. This reminded me of a point I have long held and vigorously defended in many an argument: there's no such thing as a purely platonic friendship - pause for gasps of righteous female indignation.

I've gotten into some pretty big rows over this - all with women vehemently claiming that they've had "lots of platonic guy friends." Unfortunately, that's just not the case. With two exceptions, in ALL long running friendships between men and women, at least one of the two parties has wanted to, wants to or will want to hook up with the other one. This can manifest itself in a variety of ways from long pining, hidden love to a drunken "let's not let this make things weird" moment.

As I mentioned, there are two exceptions to the rule. First off is the "we used to take baths together" rule. In my case, this would by my Mom's BFF's daughter. We were raised essentially like siblings thus precluding us from the rule. Exception number two is the "you've had sex with my best friend" rule, which should speak for itself.

Outside of those two exceptions though, ALL male/female relationships have been influenced by sex at some point, and if you think they haven't, chances are you're the one giving the "we're just friends" stiff arm.

Hyped For Hypercolor, Maybe Not So Much

For those of you who dorked out through your grade school years and missed out on the Hypercolor t-shirt fad, I feel for you.

The Hypercolor shirt, purchasable only at Nordstrom and Lads and Lassies in Portland for the first year of distribution, was a clothing line that changed color with heat. For all you physicists (Bvarv) out there, they contained thermochromic pigment which chameleons between two colors when exposed to either warm or cold temps.

These shirts were it. There were cooler than Stussy and Mossimo (now selling at Target). They're more unique and less risque than Big Johnson and not as idiotic as No Fear (He who dies w/ the most toys still Dies!!!!!).

Recent reflection on some of the little things that made my childhood rock (Muscle Men, Battle Beasts, Hot Wheels, Moon Boots) led me to recall the Hypercolor and drove me to investigate and see if they are still around in any capacity.

And they are! Kind of...

The Hypercolor website says under construction, but upon harnessing my inner Zetetic and contacting their corporate umbrella, I found that nothing is imminent. No new clothes. So we're f'd. What I mean is I'm f'd, or at least my vision on showing up at the next party with the hypercolor nostalgia dream is shot.

Mind you, there is no way I'm buying one off ebay for $50 and running the risk of purchasing a twenty year old shirt that some guys mom put in the dryer at HIGH and toasted all the thermochromatic pigments.

However, coincidence of all coincidence, there I find myself at American Apparel later on in the same afternoon and Im looking for a Gold one-piece for a poiformance and I overhear the clerk remark, "Zain, I can't, I mean, I CAAAAAAN'T wait for the hypercolor line to show up.

Hold the Phone!! That guys name is Zain!?!? And, AA is getting a hypercolor line! My lord, by the time those show up, they are already going to be passe. Every single hipster doofus in the world is going to be hyped from day one. I can just see it now, after the AA hypercolor line, next we'll see the slap bracelets.

So, the question begs answering, "will it be cool to rock the nowtro '08 Hypercolor line from American Apparel?" What about if you don't don an (un)ironic moustache?!?!?!

Dear ESPN.com

Please stop with the automatically loading video that plays when I go to ESPN.com. First of all, I'm literate. That's why I subscribe to your magazine and visit your website 263 times per day. I want to read the content. If I want video, I will go to one of the 5 ultra convenient ESPN family of TV channels.

Secondly, I would estimate 82% of your sites visitors are at work while visiting. Does auto loading video blasting out sports commentary really seem like the best way to sneakily waste time? Why don't you just have an arrow and a sign pop up out of my computer that says TIME WASTER and points to me for everyone in the office to see. This is both rude and thoughtless. Great, you captured the ability to post video on your website. Can't we just have it load on "PAUSE" so I can choose to watch it or not?

PS - If you must show video, please stop showing John Clayton's face. His voice and obnoxious opinions are enough, but when his elfish, bespectacled face pops up on the obnoxious video player it's almost too much for me to handle.

Small Fight of the Day

Although I'm a bit concerned about what it may say about my sanity if this becomes a regular feature on the blog, I just can't help myself.

Fall is a special time of year. New cars, new TV shows, fun new consumer electronics and, everyone's favorite, new phone books???

That's right, for the past week, various sources have been foisting their antiquated ad laden giant pain in the ass phone books on me. Yellow Book, Verizon, Qwest, all equally useless, all dumping approximately 25 lbs of useless "books" on my doorstep, in my front lawn or in my driveway. Seriously, have you heard of a smart phone? Goog-text? Goog-411? Yahoo Yellow Pages? All are more efficient, right at my finger tips and do not require sifting 5 inch thick tomes to find out the number for Papa Johns so I can order the Canadian Bacon/Pineappe/American Bacon Pizza.

Last week, the smashed up, no window all white panel van slowed in front of my house, and the sliding door came open. Drive by? Child abduction? No, just a dude throwing a big pile of books/trash on to my front lawn. Qwest. 3 days later, I'm backing out of the driveway, and the same white van with the same dudes throw a bundle onto the driveway (forcing me to get out and move them before backing out). Verizon. This is getting ridiculous.

So I'm sitting at my desk this afternoon, working hard, when an extrodinarily sweaty woman and her daughter (I'm assuming) walk into the office and, in a cheery and singsong (if breathless from the couple flights of stairs) voice:

Sweaty Woman: "Helloooo! We have your new phooonnne booooks!"

Me: "No thanks."

SW: "What?"

Me: "Don't need them, I'll just recycle them, so why don't you keep them and you can make sure they get to a deserving phonebook customer who might use them."

SW: [long uncomfortable pause, looks at daughter, both stare at me as if to say: "Um, hello, we're offering you a lifetime supply of free steak here, and you're saying no thank you? What are you crazy, these are PHONE BOOKS."]

Me: "Sorry."

SW: "FINE."

Me: "Bye!"

Snoozing is a sign of weakness

When I was in 8th grade my best friend moved from the next block to the deep suburbs. Disappointing to say the least to now have to hang out with the second tier local friends.

His new place afforded us many opportunities our old one didn't. We didn't have to climb down a giant hedge-like bush to sneak out. The neighborhood was on hills that afforded death defying (and moronic) speed runs on our bikes. There was also lots of new construction around which allowed plenty of 14 year old mischief, which I will not detail as I am not sure if what the statue of limitations is on this one... Even the cops were nice. We got picked up for curfew at the Zupans market (after buying a 3 liter of pop. Seriously, a 3 liter, how am I not diabetic?) and they just told us to be good and go home. Ask my brother how that differs from the Portland Police approach...

My buddy has always been quite industrious and so had a job early on. So, when I'd stay out there on weekends he'd get up in the morning to go to work and I'd sleep in (I was a lazy teenager). Let's say he had to be up at 7:30 to be to work at 8. He'd set his alarm for... 5:45. That's ONE AND A HALF HOURS before he had to be up. He would then proceed to snooze every 12 minutes for the next hour and a half. That alarm buzzer would go off 8 times before he finally hauled it out of bed. God forbid I should have to listen to that buzzer 8 times in a week, much less a day. He swore it was the only way he could wake up!

Let's break this down: that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. First off, it takes about 15 minutes for you to fall into REM or restful sleep (or so my 7th grade science teacher the smartest woman I've ever met told me). So by adding snooze into your sleeping repertoire, you are effectively stealing that sleep from your night. So let's say you snooze for an hour each morning, you are just giving up an hour of your sleep. If someone said - hey, get up an hour early, you'd tell them to go to hell because you'd be losing sleep. But for some reason people have no problem waking up and going back to sleep repeatedly. Seriously, it's dumb.

So of course, my first "real" college girlfriend was... a snoozer! We would often do sleep overs with one another which would lead to the snooze fights. She scheduled all her classes at ungodly hours and then would want to start the snooze process hours beforehand which, coincidentally was many hours before I even had to be up (I was also a lazy college student). Needless to say, this led to strife.

There are two exceptions that I feel obligated to note:
1. Setting the alarm early deliberately to allow for sexytime with significant other. Obviously not snoozing, though, as the notable absence of the raucous, nightmarish alarm clock beeping.
2. The iHome. An alarm clock that plays your iPod. It's pure genius. It wakes you up and lets you listen to good music. It even fades in. I broke down and got one and suddently found myself drifting slowly into wakefulness over a 20 minute period. I quickly realized this was the same as snoozing (oh, and was late for work) and have now had to place a strict 2-song limit on my morning iHome listening.

Over the years, I have worked to refine (aka mellow a bit) my theory on snoozing (among other things). Following a lengthy discussion with a freind's GF, I have softened my stance. All snoozers are not weak. Some are just lazy but OK with it... Seriously, though, the amended stance is: one snooze allows for proper passing of the shock of another day/burying oneself deep underneath the covers to generate necessary warmth/strength of character to get up and do it all again. That seems reasonable, but more than that, and we're in ridiuclous/weak/lazy land. Set your alarm, get your ass up, deal.

We Need More Excuses

People seem to travel far and wide for one of two things: funerals or weddings. I believe we need to all collectively work on prioritizing mass movements to see the one's we care about and love.

I've been to two phenomenal weddings the last two weeks and it's easy to realize and recognize why your best friends, family and confidants are who they are.

The problem, is that their are only a select few who take the initiative to get together en mass on a regular occurrence. Frankly, that is just not OK and we cannot count on people to throw weddings every year or to pass along. We need to facilitate these relationships with the friends we make and the friends we keep.

All it takes in an excuse to get together. For me, I've utilized Coachella, Euro Vacation, Ducks football, Burning Man and holidays to make this happen. But, I find that the older people get, the priority level of congregating together dwindles.

Maybe we just need to come up with more arbitrary excuses to get together. 

So, here is an idea. The Harbin Ice Festival.

Its an annual event every January in the Heilongjiang Province in China. It is the worlds great ice artwork festival.  Ice sculptures are decorated with lasers and traditional ice lanterns. There is even an interactive ice lantern park and a luge to ride. 

So, who is with me?!?!!?!?

She Blogs She Blogs

Over the past few months I've come to grips with the fact that I'm a "blogger." At first I think it bore a sort of stigma, and I'm still a little embarrassed when revealing it to people for the first time. It's like a guilty pleasure. It's also my room mate's favorite comeback for this move, usually used when I've had a couple drinks and find the conversation has slowed.

Me: Hey (person who is most likely to make a big deal about the factoid I'm about to unload), did you know my friend Nick is the lead singer in a Band?

Them: Really? That's sooo cool! What kind of band?

Me: A rock band.

Nick: Fuck you. Did you know B has a blog?

I digress. One of the things that being a blogger entails is reading other blogs. I read my friend's blogs, I read sports blogs and I will occasionally peruse my way through the 6 degrees of blog separation. Think Myspace/Facebook stalking but with blogs. Here's Lizzie's blog, she reads these blogs. Whose blogs do they read, etc. etc.

A couple different times I have found myself stuck in the descending spiral of the "chick blog." I can't think of a better term for these saucy, salty self-publishers. They have that spice girl/girl power/I've got attitude and I'm funny, irreverent and sarcastic and KNOW IT. They all seem to drink wine, I think it's a code word or something. They also are overflowing with overshare. Pooping, peeing, infections, fat jokes, sex anecdotes, pooping, and insanely embarrassing stories are all par for the course:


The CLEAR winner on this one belongs to a blog spiral that went like this:
Rob Mosely Oregon Ducks Blog>Tales from LaLa Land (a mix of interviews with ex UO players, bad words and chick blogging)>Musings of a Barefoot Foodie. I am still not sure how I got there but all of a sudden I found myself [side note - I was actually reprimanded by Jenna on Saturday night that this was almost too gross to point people to. So, again, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK...] reading this post. Prepare yourself because even I found the punchline quite shocking. Anyway, there's plenty more where that come from.

These blogs are generally quite amusing, which explains how I've gotten sucked in.
I am split on whether I want to read more, though... On the one hand, I feel kind of like Screech and Zach when they eavesdropped on Kelly's slumber party to figure out who she was going to ask to the dance. It's like being let in on a whole different world, kind of fascinating, totally weird. On the other hand, I feel like Mel Gibson in What Women Want - suddenly granted access to the insane mind and world of women and faced with a whole bunch of information which, frankly, I'd rather leave shrouded in the mystique of the fairer sex.

Leaf Blowers

Fall is here, leaves are falling, and Jackasses everywhere are using the loudest, least efficient tool possible to blow them (along with dust, trash, and anything else on the ground) out of their yard.

It's an interesting mindset: I want these leaves out of my yard. I think I'll blow them all over the sidewalk, into the street and into your yard instead. And I'll do it by running the most obnoxiously loud device I can get my hands on.

And what lazy bastard thinks this leaf blowing device is actually a good idea? The only reason leaf blowers work is because there's only about one real Jacknife per block who actually thinks it's socially acceptable to take the mess that's in his yard and blow it out into the neighborhood. If everyone did it, it would be an awesome battle royale with leaves flying, dust in the air and gum wrapper projectiles aplenty.

As Mitch Hedberg pointed out, just about everything should have two names - such as a "cheese grater" could also be called a "sponge ruiner." I'll work for the next few days coming up with alternative names for the leaf blower, I think I'll go with the Not My Problem Machine (narrowly lost out to the Jackass Jetpack).

Breaking News: Baseball Season Still Plugging Away

Baseball is boring. Its a snoozer. Let's all admit it and move on with our lives. 

The season started in late March, its now September, and the REGULAR season is still not finished. 

I submit, that nobody cares anymore, save all the weirdos from Boston and New York that I know. 

I'm done with baseball. I'm done watching it on TV. I do not want to talk about it and I certainly do not want to find myself in another conversation with a bunch of people talking about baseball that do not know what they are talking about because they all find the sport terribly tiresome. 

Next time someone says the word baseball, mentions a team or a player, I'm walking away.

You are now all warned. 

I'm over going to the ballpark. 

"Oh, but the ballpark is so beautiful." Yeah, but how about the city park, state park, national park, beach, your girlfriend, that concert venue, etc...

The last thing I want to do with me free time is sit in a child size scorching hot metal seat and watch grown men stand around in Lycra and adjust their cups - all while spending $8 on beer just to make the event slightly passable. 

The game is so boring that players are rooted at their positions only to move sporadically for 5-20 second increments. Further, the players are all so checked out that they all have a chewing tabacco habit just to keep the buzz going to pay attention. 

Baseball has no time limit. Extra innings at a baseball game means time to go home. Every other sport its exhilarating. 

The next time I walk into a bar and there are grown men entrenched at the stools watching the afternoon game of the two out of contention teams with players nobody's ever  heard of with the sound of "Freebird" playing in the background it not only time to walk out, but time to reevaluate my life. 

I am sick of all the "National Pastime" prestige that thrown around when mentioning baseball. The only reason it was the nations sport was because baseball, football, hockey and soccer were not around yet. 

Ever watched a full baseball game on TV. Didn't think so.  Last time a baseball game was on at my house I left in the 3rd inning, went to the gym, then the movie theater, came back, showered and the game was in the 2ND inning. I know, seemingly impossible, but true. 

Baseball also doesn't have any personalities that you can love, or love to hate. Who is the Ron Mexico, Pac-Man Jones or Ocho Cinco of baseball? There is definitely no Brett Favre of baseball. 

Baseball sucks. 

The season is 162 games long. 6 months. Half a year. Who has time for this!?!? What kind of lives are these baseball fans living where they can invest so much time in such a time suck.  

This litany of reasons can go on and on, but I think I can speak for 99% of my friends when I say that I just don't care anymore.

Body Wash

I don't really understand why all these companies are trying to push body wash on me. During my 5 hour College Football kickoff last night I was assaulted on numerous occasions by commercials featuring naked men in the shower luxuriously massaging themselves with some sort of gel soap. I know sex sells, but this is not the sex that's going to sell me and convince me to discard my old friend, soap.

Soap is one of those things that I just don't think can be improved upon. It comes in a convenient bar form that travels well, applies easily to the whole body, is inexpensive, and remarkable effective. I've never used soap to wash myself and said afterward, "Dang, that soap just didn't do the job, I wish it did X."

Body wash is foofy. It comes in some sharply designed container and is advertised to have a variety of properties that will make you more desirable (Hello Axe?), manly, cleaner, softer, etc. Personally, while I, like everyone, constantly seeks to be as desirable, clean, manly yet soft, I just don't see that $7 bottle of body wash getting the job done. Oh, and for 9 out of 10 women the word DOUCHEBAG pops out of their mouth every time they smell an Axe product.

The biggest problem is maybe I just don't understand how to use the product. Every time I attempt a body-washing, luxuriously rubbing myself with some bright blue gel that smells like a 13 year old's cologne, I:
1. Use half the bottle to achieve the proper lather. It gets all over except in the reigons most in need of cleaning. Could be that I'm lacking a loufa, but I will not purchase an accessory to to make bodywash act like soap when soap acts like soap as is. Why, as a 20-something man, is loufa even a part of my vocabulary?
2. I don't feel like it gets things clean. In fact, it leavs me feeling less clean and kind of slippery. I don't like that.

Bottom line, other than GoJo Orange, I can't imagine a liquid cleaner that will surpass soap so please, everyone, let's stop with this silliness and leaving the loufa-ing to the ladies.

Soap: keeping you clean since 2800 BC.

And So It Begins

Today is a very special day, a day eagerly anticipated for about 9 months every year. Today is the kickoff of college football season. Tailgating, rivalries, screaming until you're hoarse, betting, compulsive internet reading and, of course, talking a HUGE amount of shit.

Shit talking during the college football season is truly one of a kind, mostly because it knows virtually no bounds. No subject is off limits, and no claim of superiority too ridiculous For example, USC fans claiming they also received a superior education. Really? The 5 straight conference championships and BCS Bowl appearances weren't enough to prove superiority? Now you're bragging about the "quality of education" you received? If by education you mean learning to snort your parents money off a drivers license in the Viper Room bathroom, by all means, you win this round.

But that's not all, mascots, stadiums, student sections, hotness of cheerleaders, hotness of coeds, it's all out there and everyone thinks theirs is the best. So, when I stumbled across Radar Magazine's Online Guide to Bad Education, I felt compelled to pass it on, with, of course, some Cliff Notes in case you have to pretend to be busy today. Feel free to use this in your shit talking repertoir this fall, well, except for Reed College, unless your nerdy, exclusive Liberal Arts college is playing them in Quidditch.

Most Superficial goes to, you guessed it, USC. Not much to say that isn't painfully obvious on that one, except for this stunning figure: $50,000 a year to attend! That is $200,000 for 4 years (for only 65%...), and that's before Prada bags, Juicy sweatsuits, Chanel Sunglasses, and, oh yeah, the drugs... Ouch!

The Most Intolerant top 2 shouldn't really strike anyone as a big surprise - University of Mississippi and Brigham Young University. Seriously, this one is like a game of "Would you Rather" - with an endless debate about the lesser of two evils. Racist Crackers or Religoius Zealouts (not to mention no youtube, drinking, caffeine, Youtube, etc.). Yipes!

The Most Stoned is also a good one. Another California school (surprise!) pops up in the list with 4 out of 5 applications being accepted, but only half of those make it out in four years. The runner up, once again, deserves mentioning as the Dread-Headed step child of USC. Parents have money? Want to go somewhere with people equially as superficial as you but just can't quite get the GPA in USC territory? Or have you just not come to grips with your parents money? Looking for somewhere that you won't feel ridiculous climbing into a Range Rover with patched together pants, a dirty beard, Chacos and dreads (hello Trustafarian). Let me tell you about a magical little place called, Boulder...

Most Insuffrable - Reed College, "Known for its 'French-café-know-it-all" culture, Reed churns out the kind of smug, self-righteous bombasts you thought were possible only in subtitled movies. Notes one campus observer, succinctly, "Everyone I've ever met that goes or went to Reed is either full of themselves or full of shit."

Most Insecure - Fnally, I am happy to report an in-state school made the list as well! The #1 runner up in the country, Oregon State University. The state's second biggest school with the second best athletic program is like the annoying younger brother with a serious inferiority complex. OK, so I made this one up, but I hope they enjoy their new more "workmanlike" jerseys this year - the'll look great with an Emerald Bowl patch on the shoulder.

Well that's it for the list, but I encourage you, keep the debate open, keep the conversation flowing because things will only get better over the next three months.

Headline of the Day

"Policing Porn on Airlines?"

Yup, that's what I came across on my 2:45 pm perusal of CNN.com (as clearly distinguished from my 2:30 pm perusal of CNN.com).

First off, is that really what qualifies as a headline these days? A wide open, possibly rhetorical statement relying on the strength of the word PORN to draw in viewers. OK, OK, point taken, it worked as I was quick to click on this one.

The video it fires up is of Mike Galanos, an absurd caricature of the 24 hour news cycle anchor man. Righteously indignant, sleeves rolled up, gyrating in his chair at the mere thought of the outrage he may suffer, he stares into the camera, gripping his pen-as-prop and preaches:

"Filter out the CRAP, I don't want my son sitting next to a PERVERT who's watching porn."

"I'm all for people surfing the "net," just put a filter up to keep out the garbage."

"Let's get some calls in, Jan in California, Jan, isn't this ridiculous?"

Hey, Galanos, you closet porn fiend, get a life. We all agree that we don't want some dude watching Max Hardcore in 21E when we're in 21F, but quit pretending to be a news man, quit telling your guests their opinion and for the love of Melanoma, lay off the tanning bed.

A quick Google of the "net" with no "filter" brings up some awesome results for Galanos the porn fiend, including a petition to get him kicked off CNN (with some good comments I might add). No one seems to like him and there are some stellar adjectives ("douchy" popped up more than once) to describe his obnoxious delivery and Conservative/Moral Values bent.

Bottom line, I would have been able to stand him and might even respect his work a little if he'd just gotten Samuel L Jackson on there: "We've got to get this MUTHAFUCKIN' PORN off this MUTHAFUCKIN' PLANE!"

QLE Etiquette Tip of The Day

Everybody has those little meltdowns. You get into an argument with someone, usually in a public place and neither side sees eye to eye. For example, this morning, I arrived at my parking spot to find all the spaces were taken. Our parking is located in a trendy part of town and, this being Portland, we share our lot with a coffee shop. I regularly find my parking spot occupied by some caffeine junkie, feening for their morning jolt, who apparently was too bleary eyed to read the "Reserved Parking" sign. On numerous occasions I have complained to the coffee shop owner who usually looks at me, shrugs and gives me the equivalent of "Not my problem, bub."

This morning (Monday) I arrived to find that, once again, someone had parked in my spot. So, I parked on the coffee shop's side of the lot to head into work and investigate if the offender was from our building or not. About one block away from the lot, someone screams HEY and runs up behind me. I turn around, and there is the coffee shop owner in attack mode. Finger in my face she informs me that if I don't move my car she's going to tow me. On my first try I explain the situation - hey, the parking lot is often a problem, I am heading over to figure this out. She continues with inarticulate threats. Suddenly there are bystanders - someone walking up the sidewalk, another guy from the office next door - both wide eyed at the insane small business owner's display.

Ultimately, I make the right choice, move my car and avoid the verbal melee that was sure to ensue (Oh really? You really need that extra parking spot for the one customer per hour you service? Oh, and your paninis suck! A panini is grilled ciabatta, NOT wonder bread, loser!). We all have these little fights, and we all picture how they could go (both the right and the wrong way).

I did it right, the Cuban [wow, scratch my earlier Brazillian comment, so much for the QLE's journalistic integrity] Taekwondo guy did it wrong when he roundhoused the referee (and the coffee shop owner is lucky I'm not this flexible, attacking from behind like that!).

Willie Make It, Honey Bucket: Porta-Potty Etiquette

The QLE, although occasionally irreverent, sarcastic and a bit crude, works hard to ensure that all readers are aware of and do not fall afoul of, many of life unwritten etiquette rules.

Today we'd like to offer a little help to the drunken moron who walks in front of lines of people, or you, girl in ridiculously slutty outfit who flirts her way to the front - that's right there are basic rules and etiquette for standing in line for the hot, smelly, plastic porto.

It's summer, and that means that you will inevitably find yourself standing in a sweaty crush of people with dirty feet, a sunburned face, a mild buzz going and a SEVERELY full bladder. The only option is to wade through the crowd: "Excuse me, pardon, might if I... yeah, right through there. Um, bro, is it cool if I - yeah, thanks. *Splash* - yeah, no problem. Yeah, wahooo! Cheers to you too! OK, thanks." After enough of this nonsensical stupidity, you arrive.

No, wait, that can't be right. You ask youself, then you ask those around you, "Is this really the line for the toilets?" Inevitably, you get a "Yeah, bro, sucks, huh?" So you're in line with about 500 people waiting for 10 toilets, and you have about 7 minutes until absolute disaster. So despite what you perceive as impending doom, be sure to follow a few simple rules, or risk shouts, poured beer, heckling for 499 people or worse, getting your Honey Bucket dumped over with you in it...

First - feel free to do a little recon! There is an amazing new type of public piss system: the portable trough! That's right, 12 dudes, one porto. Now, even at beer festivals, notorious for being dude heavy, you can skip the lines and all you have to do is crowd into a hot, cramped piss soaked room with eleven other bro-hards.

Wait your turn. Yes, that means you drunk person, angry person, person who has to pee (yeah, we're all right there with you) little kid (minus visible accident), hot girl, girl who think's she's hot, "confused" person, everyone.

Pick your line, stick with it. You don't see people swirving all over the toll plaza 10 feet from the booth. That's not how it works. Roll the dice and hope your line gets done quicker than everyone else's.

Don't save spots. I don't care what the excuse, if you have a group of 5 friends join you (or even one) you're looking for trouble.

Finally, don't be afraid to double up. If your parts complement the porto's parts, you can each relieve yourself simultaneously. For this to work, on person must be able to pee standing up in the urinal (not a purse holder as a friend's gramma thought...). Two girls are actually three times slower than one girl. However, a guy and a girl can get the job done just fine and in (relative) privacy (thank you barn dance).

In the end, I am sure you'll make it. And once you're in there, enjoy the relief and make everyone's day better, if you only remember one thing, remember to put the seat up... Both of them.

You Know What Really Grinds My Gears? (Part II)

A while back I wrote a bit of a rant about the cyclist culture in Portland. In the interest of full disclosure, I must first admit that since that time, I have started doing a fair amount of bike riding. Notice I do not call myself a cyclist. I do not have a jersey of any kind. My bike has both gears and brakes. I don't even think I would call myself a cycling enthusiast. I just think of myself as a guy who rides bikes.

Well, Portland cyclist culture has once again given me good reason to distance myself from the snooty, lock in the belt loop, socks over shoes, car hating crowd. You can check out the story as published in the Oregonian or on BikePortland.org. If you are really looking for a good laugh, dig into the comments sections on each piece, as I can't begin to do either one justice. The story is priceless:

Average Portland Guy Colin Yates is driving his green Subaru wagon in SE Portland (it's already so good you couldn't make this shit up!). Sees biker punk (probably wearing chain wallet and stupid hat with flipped up visor instead of brain-protecting helmet) run through two red lights.

APG Colin, a self described cycling advocate chases down biker and lectures him for making bikers look bad. Rogue Punk Biker Steven McAtee flips his lid. Chases the car, screaming, threatening etc. and enoourages APG Colin to stop and have a good old fashioned throw down.

APG Colin stops, confronts RPB Steven and gets more than he bargained for when RPB Steven picks up his bike and uses it as a weapon to attack APG Colin, his Average Portland Car containing his Average Portalnd Family. The brawl is derailed only by a Hancock-esque citizen laying out RPB Steven with a single punch haymaker (dear god how I would have loved to see that).

So, now there is a scene. Car stopped, smashed up hood, biker on the ground and it's drawing attention. The obvious happens next (picture Thriller or West Side Story) a group of Disgruntled Passersby Bikers gang up on and attack APG Colin as he stands next to his APC Subaru.

The police eventually show up to break up the hostile mobe of DPBs and sort things out, and this is where it gets good. RPB Steven is a city employee... In the transportation department! And he was hammered (probably after drinking too many pints of Organic IPA w/ too high of an IBU), possibly fueling his drunken bike weilding rage!

I think the Portland Police spokesman summed it up best, "It's almost kind of quintessentially a Portland thing."

Men's Health

I cannot stand Men's Health. Frankly, I cannot stand Men's Journal either.

How are these magazines so popular? I find them so defeating.

My problem begins and ends with the cover. Every magazine read something similar to:

1324 Women reveal their secrets to Sex! Or, 35 Watches that you Need NOW! Or 15 Foods that Build Muscle! And why with all the exclamation points?

What they are really saying is more like the following:

1. 20 Foods that you Cannot Even Find at your Local Health Food Store and if you could you wouldn't want to spend $5 or that 5oz piece of fruit anyway!

2. 50 Suits that you and none of your Immediate Friends Could Ever Afford! And if we're really going to be spending $4,00 on something Italian, it better damn well be an Italian vacation

3. 40 Women that you'll Never Have a Chance Dating!

4. 35 Watches that will Make You Feel Like a Complete Douche for Spending $5,00o!

5. 12 Vacations that You Can Never Afford!

6. 120 Sex Tips that Will Get You Nowhere Fast!

7. 1530 Different Things that will Make You Feel Insecure About Your Situation In Life!

8. 240 Reasons With You are Not As Cool As The Guy On The Cover of This Magazine!

Coffee

Definition: a widely-consumed stimulant beverage prepared from roasted seeds, commonly called coffee beans, of the coffee plant. Today, Coffee is one of the most popular beverages in the world. 

Sounds like something Brandon  would enjoy, right? Wrong.

Brandon does not partake in the exercise in drinking coffee. I have met few people like this and i just cannot figure it out. The only time I've seen him drink coffee is in a foreign country. 

I remember him drinking coffee in Morocco, Holland, Spain, Ireland. The list goes on, but I've never seen him at or suggest a Starbucks. 

1. Coffee is delicious. You can find a flavor or brew that is perfectly designed to massage your pallet. 

2. Coffee is commonly known as a social gathering. As in, "lets meet for coffee." Or, "how about we discuss over coffee?"

3. Drinking soda in the morning is just not cool anymore. Frankly, soda(pop) is just not acceptable in general. The last time someone said: "lets go grab a couple of cokes" and you thought to yourself "man, thats so hip!!" was in a Jimmy Stewart movie circa 1962. 

4. You can make it at home and bring it with you. You also get the sense of feeling like a barista in the morning. Everyone that has been a barista can relate with the fact that it sure is gratifying to make a coffee and not have to hand it off to the the guy in the two-piece or the lady about ready to embark on her morning 5K walk. 

5. If you're tired, coffee is better than an energy drink, but not as good as a trip to the gym. I believe the days of throwing down a 16oz Rockstar at 6AM should be behind you by the time you're 25. But, a couple of 16oz 'Star's at 9PM on a Saturday night, that is still debatable.

6. If you are living in the NW it is boarder line taboo not to partake in coffee. This is the land where Starbucks, Peet's, SBC and Coffee People were born.

7. Coffee is good warm and cold. Soda is not good warm. 

8. Coffee is like golf. You have to at least be familiar with the beverage, willing to drink it and find a way to enjoy some of the nuances that it offers in orders to get by in life. You do not want to be the person in a business meeting that shoots an 9 off the first tee and you do not want to be the jack-a-lantern that orders an Italian Soda at Starbucks.

If there is anything I'm missing, please add and with any luck, Brandon may see the light that coffee is one of life's great treasures. 

Fan Mail

The sports world is officially dead as of this weekend. After KP dominates the draft once again, what is left to watch? Tiger is out, Euro Cup is over, no football news for a while - just baseball, plugging away, playing their insane number of games and inspiring yet another year of apathy until September. So this time of year lends itself to reflection. In the case of one loyal QLE reader, reflections on the love that sports inspire. You can love your car, you can love your dog, you can even love a sports team, but can you love your sports columnist? A reflection of Deeks Mangreen's struggle to answer that question below.
--
Dear Bill,

I started reading your column in the summer of 2007, and I must say: I love your stuff. But I seriously kind of hate you.

You are in fanhood euphoria while I am stuck on planet earth. Back-to-back-to-back sports seasons where your team competed for a championship (RedSox, Patriots, Celtics). I swear, that is just not right.

I'm torn and am not sure exactly what I think about you. Love/hate relationship? Maybe, but I'm more of a "this or that" kind of guy. Don't like sitting on the fence.

I was an econ major in college and learned that a cost/benefit analysis can help you figure out just about anything, so I'm going to lay out the costs and benefits of me reading your column.

BENEFIT: You are a total fan!!! And I can totally relate to that! (Ignoring of course the fact that you are a total homer fan of teams I happen to hate.

COST: You're a total homer fan of horrible teams that I happen to hate.

BENEFIT: You are f'ing funny. I laugh a lot when reading your stuff.

COST: Totally blows my cover at work. I work in finance and let me tell you, the stock market isn't exactly hilarious these days.

BENEFIT: I'm convinced I'll be cursed and have 3 daughters just like my uncle. You gave me hope in Learning About Sports From a 2 1/2 Year Old that if I only have daughters, I'll be able to convince them to like sports ... at least during their formative years.

COST: Me thinking that having all daughters really wouldn't be THAT bad further ensures that I will only have daughters.

BENEFIT: It was really nice of you to warn me not to read this column wherein you BLATANTLY HATE on the future of the NBA.

COST: Of course I read it you dummy! And you totally pissed me off. You were just jealous. 2 blazer fans? Seriously? I have steam coming out of my ears right now.

BENEFIT: Your luck as a fan gives other fans (me) hope.
COST: All of your teams are firing on all cylinders right now. Literally all of them. That has NEVER happened to me and gets me so fired up.

This list could go on, but making the list has already helped me gain clarity. Look ... It's not like I ever think that the Blazers will win an NBA championship, followed by the Oregon Ducks winning the BCS, followed by the Cleveland Browns winning the Super bowl (don't ask about the Browns thing ... it's a long story involving a friend buying my buddy and I as many free hot dogs as we can eat if we go to Cleveland and watch a game). I know that the chance of all of my teams having your teams' success probably isn't going to happen. But the fact that the last 8-9 months have been so practically perfect for you (everybody knows you jinxed the Pats, so it's your fault it wasn't 100% perfect ) - I guess it teaches me to not totally give up hope. Because afterall ... isn't that what being a fan is all about?

So ... at the end of all of this ... I will keep reading. But seriously, don't write stuff about the Blazers like that again. Oden will punish you for it next year, I promise. Thanks for all the hard work - and enjoy this 1 good year of Celtics hoops b/c they are old as dirt and don't have much gas left. Meanwhile, my team has a good 8-12 solid years left in Roy, Oden, Aldridge.

Your Reader,

Rob