May 17, 2012

wind me up, chuck

Not many people have heard of Chuck Brown, who died yesterday. It's a pity. His music is unique and upbeat to the point of relentlessness. I often put him on when I'm dragging. If the below description sounds appealing to you at all, I encourage you to check him out today.

From Rhapsody:
"A barn-storming ex-hobo who used to play for food but stuck around long enough to become a good-time ambassador for his community. He is also, as much as one person can be, the originator of a musical genre: go-go music, a hybrid of big-band '70s funk, multi-drummed Latin percussion, gospel call-and-response, horn-section jazz, old-school rapping and DJ-like song segues that evolved in Washington, D.C., through the '70s."

posted by john at 08:32 AM  •  permalink

May 16, 2012

WWYK: uppity bicyclist vs. "daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do" bicyclist

Who would you kill?

Uppity bicyclist. When you suggest that perhaps, just maybe, it's not the safest notion in the world for him to ride his bike in the middle of the lane on a congested road with poor visibility, he is instantly hostile. "I have every bit as much right to the road as you!" he snarls, as if this were remotely your point. And then, having grandiosely claimed equal rights, he casually blows through the red light at which you must stop.

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do" bicyclist. I deal with this guy daily. For some reason, hordes of him have decided that Metamuville is an awesome bicycling destination. Thus do these hordes wobble slowly down 2-lane, 10-mile long, 55 mph Metamuville Road, which alternately has a wide berm and no berm whatsoever. You're driving along at the speed limit, and suddenly you have to slam on the brakes to keep from killing a 'tard in yellow spandex who drifted in your path because he's trying to take a photo with his iPhone.

WINNER: Daisy, Daisy is tempting, since the iPhone thing just happened to me an hour ago, but math don't lie: giant dick > clueless moron. Uppity Bicyclist wins a spirited battle.

posted by john at 03:10 PM  •  permalink

May 14, 2012

WWYK: chickenshit bigoted guy vs. chickenshit liker guy

Who would you kill?

Chickenshit bigoted guy. You've seen him. He's all over web forums. Invariably, his ID is itself an idiotic assertion, like TRUTHspeaker. What his ID never is: his actual name. He uses a lot of CAPS. He types certain, declarative sentences, thinking this makes them more factual. He uses condescending language, thinking this puts you at a disadvantage. Examples: "I hate to tell you, Obama is a Muslim socialist." or "I'm sorry, but GOD HATES FAGS." For someone so clearly miserable, he also laughs a surprising amount: "I have to laugh at the way you lemmings slurp up the liberal media propaganda." He is everywhere. He makes damned sure of that. He could turn a local restaurant review into an indictment of affirmative action.

Chickenshit liker guy. That moronic "GOD hates fags" comment will doubtless have 17 thumbs up from other readers.

WINNER: I'm sorry, but Liker Guy makes me LAUGH. Bigoted Guy is a miserable, hateful cancer on society. Liker Guy is all those things, plus lazy.

posted by john at 07:59 AM  •  permalink

May 11, 2012

open season

This "Who Would You Kill" series of posts is dedicated to Leon the Barber and one Larry Joe Bird. The connection is a tad strained.

In the 80s, the Detroit Pistons had a fan called Leon the Barber. He threw verbal daggers the opposing players. Rusty daggers. He was obnoxious.

When in his 60s, Leon yelled to veteran player Artis Gilmore: ``Hey, Artis, coming to our class reunion?`` That sort of thing.

Nothing was taboo to him. He desecrated photos of opposing players' mothers and mistresses. From his seat behind the bench, he would read loudly from their divorce decrees. Whatever it took to get in the head of the opponent.

Which brings us to Mr. Bird, a man of few words who nonetheless offered this gem when asked about Leon: "If there was ever an open season on fans, he'd be the first one I'd bag."

It is in this spirit that I dedicate my WWYK bracket.

posted by john at 07:32 AM  •  permalink

May 09, 2012

WWYK: underwear bomber vs. tylenol killer

Who would you kill?

The Underwear Bomber Yeah, he failed to blow up that plane, but just look at what this bumblefuck and his shoe-bombing cousin created. Please remove your shoes after your genitals' imaging, citizen. Oh, and I see a Happy Hanukkah is in order!

The Tylenol Killer Before this asshat, opening a bottle of steak sauce didn't require pliers. You twisted the lid. It came off. You poured. A few deaths from poisoned Tylenol later, that bottle had both the impenetrable plastic shield and the paper disk thing you either bite off or push in. Hell, even bleach has a safety seal. Lest someone poison the bleach.

WINNER: Tylenol Killer. I bite off fragments of paper disks way more often than I fly. Plus he, you know, killed some people.

posted by john at 02:30 PM  •  permalink

May 08, 2012

darcy's bargain

Darcy, 26, offered this bargain: if I could be 26 again—but at the cost of having to repeat my entire career—would I do it?

I couldn't say "fuck no" fast enough. This surprised her.

"You know how you hate losing an hour's worth of work?" I said. Imagine it was 35,000 hours you had to do over again. I would rather die."

Now six months into her own career, she was, to say the least, alarmed by this. Is youth not worth a little work?

I've since posed Darcy's bargain to many peers, and I haven't found one who's even ambivalent. Eternal youth be damned; no one wants to repeat their careers. The older the friend, the more virulent the "fuck no."

"Absolutely not. No effing way," says Lynn, 59. "I look at people age 20 and think 'You poor bastards!' because of the 40+ years of slavery they will have to put in. And I don't see where doing a repeat with a different career would be one whit better."

Perhaps the real question is for the 26 year olds: why aren't you killing yourselves to avoid your careers?

posted by john at 09:46 AM  •  permalink

May 07, 2012

WWYK: "i only watch soccer" guy vs. "get in the hole!" guy

Okay, I've made out my bracket. Together, we're going to decide who on earth most deserves to be offed.

"I Only Watch Soccer" Guy. There exists a female variant, but I'm old school enough to think talking about killing women rude. If this guy were content to only watch soccer, we wouldn't have a beef with him. But what he really enjoys is saying he only watches soccer, usually in response to you mentioning some other sport. "Yes," you reply. "I've always thought what American football really needs is more fan deaths, flopping and nil-nil matches." He's a close cousin of "I Don't Own a TV" Guy, who also lives life waiting impatiently for a chance to say that sentence.

"GET IN THE HOLE!" Guy. It started out with putts and short chip shots. Tiger Woods would plunk the ball toward the hole, and some idiot in the gallery would scream "GET IN THE HOLE!" I know. Me neither. Then it entered its ironic phase, where Tiger will be teeing up on a par 5 and someone screams ironically "GET IN THE HOLE!" Ha, ha. You're very witty. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Wow, you're not tired of that yet?

WINNER: "I Only Watch Soccer" Guy. Means of execution: strangling with his own vintage t-shirt.

posted by john at 06:36 AM  •  permalink

May 03, 2012

grumble

I'm in a humorless, foul mood. Trust me, I'm sparing you.

Just for something new and kinky, I'd like someone to come to me and complain that I screwed something up at work.

posted by john at 08:02 AM  •  permalink

May 01, 2012

oh, snap

It started with an intellectual exercise. "Who would you rather have license to kill?" I asked myself. "People who text in movie theatres or the douchetards who respond to complaints about texting by declaring 'Texting doesn't bother anyone.'"

To my surprise, it was the latter. In a walk.

Rude + stupid > rude

The problem with thinking about offing assholes is, frankly, stopping thinking about it. I might do some sort of field-of 32 tournament.

• • •

As I write this, three 22ish girls are cleaning my house. "Survey question," I just said. "Allowing that we're all guilty of doing it, is texting in a movie theatre rude or not?"

"Well, it is if you're on a date," said the smarter of the three.

posted by john at 10:07 AM  •  permalink

April 30, 2012

don't not tell we more

LSU football player Morris Claiborne made some news recently when he scored an appalling 6/50 on the NFL's verison of an IQ test, the Wonderlic. (For contrast, Super Bowl champ Eli Manning scored a 39.) Here is his rebuttal.

“That test don’t tell me who I am and what guy I am and what kind of ability I have. I looked at the test, and wasn’t any questions about football. I didn’t see no point in the test."

posted by john at 08:12 AM  •  permalink

April 26, 2012

literally gayer than gay

Steelers fans have been reeling ever since the team announced that this year, they will twice wear their 1934 uniforms.

It didn't take long for comparisons to be made to 80s big-hair Christian metal band Stryper.

I was content with that mockery until my buddy showed me pictures of his gay softball team's uniforms.

posted by john at 08:27 AM  •  permalink

April 25, 2012

i cried because i employ helpless dipshits, until i met a man whose employee cost him 3 grand

This has not been a good week at work. The details are numbing, so I'll boil it down to its essence: I have a ton of work to do, and the staff has been chugging retard pills like they're Heroin M&Ms.

Bonnie, particularly. Today she had a morning so inept, it rippled through the entire staff—wasting time, controlling damage. It's days like that the small-business owner feels sorry for himself. And if he's prone to feeling sorry for himself, as I am, then he's a pig wallowing in pools of fetid self-pity.

I'm pretty sure I just called myself fat.

Last week, attempting to de-dogify my car, I paid $130 to have the interior detailed. When I went to pick it up, the GPS/stereo display screen was dead; it had gotten wet. Thus did they keep my car another week, waiting for replacement parts from the dealership. $3200 in replacement parts.

That company's net loss on the detailing: $3070, plus labor, plus the loaner car. Ow.

"I'm so sorry about the inconvenience," said the business's owner as he shook my hand.

"I'm so sorry about your ledger," I replied, and he nodded pitiably.

On my way home, I imagined the guilty employee, doubtless fired, going home and explaining in detail about how The Man screwed him over.

posted by john at 12:21 PM  •  permalink

April 23, 2012

on being a steelers fan

I've been listening to a lot of off-season chatter about the Steelers' needs. The conversation turned to quarterback. "They're not going to go after a QB," the analyst said, "unless Ben—"

This is a sentence that for 31 other teams ends "—gets injured."

On my team, however?

"—does something profoundly stupid."

Yep. I'm so very proud.

posted by john at 10:30 AM  •  permalink

April 20, 2012

exhibit a

I'm going to hell for this, but this is the funniest headline/photo combination I've ever seen.

posted by john at 12:38 AM  •  permalink

April 19, 2012

better than i know myself

In the space of a minute, Allie made several observations that were already percolating in my brain.

"Get out of my head," I finally said.

"Man. There's pizza everywhere in here," she replied.

posted by john at 12:00 AM  •  permalink

April 18, 2012

gender differences distilled to their essence

I had the flu last week. It was not a fun ride. On Wednesday, I reported to a buddy that I had just thrown up.

"It tasted like the curry I had Sunday night," I moaned pitiably. Everyone cringed and shuddered appropriately. And then, not 10 minutes later, my buddy set out for dinner.

"Now I want curry," he said without a trace of humor. Then he got curry.

I defy you to find a woman would be so inspired.

posted by john at 05:09 AM  •  permalink

April 17, 2012

semantics

In one corner, we have our dear friends on the AM radio right, insisting as only privileged white people can that racism never has anything to do with anything.

In another corner, we have the Sharptones, insisting as only mind-reading blacks can that racism has everything to do with everything.

In yet another corner, we have the media bleating about whether George Zimmerman "profiled" Trayvon Martin. (Let me go ahead and answer this one: Cops profile. Zimmerman is a wannabe, not a cop. So no.)

And in the fourth corner, alone as ever, we have me. The facts of this case will probably never be fully known, but I don't need to know more than what everyone already agrees upon. Martin was walking through the community, and Zimmerman followed him. Increasingly nervous, Martin told his girlfriend via his cell phone that some weird guy was following him. Then Zimmerman got out of his car to confront Martin.

Did Trayvon Martin then hit Zimmerman in the head? I certainly hope so. I hope he kicked him in the nuts, too. Zimmerman couldn't have seemed more threatening without, well, brandishing a gun.

If someone follows and confronts me like this, I am assuming the absolute worst about his intentions. I will not ask "Excuse me, are you per chance an overzealous member of the local neighborhood watch?" before I hit the guy. I will, to coin a phrase, stand my ground.

In the best possible light, Zimmerman went looking for trouble, found it, and killed an unarmed guy. In the worst light, he's a murderer. Kinda seems like splitting semantic hairs, doesn't it?

posted by john at 07:51 AM  •  permalink

April 13, 2012

etiquette guide for straight people

Stank troll Matt sends in this guide for straight people going to gay bars. I'm alarmed by how many of these complaints I have already heard. I have seriously got to move to Pittsburgh sooner rather than later.

This part reminded me of poor, departed Stan. I miss that flake.

You can stop clutching your girlfriend like she's some sort of heterosexual life preserver to keep you from drowning in a sea of receptive anal intercourse. You don't need to hold her hand and make out with her and go out of your way to announce your orientation. We already know you're straight. Those shoes you wore on your way in told us, you don't need to keep repeating yourself. It's a bit insulting. And keep the PDA light. If we wanted to watch straight people make out, we'd go just about anywhere else in the whole damn universe.

posted by john at 09:15 AM  •  permalink

April 11, 2012

ain't that america?

The week's work over, gay buddy Mike and I found ourselves in a seedy San Jose bar, discussing what we were going to do with our free time. I was going to try to get an early flight home, I said. How about you?

"I'm going to head up to the Castro district, see some friends," he said. I stared at my friend, the stereotype. Words failed me.

"WHAT?" he said defensively. "I don't say anything when you tailgate at football games in Pittsburgh."

Touche!

posted by john at 03:58 PM  •  permalink

April 10, 2012

okay, so i'll probably cab it to penguins games

A bunch of us were eating sushi in San Jose last week. My buddy mentioned my retirement fantasy of getting a condo within walking distance of Heinz Field.

"You want to retire to downtown Pittsburgh?" the big boss asked incredulously.

I shrugged. "Walking to Steelers and Penguins games and even Pirates games? Sounds like a pleasant way to run out the clock to me."

There was a silence. Then Andy piped up. "That is simultaneously the saddest and coolest thing I've ever heard."

posted by john at 06:41 AM  •  permalink

April 09, 2012

where's an $18 toblerone bar when you actually need one?

Last week, I traveled to San Jose on business. I've finally reached a point in my career where I'm 1) staying in a hotel with a bar and 2) actually encouraged to rack up expenses. You can imagine my anguish when there was no mini-bar in my room.

I rebounded.

I couldn't decide on a room-service dessert. My solution: don't decide.

You'd think that'd be my trophy photo, but no.

If this was a test of my restraint, I went down in glorious, alcohol-fueled flames.

posted by john at 05:47 PM  •  permalink