A couple of quick things before we get started…
I put this together on Saturday (I was in the lab for hours!), and I’m hoping you guys can suggest some other sports figures to add to the gallery. Email them to me, or drop their names into the comments. We need to capture ’em all.
Also, if you feel like adding the page to StumbleUpon, and other social networking sites like Twitter, nobody’s stopping you. In fact, I’d be much obliged. Thanks for the continued support!
And… I’m going to bite the bullet (whatever that means) and attempt to record a podcast on Friday. During the first two installments I’m hoping to answer reader questions. I know some of you already submitted a question or two, but if anyone else has anything, let me know.
There’s a good chance the whole deal will descend into horrifying awfulness, but we’ll see how it goes. If it sucks (as Phil Hendrie would put it) kang, I might not post it. But if it’s reasonably OK, I’ll let you guys hear the thing. So stay tuned, and let me know what questions you’d like answered.
The weekend was uneventful to the extreme. On Saturday we went to a swim meet at a high school in Scranton (Scrannon), where I contracted a severe case of Phantom Ass Syndrome. Seriously. Someone could’ve walked up to me, repeatedly stabbed my butt cheeks with a pair of scissors, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Scary.
Other than that… we didn’t do much. Oh, Toney did our taxes and we’re getting $1100 back. I was hoping for more, but what are you gonna do?
And please don’t post a comment about how it’s stupid to hope for a refund, and how any intelligent person hopes to break even at tax time, blah blah blah. I hate when people do that. It’s one of their “things.” Know what I mean? Whenever they hear someone talk about a tax refund, they view it as their time to shine.
Yes, I understand the concept, I’m not a complete idiot. But when tax prep-time arrives, I’m hoping for a surprise windfall. And if that bothers you, then you should take a good long look at yourself.
Man, I’m getting all whipped-up just thinking about it…
What do you think about this list of the supposed 75 albums every man should own? I think it’s deeply flawed. Combat Rock?? You’ve gotta be kidding me. And that’s just the tip of the metaphorical iceberg that represents my complaints.
Hey, at least they chose the right Van Halen and Wilco records… Whatever.
Did any of you happen to catch last night’s Coast to Coast AM radio show, hosted by Art Bell? He interviewed a guy who is supposedly involved in time travel experiments, and he was very convincing.
Many of the guests on that show are kooks, or trying to promote a book or coaching seminar, or something along those lines. But this guy (from WV, btw) wasn’t selling anything, and sounded reasonable and intelligent. It was a great show, and blew my mind, maaan.
I wish I could listen to the whole thing, but don’t want to pay the subscription fee, on account of cheapness… If any of you have it saved as an mp3, by any chance. please drop me a line. It would be perfect work-listening material.
And finally, I’m going to reprise a conversation a few of us were having at Twitter on Sunday. Rainn Wilson, if you can believe it, started the whole thing, but some of us were having a more intimate sidebar chat on the same subject. As far as I know, no world famous celebs were involved…
Anyway, we were discussing words that make us cringe. I’m sure we’ve covered this subject before here, but it’s always worth a revisit. Some words that bother me, right off the top of my head: underpants, supper, and anyhoo.
Toney can’t stand the word pocketbook, and my paternal grandmother HATED the word fart. Oh, she was no prude (far from it), but that particular word bothered her a great deal. It was unexplainable, and kinda funny.
So, what do you have on this one? Use the comments link below. And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great rest of the day!
All lists of “greatest albums” are inherently deeply flawed. “What you should own” obviously depends on “what you like” – duh. OK, so I do have nine of their top 75. Yes, I clicked through the whole thing, lacking a life and all.
Bad words include ‘tummy’, ‘poop’ (when used to mean ‘shit’)… well, I guess baby talk in general, when uttered by non-babies. ‘Incent’ – TF?
RUSTY IN JOISEY says
I get uncomfortable when people call sex “screwing.” Dunno why. And I have to bite my tongue every time my mom speaks, because she pronounces so many words incorrectly. She actually pronounces the b in “subtle.” I worry that I’ll grit my teeth to stumps.
Oh yeah, the whipped vegetable oil: my mom calls it oleo, so I grew up saying the same. I don’t call it butter unless it *is* butter. Don’t offer me butter and then hand me oleo – I mean, margarine. More food-related… they are scallions, not green onions and certainly not spring onions. It’s cilantro, not coriander, and ‘coriander’ only has one R (I’m talking to you, Wegmans). Yes, I know what plant it comes from.
Dachshund, not wiener dog, and gesundheit rather than ‘bless you’. Those two are courtesy of some Texas German heritage. And of course it’s a toilet, not a commode.
Jeff, let me add a vote for continuing the saga of Sunshine and Mumbles – either here or on the podcast. Weren’t they in Arizona or something? Speaking of the podcast, have you ever been on radio? I imagine it might be similar, but I’ve never done a podcast.
Only 0200 on the west coast, so I’m commenting a little early tonight. By the numbers…
1) Regional, obscene, profane, misused, overused, cute, gross, romantic: It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away. (Well, I didn’t see a BeeGees disc on the 75 list). OK, thank God — I’m just sayin’.
2) Can’t possibly apply an adjective to the list of 75. Just specifics…They got Dylan right, but if I only had 75 records, there’d be more than one Zimmy disc. They got Tom Waits right, which is neither obvious nor easy. They even got Taj Mahal right. (looks like I’m covering the old men again today. shit.) As I recall, they got Marvin Gaye right. Very little jazz, probably not enough. Three or four blues, but that can’t be enough. No Big Mama Thornton or Howlin’ Wolf. I refuse to click 80 more times to remember what else they fucked up.
3) Jeff was on the radio on a regular basis at one time. I think the streams were posted on the old “best of” page. He sounds perfectly normal, has a particularly resonant radio voice, and, based on his deadpan delivery, is even funnier talking than he is writing.
More to come: Commenters have made me nervous today about a long comment; I’m afraid the whole thing will end up at CERN instead of this site. Bring those bits home to mama. I’ll be right back after I wee wee, for cryin’ fucking out loud.
Phase 2, in which Doris gets her oats. Yes, that should be phase 1, but I already went through that phase.
4) At the end of weekend comments (thank the Dear Lord that pole picture is gone) there was a very small discussion about MRI music. Specifically, my local MRI joint allows me to bring in one disc, because the player is in the MRI room and the “nurses” (I really don’t know what to call them) are not. If they’re doing an MRI on your penis or your nose, time isn’t a big factor. You’ll be done when the music’s over (no Doors on the list either), and you can sashay away, assuming a normal size penis and/or nose. But if the MRI is going to scan from L3 down through the hip joints (like mine last Monday), you have about 90 minutes to kill without moving your penis or anything else. Thus, I recommended any of many They Might Be Giants discs, because John and John always provide a lot of music for your dollar. They’re just that kind of guys. Fuck. None of this intro was necessary, but I wrote it and I’m not gonna erase it.
So here is the original “New York City” written and performed by Cub, a three girl (grrrl) (woman?) band out of Vancouver B.C.
and here is the slightly primative but thoroughly charming video Cub made in the early 90s of the tune:
Fuck you if you’re not a TMBG fan (and I mean that in the least offensive way I can). TMBG covered the song on their 1996 disc “Factory Showroom”.
I’m most likely in for more MRIs, and Gretchen certainly is, so any other suggestions for CDs with many, many minutes of entertaining music would be welcome. Thanks for not suggesting DVD sound recordings or engaging the “replay” feature on the player. The magnetism destroyed those options long ago.
I’ll be back after I use my pompatus of love.
By the way, and seriously, what the hell is wrong with calling women’s breasts “breasts”?
Addendum A: Legal Remedies
Great. My comment is awaiting moderation. So this addendum will make little sense. Ok, at least I’m consistent.
4a) The tour drummer for Cub was Nico Case.
4b) I might be the only American male to own all four Cub CDs. Their music has been described as crush-pop, punk pop and grrrl pop. My oh my.
phase 3 — Rommel Drives on Deep into Egypt
5) It has been said that, in the South, one can say any vile, slanderous, or outrageous thing about a third party, including implying rampant beastiality or prima facie damnyankeeism, as long as one ends the sentence with “bless her heart” or “bless his heart”. For example, “I understand that Wanda Sue did the entire pro golf staff and half the caddies on the eighteenth green Thursday night, but I’m sure she’ll make you a fine wife, bless her heart.”
Similarly, in Web forum environments, one can slander, insult, or just razz someone, as long as the entry ends with lol, rofl, lmao, or other Web acronym. I don’t run the Web and nobody has asked me to apply for the position, but if I did I would publish the following suggested usage policy:
Feel free to use Web acronyms like lol, rofl, pmsl, jk, etc., under the following conditions:
a) if you are commenting on a cellular-type device with a shitty keyboard (they all have shitty keyboards),
b) have access to a keyboard, but have lost two or more fingers in a tragic industrial accident (see note #1), or
c) because of a head injury, lack the imagination to convey the idea that you’re kidding or laughing in any other way.
To emphasize, it ain’t my job to tell you how to communicate your ideas and feelings. Do what you must.
I’m not trying to put anybody down. Jeff asked us what words really grated on our soul, and lol and its brothers grate on mine. But if they don’t bother you, fire away.
Note #1 (see above): From the late 1960s through the mid 1980s, there was a dive bar on the waterfront in a then-small fishing village northwest of Tacoma called Gig Harbor. The bar was named “Three-fingered Jack’s” and was owned, not surprisingly, by Three-fingered Jack, who also provided the entertainment nightly, playing piano with his eight remaining fingers. I swear he was as talented and as spirited as Jelly Roll Morton, Mose Allison, or Doctor John. Nobody left before he finsihed his last set. Sadly, Jack is gone, and Gig Harbor is a series of strip malls punctuated with apartment complexes and condos. Sad, sad.
It’s 0600 here, 0900 in the east. You all are up and working. Time for me to hit the sack. Hope your day is lovely, successful, and full of joy.
See you on the other side.
After reading a JTB comment I’m frequently left with the impression that he is clocking in from some far away wintery outpost in another dimension. Which is not a criticism, just a note on atmosphere. I know logically one can’t possibly maneuver the Internet using a Steam Punked ham radio and a 1950s television set, but that’s what I imagine.
Swami Bologna says
“coRiandeR” only has one R? Huh?
The Evil Twin says
Words that drive me crazy are “closure,” no matter how it’s used. It sounds unnecessarily melodramatic, and whenever I hear a guy say it I think he should forfeit his right to own testicles. I also abhor previously obscure, trendy-assed words that suddenly, out of the blue, come into common usage because lazy, unimaginative journalists copy each other like the lemmings they are. The worst example of this was “gravitas” a few years back. Who in the hell ever uttered that word in everyday conversation prior to that time?
The word “playful” is also indescribably gay when used to describe visual media – “make that print ad just a little more playful.” Just what in the HELL does that mean? For that matter, virtually ALL trendy “corporate-speak” makes one sound like a total retard, and it usually comes out of the mouths of recent business school grads who have their heads so far up their own asses that they think they’re coming off as knowledgeable. “Action” that one…
That record list, like most “best of” lists, made no freaking sense – there were a lot of great records on there, but there was a lot of crap, in my opinion. Who in the hell comes up with these lists? I challenge ANYONE to show me anyone who has Minor Threat, Bob Dylan and Jay-Zee records in their collection at the same time (and fat, boring, out-of-touch senior citizen rock crits like Robert Christgau don’t count).
I loathe the word ‘Moist’. Gross!!
Lee Harvey Ramone says
I would like to break into someone’s house and put a Minor Threat, Frank Sinatra, and Bob Dylan CD in their carousel and see what happens
It creeps me out when someone refers to “popping” a “cherry”. Maybe most annoying when they are using it to describe any first occurrence in one’s life. I heard one guy referred to taking his son to his first college football game as “popping his cherry”. Nasty. Similarly, the “Property Virgins” show on HGTV(?) Is that supposed to be clever?
Lee Harvey Ramone says
Round out that CD carousel with Luna and Beethoven, and watch the party begin!
I totally hear you on the tax refund thing. I use it as my end of year windfall. When you said you were getting $1100 back this year I was thinking about all of those “Do Gooders” (like my brother in law and other higher than thou famioy members….coworkers etc) saying “You should always aim for breaking even. You’re giving the government an interest free loan. You know, you could take that money and invest it” BLAH BLAH BLAH. : I get $6000 back every year so trust me I get what you’re saying.
I hated the word silly forever. I can stand it now. Tummy still bothers me.
NP – Mike Mcconnel Hour 3, 1-18-10 podcast.
Swami Bologna, on February 2nd, 2010 at 9:40 am Said:
“coRiandeR” only has one R? Huh?
…and in my case it stands for Retard. I meant it has two, not three, Rs. Only one in a row. Not spelled “corriander” as Wegman’s label maker does.
Dog shit on the rug
Pizza boxes stacked askew
Winter closes in
Springshine come save us
There are no clean plates or socks
We must breeze our home
The phrase “smell my hand” always turns my stomach.