My Typical Day

It's a shame that most people use these easily accessible online journals to document their otherwise meaningless lives. What they need is good course in creative writing at the nearest community college, then maybe a normal day for them would seem more interesting to me. But in the interesting of staying relevent, conformist, and cool, I've decided to discuss my typical day for you, the humble reader.
My day usually begins around 1, maybe 2 'o' clock in the afternoon. Getting started is probably the hardest part of my day, considering I have to navigate around my room surrounded by the five or six chicks that I banged the brains out of the night before. Everyday, I must endure their incessant whining, "Oh Greg, don't go! Oh Greg, come back to bed!". But I work through it, for my services are needed 128 out of the 365 days a year.
After eating a healthy breakfast of nails soaked in Pepsi and drinking a tall glass of orange juice, I go to work at the local hospital. My job is rather simple, I must irradicate every incurable disease from every man, woman and child in the emergency ward. True, some of the patients have the grave illnesses ranging from the dysantary to the chicken pox, but I heal their wounds with the help of Almightly God. Often, doctors will ask me "Greg, how are you so awesome? How do you manage to cure these grave sicknesses?", and everyday, I answer "With a little prayer, nails, orange juice, and punanay, always in that order".
After my work in the hospital is done, my next activities depend on the season. If the baseball season happens to be in full swing (I'm so clever), then I will speed home at a average speed of about Mach 3 to see the Brewers on MLB.tv (a great service by the way). If snow happens to be coating the ground, then I strap on my cross-country skis and drudge my way up to Sunday River for some real skiing. I hope to participate in nine events in the 2010 Winter Olympics (The sprint, the team sprint, the 30K classical race, the 50K freestyle race, the slalom, giant slalom, Super-G, downhill, and the Combined in case you were wondering). Yep, I anticipate at least seven gold medals in my future, just to be realistic. After destroying the downhill slopes, I usually take part in the other activities that the mountain has to offer, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. That's only because I think of myself as a frat boy, and I can't think of any other way to have a good time than to get absolutely wasted.
After experiencing all that Sunday River's night life has to offer, I stumble, err, run home as fast as a can to resume my studies. I usually encounter a pack of wolves on my way, but I only cross their path just to toughen myself up. They typically snarl and growl like pussies for a while, until I go Chuck Norris all over their asses. However, I don't beat 'em upside the head to hard, otherwise they wouldn't be able to fight me anymore. But despite their persistant belligerance, I haven't reached optimum toughness yet, since I still have some scraps and bruises. This forces me to admit myself to the nearest hospital.
But once I get their, I encounter another problem. The nurses always attempt to pick me up by using crappy double-entendres like "Ow, you're a dirty boy, you need a sponge bath". They claim to be the heralded Night Nurses from Jersey, but I can tell that they are not Jersey trash. Trash usually gets picked up. But I always tell the ladies to back off, because I have room for only one, maybe three women in my life, and right now, they're locked in my closet.
I rush home to release them from my smelly closet, and, as usual, they come out demanding to have sex. But I'm better than that, by always making the excuse that I can make them ride the stallione tomorrow. I resume my homework, pass the test the next day, they go home to lie my ladies down by the fire in order to, you guessed it, read them a bedtime story. I'm currently in the middle of "Curious George", but the ladies are having some trouble keeping up with the plot. Oh well, that's a story for another day.

The First Annual Tellie Awards

Every night before I go to bed, I say a little prayer thanking God that he gave me rich parents. Now that the prices at the movie theatres are just atrocious, I count my blessings whenever I get to see a movie. This year I was fortunate enough to see some great ones, since I don't have the balls to view a film that I might not like. So, without much more further, elongated or prolonged form of ado, I present to the most prestigious awards in all of film, my own; the First Annual Tellie Awards.

Best Animated Feature of the Year Nominees:
Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbitt

And the winner is...
Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbitt! Hey, I was shocked too that it won. But don't be surprised that it won, be surprised that it's not the only animated movie I've seen this year.

Weakest Animated Feature of the Year Nominees:
Robots

And the winner is...
Robots! Not only does the movie have the most uninspired title of the year, it is the only bland computer-animated film I've seen in my entire life. To give you an impression of how bad it is, I'll summerize the movie in one sentence; Ewan McGregor had a better performance in Star Wars Episode I (now that's saying something).

Best Special Effects:
King Kong
Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
War of the Worlds

And the winner is...
King Kong! I needed to give King Kong an award just to stick it to my brother. I think he'd rather pour a full bottle of Windex in his eyes than see this movie again. Apparently he approached a movie about a 30-foot tall gorilla like a National Geographic Special. He still won't let me live it down.

Sickest Screenplay of the Year Nominees:
David Goyer & Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins)
Michael Haneke (Caché)
Paul Haggis (Crash)
Andrew Niccol (Lord of War)
Tony Kushner & Eric Roth (Munich)

And the winner is...
Andrew Niccol, Lord of War! This award doesn't go to Andrew Niccol for his work in Lord of War as much as it does for his penning of The Truman Show (which is only the greatest movie ever made). I'm recognizing him for the greatness of that particular film since no one else would (the bastards).

Super-rific Supporting Actress of the Year Nominees:
Juliette Binoche (Caché)
Hope Davis (Proof)
Yomi Perry (Crash)
Rachel Weisz (The Constant Gardener)
Gary Beach (The Producers)

And the winner is...
Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener! Honestly, the rest of the nominees are just filler (even Mr. Beach, who was in drag most of the time). Weisz blows all of them away.

Super-rific Supporting Actor of the Year Nominees:
Morgan Freeman (Batman Begins)
Colin Hanks (King Kong)
Jared Leto (Lord of War)
Liam Neeson (Batman Begins)
Michael Pena (Crash)

And the winner is...
Michael Pena, Crash! So what if he's in the movie for about five minutes? I assure you, his performance will bring tears to you're eyes...not that it made me cry or anything. Not only that, but I love Morgan Freeman, (See The Shawshank Redemption to find out how much) so Pena has to be pretty solid for me not to just hand over this award to Mor-dogg for his shear awesomeness.

Lucious Leading Ladies of the Year Nominees:
Katie Holms (Batman Begins)
Tea Leoni (Fun with Dick and Jane)
Bridget Moynahan (Lord of War)
Uma Thurman (The Producers)
Naomi Watts (King Kong)

And the winner is...
Uma Thurman, The Producers! As you can see, this award doesn't exactly evaluate the performance as actresses. Heck, Naomi Watts' voice changes in every scene. However, I did notice the other, finer qualities of these fine young actresses, starting at the chest and ending at the legs. That's why I nominated Katie Holms (Pressing the mute button in every scene in which she spoke greatly enhances her performance). But every Oscar, Tony, or any award in the world wouldn't do Uma Thurman justice. I guarantee that although every man in the theater is sitting, they will be giving her performance a standing ovation.

Pimpin' Male Performances of the Year Nominees:
Daniel Autriel (Caché)
Christian Bale (Batman Begins)
Eric Bana (Munich)
Nicholas Cage (Lord of War)
Ralph Fiennes (The Constant Gardener)

And the winner is...
Eric Bana, Munich! Just watch the scene where he speaks over the phone with his son, then try to tell me that's not one of the best performances you have ever seen.

Best Director of the Year Nominees:
Michael Haneke (Caché)
Fernando Meirelles (The Constant Gardener)
Andrew Niccol (Lord of War)
Christopher Nolan (Batman Begins)
Steven Spielberg (Munich)

And the winner is...
Fernando Meirelles, The Constant Gardener! I know, I'm shocked too (and I'm giving out the freaking awards). Even though Spielberg directed the Indiana Jones movies and Nolan directed Memento (which should earn them every directorial award from now on), Meirelles raised awareness of corporate greed and the plights in Africa in an easily accessable, sprawling epic, which is a good thing for idiots like me.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. The moment of truth. The moment that you've been hanging on the edge of you seat for. The moment that you've skipped reading several cliches just to see...
Best Picture of 2005 Nominees:
Batman Begins
Caché
The Constant Gardener
Lord of War
Munich

And the winner is...
Lord of War! It sucks hardcore that more people didn't a chance to see this movie. It kicks so much ass that my butt was sore after watching it (from the kicking, I mean. Get you're mind out of the gutter). Sure the inspired acting of Nicholas Cage and the superb directing of Andrew Niccol made it great, but what made this movie go over the top, you ask? It featured the ultimate bummer song, Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"! That one piece of musical genius incapsulates the incredible joy and sadness in seeing Lord of War. Go see it. It's cool.

"Quiznos": Italian for Sandwich Perfection

I usually reserve my days off for visiting my favorite culinary place in the whole wide world (since I'll be damned if I have to make my own lunch). Just ten minutes for my home is the Mecca of all sub shops, Quizno's, otherwise known as Perfect Food Capital, um, Place...USA. In over twenty visits to Quizno's, I have never been disappointed. However, on the 3rd of February, 2006, my most recent visit was slightly less perfect than I expected it to be.
I arrived promptly at 1:30 PM and ordered my usually Traditional Sub, which is a divine almagamation of ham, turkey, roast beef, lettuce, mayo, and tomato. However, the employees, who I know on a first name basis, finalized the order of one man who was behind me in line before they finalized mine. With my brother already sinking his teeth into the culinary orgy of deliciousness that is a Quizno sub, I obviously become agitated. However, my slight disappointment turned into outright rage when sandwich superman Max did not slice my sub in half as he usually does. Despite this egregious error, I decided to bite my lip and take this mistake like a man (Others would normally throw a hissy fit in this situation, but not me). But when I sat down to partake in lunchtime bliss, Quizno's maintained its DiMaggio-like streak of satisfying meals. In retrospect, being disappointed by a break in usual protocal is like being disappointed by the Super Bowl because the commercials weren't good. As always, the focus of the Super Bowl is the game, and the focus of Quizno's is always the sandwich.
The greatness of Quizno's Subs became quite clear after I paid my first visit to the sub shop in the summer of 2004. That visit became the highlight of my day, even though I visited the Grand Canyon on that very same day. Yes, the holiest of all fast food restaurants outshined the grandeur and majesty of the Grand Canyon. I bet God eats Quizno's whenever He's hungry, and whatever comes out of God after He's done eating becomes the food the food they use at Subway.
Taking a bite into a Traditional Sub at Quizno's is like treating your mouth to massage. You can combine every delicious food that you've ever eaten in your entire lives, and I guarantee that it won't even come close to the fattening glory that is a Quizno sub. How good is a Quizno sub, you ask? Have you ever had an orgasm? Multiply that by fifty, and you'll know how it feels to sink your teeth into perfection between two slices of bread. Visit your local Quizno's immidiately if not sooner, and I guarantee that your dining experience will change the way you look at food forever. And don't worry, the check from Quizno's has already cleared, that's why this is my first post in a month.

College Football's Greatest

I reserved this post just for today. Next to baseball, hockey, and just about every other sport, college football is the greatest sporting event that man has created. Now the Rose Bowl and the National Championship Game may be on tonight, but that's not important. I've devoted this post to debate the greatest college quarterback to ever play the game, and to say that there is no debate. Without a doubt, Paul Peterson is the greatest quarterback...ever.

Paul "Pistol" Peterson: The Greatest

His career might have started late, but that's only because he was fulfilling his Mormon duty TO COMPLETE MISSIONARY WORK IN NICARAGUA! Have you spent two years in Nicaragua? I think not. His Jesus points automatically increase by 100 points. Now, because most college admission officiers are dicks and they won't accept students who can't get a real education because they're too busy saving the world, Paul went to attend Snow Junior College in Utah. There, he just chose to play football, became the starting QB, and THREW 55 FREAKIN' TOUCHDOWNS IN ONE SEASON. That would break David Klinger's Division 1-A record of 54 touchdowns, but Paul felt just too good for Division 1-A. Awesomeness points: up 50. But one day, he thought to himself, "I'd love to pursue a Finance major a Catholic university, even though I'm Mormon". He could have chosen to attend Notre Dame, but decided that they sucked no matter who they're coached by. So he turned to Boston College. Awesomeness points up another 25.
Now, Peterson is the quarterback to ever play the game, but those talents are hidden behind his outward appearence. Maybe people couldn't his skills as a QB because HE'S 6'0" AND 190 POUNDS! Greatest at the position despite his small size: 200 awesomeness points. Still, he became the backup to that chump Quinton Porter at the start of the 2003 season. But while Porter blew, Paul threw for TDs. Eventually that chump got injured in a near blowout against West Virginia. Peterson orchestrated a great comeback, but he let West Virginia have that one, since the Mountaineers are pretty cool (25 extra coolness points) . In the final regular season game in Blacksburg, #13 ranked Virginia Tech scored a late touchdown to tie the game at 27-27. With only two minutes left in a tie game with hostel crowd and seventy yards to go, Paul was all like, "Please, don't make me laugh". After faking the handoff, Peterson hit receiver Larry Lester for 56 yards and a touchdown. BC: 34, VT: 27. Kickass points: up 80. In the San Franscisco Bowl on New Year's Eve, Peterson was wondering if they could increase the difficulty level because it was like a video game. They planted a home-cooked beatdown on Colorado State, 35-21. He was so great, we can only assume that he ran into a burning building to save a family of ten later that night.
Thankfully, coach Tom O'Brien came to his senses and redshirted that chump Porter and started Peterson for his senoir season. His fellow players nicknamed him "Pistol" (get it, Paul "Pistol" Peterson), but it certainly doesn't imply what that man carries...yes, he does have a cannon for an arm. Anyway, he kicked some ass for the first three games of the 2004 season, until he let Wake Forest win one because it's such an pimpin' school. Heck, he even threw two picks in the first half in a game against Notre Dame just to keep it close. But to come out on top, he threw two clutch touchdowns in the second half to score a comeback victory against their rivals, 24-23 (Awesomeness points up 800). He ultimately worn himself out so much during the season that he broke his hand in a game against Temple. Did he cash in his chips like so many other pussies out there? HELL NO, HE PLAYED A BOWL GAME AND THREW FOR TWO TOUCHDOWNS WITH A BROKEN HAND! He even broke his leg later in that game, but I'm sure he could've kept playing, I guarantee it. BC came out victorious in the Continental Tire Bowl against UNC, 37-24. He could have won the Heisman that season, but even that award wouldn't do him justice.
I, much like everyone else, wept like an infant after Peterson's college career was over. But just when we all thought that he would fall back on that finance major of his, he signed with the Ottawa Renegades of the CFL, playing behind former Heisman runner-up Brad Banks. His football playing days may not be over, but he'll have to win about eight MVPs and twelve Super Bowls just to outdo what he's done during his college career.
So let's review:

• Missionary work in Nicaragua,
• Had record-setting season in junior college with 55 TD passes,
• Decided to attend Boston College,
• Orchestrated a huge upset against Virginia Tech,
• Won first bowl game as a junior in San Franscisco Bowl,
• Led team in a comeback victory over hated rivals Notre Dame,
• Played with a broken hand and broken leg,
• Won second bowl game in Continental Tire Bowl,
• Playing in the CFL...

I may be excommunicated for heresy, but I move to rename God "Paul Peterson".

"A Christmas-", Excuse Me, "A Holiday Carol"

In late December with the holiday crush already taking its toll, Jebaneezer Booge was hard at work keeping his bowling alley afloat during this time of relative inactivity. Everyone was too busy buying holiday gifts for one another to enjoy the simple pleasures of rolling a sixteen-pound ball down a lane and hitting ten pins. Booge became so wrapped up in his work, he assigned employee, Rob Snatchit, to work counter overtime without pay. A timid soul, Snatchit was too afraid to raise any sort of objection, so he calmly suggested to his boss that he needed to complete his holiday shopping.
"Excuse me, Mr. Booge" said Snatchit shyly, "but tis the eve of holiday morrow, and my family requires non-denominational gifts in order to celebrate the holiday season."
"Holidays?" scolded Booge, "Why would I become so wrapped in such a tolerant season of outpouring happiness. Leave this place. I don't expect you back till the monday after New Year's Day."
"Oh thank you, sir." cried Snatchit, as he pranced out the day with the greatest of glee.
"The holidays," said Booge, "Humbug!" Just then, every pin in lane one was knocked down with a great thud, even though no ball was rolled down that lane. Then every pin in every lane was knocked down with the sound of a strike. A ghost suddenly appeared from behind the counter, it was PBA Hall of Famer Dick Weber!
"Dick Weber!" cried Booge, "Well, it's an honor to see you."
"Please," said Dick, "I don't have time to accept your ass kissing. I've come here to warn you of three other ghosts of holiday past, present and future that will visit you during the night."
"Well that's just fantastic." Booge said sarcastically, "but why did these spirits send you?"
"They thought you'd trust an old, good-looking legend like me, but right now I gotta go" Weber said as he began to fade away.
"Well at least they got one thing right," said Booge.
"No, wait! What did they get right, how good-looking I was?" asked Weber as he dissolved into thin air.

That night, a fair mistress by the name of the ghost of holiday past visited Booge in his sleep.
"Well, c'mon," said the ghost, "I've got a lot of ungrateful souls to visit tonight." And with that, she grabbed his hand as they flew to a mystical land covered in black. They waited and waited, until Booge simply ran out of patience.
"What the hell are we doing here!" screamed Booge, "It's nothing but black!"
"Gee wiz, I didn't notice," said the glib ghost, "everyone's so preoccupied with generalizing the holidays that no one remembers holiday past. No one remembers that Jesus was born around the sprind solstice and that December 25th coinsided with a pagan holiday. No one remembers that Chanukkah celebrates the rededication of the Temple in 165 B.C. No one even considered that Kwanzaa is a reaffirmation for community and family for African-Americans. It's all lost in the 'holiday season'."
"Well it could be worse," suggesed Booge, "you could actually living in holiday present."
"Oh really?" said the ghost of holiday past. Almost immediately, the ghost caber-tossed Booge into the lair of the ghost of holiday present. A big and sorrowful man sat on his throne as Booge looked at him dumb-founded.
"Well, you look happy." said Booge.
"Ha, don't feel sorry for me," said the unhappy ghost, "feel sorry for your associate, Mr. Snatchit." Suddenly, they were transported to Rob Snatchit's home where Rob was just returning from shopping.
"How was the store, dear?" asked his wife, Shirley.
"Terrible," declared Rob, "I was looking for a menorah, but all they had were 'holiday themed' candle holders. This one was the best I could find. It doesn't even have candles, just little light bulbs that are supposed to save money insted of buying candles. It only has seven lights!"
"Spirit?" demanded Booge, "Tell me that this family will be able to celebrate Hanukka properly."
"Oh," warned the ghost holiday present, "I wouldn't be too sure." All of the sudden, the ghost of holiday present flung Booge in the presence of a reticent man wearing a black cloak, otherwise known as the ghost of holiday future. He pointed Booge in the direction of Rob Snatchit's home again. This time, Rob appeared much happier, but sinister as well. He didn't seem to be upset about the imperfect menorah, but much more delighted in the greed of the holiday season.
"Oh, am I glad we abandoned that Hanukkah crap," declared Rob, "We saved a bunch of money and got all the gifts wanted, too."
"Why, my goodness," said a saddened Jebaneezer, "please say that this is the only family to relinquish their heritage for personal gain." But they weren't the only family. Everyone had become so wrapped up in the general benefits of the holiday season that they forgot the meanings of every holiday that they were celebrating. But then, the ghost of holiday future pointed Booge in the direction of his old bowling alley, now decrepit and delapidated. The enjoyable recreation of bowling was, too, lost in the greed of the holiday season.
"Please spirit!" screamed Jebaneezer, "Please say this is the end of my holiday suffering!" The ghost then pointed to a bank statement lying on the ground, which belonged to Mr. Booge! the money in his bank account, it...it featured seven figures!
"No!!!" yelled Jebaneezer, "Please, anything but this!!!"

Booge awoke from his slumber screaming in great distress. He checked his calender immediately. It was still Christmas Eve! He ran to the door and outside, asking a boy if the holiday season had passed.
"You there, young man," Booge screamed, "the holiday season hasn't passed yet, has it?"
"No sir," said the young boy in a delightful little British accent, "why, it's only beginning."
"Oh thank you spirits, it hasn't passed," said Jebaneezer, "From now on, I will celebrate the past, present, and future of every holiday in this magical season."
And Jebaneezer Booge was as good as his word. He warned against the over-commercialization of Christmas, he emphasized the importance of the Jewish tradition of Hanukkah, and imformed everyone of the growing popularity of Kwanzaa. Never was there a better man, or a better season of holiday recognition.

The Wonderful World of the College Application Process

Let's play a little game, shall we? I call it "The Wonderful World of the College Application Process", where we pit two prospective students against one another and decide which one deserves to go the better school. But first, let's choose some contestants. Hmm, what are some typical, non-discript names, umm, how about Greg and, umm, Lee for instance. Let's say both go to the same school, which is known for its academic prowess. Now to choose a university, anyone will do. Hmm, Brown University sounds an excellent institution of higher learning that would be looking for two outstanding students like Greg and Lee. Now, of course, a school can't accept students based on names alone. (although the name "Greg" does give the impression that he is an extremely smart and attractive young man) So we have to have to determine these students' eligability based on a series of admission factors. Here we go:
Obviously, Brown doesn't want a couple of slugs occupying their classrooms, so admission officiers must determine the success of these students throughout their high school career and the difficulty of the courses they take.

Grades and Rigorous nature of Courses:
Lee: Five AP courses (English, Calculus BC, Latin, Physics, US History)
GPA = 4.06
Member of the National Honor Society
Member of the Latin National Honor Society
Greg: Five AP courses (English, Calculus AB, French, Chemistry, US History)
GPA = 3.98
Member of the National Honor Society
Member of the French National Honor Society
Tough call since both go to the same school. I'm gonna have to give Lee the edge here with the higher level calculus course and the slightly better GPA. But at least Greg can speak a second language that actually exists.
Now, the college application process doesn't end at academics. Certain "other" factors exist to pursade universities into selecting different students.

"Other" Factors:
Lee: Described as Jewish, family is in highest fifth of annual income
Greg: Described as White, family is in highest fifth of annual income
Another difficult call. Lee might have the slight advantage of being described as Jewish, but little the schools know that he has all but renounced his faith in some odd, puberty-induced rejection of God. Sounds a little deceptive to me. However, not only is Greg white, but he happens to like rap music, which deserves a punch in the face every time he breaths. There are few things on this planet worse than a white kid from the suburbs liking hip-hop. But since both students have families with highest income of any other person on the planet, we're gonna have to call this one a push.
But no university wants to promote sloth on their campus, so participation in extra-curricular activities is another important factor as well.

Extra-Curricular Activities:
Lee: Works with about fifty other students on lighting for the school's theater productions (the school only puts on two plays a year), sits at home, watches porn
Greg: Four seasons of cross country, four seasons of indoor track, four seasons of outdoor track, frequent contributor to the school newspaper, co-founder and co-president of the Free Write Club, worked on service trips to Tijuana and Appalachia, frequents his church's youth group
Gee wiz, if college selection was based on this one factor it would be a blowout. But the competition remains close as we approach the end - oh wait, I forgot one little aspect to the application process.

SAT Scores:
Lee: 2400
Greg 1900
Now whose more likely to get into a good school?

What Are These People Running From?

Oh they're not. They're running to the worldest most toughest competition in town. It's MXC. MOST EXTREME ELIMINATION CHALLENGE.
If you have not yet seen this show, I implore to stop whatever it is you're doing right now and tune into Spike TV every Thursday night from 9 to 11 (Well, at least finish reading this first). This particular show is the best in brainless entertainment. If you ever have a splitting headache, MXC works much faster and far better than any other pain reliever on the market. I guarantee you will not need another thought for the next thirty minutes once an episode starts.
For the unprivledged who have not yet heard of this program, MXC shows clips from the Japanese show entitled "Takeshi's Castle" in which hundreds of contestants attempt to complete nearly impossible challenges like traversing ten giant toilet paper rolls that are at least ten feet in diameter. Even though these obstacles are absurbly difficult to finish, they are not dangerous by any means, ensuring that no one is hurt and that everyone can share in a guilt-free laugh. However, the relative difficulty of these challenges assures that these people will fail in an embarassing and hilarious fashion.
If the concept isn't enough to make your sides split, then the commentary on the show will. "Takeshi's Castle" features a whole host of characters that have been undignified and marginalized by the Americans to add to MXC's greatness. The voiceover actors create great foil characters in commentators Vic Romano and Kenny Blankenship, who combine professionalism and immaturity to make some irreverant masturbation jokes. The show also includes safari-man Guy LeDouche, a crazed bisexual, and Captain Tenneal, whose commentary at the beginning of every episode reinforces my belief that the writing on this show is absolutely brilliant. If the writers for MXC do not win an Emmy every year from now on, my eyes will never view another television for as long as I live (Fat chance. I wonder what's less likely to happen: MXC winning an Emmy or me never watching TV again).
Of course, "smart" people out there will undoubtably criticize the show and its viewers for deriving entertainment out of people's humiliation. Guess what? The show is supposed to be funny. Why else would Japan call it a comedic game show. The contestants know that they will fail miserably in a futile attempt to complete these impossible challenges, so why not do it on the show that's aired across two countries. Actually, the fact that people humiliate themselves on this show shouldn't deter people from watching it. Everyone, from the show's creators to its participants, went through a great deal of trouble in both setting up these challenges and taking a risk by embarassingly competing in them, so we might as well reward their efforts by giving them the attention they deserve. Watching it would be the very least you could do.

God FAQs

I'm beginning to question whether or not everyone in my school really wants to question Christianity or they're just being morons. Anyway, here's some simple questions that my simple-minded colleagues might ask with regards to God:

• If God is all powerful and loves us, why do bad things happen?

First of all, answering this question requires getting out of the LiveJournal-state understanding of love in which middle and high schoolers use to attain popularity, for instance "Oh I'm going to shower to with compliments. You're my best friend and you make me happy. Will you be nice to me?" Just imagine God acting like a parent. If a son or daughter struggles with something, will the parent always be their to do it for them? No, the parent may help, but he or she cannot be easing the child through life. Or if that son or daughter screws up badly like drinking too much at a party, getting behind the wheel and inadvertantly killing someone by getting into an accident, will the parent subsequently be saying "Oh that's okay. Here's another car"? No, the child requires punishment and the parent should take accountablity and deliver it. Now God is not being malevolent in anyway by not performing miracles to make a person's life easier or punishing others when they deserve it (let's face it, we all do). Those are signs of His love and ultimate desire to help people on Earth. In these situations, God is expressing his love through help, and taking the easy way out does not help.

• Are all Christians these extreme, southern Republicans that I see on Fox News and the 700 Club?

Hell No. These people might as well be butts for cows because they are so filled with crap. First, they assume that they are evangelizing because they stand at a podium in front of thousands of other Christians. Well, it's not really evangelism if every member of the audience already accepts God. It's real easy preaching to the choir. Then they have the audacity to think that electing officials like George W. Bush will spread God's word into politics. Unfortunately our government has a little clause known as a seperation of church and state, and since politics is a function of the state, the church will always be seperate. So incorporating Christianity in politics not only degrades God, but it degrades government (if that's even possible) if it can't even follow its own laws towards seperating church and state. The truly good Christians are working abroad in impoverished countries to spread God's love through providing services like water, food, and shelter. Don't let these blowhards in the United States shape your view of typical Christians.

• Do all Christians believe in Creationism?

No, no, no, no, no. Most of these extreme evangelists only preach this theory because they feel obligated to support the infallability and truth behind the Bible. The game "telephone" proves how much a statement can be skewed by ten to twenty people in fifteen minutes. Imagine how skewed the creation story can become by a few million people over a million years. In fact, the issue shouldn't even matter since most Christians don't care. What does it matter where we came from if it doesn't affect how we live right now? The point of the story is to show how sin came into the world and it expresses that message adequately.
Please keep sending me questions about God, and hopefully I'll give you a satisfactory answer.

What's Claim to Fame/What's Claim to Lame II: Electric Boogaloo

I'm hoping to create my "what's claim to fame/what's claim to lame" list at least once a month. If I do it more than once a month, that means I'm out of ideas. Hey, can you think of anything better to do:

What's Claim to Fame

Cake: Delicious, covered in frosting, easy to listen to, need I say more. Cake is possibly the most rockin'est band outside of Chilli Peppers and Weezer, maybe even the most rockin'est thing outside of Nas. Anyone who disagrees with me or hates ska bands for that matter can suck my fat, hairy balls. Put people who have never heard Cake on the list of people to which I owe a punch in the teeth.

Joe Crede: Currently playing third base for the Chicago White Sox, this guy rocks hardcore, and probably had the best season of anyone in 2005. Earlier this season, he dropped a routine foul pop in the top of the ninth that enabled Manny Ramirez to hit perhaps the sexiest game winning homer I've ever seen. Then he went on the win the ALCS MVP, and all with the same cool, pimp-like style. Man, I wish I could play like that.

Jon's Legos: This is what my brother does in his spare time. Don't ask me why: http://photobucket.com/albums/y258/hohumboring/

What's Claim to Lame

Syracuse Football: I hate ABC Channel 5's contractual obligation to showing Big East games on Saturday. Not because they have to show shitty Big East teams, but because they have to show Syracuse, the worst team in all of college football without question. Watching them against Cincinnati was like having my dick stepped on. I swear my high school's football team could beat them. Hell, they could beat them blindfolded. You suck hardcore, Syracuse.

Madonna: Anyone still listening to Madonna should be thrown in to a pile of poop for relief from such crappy music. I don't know how old Madonna is, but she's too old to still be making my ears bleed. She should be doing more important things, like raising her daughter to be as vapid and self-serving as she is. And she should dump that whole psudo-jewish crap. No wonder there's still anti-semitism in the world when selfish whores like Madonna drag it through the mud.

Jon's Spare Time: This is what my brother does in his spare time. Don't aks me why: http://photobucket.com/albums/y258/hohumboring/

Coming Out of the Closet

No, I'm not gay, so please grow up for about a minute and a half. However, I use that expression to describe what is probably the gayest thing I do on a regular basis.
When I mean gay, I don't use it literally, of course. But every Saturday night at 11:00, I tune into Cartoon Network to watch this latest (I hesitate to say "popular") Japanimation creation known as "Inuyasha". I'd like to think that I'm about 10% nerd, so why not watch a show that fills 120 to 130% of my geeky qualities. I can't explain the plot since I don't quite know what it is yet, but it involves some dude with cat ears and overwhelmingly gorgeous hair, a girl who never changes out of her jumper, a stupid cry-baby pussy who whines like he's always talking out his LiveJournal, and one extrordinarily hot woman who serves no other purpose other than to arouse my interest, if you know what I mean (and I think you do). She drags around a giant boomerang as big as the [never mind] I get [going to change the angle of this joke]. There's also a little cutie pie character that's about two inches tall and, surprisingly, doesn't get squished every episode. I'm still searching for his or her gender and purpose as well. But surely, the possibilities are endless with a group like this!
"Inuyasha" follows all the standard Japanimation cliches (which I aquired a great knowledge of from watching multiple episodes of Pokemon) by assuming its audience is composed entirely of lobodomy patients. Characters reiterate and overstate the obvious and repeat the name of the person they are addressing to ensure that even the two-month-olds are up to speed. Since it's Japanese and it's considered to be for "adults", there is a ton of meaningless violence. This enables the characters to yell out their every attack, or else they won't work, I suppose. Don't believe me? Just the other day I was trying to grab a cookie out of the cafeteria, but I couldn't nab it unless I yelled out "super awesome cookie grab". True story.
I hope I don't sound like I'm endorsing this show because I wouldn't suggest watching it. "Inuyasha" is what I refer to as "train wreck television" in which it is so disgustingly horrible that you mustn't look but can't turn away. Jerry Springer and every other daily talk show host has perfected this, and it appears that the rest of television is following suit. My suggestion, keep it on ESPN, or gouge your eyes out. Either one.

A Tribute to The Ultimate Bummer Song

Every so often, a song graces our ears that puts even musical genius to shame. A song that is so versitile, it can be used in times of both celebration and sorrow. Unfortunately, most people choose the latter, but that still does not detract from its greatness. Of course, I speak of Jeff Buckley's incomparable classic entitled "Hallelujah".
Okay, so technically the song does not belong to Jeff Buckley. It was written by Leonard Cohen, who I imagine smoked his share of hemp considering the song's lyrics are practically unintelligible. But that's beyond the point. The song's seven minutes of auditory glory have been featured in the following movies and television shows:

• Shrek
• Lord of War
• Law and Order: Special Victims Unit
• Without a Trace
• Vanilla Sky
• Sleepover (1995)
• When Night is Falling
• The Dead Zone
• The West Wing

Need I say more. But, it can't all be good. That soulless, vapid excuse for entertainment called "The O.C." tried to capitalize on the song's greatness, but the few of us with superior intellects saw through the producers' evil attempts like the pyramids au Louvre. "The O.C." may have tried to drag it down, but "Hallelujah" stood strong.
I alluded to the song's versitility in film and T.V. earlier, but its usefulness doesn't stop there. The guitar tabs for the song are easy to attain and easy to play, so next time your on the beach or at a camp fire with your acoustic guitar, put out "Hallelujah" and you'll be showing chicks your Oh! face in no time. Ohhh! Ohhh! You guys know what I'm talkin' about.
But remember when you're nailing chicks, the song is even more advantageous. After all:
Maybe there is a god above,
But all I've ever learned from love,
Was how to shoot somebody who out drew ya...
But it's not cry that you hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah...
Forget it. I can't sing the rest of the song. I wouldn't be doing it justice. Just buy it, download it, steal it from some old person, whatever. You simply owe it to yourself.

For Love or Money? I'm Gonna Have to go with the Money

I hesitate to write this post, since I watch an ungodly amount of television and no one will know what the hell I'm talking about. But for the sake of lowering my blood pressure, New Balance has a new ad campaign that asks all the pros out there, in case they've forgotten, "there are two motivations in sports, which is yours? For love or money?" Let me speak on the behalf of all professional athletes and say that they do in fact play for money. They don't have a choice, dipshits. That's what makes them professional athletes, they play to make money. But of course, the ad executives at New Balance are too damn stupid to realize this, so they'll live in an idealistic world where everyone will just play for the love of the game, or they're just pissed at the pros who choose not to endorse their products.
If that wasn't enough, the ads include empty-headed high school athletes acting tough because they supposedly play for the "love" (I wonder if love is the same as devotion, because love doesn't work in this context). Interestingly enough, all of these high schoolers in the commercials are white. Hmmm. Then they start parading around like little assholes telling professional athletes stuff like "this is what floor burn looks like" and "this is what a bunt looks like". Who better to tell us how to play to game then high schoolers? Next I suppose they'll be telling us how important their games are. Oh wait, they aren't. Easy for you to say, dickheads, your livelihood doesn't hinge on your ability to play since nobody gives a shit about high school sports. Let's see how much floor burn you have if your ability to play basketball depends on feeding your family.
But you know what, it doesn't matter. Advertisements are meant to sell products, but apparently that's not how New Balance rolls. Instead, they attempt to lure impressionable idiots into buying their sneakers, thinking that will somehow be sticking it to all the pros out there and playing for the "love" of the game. Fortunately, I have a little more faith in humanity, and people will realize that New Balance shoes blow, regardless of whatever their ads say. However, I still think that internal question, "for love or money" isn't directed towards just professional athletes, but general sports participants all over the world, like me. So if you ask me if I run cross-country or play hockey for love or money, I'm gonna have to say money. And chicks. I play for chicks.

Stick This in Your Office/Cubicle/Study Area Immediately

What's Claim to Fame/What's Claim to Lame

I'm sick of those stupid "What's hot and What's not" lists. So I've decided to compose my own list that will give you the real scoop, cookie dough favored.

What's Claim to Fame

J.J. Hardy: Early in the season, I threw this guy under the bus. Not only did I throw him under the bus, I drove it forwards and backwards over him several times. However, in the last week, he's been so good, it's stupid. This week alone, Hardy has batted 13 for 33, raising his average about 50 points, with three home runs and 13 RBIs, both doubling his season's totals. Perfect. I anticipate seeing an infield consisting of Prince Fielder, Rickey Weeks, Bill Hall and Hardy showing off World Series rings in a year or two

Mr. David Malaro: Although I haven't seen it, I already know that the movie "The Man" is the latest turd to hit movie theaters this week. Not only does it look shitty, but they miscast Samuel L. Jackson and Eugene Levy as "the man". The movie should've starred Mr. Malaro, my Ethics class teacher. Ironically enough, serving in Vietnam was the best thing that happened to him. His service in the military ultimate forced him to answer the moral questions that everyone faces, and now he wants to impart his knowledge to students like me without any political slant. Thank you, Mr. Malaro. You rock hardcore.

Notre Dame Football: I've been an avid fan of college football since 2001, but I've never had one single team to focus my fanaticism. But once the University of Notre Dame hired former New England offensive coordinator Charlie Weis, I discovered that I desperately wanted the Fighting Irish to do well. Not only because Weis rocks hardcore, but because the poor players are expected to maintain difficult academic standards while win potentially the most gratifying national championship in the history of college football. How the hell do the boosters expect to this team to win a championship with that schedule? Ever notice how every player on a national championship team has majored in football and minored in speech communication (probably used to speak to the press better)? I'm not saying that stadegy helps, but it doesn't hurt either.

What's Claim to Lame

Pilot Sunglasses: Every so often, a fashionable accessory is worn by a person in an effort to say that he or she is a condescending prick. Pilot sunglasses fill that void nicely. Not only are these sunglass worn by dicks, but they are permeantly attached to their face, even indoors. Nice job, asshole, ruin your eyesight, at least you'll look cool. It's been almost twenty years since that nuclear turd of a movie "Top Gun" was released, and the shades remain unpopular. Only pilots should be allowed to where those sunglasses, and I don't see you in a uniform, douche bag.

Social Justice: It's not that I care about people experiencing social injustice because I do. But what I didn't know is that the United States government was to blame for every atrocity in the history of the world. The Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict all spread blood across the hands of the United States. I blame my school for ruining the concept of social justice. The course taught me nothing, but to hate America and commit suicide as quickly as possible. Rather than look deeper into the causes of social justice or to examine ways to prevent it, we just observed ways the United States has prepetuated issues of social justice. Thank You, Mr. teacher who shall remain nameless.

Green Day: I recently came to the revelation that the band Green Day is not actually punk. No, in fact, Green Day is stupid. When I listen to music, I expect it to rock. But no, Green Day would rather prattle on about how they hate the war and President Bush. My favorite is their recent hit "American Idiot". In this particular song, they whine that the media manipulates the masses. Gee wiz, I didn't know Green Day was playing in another form of media and that they weren't manipulating impressionably idiotic fans who take their every word as gospel. Now I understand perfectly.

Catch All the Action in Major League Politics

Although many sports enthusists around the world will declare this fall the best time for sports this year with pennant races in Major League Baseball, the beginning of a new football season both in college and the NFL, and the return of the NHL to the ice (Okay, only I'm looking foward to that), none of these events will even light a candle to the action that will unfold this season in Major League Politics. But politics are not divided into seasons, the stupidity lasts all year round. I cannot wait for the constant battle between the repugnant Republicans and the dense Democrats to spread bullheaded banter across the land.
Since political affiliation has become so polarized in recent years, my readers will probably wonder which party I familiarize with. Please, allow me to ellaborate on this subject with a typical conflict between these two political parties by diving into the specifics. I will monitor the score as we go along. Let's begin:

1. Sports Comparision
What professional sports team do associate these two parties with? Sticking with baseball, I consider the Republicans to be...the New York Yankees, big blowhards how dominate the all discussion and arrogantly sit atop the plateau (I can hear Democrats screaming victory already). However, I associate the Democrats with...the New York Mets, inept losers who manage to lose no matter what the circumstance. Since both teams are from New York, they both blow. I award both teams zero points.
Current Score:
Republicans: 0
Democrats: 0

2. Candidates
For this topic, I will examine the best possible candidates that both parties have to offer. Since both would want their best candidates act as commander in chief, let's look at the most recent presidential election between Republican George W. Bush and Democrat John Kerry. What can say about our current president that hasn't already been said? The economy hasn't gotten any better, only gas prices and the national deficit have increased, and our army is stuck in a pointless war because they are supposedly "getting the job done". What that job is, I have no idea, but all of Bush's detractors fail to explain why they criticize him. I stand here criticizing Bush because I believe that I could do a better job as president. Hell, a dog that eats its own poop could do a better job than our incumbent president. I subtract one point from the Republicans' score (and the Democrats go wild). Concerning John Kerry, I have four words, "Lambert Field" and "Manny Ortez". If this man is so incredibly out of touch with such a simple thing like sports, what chance does have to be in touch with something as complex as politics. However, his devotion to politics could be the reason why he has the same amount of sports knowledge as a 5-year-old. I award the Democrats zero points.
Current Score:
Republicans: -1
Democrats: 0

3. Animals
My biggest beef with both of these parties is the animals they chose to represent them. Seriously, if you want an animal to represent your party, make it at least somewhat cool or tough. An elephant, c'mon. Choosing an animal that big is like driving a pimped-out Corolla. It compensates for a small penis. I subract six points for ever Republican who has an acorn in their pants. Choosing a donkey is like choosing a poodle over a golden retriever. Why don't you just upgrade to a horse. Donkeys are stupid and pointless. I subtract seven points.
Final Score:
Republicans: -7
Democrats: -7

I anticipate that hundreds of idealistic high schoolers out there will demand that I aline myself with their party based on issues. Well, that's why I chose not to associate myself with a political party. Unlike my Republican or Democratic friends who will support their party's candidate even if he or she is the next Hitler, I chose to vote based on issues. For example, (Disclaimer: any impressionable idiot who will cut off their reproductive organs for their political party are advised not to read the next sentence or else their heads might explode.) I am against abortion, but against the death penalty as well. Dear God, how can support two issues that cross party lines. I'll tell you how, because I'm 17-years-old and I can't vote, so I couldn't give a shit about politics. Please concern yourselves with other, more important things like homework and getting laid.

There's No Better Feeling Than Being Standard

I don't know about you, but I just love standardized testing. These tests put me the best of situations. I enter classes that only teach material that will be on the test. I have to pay a standard fee that will essentially be wasted if I don't receive an excellent score. But I don't mind, that money will go towards College Board so they can make more and more tests. My favorites are the advanced placement tests. I pay upwards of $50 to receive one of five scores, three of which represent mediocrity or inadequacy, so I like my chances.
In the spirit of standardized testing, I created an exam of my own in the form of my favorite section of the SATs, critical reading. What better way to determine a person's eligibility for college than an subjective, open-ended interpretation of some stupid passage that some 50-year-old wrote in his or her LiveJournal. Here we go:

Author Greg Mantell wrote this classic passage on his affection for the Milwaukee Brewers and his severe hatred of the New York Yankees, both teams currently playing in Major League Baseball.

1. What is the author's #1 reason for loving the Milwaukee Brewers?
A) Their Logo
B) Why Not?
C) Timeless Tradition
D) A Great Roster

Since the logo is the first item shown in the passage, the correct answer is (A). Although he specifically addresses (B), (C), and (D) in his piece, those answers would simply make too much sense.

2. Which player is the primary focus of the second paragraph?
A) Geoff Jenkins
B) Brady Clark
C) Carlos Lee
D) Russell Branyan

Since the author's favorite player on the Brewers' roster is Russell Branyan, the correct answer is (D). Of course this would require some prior knowledge of Branyan being Mr. Mantell's favorite player, a luxury that not everyone taking the test has. Oh well, I suggest taking the paying the fees and taking the test a few more times until you get it right.

3. What role do the New York Yankees play when compared to the Milwaukee Brewers?
A) A Foil
B) A Bad Team
C) A Crappy Team
D) An Evil Team

Since (B), (C), and (D) are virtually the same answer, and (A) makes the most sense, the correct answer is (C). Hey, if you struggle with interpreting passages the same way the test creators do, then buy every SAT aid book that College Board has to offer. Then pay the standard fee and take the test a few more times.

If you answered every question correctly, congratulations, you are standard. You do not have the creative capacity to accomplish anything other than a high score on these tests. Your mind does not work in any other imaginative form and you have a bright future of replacing robots on assembly lines. If you answered every question incorrectly, then you are inept. Thank you for taking this exam, and remember to place all of your money in the disposal bin labeled "To CollegeBoard.com". It would be just as helpful as actually taking the SATs.

Putting the "Dent" in "Independent" Music

I can no longer escape it. It has influtrated our most sacred institutions. The sidewalk, the subway, Panera Bread, even the radio is not immune to the headache-causing, vomit-inducing, mentally challenged offspring of music that is "independent music". I put its official title in quotation marks because it is not independent and barely qualifies as music. Since when did throwing around the label independent make everything so cool? "Oh, I'm independent. I'm my own man, woman, or crybaby. I'm not confined by any foreign influence when it comes to style or music. My music is free to be as boring and shitty as I want". The best things in life are far from independent, namely the Milwaukee Brewers. They achieve mediocrity through teamwork and a dependence on one another. They are a true team in every sense of the word, unlike the New York Yankees, who are a collection of money-driven dickheads. Even though they have a better record than my beloved team, I still consider the Yankees to be independent, because they blow.
I keep forgetting what makes this music so independent. Oh yeah, not a damn thing. Odd how every creator of this supposed independent music enjoys mutilating my eardrums with disgustingly repetative chord progressions on an old acoustic guitar that sounds as if it can't take much more of a beating. But if the guitar doesn't put you to sleep, the lyrics will. For some strange reason, every word must be terribly condescending and speak of how special the artist is or how painful their last breakup was (as if anyone cares). If that wasn't enough, these lyrics must be sung at the same speed of the singer's wit, unimaginably slow. They might as well write lyrics about how 2+2=5, they would be just as wrong. However, it's no surprise that this genre of music remains unattached to any record label. It's so damn crappy that no label would ever support it. Hell, it's so damn stupid, no genre will even claim it.
I happen to prefer music that requires more than one brain cell and testicle to write, such as hip-hop. Of course, readers will find me hypocritical for disparaging the arrogent lyrics found in independent music and praising the genre that features men bragging about all their money, cash, 'n hos. However, at least hip-hop artists have the balls to brag about those things in my face (sorry, up in my grill). When they rap, they always rap at 100%. They don't care if they're rapping to their entourage, a impressionable white kid, or a Republican Congressional Committee, they have the voice, intelligence, and audacity to make their music great, unlike the self-serving shitheads who make independent music. They would much rather sing in front of their pseudo-intellectual friends or on a sidewalk where passing people don't have the guts to say that their music sucks. Something must be done to stop my ears from bleeding. Since most independent musicians sing with eyes closed like pussies, I suggest replacing their guitars with bears holding WMDs. Wham! No more independent music. Hallelujah.

Stop Population Control Immediately!

The thought of having population control in nations throughout Asia makes me want to vomit in disgust. I'm from the America, damnit, and I believe that life is always a right and not a priviledge, just like wealth and happiness. However, the moral ramifications of population control don't bother me as much as the possibility of not allowing young ladies to blossum into beautiful mature women. Let's all just concede right now that Asia houses the most gorgeous women in the world. Their beauty shines brighter than that of any other race of women because they are smarter, have more personality, and are not confined by the evil powers of fashion. Fashion blows. Not only does it hide the natural hotness of women behind 800 tons of makeup, but it also tricks stupid teenagers into buying flat-brimmed hip-hop hats, big, black and baggy gothic jeans, and stupid polo shirts. Trust me kids, those clothes will come in handy when you have a job mixing concrete. Fashion is to blame for the existence of Abercrombie and Finch. Fashion is to blame for sweat shop labor in third world countries. Fashion is evil, don't do it.
But back to lecture at hand. If you seek the hottest women in the world, look no further than these three. On the far right, Michelle Yeoh, who has a firm kung fu grip on all things beautiful (she was the Bond girl in Tomorrow Never Dies and the older, less atractive woman in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon). At center, not only is Sandra Oh gorgeous, but she was born in Ottawa, so she's gots to love hockey (sick). And on the far left is Gish Jen, who takes a lot of liberties when it comes to attractiveness. I'll just let my audience gaze at their extrordinary beauty:

hot hotter hottest

Upon close examination of Gish Jen, many members of my audience will assume that I have poured an excessive amount of Windex into my eyes (The ones who don't are blind). However, Jen is on this list for one reason, she penned the novel Typical American (Note: I cannot underline, so excuse all book titles). Usually I won't talk about literature, because I'd rather do something less painful than reading like jump off a cliff. But this book was not as much reading as it was a sensual experience. I do not hesitate in saying that Jen's Typical American is the greatest piece of writing in the history of literature. What's my reasoning, you ask? This novel actually improves upon the Great American Novel. It is everything I wish The Great Gatsby could be. Where The Great Gatsby was boring and boobless, "Oh, look at Gatsby, isn't he great. Oh look, he died, isn't that terrible. Oh, look at Tom and Daisy, they're huge dicks. Let's relate all this to the Age of Exploration in North America", Jen's novel will knock you senseless, literally (get it, literally. Ah, never mind). While other authors don't have the balls to describe sexual intercourse and only imply it, (i.e. "They had some coffee and went to the bed. End of Chapter") Jen enhances the erotic experience with incredibly detailed description. I'm pretty sure that many members of my audience are reading this before they masturbate to porn in a few minutes. Please, do not bust that nut just yet. Reading Typical American is the intellectual alternative to pornography. At one point, I expected a door bell to ring, a delivery boy to be standing at the door, and a character asking "Did somebody order a pizza?". That would be followed by melodious porn music and a long session of three-way loving making. Read Gish Jen's Typical American immediately if not sooner.

Break the Bonds of Being an Enormous Pussy

He has completed one of the hardest tasks in sports over 700 times. In a historical perspective, his career statistics boarder on the absurd. He is blessed with perhaps the greatest combination of speed and strength in the history of baseball. When people read these descriptions, they envision a big, black baseball player wearing #25 and playing for the San Franscico Giants. However, that assumption is incorrect. The sentences above actually describe the world's biggest pussy.
The only other way to describe Barry Bonds, besides one of the greatest baseball players of all time, is as a giant, walking vagina. You could consider him a dick as well, considering he must occupy three lockers and a lazy boy chair in the clubhouse to accomidate his gigantic, concrete head (I believe he should have half the normal locker space to accomidate his tiny penis). Still, his audacity to actually whine about his supposed "struggles" confirms his status as a the world's largest steroid-filled pussy. He is not only blessed with unimaginable talent, but also the dedication to become one of the greatest atheletes of this era. Yet no one with an IQ lower than 10 can be given those gifts and still screw it up as badly as Bonds has.
Well, I guess some of the criticism that Bonds has faced has been unwarrented. After all, he said it himself, "Babe Ruth wasn't black, he didn't have to go through the same things I do". Absolutely, Ruth didn't have to endure the terrible pain of growing up in the pampered lifestyle of the Major Leagues with his father Bobby and his godfather Willie Mays. I'm sure he'd much rather have Ruth's childhood, spent in an impoverished orphanage and resorting to theft and robbery just to survive. But again, Bonds does not have the luxury of being white. That's why he will never play for the Red Sox because "[Boston] is too racist for me". Of course, Barry has never set foot in Boston, and I'm glad, because everyday when I commute into work, I pray that I don't hear something racist or hurtful towards African Americans. Oh wait, I'm sorry, that hasn't happened in 40 years. Although I will admit that I would have a hard time hitting a baseball while knowing that somewhere many miles away, someone hates Barry for the color of his skin. Or people hate him for being a brain-dead, hypocritical, steroid-filled dolt. Either one.
But in all seriousness, this man could be the king of Saudi Arabia with all of his ability and he would manage to complain. Most of his grievences are directed towards the media and their supposed attempts to hurt him. After all, what did Barry ever do the media, beside remain silent to reporters, not allow them to do their jobs, and destroy their livelihood. I don't see journalists on the field preventing Bonds from doing his job (Although I wish they would, to make the game a little more fair). Maybe if you just answered their questions like a professional, Barry, they would attempt to hurt you. But no, you still need to gripe while speaking at a 10-year-old's level about how the media makes the rehabilitation for your bum knee even harder. Oh boo hoo hoo.
I hope this season has shown Bonds that the entire universe does not revolve around his Jupiter-sized head. Baseball is still popular, and the front office has its big-name, steroid scapegoat in Rafael Palmeiro, so Barry doesn't have to sully his reputation an further. But Bonds will probably still take steroids next season despite the new regulations because he stated himself, "What is cheating". I'm starting to believe all the ignorance pleas from Bonds when it comes to steroids since he appears to have the mental capacity of a 5-year-old (Even kids in pre-school know what cheating is). So lets review for Barry because he's about 35 years behind the rest of us. Cheating is breaking the rules and perimeters of a game in order to give yourself an unfair advantage. I know that baseball did not have any limits on steroid use until now, but there is one unwritten rule that every baseball player follows no matter what age or ability level:

• Do not embarass or disrespect the game of baseball

Bonds knew that taking steroids was cheating probably before other professional sports leagues like the NFL ban these substances. Yet he decided to take a proverbial piss on the game's greats like Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, and Willie Mays by going on the juice. I could indict Joes Canseco for doing the same thing, but my friends, colleagues, and I have rendered his existence completely pointless. I can only hope that Bonds will retire and never approach the game of baseball again, in the Hall of Fame or otherwise. Thank God he has never won a World Series because the Earth would probably explode after associating the words "Barry Bonds" with "champion".

If You Want One Reason to Love the Milwaukee Brewers, I Will Give You One Million

1. Why Not?: If you are currently searching for a team in Major League Baseball to support, you will not find any team that is as cool or as classy as the Milwaukee Brewers (maybe the Red Sox). With a great roster, spectacular stadium, timeless tradition, and a manner of pathetic lovability that will strike your heart with deadly accuracy, the Brewers have the total package. But enough complimenting these generalizations, it's time to get into specifics.
2. A Roster for Everyone: No matter who you are or who you claim to be, I guarantee you will find some form of application with at least one member of the Brewers' roster. Success should not be measured by the ability or talent of a team's roster, but by the number of diverse personalities that the team features. That is why the Brewers have the best roster in the Major Leagues. For example, if you identify yourself as a hard-working, blue collar man or woman, look no further then the Brewers two resident tough guys, Brady Clark and Geoff Jenkins. Everyday these two men will eat nails for breakfast, bring their hard hat and lunch pail to the ballpark, run themselves into the ground, produce results on the field, and do it all without receiving any fanfare. Hell, Jenkins will run through a wall to record an out. Anything that doesn't kill him will only make him stronger. A catcher with 50 pounds on him is blocking the plate? Geoff will still try to knock the eyeballs out of his head. That fastball is three feet off the plate? So what? He'll swing at it anyway. But the identity of the team does not only apply to the blue collared ones out there. If you slick, pimp, and always drop it like it's hot, then Bill Hall and Rickie Weeks are your men. If you're big and you don't shit from anyone, then look no further than "El Caballo" Carlos Lee. If your natural ability is hidden behind a goofy manner and a lack of coordination, then share your pain with Lyle Overbay. If you're from Australia, hey Trent Durrington is too.
3. The Pimpin'est Stadium in the League: Seriously, gaze at Miller Park, and don't try to act unimpressed by its shear awesomeness. A retractable roof, great seats anywhere in the park, delicious food, bathrooms with the toilets that have the little sprinklers in them so you don't have to wipe, sausage races, need I say more. Anyone who says that Miller Park is not the best ballpark in the Bigs is lying. Try to name better stadium, and remember that Wrigley and Fenway are falling apart so they don't count. Umm, uhh, yeah that's what I thought.
4. They are not the New York Yankees: Everynight in my prayers before I go to bed, I ask God why he allowed Satan to create and run a baseball team. Everything about the Yankees reeks of evil and homo-eroticism. I would presume that team with the most championships of any team professional sports would accomodate itself with a nice stadium in a nice neighborhood. But no, the shit hole that is Yankee Stadium is located in the trashiest section of the Bronx. Anyone who says that Yankee Stadium is the best ballpark in the league is either not yet ready to admit that Miller Park is the greatest structure ever erected, or does not have an IQ that reaches the double digits. Even though Yankee Stadium is the largest ballpark by capacity in the Major Leagues, George Steinbrenner still has the audacity to charge the same ticket prices as a stadiums with 20,000 less seats (check out the prices at Fenway if you're interested). The "Stadium" is made all the worse by the self-proclaimed "best fans in the world". Ironically enough, a team with such a winning pedigree has a fan base composed entirely of losers. How big of a loser must you be to associate yourself with such a winning team?

The Yankees are the anti-Brewers with their unbelievably shitty roster and shitty stadium. The widely held belief that Derek Jeter is a homosexual is no coincidence. The signs are simply too glaring and obvious. Of course millions of dumbass Yankees fans will rush to Jeter's defense and say, "but greg, jeters not gay, he dates supermodells!!11". Exactly, Jeter is so insecure with his masculinity and so desperate to display his affection for women that he will "date" supermodels. But Alex Rodriguez and Jorge Posada don't seem to mind. They can always borrow the models' lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, etc. (A-rod and Posada are the antithesis of Brady Clark and Geoff Jenkins).
I could continue slurping the Brewers or disparaging the Yankees, but I have neither the time nor the inclination to do so. But I do have one million reasons to absolutely love the Milwaukee Brewers, trust me.