RAW: NATURAL BORN ARTISTS

I enjoy my art like a four-year-old enjoys a package of hot dogs, raw.

            Events such as this, even though it was my first, get me excited and remind me that there is hope for those poor bastards who have yet to do anything with their college degree in art and are working somewhere for near minimum wage after taxes. There are thousands people out there from Montana to Mars looking to inspire or be inspired and that’s been the mission of RAW artists since 2009. Their goal has been to showcase the most talented independent artists and designers from almost anywhere in the world that has access to a crayon. Not only does the artist have a chance to exhibit their creativity at the shows, but they can also make a little money as well by selling their work at whatever events they are invited to. Only the best artists and designers from that region are invited to display or sell their work, so don’t think you can just piss on a piece of stapled canvas and set up shop at one of these events.

            As far as the turnout on a Sunday night was concerned; the multi-floored nightclub was packed with onlookers and potential clients of various natures. For the most part, it still felt very nightclub-ish, with the loud house music, the creepers trolling for ladies and the overpriced coat check area not including tips.

            My reason for attending that evening’s festivities was actually the art and I’m not even an artsy type of person. I can barely draw my own name and I compare the Mona Lisa to a random fat girl hunting for any craigslist guy she can get her hooves on. That being said, the length of my attention span isn’t very impressive. I was prepared to treat this situation like going to a wine bar; find something you like and milk it for about an hour, then bolt out the door hoping for a P.F. Chang’s nearby.

            Regardless of the length of time I spent there, I was thoroughly impressed with the amount of effort and detail that went into the majority of the work that was on display and for sale. There was a seamstress in the middle of making a new piece while her other work was on display, there was a large abstract section with similarities to the very famous Jackson Pollack, they even had a looping video showing the creation of some of their works. All the while the bartenders were pumping out drinks to keep the mood festive; which I think all art galleries should aspire to. I don’t think I could stare at a Picasso painting sober, then again, neither could Picasso.

            They did save one of the edgier photographers for the top floor where some viewer discretion was advised, in other words…titties. Whatever amount of alcohol one consumed before reaching the top floor, this gallery would surely sober you up in a hurry.

            I think that’s why I like this sort of stuff I guess. It’s a lot like comedy, uncensored, unapologetic, opinionated, overdramatic, and most importantly, like comedy, it’s honest.

            I left the club that evening a little happier and somewhat fulfilled with all of the work that went into preparing that evening, I even purchased a nice little piece for myself that I have recently framed and placed on my wall. I know, I’m such a douche-bag, but the fact is I put a little more money into some artists pocket so that they may continue the dream they put so much hard work into. I look forward to attending another such evening and everyone should check their area for a similar event. It beats staying home and watching reruns of ‘The Walking Dead’.

www.rawartists.org
www.rumourboston.com

SEEN ANY MOVIES LATELY?

Another Saturday evening spent sitting with a glass of tequila staring at a ten-inch netbook, when I have a perfectly fine 22-inch HD computer screen in the other room, yet I’m compelled to sit here at the corner of my pillow drowned sofa and hopefully have thoughts drafted before passing out in the same position in which I’ve grown accustomed to writing every article since the very beginning. Thankfully movie season is here and I have a few thoughts and opinions about what I’ve seen from the comfort of my own home and from the sticky floors of the theater. Chances are if it’s a big movie and it is opening weekend, you’ll find me there. So let’s see what’s good, what’s not, and what is coming up to either see or avoid.

            300: RISE OF AN EMPIRE

I get it. It wasn’t the first one. Know why? The first one was made in 2006. King Leonidas is dead. The 300 were massacred. So guess what? You can’t make a sequel about them. “Hey, we have a bunch of Athenians still left. Granted they’re not as skilled or jacked like the Spartans, but it might be enough for another movie.”

            Works for me! The first movie was a dude-flick a lot like ‘Predator’ where there was very little female presence and mostly abs, arms and war cries. However, in order to attract a large enough audience, the ladies needed to be involved. So once again, Zack Snyder manipulated history in favor of a better movie plot and recruited a Bond girl. Arguably one of the best Bond girls ever, Eva Green takes over the screen from the moment she shows up and makes every other character including Xerxes look like a bunch of punks. The movie itself moves along quite nicely and the display of color is a little different from the first movie. ‘300’ had a little more of a gold and red feel throughout the whole movie, where ‘Rise of an Empire’ was a little more black and blue. Honestly though, I could of used five more minutes at the end to give the Spartans and Queen Gorgo a little more respect as they had just lost their King and were awfully pissed off, but despite that, you can tell that a lot of effort went into the production of this prequel/sequel and it shows through its imagery and attention to detail (…although not for it’s historical accuracy), but who gives a s#%t, IT’S A MOVIE! I highly recommend seeing ‘300’ and then watching ‘Rise of an Empire’, but plan on having some really rough sex after, whether it be with a companion or by yourself.

            OBLIVION

If you have a problem with Tom Cruise, then you have a problem with yourself. The guy’s a great actor and leaves it all on the screen. I wasn’t able to catch this in theaters last year, but had the pleasure of viewing this on my Cinema friendly Plasma screen. I’ve noticed that the majority of my movies lately have contained some crazy plot twists and this one is pretty interesting. The movie takes on a large scale quickly as Cruise’s character talks about the alien wars, a broken moon, and our decimated planet. There are questions that are going to be left to the viewer’s speculation, but this flick is a little more involved with the emotion of the main characters than with the overall back story of the war. A hint before you watch this, if you miss any part of this for some reason, whether it’s a pee break or you nod off, you’re screwed. There a lot of information and emotion to absorb before the credits roll that you can’t treat this like an episode of ‘Family Guy’.

For such a large production budget, the cast is surprisingly small, so most of the cash went into CGI and Tom Cruise’s paycheck. I also notice that when Cruise does sci-fi, the plot takes a while to get going, so the viewer might get a little agitated when things don’t blow up almost immediately like if you strapped a Go-Pro to Optimus Prime’s head. However as far as sci-fi adventure goes, this movie wasn’t thrown together in quickly; it’s full of great visuals, solid acting, and a large emphasis on the importance of humanity and its simple pleasures.

COMING SOON!

You’ll almost certainly find me watching Captain America, Godzilla and Transformers, because I’m a fan of blockbusters and leaving the theater near exhaustion. I love opening weekend, big lines, smuggling in candy and getting there early so I can make fun of the people who showed up as the previews start and can’t find a decent seat. These are my favorite simple pleasures and since good Yankee tickets cost near a grand, I’ll certainly be at the theater more often. 

FOUR COURSE MEAL: PART FOUR

Seriously, how many parts are there going to be? Well to be honest, as many as possible. Sometimes a topic only needs a small mention as opposed to a full-page dissertation. The American attention span is getting smaller by the hour to the point where sex, drugs and twitter will seem like watching Braveheart. Not that I’m knocking Braveheart… as a matter of fact, after I’m done writing, I think I’ll watch it. I mean the battles were awesome, the French Princess chick was smoking, and the crazy Irish dude…anyways on to the topics.

          The Purge:

Finally, after months of hesitation and reading bad reviews, I gave in and watched a movie that has without a doubt, the most horrifying premise ever put to film and that includes surgically attaching people together to make them resemble a Centipede. Imagine a United States where for one night a year, all crime was legal. Think about it, from 7pm to 7am, absolute bedlam, no police, no hospitals, no fire rescue. You and your family are on their own, even your neighbors can’t be trusted. The movie focuses mainly on one family, so you never get that full sense of the appalling chaos that is going on just outside their high class neighborhood. As most horror movies go, the dialogue is rather weak and the characters are very generic, but as far as the tension is concerned, I was for the most part, locked in and a little sweaty. Maybe from reading all those bad reviews, I came away from the movie feeling somewhat satisfied, maybe because I didn’t spend money to go see it. Despite all it’s flaws, including a name that sounds more like a weight-loss program, I feel this series could turn into something very interesting and maybe an ongoing story that draws to a huge conclusion and will hopefully turn some heads in the world of cinema…or not.

          Lunch in the Workplace:

Have you ever watched people struggle after lunch at work? Try it sometime, pick out a few people and study their behavior before they stuff that microwave burrito down their gullet and after as they become hauntingly quiet and rub their stomachs as to wonder why for the eighty-third day in a row that they ate that over-processed pile of s%#t. You may even catch someone sleeping at their desk.  Go ahead and quietly observe this phenomenon, unless you’re one of those people, in which case I look forward to watching you and laughing. Here’s a tip, if your workplace one day offers free lunch, turn it down. You know those pizzas they ordered are going to be nothing but a gastric nightmare even though you’ve caved several times in the past just so you wouldn’t have to make your own lunch the night before. Just say no. The ass-cramps just aren’t worth it and your certainly capable of making a sound decision that will leave you and your surrounding coworkers in a more pleasant state.

          Traffic Laws:

I feel like a Coldplay song should start playing whenever you see something completely asinine in traffic. It’s a true sign that our world and its rules are falling apart. What drives me bananas is while the police are feverishly hunting down modest speeders, they’re not looking for jerk-offs who don’t use their turn signal as if the function wasn’t available on their car or those fools blocking busy intersections. These are the true offenders of the road. All you’re doing is slowing traffic for other intersections and creating huge butterfly effect even Ashton Kutcher couldn’t figure out. The cops should focus more on crushing these types of traffic felons and less on someone doing eighty in a sixty-five. However, if they drive a Subaru, double the fine.

          Raw Artists (www.rawartists.org)

Just a quick piece on an event that’s taking place next weekend, A great way to support independent artists, designers and musicians in a city near you is to visit rawartists.org and look for what’s coming up near you. My first experience will be down in Boston at Club Rumour Sunday, March 23rd.  I’m hoping to see some really far out and incredibly detailed pieces from people all over the area. Maybe I’ll even snap a few photos, but then again, I’d rather enjoy the event then be holding a stupid a camera the whole time. So I encourage people to get their own tickets and check it out for themselves. If it’s good, I’ll be the first one to say it, but if it’s pompous and a waste of time and money, I’ll tell you straight up to save your money and use it on something more important, like rent or child support.

FOUR COURSE MEAL: PART THREE

Financing your junk food:

          I’d be lying if I said I’ve never brought outside food into a movie theater. I also know it’s my own damn fault if I was caught. However judging from rising ticket prices and the stupid amount theaters charge for most concessions, this is a tradition I’m happy to continue honoring. For the amount of movies I see in a year and the prices I pay for IMAX, I’m sure they can afford me rolling in with a bag of Twizzlers. Sadly, there’s no way around popcorn and soda. Soda can risky, but popcorn is just implausible. That’s where they tighten the noose on the consumer. When you as the minimum wage counter person though are going to stand there and charge me six dollars for a bag of popcorn that I’m going to spill forty-five minutes into the movie, are you really surprised when people give a look that could kill cancer? And as far as fructose, when you charge five dollars for a fountain soda when down the street at the convenience store a thirty-two ounce cost seventy-nine cents, don’t be surprised when most theater-goers start showing up in cargo pants. Starbucks thinks your prices are inflated.

Spousal Flatulence:

          Why is this tolerated? How goddamn lazy is someone that they can’t simply retreat to a bathroom to let off a little steam, they have to announce their presence by blowing up living rooms across America and send helpless women and children into seclusion in other parts of the home. Burping is one thing, but crop-dusting loved ones on purpose should be punishable by death. Ladies you’re not off the hook either, the first time can be funny, cute and loveable, the second time is when I look for my relationship receipt and consider a refund. It’s not my fault you ordered the garlic butter French fries, either stick your ass out the car on the ride home or get used to riding in the trunk. I didn’t buy this car freshener only to hear you burn a hole in my passenger seat. Knock it off.

Breast Augmentation:

          I appreciate breasts for what they are and when a woman decides that their breasts are in need of some type of improvement, then you won’t hear a peep out of me. I look at this way; you’re sitting in the delivery room and Doctor Steinberg comes to you congratulating you the man on a beautiful new set of twins. Coochy coooo! Can you say Dada? Now when a man sees real breast, it can be intense, dramatic, serious to the point where they can’t really be enjoyed. Now fake breasts, it’s all a party! They bounce and lean differently and make you smile like when a child sees their first ice cream. It’s joyful and lighthearted. Fake breasts remind us all that life’s meant to be enjoyed. Women get them for so many reasons, so men should enjoy them for just as many.

Patent Trolls Update:

            Recently, Podcasters have taken up arms against Personal Audio, a company out of Texas that holds certain patents that they claim entertainers such as Adam Carolla and others are in clear violation of. I will spare you the boring details this time of the wording of the patents, but it boils down to if Mcdonalds went to Burger King and said, “we put pickles on our burger first, so you can’t do that!” I have a pickle for Personal Audio, guess where they can stick it? A donation firm called E.F.F. recently won a court decision saying that Personal Audio’s subpoena to obtain information donors information was deemed in a way, “unconstitutional” under the first amendment. So this will help protect the privacy of those crowdfunding donors who choose to stay private with their information. As far as my stance, Positive Sarcasm stands completely behind the podcasters, the subscribers, the crowdfunding companies and the donors who’ve supported them. However, this is far from over.

FIRST DATE

Most guys have two pairs of jeans, one with holes and one without holes; Gals have an entire catalog of clothing, none of which that seem to be of any value come that first date. Even if the guy they found in the internet seems more like a throw-away than a potential keeper, they still prefer dressing for success. The reason is that while the date is going along with awful conversation about jobs, weather and past relationships, the girl is scanning the room for potential that she may consider after she hastily discards of the sweaty-palmed GameStop Assistant Manager. Her social media has been updated since she went to the bathroom to “pee”, so now every person knows that not only is she on a first date, but that it’s going as well as the Titanic’s maiden voyage. Also as the dude is struggling to achieve simple conversation, that piece of ass that she has on standby just texted her because his night just opened up coincidently shortly after her S.O.S. post on Facebook only a few minutes earlier.  So as she says goodnight to her date with a fake smile and a half-hearted hug, the guy flees around the corner to blast out that Cool Ranch Dorito fart he’s been holding in for the entire date before heading home and pleasuring himself with cocoa butter, while the girl who says she’s going home to let her cat out is actually heading over to Tyler’s place for a well-coordinated backup booty call…Meow. Let’s try to figure out what went wrong.

            FYI, I also have problems maintaining more than two or three decent pairs of jeans, it seems that a couple pair will cease to be wearable within days of one another and if I leave the store with five new pairs, two or three pair will randomly burst into flames, but I digress. Back to the main topic, first off ladies, that guy your meeting for the first time is single for a reason, he either trolls for lost souls on multiple dating sites so he can build up an arsenal of ladies or his gingivitis reaches your nostrils before his words do. The guy also likely rubbed one out right before the date so that it would be less stressful, so believing that he probably didn’t wash his hands properly, you strategically go for a little hug over a handshake…but that was a poor decision also. To avoid any accidental snot rockets, the guy chronically picked his nose all while in his car and before he had a chance to eat the last one, the girl came around the corner; which surprised him. He panics and when the girl goes in for the lazy hug, Johnny Rocket Snot conveniently deposits the sticky DNA onto the back of her blouse. If I smell my food before I eat, you should smell your date’s hands before shaking them. If they seem a little salty, then everything is fine. If they smell like they’ve been out in the field picking mushrooms, bolt for the door.

            Men, take note, if the ladies do not text or contact you within a week after the date, it’s official that you’ve been written off.  So never bother texting the girl first, if they’re not hitting you up for any reason, just move on.  Never be the first one to text after a first date. If they’ve forgotten about you, then they’re not worth pursuing at that time.

            This s#&t isn’t made up people, this is very common. Unless you’re a goddamn Astronaut, women don’t care about what you do for work, ladies treat men like used cars, they look around the lot, determine the mileage and peace out. As for guys unless you’re looking for short term companionship, don’t use your Willy Wonka as a compass, it’s partially blind and has no brain in the immediate area.

There may be a part two to this in the future, but for now, start with this information and see what happens.  Love is in the air.

THE PROMISED LAND

“Pack your s#%t dear, we’re out of this place!” says every state Senator to their spouse and/or mistress as they pack up the passport, convert all their cash to some foreign currency and catch the first international flight out of the promise land. Please note that I do not rant about politics, but merely ask a question that in my mind seems plausible: What if our entire Federal Government left?

          It happens in other countries, Presidents skip town, military forces seize control, I’m just wondering what happens after everyone in the Executive branch, the house, the senate and whatever else one may deem federal just either quits or bolts for the border. Now you’re more likely to be raped by a Unicorn than to have an entire government cease to operate permanently. I know that we’ve had shutdowns and whatnot in the past few years, but unlike others, this year I felt no effects of it. In fact, my taxes were processed faster than any other year. But what if Peggy in accounting wasn’t receiving her bi-weekly paycheck, why the hell would she want to process mine? It’s true that states have their own governing bodies, but many are reliant on federal grants and other types of funding in order to operate. California’s bankrupt, Detroit is on life support and seriously, what would possess you to visit Delaware? As a result of the disbanding government, Texas would separate itself from the Union faster than Popeye’s Chicken through your lower intestine. So, where does that leave Oklahoma? Actually nobody cares about Oklahoma.

          So here we are, no leader, no federal government, nobody to represent our population of chicken nuggets and TMZ. Those aren’t even exports. We’re now forty-nine states and we can’t move. America is fat, so it’s time to shed some weight!

          I mentioned that Texas bolted at the first sign of trouble, don’t worry they’ll be fine. They’ll adopt Oklahoma and turn it into a cattle ranch/barbeque pit. Florida will either flood out or consume itself. It’s too damn hot, half the state is crawling with lunatics and the either half without their government checks won’t be able to afford trifocals, so that problem will fix itself.

          So Florida, Texas and Oklahoma are out. What about Hawaii? Pack a C-130 cargo plane and airdrop them a large supply of SPAM every six months. Problem solved, Hawaii stays. Washington DC will be absorbed by Virginia and they’ll turn Capital Hill into a bunch of museums, hotels and buffet joints. So Virginia stays, but only if they look after their slower brother, West Virginia.

          As far as Alaska is concerned, unless you plan on speaking Russian, I suggest you start learning the Canadian National Anthem. No we’re down to forty-six. Few more states and we may be able to see our genitals again.

          Now what about Vermont? Pretty useless state, right? Then again, so are New Hampshire and Maine. When combining the population of these three states, it’s merely percentage points against the rest of the remaining US. So guess what New England? Half of you are going back! New England… meet Old England. So when one crosses the Massachusetts border, they better have their passport ready for Her Majesty, The Queen. The Brits deserve a little breathing room anyway, all cramped on that island, how about you spread your wings and break in your new Aston Martin with a speed run through Burlington? Do whatever you want; it’s yours now! Rhode Island’s owned by mobsters anyway, so scratch them off the list of contributors. Forty-two states left.

          Montana we’ll keep, because once Texas bolts, Ted Nugent is going to need his own state and North Dakota clearly isn’t big enough. We’ll hang on to Idaho for starch purposes. Kansas and Nebraska we’ll give back to the Native Americans. I would’ve also suggested New Mexico, but someone needs to keep an eye on Texas, because Arkansas and Louisiana certainly aren’t up to the task. I mentioned Delaware earlier. Dude, what are you doing? You’re Maryland, stop pretending that you’re a different state.

Finally, I would like to congratulate the state of California on becoming a tax haven in this new Union. No more losing movie contracts to Vancouver, rolling blackouts or corrupt public officials. You’re officially on notice California. You better straighten these problems out or you’re not getting an invite to this party. Consider yourself warned, because I have no problem cutting your state in two and selling the lower half to Japan.

          For now though, the union stands much stronger, leaner and well populated with thirty-nine glorious states. We’ll have to teach Alabama how to count that high first; then we can start working on the smaller problems.

          Welcome to the new world, thirty-nine strong and our stock’s rising.

COLLEGE BOUND & GAGGED

When one loses something, it’s always important to retrace your steps as this method has a very high success rate in finding whatever it is that you misplaced. So be sure to apply this method when you completely lose your goddamn mind after seeing your overall debt from two to four years of college where you spent an easy six figures just to land your dream job making thirteen dollars an hour and working six days a week making your financial situation more stretched out then Octo-Mom on the delivery table.

      Newsflash, we’re not all doctors and accountants, would you really want me planning out your cancer treatments? “Alright Mrs. Morrison, you need to up your daily spoonfuls of sugar from two to four and remember to schedule your weekly marshmallow injections here at the office.”  My mother always told me that Jolly Ranchers beat Leukemia all day, so I trust her judgment. However why do current curriculums allow college students to believe that degrees in English Literature or Illustration are useful in the real world? Yeah I’ll be the first one in line to congratulate you on this piece of paper with raised lettering that took you four years to get and cost eighty grand and you can’t start paying back the principal of the loan because your bachelors degree Douchemaker State College will land you a promising job waiting tables at a Mexican themed restaurant that boasts about it’s mediocre Chimichangas.

      Every recent article I’ve read says that going to college returns on average much less in the current economy, but not going at all is a career death sentence. So you have an option between being in debt by the time you turn 21 or you can be turned down for almost every single administrative job that would pay you just enough to land you a studio apartment just outside the city. Oh, and expect to be driving the same car that you’ve had since high school, you know the Volkswagon Golf with the missing hubcaps and cassette player. You’ll be so broke that you won’t able to afford even your own personality.

      Now please understand, the situation in the states is probably not going to improve anytime soon, so instead of throwing in the towel and feeding off the government like a lot of obese calorie hoarders in this country, let’s make the most out of what we have and turn this s&#t sandwich into a nice chicken salad. First off, that Volkswagon is a huge plus when it comes to gas prices, it seats four, tires are less expensive and you plenty of room in the hatchback for where you plan to travel. So I say schedule it for a strong tune up, replace the rims with some highway friendly factory wheels and make sure you keep up on the cosmetic appearance as well. Pretty soon your 200,000 mile, fifteen year-old backroad bomber is transformed into a respectable post college hipster mobile. Also the backseats fold down for extra storage and if you have an iPod or MP3 player, that cassette deck turns into your very own DJ Tiesto!

      I mentioned studio apartments earlier…I actually am a fan of the one room party pad, cuz let’s be honest, roommates suck. They never clean up, they’re late on the rent, they eat all your groceries, and forget to lock the door. I say what better way to learn how to become a more responsible adult then to manage 400 square feet of hardwood heaven. You can “Craigslist” decorate anyway you choose, choose your own cable and internet plan (if you want any at all) plus your cereal and ramen noodles will still be there in the morning and not be eaten by that smelly vermin you call a roommate. Your own little spot that noone can alter or take away from you…unless your late on the rent.

      As for choosing colleges, unless you’re smart enough for a four degree in a legitimate paying field, go for a two year degree in a high demand field or at least a more job market friendly degree. An Associates degree on average can render just as much reward as a Bachelors degree. Plus you’re not burnt out after two years, you’re ready to hit the market and make some kind of paycheck. Internships are recommended if you can find them. Don’t expect anything from anyone including your parents or immediate family. They can barely afford to look at you, let alone pay for your tuition or rent, plus if you plan on having a safe social life, colleges are cracking down on partying due to the increased liability that causes room and board prices to skyrocket. So it’s financially smarter to just get your own place off campus so that you can sip your cheap whisky in peace and quiet, plus you can peacefully get your rocks either by yourself or with the opposite sex without an assigned roommate barging in unexpectedly because they were just kicked out of math class.

      So let’s see what we have so far, a decent car, an apartment, a degree in a good field, and a completely private social life. By living off campus, your college debt will be much lower, you’ll save a bunch of money in gas with your little front-wheel drive grocery getter, and if you live near the city center, you can also walk to places which also comes in handy incase you need jimmy hats or had a little too much…alcohol. I can only complain about the education system and the economy so much, it’s up to you to make the best out of the situation that’s available.

      As for an inexpensive beer, I recommend either Schaefer or Narrangansett. Trust me, Pabst Blue Ribbon is only for if you have a fiber deficiency. 

FOUR COURSE MEAL: PART TWO

SOUP OR SALAD: TRANSGENDER MODELING

If you can model a bra and a pair a boxer briefs, then my friend, you have a gift. I think of it as having an Ace in your poker hand, it’s no different than going into a job interview and having more skills than the other applicants. More skills mean more of a chance of getting hired. So if you’re a clothing company and you only need one model on the payroll, why not hire a person who rocks a C cup and packs heat on daily basis? That is how you succeed as a small business, asset management! Would your little world really be that disrupted if Kate Upton was “Swinging Dixie” or if Hugh Jackman was a little hollow down south? Let’s face it; we have bigger things to concern ourselves with. However, I’m not sure I could deal with a transgender James Bond. That situation is actually fine how it is, so not everything needs to be ruined with a stupid petition.

PALATE CLEANSER: ALEX RODRIGUEZ

You can’t win them all, as for A-Rod, he can’t seem to win anything lately. I guess that’s what happens when you’re booed by the fans, overpaid, batting under .270, lacking personality, jealous of Derek Jeter, popped for PED’s twice, suspended for two seasons, over-dramatic with your comments (i.e. “fighting for your life”), ratting on other players, filing lawsuits, losing appeals, complaining to the media, not clutch in the playoffs, not fan friendly, overall a complete shame to the game of baseball. Bud Selig’s tactics for nailing A-Rod were certainly dirty, but it doesn’t make Alex any less of a disgrace to the uniform. Go away and don’t ever come back.

PRIME RIBBING: PATENT TROLLS

Probably the dirtiest player in the business, essentially a Patent Troll is a company that files obscure and very generic patents for just about any type of product or service, (none of which they actually created) and as soon as the patent is granted, they turn their lawyers loose on larger businesses to basically extort them of large sums of cash. In many instances, the larger companies quietly hand over a certain dollar amount and this makes the trolls go away for a while. In more depressing scenarios, the legitimate business being sued cannot afford to either settle or fight these assholes in court for various reasons, either they can’t afford the legal fees or if the troll lives in another state or country, it makes travel costs plus political lobbying a mountain the company can’t traverse. Currently the Iron Man of Podcasting, Adam Carolla is being sued for $3 Million by Personal Audio, a company located deep in the heart of Texas, which has been granted a patent for “a system for disseminating media content representing episodes in a serialized sequence"…sounds like a generic pile legal Horses#$t, right?  Thankfully, due to the Ace Man’s pride, legal team and ability to crowd source additional funding, he may very well win this battle and in the long run, save the entire podcasting community. Also note that he started his podcast roughly two weeks before the patent was filed for. I recommend watching this one closely.

ICING ON THE CAKE: THE OLYMPICS

Ah, good ole Russia. Where men are men and the bathrooms are out of order…in some places they never were in order. The opening ceremony was actually quite enjoyable, it reminded me of ‘Rocky IV’ when he fights Ivan Drago. As far as the all issues that have been reported in the first couple weeks, I’m not going to put all the blame on Big Red. How about the IOC that gave Sochi the greenlight to begin with! Maybe they would have been smart enough to know that maybe it wasn’t the best time to have the Olympics in Russia. I’m sure a committee member fell asleep during the voting process, and next thing we know, the water is yellow, the toilets don’t work and stray dogs are disappearing all over Sochi. But I’m pretty sure if the Jamaican Bobsled team takes home the gold, all this jibba jabba will be a minor afterthought. I now pronounce The Hunger, I mean Olympic Games OPEN!!!

YOUR LOCAL WEATHER FORECAST

Flurries are expected, run for your lives!!! Or better yet, don’t. Wasn’t watching the weather something that retired seniors did when they weren’t catching the six A.M. transit bus to IHOP for the early bird special or stroking out on a par three golf course? Haven’t we all laughed as we drove by that all-wheel drive BMW or 4x4 Jeep buried in a snow pile just off the highway? That’s what paying thousands of dollars more will get you: a white wash, a tow truck bill and public embarrassment as hundreds of commuters point and stare at your $40,000 driving machine balls deep in a snowbank, or if it’s a Subaru…scissoring the snowbank.

        As you pull into your little apartment with your $4,000 front-wheel drive Honda after laughing off some highway calories, what’s the first thing you do when you get inside? Check the weather channel? WRONG. What’s the point? You’re going to log into your facebook account and see what your old boyfriend Travis is nailing as of late. “He’s with Raquel? That fat bitch, what a slam-pig!” So wondering weather there will be a chance of flurries later on that night will be the least of your concerns.

        Yet, the trend lately is to absolutely terrify every one of you and keep you glued to the television or computer as they show you Doppler radar, satellite imaging, three day forecasts, wind chill temperatures, areas affected, rain/snowfall amounts and whatever graphic garbage they can make up to throw on the screen to deter you from going back out and having revenge sex on your ex-boyfriend…yes, Travis.

        The reporting on weather events successfully filled the news void between school shootings and legalizing Marijuana. You hit your favorite news site and big bold letters it reads, “Giant Storm threatens Northeast” or “Massive cold front halts air travel” or “hundreds fall ill on Caribbean Cruise Liner”. Even though the last headline is totally off topic, like the first two, it’s a crap news story. If you live in the northeast, you expect snow, its called winter and it shows up for about four to five months every year. If your flights are constantly cancelled by the aftermath of cold fronts, consider moving south, I hear there’s this thing called the Equator and the closer you move to it…the warmer it becomes. Check Wikipedia, I’m pretty sure it’s accurate. If you’re on a cruise ship and you get sick, what did you expect when you stepped onboard alongside 4,000 other fat middle-aged white people all diving for the same crab legs at the buffet table?

        Weather reports, nine times out of ten, are almost completely useless, and when the weather does play a serious role, your local weather personality misses the ball and you end with over a dozen people dead in Atlanta with nightmare traffic accidents.

        I’m glad DirecTV dumped the Weather Channel, they’re antiquated and show nothing but YouTube videos about tornados. If there’s a hurricane or massive wildfire, then this is worth paying attention to if it’s in your area, other than that, Winter Storm Rico isn’t stopping me from heading out into the snow and taking home Travis’s ex-girlfriend.

        Another thought to consider, stop naming storms. Was Super Storm Sandy really appropriate? What did Sandy ever do to you? She’s a nice lady! If you’re a news organization and you truly want to frighten people, how about Tropical Storm Hitler or Cold Front Caligula? I’m pretty sure Winter Storm Sandusky would have all the kids fleeing indoors.

        I can’t stand when people talk about the weather; it’s a sign of poor conversation skills, maybe if the teachers unions had any common sense, they would incorporate   these ideas in their classrooms and then this may stop the trend of bad news stories like if you should stock up on canned goods this weekend instead of doing…Raquel.

        You want to know what the weather is? Look out the f%#in window.

FOUR COURSE MEAL

APPETIZER: EULOGY

On a lighter note, everyone can rejoice in the knowledge that death forgets no one. So don’t worry, you’ll be invited to at least one party in your life and you’ll most likely be the center of attention, unless cousin Tommy shows up with his Armani Coat, four-door Jaguar and swimsuit model wife, then you may have to settle for second place. At least you’re in for nice long nap that won’t be interrupted by someone’s annoying car alarm.

Now who’s the poor sap that has to prepare your words of farewell? I mean, consider all the things you’ve done wrong in your life and the fact that someone else has to stand up at the podium and paint a halfway decent portrait of your sorry ass for twenty minutes. It was pretty funny that your funeral invites went out on facebook. At least you kept up with the times. Most importantly, who gets your 1997 Toyota Camry with 238,000 miles? Maybe God needs it, I heard times are tough up in Heaventown and layoffs are rumored.

TOSSED SALAD: JUSTIN BIEBER

      I’m confused, wasn’t the Lamborghini that Bieber was drag racing a rental? Who the hell would lend a $200,000 convertible to a clown under the age of 25 for a paltry $1,500 a day? Well it’s legal and the company did, to a hyper-spoiled Canadian pop star that after two beers resembles a Taiwanese bantamweight boxer wobbling back to his corner in the 11th round of a title fight.

       You’d think that all 140 pounds of the Biebs would learn something from Paul Walker’s tragic mishap, but instead he’ll put together a Delta Force like legal team and never serve a day of the potential 18 months in prison. However if in fact incarcerated, I’m sure he could brush up on his “twerking” skills.

MAIN COURSE: SUPERMAN VS. BATMAN

            I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but after a thousand movies, hundreds of sequels and dozens of reboots, I’ve decided to finally throw in the towel. I am, without a doubt, a fan of ‘Man of Steel’ and ‘The Dark Knight’ trilogy. But after so many opportunities to cast Joseph Gordon-Levitt or recast Christian Bale…you end up with Ben Affleck? So apparently Bruce Wayne is from Dorchester, Mass and has a wicked ‘Southie’ accent. I would go purely for the comedy aspect, but I’m drawing the line with this one. I will NEVER watch this movie and as a blockbuster fanatic, this statement sits perfectly fine in my stomach. If you look at the calendar of theater releases, there plenty of huge popcorn flicks coming to satisfy my palette for the next five years. I’m sure once the sequel to Avatar draws near, the buzz for this will quickly fade.

DESSERT: LEGALIZED PROSTITUTION

            Oh forget about making weed legal, you want to lower stress levels in this dying country and save everyone from a possible mall shooting? How about monthly mailer with deals and discounts from the local “Purple Fox”, your neighborhood friendly brothel? Before you start getting offended, don’t worry; right next to the ‘Purple Fox’ there’s the lady friendly ‘Prince Broadswords’. Imagine this as an anniversary present for that bored couple. Also it would certainly clean up the streets, not mention the IRS would be seeing a lot more revenue coming (…ha…) their way. Imagine all the road rage fading into oblivion as your commute home just became more relaxing. This is exactly what the new healthcare mandate is missing…Happy Endings! Why take Prozac when your health plan could include a “rub ‘n’ tug”? 

ALL APOLOGIES

Do any of these sound familiar:  “To those I have offended”, “If I’ve upset anyone”, “If you were hurt by my actions”? What does this really mean anyway? I understand you want to say sorry to your parents because you turned out to be a crappy kid, but after that, apologies sort of lose their usefulness. Seriously, if the US military launches a cruise missile and it crashes a cupcake party at a school somewhere in Afghanistan, I’m not sure sending over an Ambassador to basically say “hey, our bad.” is going to make the situation better.  But this is an extreme example, the garbage apologies I’m referring to are the ones fired off by celebrities and comedians who have corporate ties and have to issue a meaningless apology in order to appease that bored group of basement dwellers, the soccer mom lobbyists, and the one politician spearheading the movement in order to grab more votes so he can continue to steal taxpayers money.

One that sticks in my head is Tiger Woods (who isn’t a comedian…but I still laugh at his robot voice). Essentially he was boinking Waffle-House waitresses while he was married, and one night his wife took a golf club to his Escalade; it’s a big enough vehicle, no way she could have missed that hole-in-one. Obviously the news groups ran with it like an Olympic torch and it quickly turned into one the largest news stories in the last ten years, larger than Kim Kardashian’s wedding(s). After a while, Tiger offered an apology via a press conference and after about a year, all his sponsors who dropped him, came crawling back to his newly grown goatee and he was back in business giving all the press a giant Nike cold shoulder. Now why are you apologizing to me, Tiger? I didn’t turn on the TV to watch you struggle over a pre-written apology, get your ass on the golf course and make the cut for the US Open. You’re not my role model, go play golf! It’s not as if your daughter is playing with Legos in one room and El Tigre is crushing sub-par ass in the next. If you’re a good enough parent, Tiger’s actions will never negatively impact your child’s development.

Now since the majority of these apologies are prewritten and edited for content, one could have easily opened a business on the web selling “apology” templates instead of resume and cover letter help.

Tracy Morgan issued an apology for his supposed “anti-gay” comments he made in reference to his son. No one in the media or from the Human Rights Campaign took the time to ask Tracy why he said what he said, whether it was a joke, or simply misunderstood; which is almost always the case. Instead the HRM immediately called for an apology from Tracy regardless of the fact that it was said onstage in front of a comedy crowd which is basically the last haven for free speech. My belief is that because of Tracy’s affiliation with NBC’s “30 Rock”, he was pushed to offer an apology in order to shut everyone up. If not for ’30 Rock’, all you would get from Tracy Morgan was a middle finger in your face.

How the mighty continue to fall under the corporate sword that gives way to anyone who deems something to be offensive-

Jay Mohr, Steve Martin, Daniel Tosh, Michael Richards, Jason Alexander, and Paula Deen who should maybe apologize for putting two sticks of butter into whatever pie she’s making. I’ll take two.

            Thankfully, there are the titans like Ricky Gervais and Louis C.K. who continue to stand strong and remind us that in a world full of death, starvation, inequality and political correctness, these few continue to do comedy and entertainment their way without the influence of some lobbying jackass who goes on social media to say how they are soooo offended by so&so’s comments. Comedian Gilbert Gottfried said rather simply, (para-phrasing) “If you’re watching a comic who works blue and says a joke that you don’t like or think is funny, don’t laugh at it and wait for the next joke.  If you don’t like the next joke, you can quietly leave.”

            Here’s some easy advice that everyone should put into their mental pocket effective immediately, if you see a headline about someone supposedly saying or doing something offensive, stop right there. Don’t continue reading or click on the headline, all you’re doing is feeding the beast. If these craptastic articles aren’t read or purchased, they will no longer be written.

            Finally, if you’re at a comedy club and the comic is working on new jokes that strike you as offensive, I beg of you not to heckle in any way shape or form. If you do, you may very well throw the comic off his rhythm and also you’re ruining the enjoyment of other people around you who paid good money to be there. Also comics are generally very intelligent so they are ready to deal with a heckler at a moment’s notice. If you still truly feel that your voice should be heard anyway, I have a social experiment for you. Make your way to the Comedy Cellar in NYC and throw a verbal jab at the likes of Nick DiPaolo, Bill Burr or Jim Norton, you’ll understand very quickly and disgracefully why political correctness is trying to tear our Constitutional right to free speech apart and comedy is the only glue holding it together.

            This sort of turned into a rant about political correctness but hey…deal with it, ass-clowns.

KAMA SUTRA-KAZE

“Kama Sutra” - Ancient Indian Hindu text widely considered to be the standard work on human sexual behavior. A portion of the work consists of practical advice on sexual intercourse.

“Kamikaze” – Suicide attacks by Japanese military pilots in the closing stages of World War II, designed to destroy warships more effectively than was possible with conventional attacks.

            Did you understand all that? Now go steal your partner’s undies and run around the house with a plastic bag tied around your head while pleasuring yourself to reruns of “The Flintstones”. WILMA, I’M HOME! NOW CHOKE ME!

            I understand. As a male, sex is wonderful, spiritual and life changing…until you’re done. Then you just want to lie down in front of the TV and cry. As a female, sex is supposed to be emotional, bonding, and stress relieving…until he’s done. Then you just want to cry and hit him over the head with the TV.

            Maybe your rebuttal to my statement is “well my sex life is great”, to which I reply, “I DON’T CARE” If you have a great sex life, I don’t want to hear about it. However, if your sex life isn’t great, you may end up like the actor David Carradine hanging naked dead in a closet in Bangkok; which in this case, I will most likely hear about it. Have you choked on your Panini yet?

            I understand that certain religions and cultures have specific sexual guidelines, and that there are limits to what a person is allowed to do with themselves and other parties. On the flipside of this groin-coin, the idea of having a sex life compared to the simple motion of a rocking chair has almost become an outdated thought process and like the immediate need for faster food, faster news, and faster overall gratification, our sexual balance is not maturing at a healthy pace and is therefore, mutating and spinning out of control to point of every time a new teen pop star debuts a new music video, we’re either grabbing the closest available lubricant and rubbing our junk against the screen or we’re fastening dildos to plug-in power drills. Please know that if your considering either action to grab a heart healthy lubricant such as olive or coconut oil and to always plug your power drill into a surge protector because most drills are not water proof.

            What I find funny in today’s world consisting of over six billion people and a few donkeys or sheep, is that the two things we strive for the most, money and sex, we have yet to find a healthy balance to either. A person is now either too poor or too rich, or having too much or not enough sex. I can’t just have that 40-foot yacht; I have to have one the size of a soccer field finished in stainless steel and shaped like the Delorean from “Back to the Future”. And of course you can’t just have the pretty blond with the perky C-cups who likes to have her hair pulled, nooooooo, you also have to have her church-going sister who’s practicing to become a nun!

            Isn’t an OREO cookie disgusting enough to where we hopefully won’t shove three of them inside of a triple cheeseburger with glazed donuts used as the bun? I can’t even enjoy the visceral beauty of a hurricane on the weather channel without looking at the ‘eye’ of it as another orifice to shove my proverbial boner into.

            Now if you believe the answer to avoid becoming a sexual deviant is finding god, don’t be surprised if you wake up the next day all battered and bruised from being beaten with a sex toy, because your religion may very well be a small part of the problem to begin with! There are many other factors to also consider, but the fact is that if you repress or suppress something for too long, the pressure will eventually mount to a Pompeian sexual catastrophe that will consume you and others around you. Learn to respect the power that is your libido and if treated properly thru a healthy “diet” we may very well stop the Sun from turning Planet Earth into it’s bitch.

            If you think I’m going to hell for I’ve said, guess what? Heaven has ‘lifetime’ and hell has ‘Cinemax’, I know where the parties at.

NEW YEARS EVE: THE JAGERNOTES

“Bartender, more receipt paper!” Yelling that four times while situated in the DJ booth can be a difficult task, but the writing never stopped until the time I left the event in the wee hours of that morning. I sit here deciphering five pages of notes covered in Jagermeister, originally written with the help of Jagermeister. I believe as a rule one cannot turn drunken thoughts into sober writing. So in order to relay what information I have available to you from that evening, I’ll have to crush a pot of coffee, down a couple servings of Don Julio Tequila, and watch J.J. Abrams ‘Cloverfield’ backwards. 

Do take note that the whole time I’m writing this information down, Chris B. in charge of the lights is on my left controlling the entire dance floor hitting buttons that make the lights change frequency/color, fire strobes off, and shoot off a snow machine that resembles exploding chickens.

On my right is DJ Danjah. His job consists of mixing the music, filtering requests, scratching records , informing me whenever something gets “f$&ked up” and landing planes at Logan Airport all at the same time, he also had the duty of screaming into microphone every 10 minutes, “Put your f%#in hands up!” As drunk as the whole bar was, everyone seemed to obey this simple request, even the girl on the dance podium who struggled to keep her erupting Z-Cups in check. I had a rooting interest in this as my JagerNotes clearly say “Tits Suspenders, Stop Staring”. Seriously, why is this busty broad destroying 16 ounce canned PBR’s? Isn’t there a law against this on New Years Eve? As she puts the drink back between her bing-bongs, I quickly notice that besides the dancing 4ft tall lesbian, filing into the club is enough USDA Prime Cut Ass to stop a Japanese Bullet Train.

          Hang on, DJ Danjah just grabbed the mic again, “PUT YOUR F#%$IN HANDS UP!” Heavy bass quickly follows this announcement as another chicken has clearly exploded over the dance floor, or was it that girl’s colossal cleavage? Obviously she crushed enough PBR to induce that pyroclastic flow.

          Let’s take a look at more of my Jagernotes. All the usual suspects are in play right on queue. We have the visually angry girl standing in the middle of the dance floor staring someone down, there’s the middle-aged Indian gentlemen who creeps at the club every Saturday night since 2007 and still has his retro flip phone attached to this belt loop as most cool people do. There’s the women who requests ‘Dancing Queen”, but wont get to hear until after the bar closes and everybody’s left except for her. There’s Billie Jean, who surprisingly, isn’t his lover. Well MJ if it’s not her then who? You never made a sequel to that song! There’s the random crotch grab that I never identified and probably won’t want to. There’s the two bored girls sitting in the corner with martini glasses not designed for a dance floor. And then of course there’s this; “PUT YOUR F%&#IN HANDS UP!”

          I’ve already ignored the fact that while being in the DJ booth, my ear plugs have disintegrated and so I will be hearing crystalware tuning for the next two weeks as my hearing recovers from the bass bullying my eardrums. It’s amazing the amount of stress the human body can absorb on one single evening, from the thumping bass of death, to the uncountable amount of voltage in the lightshow which was enough to black out the Superbowl.

          Here comes the ball drop, Countdown, 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. KABOOM! Dead Chickens everywhere! Her Tits explode! Some chick Hyper-belches in my direction, another successful wallet purging has taken place on December 31st.

As the New Year parades into our lives, I find myself noticing a lot of people as depressed as those suicidal balloons leaping to their deaths as they hit the dance floor.

I know 2014 may be a tough year coming for some folks, but I do reserve a generous amount of hope for myself and for others as well. I was fortunate enough to have seen every minute of it from the cockpit of the whole operation that evening. The lights, the music, the bartenders, it was a full blitz to end 2013 and as for the rest of the evening after leaving the club that night… well that’s none of your damn business J Just remember folks, it’s a new day, a new year, a chance to start something that could forever change your life.

One final thought to close this out…

 PUT YOUR F$&%IN HANDS UP!

Credits:

DJ Danjah

Chris B. “Lights”

World War Z-Cup

Indian Flip-Phone Guy

Tiny Dancer

Stiff Angry Chick

Phantom Crotch Grabber

Dancing Queen

Two Bored Girls

Jagermeister

Special Thanks to:

Arena Night Club & Sports Bar (Nashua, NH)

Charlie (Owner)

Matt (Manager)

Tanya, the bartender who kept giving me paper.

JAMES BOND, 00FENSIVE?

Unlike our favorite British Secret Agent, I sadly do not have a license to kill. However, I do have creative license to piss a few people off, so maybe this will draw some similarities to the infamous tuxedo wearing, gadget wielding, lady slayer that is one of the last few symbols of masculinity left in this world.

            Knowing fully well of his love for booze and bed wrecking, women since the cinematic debut of ‘Dr. No’ in 1962; still hold a certain James Bond close to their heart, and maybe a few other areas as well. But why in a time where news media and social media purposely over-inflate garbage news stories, which all conform to the restrictions of political correctness; does a mythical man like this still exist on the big screen? Sadly, he is a myth. Men of this coarse nature are becoming harder to find as every word, spoken or written, is captured, scrutinized, misinterpreted and read to the general public as something completely different. One could point the finger towards large corporations desiring to appeal to a larger fan-base in an effort to build up an already massive revenue stream. Maybe it’s the lobbying by a more aggressive feminist movement or TV shows like ‘The View’ spewing their caustic post-menopausal hate juice, but what could possibly be worse than a daytime show piloted by five overpaid, over-the-hill windbags? The answer is a society full of weak-minded males.

Now let’s be perfectly clear, I don’t condone slapping women’s asses in broad daylight as a form of career encouragement, unless it’s a company party and you’re looking to plow through a few cocktails and maybe a few coworkers as well. I do however take offense to the glairing popularity of a vanilla popsicle like Justin Bieber over, say, a Daniel Craig or a Michael Fassbender. Daniel Craig has a personality that in many ways reflects his martini sipping alter-ego; where as Bieber couldn’t crack a Triscuit with a pair of vice-grips. Stand him next to Miley Cyrus and we’ll see who’s a bigger pussy. They could be twins for all we know! If Adolf Hitler knew his master race would consist of Miley and Bieber look-a-likes, he might have just settled for opening a Bed ‘n’ Breakfast in East Berlin.

Was there a meeting of the genders that I missed? Was there a paragraph in the collective bargaining agreement stating we had to relinquish our balls? My sources indicate in the upcoming Bond Movie, 007 is tasked with saving a litter of puppies from an evil cigar smoking henchmen and along the way meets his life partner at a new-age church function over cookies ‘n’ fruit punch. I guess if it can compete in the box office against ‘Ice Age 7’ that’s all that matters right? As long as it doesn’t offend anyone, it will most likely get the green light. Awwww, puppies!

The simplicity of being a male is something I cherish very closely. I love the idea of making impulsive decisions and possibly regretting it later. This spontaneity can also lead to great things, like a first kiss, a new career, a cute baby. James Bond is arrogant, impulsive, womanizing, brash and mentally unstable. So he’s essentially perfect. So comparing 007’s decision making in today’s soft serve world, why do we always form a committee after a negative event occurs in order to remove liability from ourselves in fear of nay-sayers and attorneys with deep pockets? If Jimmy B had three henchmen standing in his way, one gets shot, the second is captured for interrogation and the third is thrown off a rooftop purely out of anger. Problem solved, job well done. We’re so focused on what everyone else is doing that we’re not paying attention to what we’re doing. James Bond isn’t checking his facebook feed to see how Money Penny’s handling her recent breakup. He’s busy doing guy stuff.

Do me a favor; there are roughly twenty-five James Bond movies. Take some time off from your busy blogging schedule and plow through these flicks, write down five things you find offensive about them, then loosely roll up that paper and shove it up your ass. No one should care about what you find offensive! Yet, our news is filled with it, our jobs are affected by it and now it’s drastically shaping the human race, for the worse. If James Bond dies, we as a species die with him. Our heroes in uniform look up to cinematic legends like him. By preserving and breaking through this age of over-coverage, there’s still a chance to turn things around, but it will take every man, woman and child to save ourselves from this snowball of s&#t we’ve created for humanity.

Happy F&#%ing New Year.

FIVE GUYS, ONE BURGER

Well, it’s official. I’ve caved in, given in to the sheer power… basically sold out. I told myself in the beginning that I wouldn’t write about these guys (five of them to be exact), because every foodie in North America has taken a crack at it, and I figured that FIVE GUYS has already received plenty of accolades, they wouldn’t need my input at this point…but then again, who really does? I write because I have to, it’s the only way my head doesn’t explode. The fact is that so many times I’ve been walking towards my car and the scent hits me; inevitably altering my course. The aroma wafts through the constantly opening front door past the mesmerized, conga line-sized mass of customers as they aggressively push each other almost over the counter while massaging themselves in burger grease, evoking images of Black Friday in the toy section.

                Okay, maybe it’s not that insane, large vats of grease aren’t available to the customers and nobody’s knocking each other out for the latest stuffed animal or video game, but I believe FIVE GUYS has a concrete reputation for satisfying your craving every time you order. You’re coaxed inside by the aroma and the promise of a caloric invasion that blitzes the palette, when in line you’re presented with a 50’s style menu consisting of more food toppings then actual food. However this is a smart idea, because it keeps the line moving and since everyone is ordering either a burger, fries or a hot dog, not only is the food coming out faster, but the food going in is noticeably fresher. Most holiday shoppers who prefer a sit down restaurant during the holiday rush will have higher chances of being plagued with aggravating wait times, rudeness whether it be from the wait staff or from the customer themselves, a sub-par meal and a wallet chaffing bill that may rival the amount that you spent on lil Timmy’s LEGO spaceship; which he’ll most certainly lose half of the parts to before he’s done unwrapping the damn gift.

                Christmas shopping can be annoying enough with all the traffic and mall Santa’s, but your lunch break doesn’t have to be. These deceptively filling bundles of saturated joy can make any person cry out of their naughty parts. Ordering the burger is easy, do you want one patty or two? The harder part for the first timers is what toppings would you like. Now they do have additional toppings that they charge extra for such as cheese, bacon and lap dances, but the friendly array of condiments and toppings like mayo, lettuce, ketchup, mustard, relish, tomatoes, grilled onions and grilled mushrooms can all be piled onto your burger for no cost at all. This combined with a side of gorgeous fries cooked in peanut oil and maybe a Coke will certainly help you forget about that fender bender you had in holiday traffic or that alimony payment you struggled to make the day before.

                Now if you’re wondering whether you have a FIVE GUYS in your area, the odds are on your side. They’re most likely ringing your door bell right now. Their little menu and lustful flavor have taken over the North American landscape and will soon be a branch of government.

                Well there it is, you finally got your way, FIVE GUYS. Another poor schmuck has taken time out of their day to kneel at your red and white checkered feet and will succumb to the scent that you heathens purposely pipe directly into traffic and the only way that I will boycott your franchise is if it was discovered your meat was made from ground puppies.

Happy Holidays you bastards.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries

www.fiveguys.com

THE BEST MAN

The Average cost for an American wedding is about 25 grand. The average cost for a divorce is about 15 grand. How much does the best man take out of his pocket to compensate either scenario after shooting his mouth off about the time the groom got loose at the “massage parlor”? The answer is zero. And yet he’s still hitting the open bar that you overpaid for in order to wash down his shrimp cocktail. Many terrible traditions still reign supreme in today’s wedding ceremony, and some new ground rules should be put in place to avoid these oncoming train wrecks, from bad jokes to family secrets, to all out fist fights. Let’s explore some of these situations and maybe save a few marriages in the process.

            Let’s of course, start with the selection of the best man and the maid of honor. The original concept was simple, yet sincere. Now it’s been reduced to obligatory and guilt-ridden. Do you always have to pick your underachieving sibling or alcoholic best friend from college? For one thing, you can’t trust these people to do your laundry let alone use discretion while giving a speech during the reception. You invite dozens, if not hundreds of people to this one (and hopefully only) most important event in your life, but you emotionally concede in giving the microphone over to your railed out jerk-off cousin who spills the beans about how you got drunk one night and made out with Tommy’s wife of 5 years? It was Tommy, right? How can you tell through the slurred speech as your bestie slobbers into the microphone while your 70 year-old parents are watching in horror, trying desperately not to have dual heart attacks? You as a couple were just getting over the maid of honor’s speech where she suddenly thought it was open-mic night at the Comedy Cellar as she fires off one poorly timed inside joke after another. The maid of honor’s job is simply to prevent the bride-to-be from falling onto another guy before the wedding starts, after the wedding it’s fair game. Instead she’s trying to do her best Jerry Seinfeld impression as the microphone slowly melts into her champagne-stained cleavage.

            Here’s some new rules to consider; no drinking or drugs before the speech, or how about no speech at all? Bad jokes, forgettable memories, and family-dividing confessions make that 25 thousand dollar center-cut steak taste like a drive-thru hamburger. We’ve all probably witnessed the best of luck speech that quickly turned into a sob-fest; which results in some people leaving before the first dance of the newly married, but soon to be divorced couple.

            I once witnessed a best man essentially “come out of the closet” at a Christian wedding in front of 200 people…also in attendance was his wife and child. I found it curious when he spoke about dancing in his room to Britney Spears while his brother crushed Black Sabbath; insert some crying, a few confessions about being “different” and BANG! You’re on the dance floor and the Bestie returns from the bathroom dressed as a Dragonfly…Dragonfly. It had wings and everything.

            Another thing, when people get angry at weddings, why is it immediately the bride’s responsibility to go and make everyone happy again? Isn’t it her day? She’s the one wearing the dress and who put the whole ceremony together. She’s the one who has to put up with bad sex for next 20 years until the hubby stops putting out altogether. Here’s a subtle nudge, if you’re at a wedding and you become upset about something or someone…leave. Go home. Stomping around the reception trying to get people’s attention about the fact that you don’t like your assigned seat is so immature and yet it happens so often. It’s the bride and grooms time to be in the spotlight and enjoy themselves, so do us all a favor, if you’re throwing a temper tantrum about something, go drive your head into a snow bank to cool off your childish behavior.

            Here’s another trashy, half-ass move that’s common at most weddings- the useless gift. In traditional Italian weddings, if you didn’t have any true gift ideas that would separate you from the pack, one would leave cash. Any amount is fine; the newlywed couple will appreciate your generosity. Nobody needs a stainless steel toaster oven that wasn’t on the gift registry, unless later that same evening it’s used as a projectile aimed at your car window. No excuses, step your game up. Booze and cash wins every time.

            I can’t wait for the wedding invitation to show up in my mailbox, so that I may possibly write a sequel to this, because this party bus takes all kinds of passengers and I guarantee someone you didn’t expect to come, has an off night and blows chunks right in the ice bucket.

            Enjoy your Honeymoon!

WRITER'S BLOCK

What’s “PS” going to write about next? Could it be about the tasty bagel place in Bedford? Will he riff on a subject currently trending in our subculture? Will he go off about the gay bashing bible thumpers out of Topeka, Kansas? Who’s he going to befriend or offend next!?!?!

            A while back, I spoke with Johnny V “Mr. Bassist” about writing articles on a regular basis, and when I mean “a while back”, when my heated seats were just for decoration and spinning out on the road was more intentional than accidental, Before Mr. Bassist and myself spoke about the Identity that is now ‘Positive Sarcasm’, I mentioned that if I could make it to ten articles, I’d have no problem reaching fifty…cough.

            Sure there are weekends where the subject matter is killer and the words roll off the tongue like a Latin lover stealing your partner like some kind of Don Juan DeManwhore. Other days, one is simply smashing their forehead against the keyboard in hopes of forming some kind of readable sentence. I’ll compare it to a guitar player sitting in a makeshift studio, flicking the same two chords over and over again in hopes of hitting something by accident and having that “EUREKA!” moment. Actually, have you ever heard a guitarist ever say “EUREKA!”? Have you ever heard ANYONE use the word after discovering something great? Besides those pretend Geeks on “The Big Bang Theory”, I think this word has seen its last days and will hopefully fade away into oblivion. Normally when a guitarist discovers a new riff, he turns to the producer and shouts, “F*#k, this is good dope!”

            It’s not that I’m out of ideas; it’s that, like a good hurricane, or typhoon if you live near the pacific, the subject matter needs the right environment to form into something stronger. Otherwise that category-5 sputters down to a warm fart in the shower. It needs the right  ambiance, music, tea, coffee, booze, or tobacco. But your tools can’t become a distraction during the process. You can write to the ‘The Eels’ on low volume with a small glass of green tea or a jigger of rum over ice. However, blasting ‘Nin Inch Nails’ after coating your intestines with Irish Car Bombs will quickly turn your thought-provoking piece of writing into random DNA finger painting.

            Thankfully, I’ve formed a rough plan to continue this politically incorrect bullet train well into the New Year. I’ve been fortunate at this point to know my ranting has NOT been politically, religiously or monetarily skewed or filtered in any way. Some articles will be better than others, some will be reviews, some will be rants, some more offensive or more perverted than others. But this isn’t going to be how you view the world; it’s going to be how I view it. However your thoughts on subjects or maybe your experiences are certainly welcome.

        So as the sticky notes begin to pile up about what could be my next article, I’m happy to say that I’ve somehow drawn a conclusion to this mess, at least in my head anyway. I continue to seek out what I find interesting and often delicious, like Anthony Bourdain, but on a much tighter budget…and no TV deal.

A VERY HIPSTER HOLIDAY

“Merry Christmas sweetheart, here’s the keys to a 1984 Volvo Station-Wagon, an iPad 7 that costs more than the Volvo, and a gift certificate to Starbucks so you can sit alone in the corner while sipping your 9 dollar vanilla frappa-dorko”.

            …It’s not fun getting your ass kicked in an overpriced argyle sweater vest.

If you’re confused, I’m referring to the loud life of the modern day hipster. If you’re really confused, I’ll backtrack even further…the world is round, woman can vote, and being gay is not a detainable offense, unless you live in Russia.

Now let us not confuse a hipster with any other group of moderately privileged white people. Grunge was not a hipster movement; this was a movement of anger and rebellion.  The 60’s were not a hipster movement, this was a media based changing of the times. Coffee Shops and Blogging had nothing to do with it. Hipsters can simply be compared to H.I.V.; they mutate rapidly and are nearly impossible to kill.

However, unlike “the HIV”, hipsters have a place in American Society and deservedly so. Yes someone who only watches Indie movies that never made it to theaters, buys ‘Death Cab For Cutie’ tickets on pre-sale, shows off to everyone their new overpriced black-framed eyeglasses to make themselves look more intelligent/geeky and when you see the glasses, you’re less likely to punch them in the face and go for a body blow instead; which probably will be cushioned by the thickness of their argyle sweater, the fact that their grammar is so overly correct and pronounced you just want to puke on their plastic boat shoes, or that…ok, I’ve veered off course too much this time. Let’s reset this before the “blogging hipster” takes an axe to my front door…oh I forgot, hipsters don’t have any muscles, and yet you can’t take one out while in traffic. Ever tried to t-bone a Volvo Wagon? Car has more protection on it than some of the Hum-V’s in Iraq.

Look I don’t hate hipsters, I just find them very easy to make fun of, because like Headline News or Locust, they tend to move from one craze to another without truly understanding the depth of it; they just consume it until its useless or doesn’t draw any further attention. Sadly, they ruined the appeal of boat shoes, but nobodies losing sleep over the appeal of Pabst Blue Ribbon. It’s a garbage beer, but someone has to drink it and it helps immensely when you’re constipated. So I guess instead of Locust, we’ll compare them to spiders, we don’t like them when they’re in our home, but they have a place in our world and they help get rid of the mosquitoes. Volvos are hideous cars, but hipsters are generally very safe drivers making the Volvo even safer than it already is. And no one despises The Kardashian’s more than the hipster population. I’m sure the hipsters have a plan to over-inflate her gigantic ass with hydrogen so when she rubs her sagging booty against Kanye’s overpriced leather pants, the static electricity created should hopefully create the explosive effect we’ve all been pining for as she goes down in flames like the Hindenburg after veering to close to that Radio Tower. Stupid Nazis.

Hipsters are simply prototype guinea pigs for the common man to sample from, whether it’s clothing, music, food, politics or art. They disgust us at times, but can also inspire us to where we can perfect our own style, our own thoughts, our own view on life as an individual. But don’t confuse kindness with weakness, as long as the hipster stays in their lane, trims their beard, hands over their wallet, girlfriend and ‘Modest Mouse’ tickets, I will with all my strength, defend their right to open up an Artisan Bagel Shoppe in Brooklyn.

They’re not frauds…they’re founders.

DEATH BY GRILLED CHEESE

What happened to the simpler times when things you say weren’t overcomplicated and put into a negative context? I say potato. They say famine. I say Cool-Ade. They say Jonestown Massacre. I say convertible. They say Zapruder film. However, you say grilled cheese. I say disgusting. Well that’s all about to change…at least the grilled cheese part is.

The thought of grilled cheese seems so lazy to me, wasn’t it only invented to shut little kids up for dinnertime? There are no culinary or dietary benefits to mass-produced fake cheese inside two pieces of boring white bread. It should belong with Polio, in the past. Well I was certainly schooled today in the arts of this simple creation, but I’m not here to apologize, I’m here to enlighten you on the art of a simple process that was made far better than some could imagine.

This week’s palatable fun brought me to the quickly growing area of Second Street in Manchester. I was hoping someone was up to the task of giving the grilled cheese sandwich a “Chip Fuse” like overhaul and I think I’ve found the business that is up to this challenge. I believe if Souper Melts were located in Brooklyn or Venice Beach, it would turn into a Hipster Phenomenon within a month. It’s Retro-Americana quality would have every office junkie flocking there like the Mega Herd in “The Walking Dead” There’s something about the look of this niche diner that represents the food they make, with the comfy table arrangement and small collection of bar stools.

It would be exciting to see this place packed with cheese-foodies while a war of toasted white bread and butter took place on the flat grill behind the counter. The wondrous butter scent would be illegal in at least three states.  Taking a common, yet boring staple like cheese with white bread and adding beloved ingredients like Artichoke Hearts or BBQ flavored potato chips can seriously make a blind man do a double take. Starting off with such heavy hitters like the Mediterranean and Baconcue sandwich can be risky, but I wanted to know immediately if Souper Melt had enough culinary balls to be worth my time and the readers money. Well let’s get past the obvious cheese ingredients and focus on the items that may give Panera Bread patrons a reason to rethink their holiday shopping lunch break preference.

An obvious winner is the Baconcue on butter-toasted white with BBQ potato chips and smoked bacon. Yes, there’s cheese on it as well, but did this question have to be explored? Moving on to the Mediterranean, the stuff in this sandwich is usually reserved for specialty “Artisan” pizzas. A tough task handled well with a macaroni side salad and a homemade pickle.

For a one-page menu, there was quite a bit that I wanted to try, from the buffalo chicken to the Mr. Stromboli. However if you’re a sandwich Nazi, a grilled cheese Super-Sandwich can be built specifically to your dictatorship. Just pick your two cheeses, your choice of bread, and your choice of extras or meats.

I’m happy to say there will certainly be another visit to this little pocket of promise, because I’m kicking myself for not trying the hot dogs, specifically the Cincinnati Chili Cheese dog. I’m horny just thinking about it. How can you just throw that on the menu like it’s a side note? If its that good, it deserves more font recognition on the menu. Matter of fact; if you’re in the area for holiday shopping and fistfights over children’s toys, you have to look past the larger franchises and give this spot a try. It may earn a place a place in your heart or if you’re perverted about food…a place in your pants. Offended now? Too bad, eat at Souper Melt.

Souper Melt

845 Second Street                                                             

Manchester, NH                                                                                        

www.soupermeltgrilledcheese.com 

603-935-7342

COMMANDO FRIDAY

For most nine to fivers, Friday’s aren’t as much fun as they used to be, now that people work more hours and suck from the corporate tit out of fear of losing their jobs. There is an epidemic sweeping our nation as we speak, the problem that mutates so often that it’s hard to pinpoint. It’s been referred to as “Crazy Hat Day” or “Halloween Costume Day” or “Pajama Day”. I know it better as “Soul-less Morale Day” or “Fake Fun Day”. It is without a doubt the most pathetic excuse for employee appreciation as any I’ve ever seen…and it’s spreading. It’s essentially “World War Z” with Doctor Seuss Hats. I guess the original method of pay increases and additional time off doesn’t work anymore according to the analysts at these giant corporations. Remember this; a med student who finishes last in their entire class is still referred to as “Doctor”. Bend over; here comes the C plus proctologist!

          Is there a cure for this plague? Not yet. Is there a treatment for the symptoms? I’ve conducted a few tests. Here are my results:

          Fridays were originally a day to essentially wrap up your weekly workload and transition over to the weekend where rest is well deserved and fun is in demand, but now the amount of crap that needs to be shoveled has spilled over into your Fridays.

          Now your weekend, which was originally filled with 80’s cover bands and one-night stands are now filled with running errands and putting in overtime.  “Goofy Shoes Day” will not fix this problem. It must be solved the old fashioned way.

Most men run out of clean underwear by Thursday and a recent trend shows that women who bend over in the workplace while wearing thongs tend to stick out like a bright light in the New Mexico Desert. And if it’s one of those days where granny panties are essential, the embarrassment of them bunching up above your waistline will almost certainly destroy any credibility you may have. So what undergarments should you consider to be workplace efficient? Better yet…should you consider any undergarments at all? Consider the upside, it’s cost-efficient because you save money on laundry in the long run, less wear and tear on your skivvies, but the most important point of going commando is it’s quietly exciting.

There is nothing more exhilarating than knowing all that separates you from your coworkers is a thin layer of corduroy, denim or for the serious players, silk. For the ladies that believe they can enjoy a commando Friday while wearing a dress, you’re referred to as Patriots for your constant bravery while maneuvering the workplace with such gravitas.

Now there are no baby steps for this, you just have to throw it all on the line and make sure your pants don’t have any holes in them. It truly is a dirty secret that you carry throughout your day at the office and every person you speak with; you quietly know that a party is downstairs…and you’re the first one invited! Now you don’t have to go stag to this event, if you’re a fun person and a careful planner, there may be others at the office willing to join you in this weekly adventure of fresh air and fun fabrics. It’s truly a secret club that doesn’t take away from your personal appearance but only adds that extra pep into your step. Be advised to take additional steps for weekly or monthly issues that may hinder your Friday work experience. And if you feel that additional steps should be taken to enhance your workplace on Commando Friday, I believe as long you weigh the pro’s and con’s carefully and monitor your “output” or “intake”, this experience will happily help you sail through the workday and into the weekend, where underwear is truly a foreign object. As far as the silly hat? Burn it.