Friday Classic Video: I know, it's Thursday. Again.

I know this video has been around for a while. It was pretty big about four months ago, so please forgive me if you've seen it. I just couldn't wait another day to put this up. I just want to talk about it with people.

But if you haven't seen it, then you're gonna love it. You probably know this song just from going to the bars, but this is one of those examples of people on the Internet being way more creative than anyone has a right to be.

As a regular Internet-video watcher, I can't believe I missed this. Turn up the volume on your computer. (This is totally work safe.)

Bewildering Bidets

Non-non-sequitor (Chuck): As I sit down to write this, it occurred to me that this is my second post about shitting.

Today I'd like to talk about something neither near nor dear to our American hearts: bidets.









Now, for those of you that don't know, this is a bidet:










Yes, yes I know, it looks like a cross between a water fountain and a toilet.

Wikipedia describes a bidet as such: "A bidet is a low-mounted plumbing fixture or type of sink intended for washing the genitalia and the anus. Originally a French word, in English, bidet is pronounced (IPA): [bɨˈdeɪ] (US), [ˈbiːdeɪ] (UK)."

(Or, "buh-DAY".)

I've had two experiences with bidets -- the first good, and the second, well, not so good.

1. Bidets are Bi'DOPE!

The first time I used a bidet I was in Brazil. In Brazil they weren't so fancy. They were more like one of those removable-adjustable shower-head thingys but hanging alone next to the toilet. With these, you shat your shit, and instead of using toilet paper, you took the shower-head and washed off with the bidet-head. It was pretty great.

2. Bi'DOH!

My second experience was not quite so pleasant.

I was in Genoa, Italy, a few weeks ago and was in a four-star hotel with much more of a "traditional" bidet.

It looked like a toilet seat with the lid up. It had one of those stick handles you toggle between hot and cold and another handle for the pressure. Its spout appeared to be an upside-down sink faucet.

So -- and this is not a self-flatterting picture by any means -- after having dropped off the Huxtables on a beautiful Genoan night, I figured I'd bidet my big'ass. I straddled the bidet and, looking down on it with my neck craned like an owl, tried to line up my asshole with the little knob. I turned on the knob and it was trickling cold water. I turned it higher and warmer where it was just above 'lukewarm' and not a very strong flow of water.

So here I am, vulnerable as a giraffe drinking water: legs spread, asshole lined up, the warm water trickling. Then I turn the faucet up. I take the plunge:

• Have you ever had a fire hose shooting boiling water up your asshole? Well, I did and it hurt. The water, when I turned it on full throttle, turned FUCKING HOT. I'm not saying a little too warm, I mean, like, boil-your-bunny-level-fucking-hot. It was hot and I had turned this motherfucker on full blast.
• Now, if you were straddling a scalding-hot stream of water up your ass, what would you do? Yeah, me too -- I jumped out of the way, with the bidet still on full blast shooting into the wall. And with a curious girlfriend calling in, "Is everything OK, honey?" ("Yeah, it's OK!"). I landed on the floor and watched as the bidet punished the wall while a mini-cesspool began to form on the floor.
• I shut off the bidet, sopped up the water, and wiped my ass like the pig-headed American I am.

So, my advice to you: We are Americans, we don't eat with chopsticks, we don't use the metric system and we don't use bidets. We wipe shit out of our assholes with our hands and paper -- not butt-fountains.

G'day, bidet!

I refuse to believe this

At the start of October, after suffering through one of the most continuously stressful and agonizing months of my recent history as I watched the Mets complete their monumentally crushing collapse, I was a man without a country. At that time:

• The Mets, as I said, were done
• The yanks were still in the playoffs, and looking like they had a shot of extending my pain at least past the ALDS (boy, was I wrong, YAY!)
• Rutgers, whom I recently adopted as my official college football team, had just suffered an embarrassing home loss, thus ruining any hopes of a national championship (and the loss was to Maryland, a hellbound ACC team, to top it off)
• The Knicks are...well, the Knicks. The travails of Steph and Isiah may make for interesting gossip fodder, but how can I possibly pull myself to actually root for a team as full of fuckheads and dumbasses as the New York Knickerbockers? (I kinda like David Lee, I guess, but that just ain't gonna do it.)
• The Rangers are...well, I don't really give much of a shit about hockey. If the Rangers do really well, then sometimes I watch.

And then there were the Giants.

"I was clearly adopted."

I firmly believed the G-men had a decent shot at going 0-16 this year, thus securing the No. 1 overall draft pick. And this year's corps of running backs is the best-looking group in a long time (Darren McFadden, Mike Hart, Ray Rice, Steve Slaton -- if he enters the draft, and a lot more that I'm forgetting). The Giants could sure use a top-flight back, but even if they chose a different route, it would've been the first pick!

And right on schedule, they looked goddamn AWFUL the first two games, giving up 80 points and fully fueling my certainty of a winless season.

But since then, things have changed. Things look different now. I don't know which player found Aladdin's lamp or blew Satan or what, but that truly terrible and pathetic team from the first two weeks has rattled off four straight wins. And the worst part? These games haven't even really been that close. (They've outscored their opponents 106-64) Which should be great news, right?

WRONG.

It's a fucking trap.

If you're a true Giants fan, you know exactly why I say that. Anyone who has watched this team for (at least) the last few years understands that in four weeks, when we play the Cowboys (5-1) again, we could very easily be 4-4, despite playing cupcakes like San Fran (2-3) and Miami (0-6).

And before you know it, it's a 5-11 season and spring training is nearly in sight.

The defense has looked great, which is inexplicable. I saw them in weeks 1-2 -- that is the true defense, if you ask me. And though the offense is surely better than the D, Eli is still prone to throwing the occasional duck that too easily winds up in some free safety's hands.

So I guess I'm just saying that I'm not getting my hopes up. If you're some 6-year-old kid reading this blog (FUCK SHIT CUNT PUSSY CUNNILINGUS FRENCH-KISSING), then I can understand your optimism. But just know -- and take it from a longtime fan -- the Giants will fuck this up. Now having raised your expectations, they will bring them crashing down with the weight of a blue whale, reducing your hopes and dreams to rubble.

That is, unless they can prove me wrong.

(And one final thing: Is Eli Manning ever going to close his mouth? I seriously don't think I've ever seen him with his mouth shut. Watch the game next week and I guarantee that on every close-up, whether on the field or the sideline, he'll have that same stupid half-open mouth that I'm sure just oozes confidence and instills faith in his teammates during the huddle.

Anyway, let's go G-men! You rule! I totally heart you guys!)

Friday Classic Video: The Perfect Girl

I know it's only Thursday you shaved ape, but this video was funny and I wanted to put it up today so you can shut up or I'll hit your face with a closed fist of fury.



(Originally seen on 13gb.)

It's Too Early For Election Talk, But I Got Sucked In

A non sequitur. I started reading the New York Times online instead of in print. Can you start with a non sequitur? Probably not. Given that a non sequitur is a statement that does not follow logically from what preceded it, you can't start with a non sequitur since there is nothing that proceeded and therefore no logical lapse. Like I was saying, reading the Times online is way easier than reading it in print. I had recently cancelled my subscription to the Times because I wasn't really reading it and what not, but if you use the Today's Paper link on the website, you get an organized list of every headline, and you read the ones you want and it's fucking fantastic. I find I read a lot more of the articles in the online edition instead of just flipping directly to the op-ed and crossword. The only drawback is that you can't do the crossword online, or I think maybe you can but you have to pay for it. And if you didn't get to read a section or something, it stays online for a week. If I got busy and didn't read the Science Times on Tuesday, let's say, the whole Science section is online until the following Tuesday, when it's replaced by the new one. Awesome. And I just recently made the NYTimes site my home page, which more or less ensures that I look at it every day. I still go out and buy the Sunday Times, though, for the magazine, which I'm addicted to.

My point is that I was reading today about the Republican debate yesterday and some other related articles about the primaries, and I wanted to comment on some things even though it seems way to early to start discussing this shit given that the election is over a year away. Except this shit has been in the news for at least 6 months now, and is dominating the Sunday Meet the Press/Chris Matthews type shows too.

First of all, it boggles my mind that Rudy Giuliani is currently the leading Republican. If he's nominated, he's going to get Killed with a capital K between February (when the nomination will likely be decided) and November about all sorts of shit from his past, including his multiple marriages, his carrying on with his current wife while still married to his previous wife, his association with Bernie Kerik, who turned out to be a dude you don't want to be associated with, and all sorts of other shit. I mean, I get the idea that a lot of his personality quirks (if that's what you want to call them) won't really fly outside New York. Also, Giuliani is way more liberal than a lot of Republicans seem to realize. Or else he's way more conservative than I realize, but I lived and worked in New York for most of his term in office, and within his zone of influence for his entire tenure.

Mitt Romney seems like a weird dude to me. I don't really know anything about him, but how many Mormons live in Massachusetts? He might be the only one. It's kindof strange that there isn't really one candidate that stands out for the Republicans to hang their collective hat on. McCain seems like he should be running away with this nomination, but he isn't, in fact he's behind both Rudy and Romney. I was reading that some of the influential Republicans feel like Mike Huckabee is the most qualified candidate, but some of the stupid things that shouldn't matter are holding him back, like his name, and the fact that he's from Hope, Arkansas, which is where Bill Clinton is from. I guess no one wants to talk about "President Huckabee". It seems clear over these past couple weeks that Fred Thompson is not going to be a real player in the election. I don't think he really even wanted to run, he just got talked into it by somebody.

It astounds me that motherfuckers have been underestimating Hillary Clinton for over 15 years. She's clearly the best pure politician on either side of the race and has the most experience out of all of them too. It seems like people just have it in their minds that a woman can't win, and that may by why she's sneaking up on us as not just the frontrunner for the nomination, but to win the whole damn thing. I'm not in love with Hillary or anything, but clearly she'd be a competent leader and those who don't think so are going to find themselves bowled the fuck over by her momentum before they realize it.

I like Barack Obama and I like the idea of having a relatively young president with at least a moderate amount of idealism left, which is kindof the platform that he's running on. I think he would be a competent leader as well, and if he builds up some momentum, I can see the country getting caught up in the Obama wave. He seems to be the only one aside from Clinton who has the wherewithall to mount a serious campaign after the primaries.

I do not like John Edwards. That's all I have to say about that.

It seems like Bill Richardson should be putting up a better fight. And Dennis Kucinich is short. What are the names of the other Democrats, because I forget? Dodd, Biden, these guys are hopeless. I like Joe Biden, though.

The really interesting part about this whole thing is that the states are scrambling for their primaries to mean something, and for the first time in my voting history (since 1996), my primary vote is going to actually mean something. I was proud to vote for Bill Bradley in the 1999 primary, but Gore had sown it up by then, and I think Bradley was off the ballot in every other state except New Jersey at that point.

Anyhow, states like Michigan and Nevada are scheduled to have their primaries even before New Hampshire. Michigan, who feels like its being ignored and that it has issues like unemployment and the auto industry that need to be taken seriously have made sure that they are not taken seriously by actually schdeduling their primary for January 15, against the wishes of the DNC and therefore forcing every candidate to promise that they will not campaign there. In fact, all of them pulled out of the Michigan primary yesterday except for Clinton (who was leading in polls despite not having campaigned) and Dodd (I don't know why he stayed, maybe trying to get some name recognition by getting a significant number of votes ahead of some of the important primary dates).

In fact, almost all of the states have moved up their primaries into January and February and both of the nominations should be wrapped up by February 5th of next year when over 1,600 delegates will be decided on in 22 states including California, New York, New Jersey, and Illinois. The only big states to be decided after Feb. 5 are Texas, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. I'm kindof surprised that Pennsylvania hasn't tried to move up from April 1 to at least March 4, when Texas and Ohio vote.

So that means that from basically Feb. 5 of next year until election day in November it's going to be a 2 horse race (unless they convince Bloomberg to run as an independent (which isn't going to happen, but I'd be enormously interested in a Bloomberg candidacy for president)). The conventions are going to take place in the summer, long after any sort of relevance has passed.

I find it strange that there aren't federal guidelines for primaries. I know you're going to pull out the states' rights argument here, but electing the president is the most important decision that the country makes as a whole, and putting all of the eggs in Iowa/New Hampshire/South Carolina basket is kindof strange.

Anyway, my prediction, Clinton v. Romney, and I almost don't believe it myself, but I think Clinton is going to win.

Goodnight, yanks

Good night, room

Good night, moon

Good night cow, jumping over the moon

Good night light, and the red balloon

Good night, cleats
Good night, Jeets


To the offseason, he now retreats;
In the role of "goat," A-Rod he unseats.





Good night, Joe
Good night, Mo


You'll both be gone, next year fo’ sho’,
Take Jorge and Bobby, with you as you go.





Good night, Rocket
Good night, Sprocket


You’re very fat, and I won’t mock it,
But only fatties prefer Tubbs over Crockett!





Good night, Gay-Rod
Good night, Stray-Rod


Buy some "clutchiness," ya friggin' tightwad,
Instead of some stripper, with a manly bod.




Good night, Joba
Good night, Posada


The ugliest battery since Jabba
Was hangin' with this here heart-throbba!





Good night, Damon
Good night, shaman


It’s karma that's to blame an’
Your career sure is wanin’.




Good night, Moose
Good night, Juice


One's old, one cheats, but no excuse;
Their careers both gone like that! Vamoose!








Good night, Boss
Good night, sauce


After sustaining this loss,
Can you now see the flaws?







Good night, yanks
Good night, tanks


You’ll always be a bunch of skanks,
But for this failure, many thanks!

Blatantly racist post no. 1

(That title is accurate, so if you're a pussy, just stop reading now.)

I don't usually use this space for these purposes, but it's Columbus Day, so I figured I'd be like Columbus and take a big fat shit on an Indian. (Feathers, not dots.)

FUCK YOU!

"I sort glass!"

Recognize this young stud? This paragon of youthful beauty? This stunning Adonis?

No? Perhaps if I dumped a bucket of (smallpox-ridden) bugs on the back of his disgustingly fat neck and let you watch him whine like the little bitch boy from Nebraska that he is. Oh, "No bugs on Joba's neck" isn't in the Joba Rules? Fuck you, fatty.

And what the fuck is this "Joba Rules" bullshit? Just because the other fat boy on the yankees staff (the ancient one who made it into the third whole inning last night!) decides he gets to play by his own rules, now the yanks are letting every 20-year-old raindancing cardiac-arrest-in-waiting do it too?

Hey Torre, ever heard the phrase "inmates running the asylum"? (Though I guess in this case, perhaps "Injuns running the AA meeting" might be more appropriate.) I got an idea -- next time Chief Extra Extra Cheese tells you he can't pitch today because he pitched yesterday, just tell him that if he goes out there, you promise to get him a lifetime supply of 140-proof whiskey and bacon-fried peyote. And it's good shit, too. Tell him he'll trip so hard, he'll gain magical powers which he can then use to reanimate the lifeless lower limbs on his stupid fucking dad. Hey Joba, wanna know why poppy can't get around so well? Because he's a devil-worshipping pagan, just like you. That's why God had to send that swarm of locusts after you on Friday. Yeah, you might have a sick curveball and whatnot, but eventually I'll be strolling through the pearly gates as you try to talk your way past St. Peter, you heathen fuck. I'd try asking the spirit bear if he can get you a waiver.

Seriously, the main reason I'm pissed the (this is perfect) Indians couldn't finish off the yankees last night is because that virtually guarantees that I'll have to hear the stupid fucking Joba story one last time this year. Christ, I wanna inject my ears with lava every time I start to hear it. Okay, I fucking get it. He's a Navajo, his dad's in a wheelchair, it's all very inspiring, blah blah blah... Shut the fuck up already. These announcers act like every time he thinks of his dad, he's actually curing cancer or something. Just pitch the friggin' ball fatass. Then get the hell back in the dugout and shut up. Go rub your fox-skin or light some sage or start a casino or whatever your drunken ass does when not causing the rubber bouts of pain not seen since the heyday of Fernando Valenzuela.

Okay, so ends my vicious bout of racism for the day. I really don't have a problem with most Injuns. Hey, I love drinking and gambling too. And I'll bet Pocahontas was one hot piece of fur. It's really just fat Joba who I loathe. With any luck, after tonight, we won't have to hear his just-make-a-stupid-TV-movie-about-it-already life story again. At least not till April.

By the way, when is April in the savage calendar? Maybe I can just ask this guy tonight:

"Wahoooooooooooo!!!"

Or maybe one of these guys:


Well, maybe I am a bit racist. But at least I don 't have a job designing logos or naming teams for professional sports leagues.

Sure, God Shammgod was a cool name, but how was his short game?

I just love it when, after I randomly choose something to be my favorite of its kind, I am proven right on all accounts.

I'm not a golf-lover. In fact, I think it's pretty stupid. I have played a round, and I will admit that it was fun -- for a while. But after about 12 or 13 holes (which takes three goddamn hours or so), I began to lose my focus. The final few were not pretty. Perhaps it was the numerous six-packs I had been drinking in that hot summer sun, I don't know. Those of you who play the full 18 with full concentration, I admire your persistence.

But in general, golf is boring. Come on, admit it. Or don't, whatever. (You suck.)

Golf does, however, offer the occasional joy. John Daly, for example, is a true ambassador for the sport. He drinks like a viking on a bender ("Viking Bender" -- what a term. I intend to go on one this weekend. Won't you join me?), he smokes on the course, and basically has a "Fuck you" attitude toward the PGA. Tiger Woods? I don't hate him (because how can you?), but I'd like to hear the occasional three-hooker-orgy story or something. That's when I'll really like him.

But my favorite golfer has always been Jesper Parnevik.

"I remember my '89 Upper Deck Ken Griffey Jr. card. Do you?
It was gonna put my kids through college. What happened, Ken?
Why do you hate children? And America? And the homeless?
Oh just go pull another groin or something, cocksucker."

But Open Bar -- you hate golf, how could you have a favorite player?

Simple, his fucking name. Say it aloud. Jes-per Par-ne-vik. Sounds Shakespearean, doesn't it? White people don't often get cool names like that. Black people get names like Coco Crisp and D'Brickashaw Ferguson and Pooty Tang. White folks are usually Jim (Furyk) or Ernie (Els) or Shooter (McGavin). Okay, that last one is cool, but it's also FICTIONAL, maybe the only way white people get to have cool names.

But then there's Jesper. Jesper Parnevik. Just say it: "Par-ne-vik." As the great Vladimir Nabokov once wrote:

"Parnevik, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Par-ne-vik: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Par. Ne. Vik."


Anyway, my man J.P. just shot a fucking 61 at the Texas Open. And while that's awesome on its own, what really fired up my loins was that he just came back from an injury that we can all applaud.

As the story goes:

Jesper Parnevik spent two months this year trying to play with an injured toe. He broke it while scampering around on his boat and jamming his foot into a case of beer.

No. Parnevik wasn't drinking.

"That was the problem," he said. "The case was full."

Ah, my Swedish brother from another (probably super-hot Swedish chick) mother.

AND, he is also famous for eating volcanic dust as a dietary supplement. (So says Wikipedia.)

So yeah, I have a favorite golfer. One who shoots 61s, eats volcanoes, and breaks his toe just so he can take a few months off from playing fucking golf and sit down on his big-ass boat and drink his face off.

And his name rules. His black Swedish mom must be proud.

I feel betrayed.

Disappointed. Let down.

I've been feeling these things lately. I'm sure you know why. Being a fan of something -- a true fan -- can bring you pure joy, but it can also make you feel like complete shit.

It's happened to you at some point, hasn't it? When someone you feel like you know turns out to be the opposite. When you offer your faith and trust, willing to follow and root for them till the end. You defend them to your doubting friends. You might run into someone in a bar and nearly get in a fight because some asshole said something bad about them.

But then something unexpected happens. Something that you had heard about them, but you never thought would ever actually occur. Something that makes you feel like shit for ever having supported them. You find out they're a fraud, that all the love you had for them was baseless. That everything bad you'd heard about them somehow turned out to be true.

Again, this recently happened to me.

It makes you wonder. After all, you had seen them do amazin' things, things that inspired you and made you feel your love for them was justified, things that seemed irrefutable. It was on TV, after all, ya gotta believe your own eyes? And even though you've never met them personally, you still feel a connection, a deep bond.

It's hard to find out it was all a fraud.

I know I'm a bit late on writing about this, but if you were as big a fan as I was, if you found yourself defending your allegiance for as long as I did, if you absolutely believed you would never be put in such a horrible, disappointed position, then you know how it feels to be a fan of...

Bear Grylls.



When I saw this video, it confirmed what I had worst feared -- that all the haters were right. He was, no is a fraud. It wasn't Man Vs. Wild. It was Hotel Vs. Motel.

Bear!! I watched you bite that snake's head off and eat it. I watched you kill that bunny and cook it, and I'll be damned if it didn't look like the tastiest thing this side of Jessica Alba's nipples! I watched you drink your own piss, for God's sake! Why oh why would you let me down like this?

I was there for you, week after week, following your every trip into the Ecuadorian rain forest, that ice chute in Alaska, that...oh, who cares...

And as far as the New York Mets go, well, I guess I haven't yet sorted out my feelings.

The Collap$e: The Mets Come Up a Day Late and a Dollar Short

Much has already been written about the infamous collapse of the 2007 Mets, and doubtless more is to come (though Chuck has written the definitive work on the subject, and I don't think there is anything else to say). Whether you fault Willie Randolph, Omar Minaya, or a particular subset of players, it is almost beyond debate that this team was talented enough to play in October, but will instead be teeing off before a single postseason pitch is thrown. Personally, while there is plenty of blame to go around, I think the lion's share falls heavily on the shoulders of the more veteran players, who should have recognized the looming disaster from two weeks of uninspired play and spoken out more forcefully, whether on or off the field. I'm looking at you, Delgado and LoDuca.

I just have to go puke for one second I'll be right back . . . . ok, all better now.

Regardless, one angle that has not received too much press yet (in fairness, it hasn't even been 24 hours) is the financial impact that the slide will have on this franchise. We are often reminded that baseball is a business, and the last two weeks have hit the Mets' bottom line hard.

To come up with an estimate, you have to permit me a few assumptions. First, let's assume that every Mets home game would be a sell out (that's an easy one). Second, since it is generally accepted that this team is not quite as good as last year's team, let's give them four home games in the playoffs this year, instead of the six they had last year (in my hypothetical, they get bounced after Game 5 of the NLCS).

With about 55,000 seats at Shea, let's figure 5,000 tickets are comped for press and other industry people, for a grand total of 200,000 home playoff tickets ((55,000-5,000) x 4 = 200,000). Let's assume the average playoff ticket is $50 (it's actually a bit higher. My upper reserve tickets for the NLDS were $45 each, and the prices increase with each round of the playoffs). That's $10,000,000 in ticket revenue. But that's just the beginning:

• Put another 32,000 cars in the lot over the four games (there are about 8000 spots at Shea), at $20 per parking space, and that's another $640,000.
  
• Assume everyone at the stadium buys one beer and one hot dog (not everyone does, but some people buy a lot more than one beer, so an average of one per fan is about right, I think), at $7.25 and $4.50, respectively, and that's another $2.35 million.
  
• Throw in another $10,000 for foam hands and t-shirts.
  
• I have no clue what the television revenue sharing looks like, but I have to assume they pull another few million bucks in from TBS and/or FOX.

Add it up and you are somewhere between $15-$20 million gross, depending on where you estimate the television revenue. I was conservative on ticket prices, and I am sure there are other aspects of revenue that I am forgetting. TV revenue could also be more than where I am putting it, so my $15-$20 million estimate could be way too low. Now, that number could of course vary dramatically based on ticket prices, the number of games the team plays in the post-season, etc., etc. Also, you have to take into account all the costs associated with this revenue (many players earn playoff bonuses, you have to pay security, concession people, parking attendants, keep the lights turned on, etc., etc.). But even if the Mets see only half of the receipts in profit, though, they could still be looking at $10 million . . . maybe more. Now, this franchise makes enough money as it is, and I can only assume that the projections over the next five years look great (new stadium, new TV network, solid core of players who, despite the past two weeks, should be contenders every year, etc.), but $10 million is a pretty nice chunk of change over two weeks for most businesses.

Maybe we can pay Johan Santana with these?

It probably won't impact the direction this team takes, but it would be a shame if the 2008 Mets can't afford to pick up a front line starter for next year because the 2007 Mets couldn't afford to be bothered with all 162 games this year.