Spirit of '77

Ah, 1977. What a fantastic year! Groovy bell bottoms... "Billy Beer"... Disco! Actually, wait a second... it wasn't all that good at all. Bell bottom pants? Jimmy Carter? Disco?! Ah who am I kidding... this whole blog is off to a big fat lie. I turned 6 years old towards the ends of 1977 and was lucky enough to remember not wetting the bed anymore never mind what kind of year it was. Yes indeed, I do not wet the bed anymore.

But going through some of my old CD's as well as some of my Dad's old albums (for those under the age of 25 who are reading this, and shame on you if you are, an album was usually referred to as a "record", made of non-biodegradable vinyl and played on a turntable or "record player". Seriously. Look it up), I realized that there were a lot of really, really REALLY crappy records that came out in 1977.




It's easy to call 1977 a loser year of music-- the #1 song was "You Light Up My Life" by Debby Boone making thousands of elevator operators want to kill her, people like Leo Sayer and Glenn Campbell not only had hits but were actually employed looking like they did, and shows like Dance Fever and Solid Gold debuted most of the disco crap that defined the '70s. Do a little dance, make a little love, and get down tonight.

However I would put three of these records into the Must-Listen category and after listening to them after a long absence, I did a little research about the albums and felt compelled to write about them. Well that, plus I was stuck on a conference call, and then stuck in traffic coming home, so I had some time to both listen AND write.

Before I begin, two points: first, I realize you might email me or make a comment and say "Mike how could possibly not include [insert lousy record by some one hit wonder, like "Player" or "Ambrosia"]?" and my answer is twofold: first, duly noted-- write your own blog about how great "How Much I Feel" by Ambrosia is and be prepared to be ridiculed; and second, I would include both the soundtrack to "Saturday Night Fever" and "Grease" however (a) SNF came out Christmas of 1977, so really it's a 1978 record and (b) "Grease", while still a great album in its form and played endlessly in our basement as my sister and our neighbors used to recreate it into some sort of disco palace/dance emporium-- and I wish I was making that part up-- totally jumped the proverbial shark after the remake of "Summer Lovin" that they now play at weddings and just brings back memories of prom chicken, cutting the cake, releasing the doves and, well, weddings. So get over it.

So I'll be putting on my music-nerd persona here for a moment-- this is where you add the part about you not being able to tell the difference-- and here are the three albums which you should listen to and recreate that time that WAS 1977... in no particular order of importance, chronology, preference, smell, grooviness or alphabet (note: by accident, they ARE in alphabetical order):



Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours". OK, they play songs on the radio way too much as just about every song is a hit, or pretty close, but next time you listen to any of these songs, think about these facts. (1) Like most 1970's bands, especially rock n' roll bands, everyone was on some serious drugs; (2) They recorded this album in a studio made completely out of wood with no windows and oh by the way (3) Every couple that comprised the band (Buckingham/Nicks, the McVies, Fleetwood and his wife) not only were breaking or divorcing, but the songs were written mainly about their own breakup, and oh by the way (4) they all had to play on these songs written about their breaking up and in some cases, about other people. "You Make Lovin' Fun"? That wasn't Christine McVie writing about her ex-hubby playing bass. Yet he played bass on it. Lindsay Buckingham writing about "Go Your Own Way"? That was about him breaking up with Stevie Nicks. Imagine that conversation, "Um, Stevie, can you sing the refrain on this?" Remarkably, she did. Yes, Lindsay's a guy and Stevie's a girl-- how cool was this band? This album also contains "Songbird" which, if it doesn't make you cry, proves that you are not human. I freely admit I ball when I hear this. There are songs about drugs ("Gold Dust Woman", do the math-- Nicks was on coke the entire time), new love ("You Make Loving Fun"), and telling someone to beat it ("Second Hand News"). What's best is that like most 1970's albums, this one has the lyrics. Remember when music had actual lyrics that didn't rhyme with "hizzle"?



Billy Joel's "The Stranger".I must admit that there are two big reasons why I love this album: 1. My parents played it continuously for oh, six straight months and 2. I choose to sing "She's Always a Woman" but with explicit lyrics when I'm forced to sing at karaoke bars. Who am I kidding... I usually volunteer. Anyway, this album's big hit was "Only the Good Die Young" which of course exposed how Catholic girls wait so long to have sex . And this also forced us kids to ask our parents what it meant when Billy sings abou the "Catholic girls starting much too late". Starting WHAT much too late, Mommy? I would assume that these sort of the same uncomfortable questions would be today's version of the "Mommy, why is that guy smiling so much after taking that Viagara/Enzyte?" This is my favorite Billy Joel album, closely edging out "Turnstiles" (extremely underrated) and like "Rumours", reflects love scorned as Billy wrote this after a breakup with his then-wife. The album cover has him staring at a mask on a pillow in bed and guys, how many of us have all been there before (metaphorically, not literally-- that would be a little creepy)? What makes this album great is the lyrics and, like "Rumours", they are printed in the album. "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" has the great middle part about Brenda and Eddie buying paintings from Sears and the lead track "Movin' Out" has arguably one of the best all-time lyrics, "And if he can't drive with a broken back/At least he can polish the fender." And "The Stranger" has one of the nicest piano parts and then grooves into poppish '70's rock. The only negatives is that "Just the Way You Are" is played more in Muzak and Casio keyboard demos than it is on the radio, but look past that and listen to this from beginning to end. And speaking of the end, when you listen to the part of "Everybody Has A Dream", it's essentially the same piano beginning that "Saturday Night Live" plays at the end of their shows when the host gathers everyone on stage and thanks everyone for "what a great show this was" and how "this was a huge experience". I swear that I think SNL actually uses cue cards for the end skit.



Steely Dan, "Aja". Those of you with any musical background and who have ever played an instrument are probably smiling and nodding right now and the rest of you who actually hooked up with a lot of girls in college and were considered "cool" probably have no idea that this album even exists and are surprised that Steely Dan had a hit besides "Reelin In the Years". "Aja" took forever to make-- about a year-- and is a musical masterpiece. Fortunately, it is digitally remastered on CD since this is one of the times where the "warmth" of vinyl does not do this album the justice it deserves. What's remarkable is that besides the two key members of Steely Dan, Donald Fagan and Walter Becker, the supporting cast are some of the best studio musicians in rock history and NONE of the songs actually were played ensemble; all of what you hear is are individual musicians playing their instruments listening to the other parts over existing tracks. Steely Dan had inside jokes all over this album and their entire discography-- they once wrote a song purposely in the key of Gb because they didn't want anyone to cover the song-- and this album is no exception. The first track, "Black Cow" is one of those decadent '70s songs with a funk beat that has every stereotypical '70's cliche into it; a fat snare, a honkytonk bass line, girls singing chorus, and I assume that this song )and presumably this entire album) were written with the thought of trying to expose what the 70's were about; excess, decadence and overproduction. The title track "Aja" has one of the best drum lines of any rock song, played by an admittedly-high Steve Gadd (who does the drums on Paul Simon's "50 Ways"-- go ahead and try and duplicate that) who messed up in the solo and hit his drumstick by mistake and allegedly was told to "keep playing" and they ended up using that track. The only hits on this album were "Peg" and "Deacon Blues" which were edited down and played on FM radio. "Home At Last" is one of my favorites and honestly, ahead of its times when they sing about a "super highway" with all sorts of flaws, much like my industry (ha ha). "Josie" closes the album in a classy way, sort of saying "if you weren't alive in 1977 and living in some old studio apartment in the lower East side of NYC, well, this album sort of tells you what it was like". I guarantee that if you have never heard this album before and listened to it, you will not like it the first time. And then listen to it again for the second time and you'll feel much different.

OK what a ramble... take a journey and go back in time and pick these up. If you'd like to comment on any of the above, well, it's a free country, so shake out your habs and hooters and remember, I love you just the way you are...

Mike

A preview to this year's Thanksgiving leftovers...

Greetings Turkey Day lovers and a few token vegetarians,

Like turkey sandwiches, reheated mashed potatoes and the last piece of pumpkin pie that no one wants to eat because the top of the pie is beginning to shrivel and separate from its crust like some sort of earthquake fault, I deliver to you a rehashed and reheated blog. Hopefully it doesn't turn your stomach enough so that you can't enjoy today's fare. I've sent this out the day before Thanksgiving in years past and due to my busyness-- as well as forgetfulness-- I spaced out. So keeping in the tradition of being a day late and a dollar short, here you go, and enjoy. I edited it so it appears that I wrote it today. How's THAT for being clever!?

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!

===

'Tis time again to loosen the belt and shovel
in food in celebration of everything thankful. Yesterday
millions of Americans traveled by plane,
train or automobile to see friends and family in
preparation of a dinner today where we all give
thanks for what we have, if for nothing more than the
fact that we're not the bird on the table.

Like such traditions and classics as "Alice's
Restaurant" (OK, i'm dating myself here and revealing
to all that I grew up with parents who still think of
the 1960's as "groovy"), the Detroit Lions losing and
highway traffic jams, the following tedious email is a
mish-mosh of past Hump Day columns centering around
Thanksgiving. And, like "Alice's Restaurant", it goes
on way too long and has little or no point. But here
goes.



Today is one of the greatest days of the year as we
all get to give thanks for what we have and who we get
to spend it with. We do this by arguing over who is
supposed to do what, ingesting three meals worth of
turkey and fixings in about 6 1/2 minutes and then
falling asleep in a food coma, dreaming of how
thankful we are. Then tomorrow, most people spend the
day seeing other people... in line at the mall as the
official Holiday Shopping season begins.

As every redblooded American knows, the
Thanksgiving "holiday" is a three-day festival which
accurately portrays what our pilgrim forefathers did
back in the 1620's when they pahked their cahs on
Plymouth Rock (not really a big rock for those of you
who never saw it):



Wednesday (ysterday)- getting out of work early and
joining up at an area bar to get totally smashed and
pick a fight with some guy who dated the girl you
liked in high school. Just like the pilgrims who saw
Indians and decided to start shooting them to "make
peace".

Thursday- Hungover, some younger folks would attend
the traditional rival high school football game and
make up with the people they got in a fight with.
Then, lots of turkey and stuffing and sleeping on the
couch watching football. Just like the pilgrims who
then decided that killing wasn't all that cracked up
to be and made peace by having dinner with them, while
John Alden talked to Chief Massasoit and traded a
crock pot of yams for land that today is known as
"Rhode Island".

Friday- Either calling in sick to work, if it already
hasn't been canceled and then budgeting the Christmas
spending budget to somehow buy presents for 20 people
and spend approximately $50, not including the $62.99
you're spending on yourself for a new NFL football
jersey. Why the Patriots don't play the Redskins every
Thanksgiving is beyond me.



Women have a similar version, except it usually
involves getting in a fight with several old high
school friends (who are now, according to the women,
"fat") and budgeting several times the allotted amount
for people, including some they don't even know.

Thanksgiving to me means a little more since I grew up
in the cranky-yankee area of New England, where
Thanksgiving was "discovered". I've been privy to
witness great historical relics and achievements, such
as the Freedom Trail, the Freedom Big-Dig Tunnel, and
various new Dunkin Donuts construction. I didn't grow
up in Boston but rather Western Massachusetts, (which
Bostonians refer to as "friggin faah") yet shared such
eastern Massachusetts customs as creating needless
construction projects like repairing a bridge that
seemed to work perfectly fine, cutting public
education budgets, and erecting statues to Ted
Kennedy, paid for by the Coalition to Cut Public
Education Funding.



New Englanders are, by tradition, irritable and
abrasive by nature. Much of this irritability is due
to the fact that New England, specifically
Massachusetts, is the "oldest child" of the United
States. Useless States that came out long after
Massachusetts, like Utah, Colorado and North Dakota,
got all sorts of benefits that Massachusetts didn't,
like straight borders and two-way divided highways.
What does this all have to do with Thanksgiving? Take
it easy, I'm getting there, and now will give you the
National Enquirer version of how Thanksgiving came to
be, since you want to know.

If you refer to your history books, which I know you
won't, you'll see that New England was first inhabited
by the Pilgrims for Limited Taxation. The pilgrims,
tired of the oppressive King who hated their funny
black hats, set sail on Mayflower Van Lines and landed
in Boston, only to find that construction diverted all
ships south of the city, and thus ended up in
Plymouth, named after the Volare that one of the
Pilgrims, nicknamed "Sully", drove. They celebrated
their journey at a tavern called The Rock (Sideline
here-- if you've never been to Plymouth, for some
reason the Hysterical-- I mean Historical Society of
Plymouth chooses to spell the name of the town
"Plimoth", for no reason other to create the need for
someone with nothing else to do to go to the
historical society HQ and ask why). Immediately upon
arrival, the pilgrims built triple-decker houses,
liquor stores and Chinese restaurants. Rather than
waste needless energy that could otherwise be spent
repressing people, they let their horses run free and
make up the roads in the town, the reason why today it
is virtually impossible to find a straight road longer
than 10 feet anywhere in Eastern Massachusetts. They
built these domiciles along side of these curvy roads
and homage to this architecture is found today in a
land called the South Shore (South Shore motto: "We
are not the North Shore").

Of course the pilgrims weren't the first inhabitants
of Plymouth or America in general. Native Americans,
who were called Indians until one of the pilgrims who
actually hailed from India, Ahmed Abdul-Rahim Johnson,
objected, roamed the land and had crazy ideas like
building casino and selling cheap cigarettes. Pilgrims
wanted the land for themselves and thought it might be
best to fight these Indians for their lands. But
instead, the pilgrims built toll-bridges to gain
entrance to this new land and the Indians, who were of
course penniless, were forced to retreat to a land now
called Foxwoods. However, today we salute these
Indians by naming all of our rivers and lakes after
them and today they get the get the last laugh by
hearing motorists try and pronounce the name
"Pemiwagassetaweebawopashishboomba River" as they
drive in rotting bridges over these bodies of water,
on their way to deposit their money in area casinos*.

*- A casino was founded by Indians as a way to pay for
those aforementioned tolls.



The leader of the pilgrims, Johnny Massachusetts,
proclaimed this new land his own, and had his buddies
Fred Braintree, Darren "too tall" Dedham, Josiah
Weymouth, Bill Rica, Tom Finneran (whoops) and two
guys just nicknamed "Sully" go off in the land and
found their own villages. Each agreed that for one day
a year they would all gather in Plymouth with their
Native American casino breathren, have a nice meal and
give Thanksgiving, and then try and destroy each
other's football teams the next day.

So this year, as you sit down at your table wherever
you are, carve into the bird, grab a spoonful of
potatoes and a forkful of stuffing, be thankful of the
many blessings you have and enjoy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's clearly black and white

Howdy all,

It's been a while since I've written anything-- never mind one of these little ditties-- and while I never promised a timetable on when I would post something, under normal circumstances I would have written about all sorts of things since my last post. Things I consider interesting, like why ESPN Sportcenter is still interesting after the 6th time in a row that you watch it, or who come up with the universal picture symbols for digital cameras. Well, interesting to ME, that is.

However my time and my focus has been shifting towards the health of my Dad who unfortunately has been diagnosed with some sort of mysterious illness which has hospitalized him for the last month or so and has impaired his speech, vision and motor skills. On the surface, it sounds like he suffered a stroke yet the tests he's had shows that this is not the case, so now they believe that there is a form of lymphoma and he's undergoing chemotherapy to treat that.

So how am I doing? Surprisingly well. Of course, the whole situation sucks, but one thing I can do well is keep an optimistic outlook on things and remain positive. I'm a firm believer that people's thoughts about someone, either positive or negative, change their "energy" so the more positive the thinking, the better. And fortunately, I'm surrounded by many positive people in my life including some I know are more prominent in my life for this reason!

So why am I writing about this? Well, they say that things happen for a reason, and as I went out to help my mom with a bunch of things around the house, I used my Dad's computer and realized that his project he had worked on to scan all of the old black and white slides and pictures had been finished. At least I assume he was finished with them all-- I had never seen most of these before and there are a ton of them. My dad is an incredible photographer and in the late 60's bought a Mamiya/Sekar 35mm camera (don't bother trying to find one, they are long out of business) and learned how to develop his own pictures as well. Much like those of you with kids make sure you have a good digital camera or camcorder, he wanted to make sure that he would be able to get these memories on film. And some of these pictures are rather cool and not just because the feature subject was me in a great majority of them. So I thought I would write about some of them, post them as well, and share them with you.

Before I begin, this isn't a call for your pity or sympathy or anything like that or some sort of therapeutic exercise on my part... well perhaps that last part has a little truth to it. In fact I wasn't going to write about these pictures at all but rather some of the albums that I found of his that I have and how incredible the year 1977 was for music (well, at least for these albums. I guess that the hits by "Player" and "Ambrosia" from that year could be argued against calling them "incredible") and still plan on doing so. Yet here goes with some pictures that I got a smile out of and perhaps you will too (caption after photo):


They say that a sense of humor is something that is not genetically transferred from generation to generation however this picture of me circa 1972 or so has me wearing a sweatshirt that says "I am a tax deduction". This is not only hilarious but something I would totally put on my kid, to which all of you are collectively sighing a breath of relief that to date, I do not have any kids (that I know about).



I wasn't going to roll out the "awwww" pictures this early... however this picture of me and my mom is not only purposely trying to drag the "aww what a cute kid-- what the hell happened?" comments out of you but also hopefully shows the warmth that film can capture in a picture-- something that digital pictures simply cannot do (I am convinced).



Someone call DSS!! My mom is giving me a Schlitz. You all wonder where my love of cheap beer comes from? Well now you know.



What is the significance of this picture? This picture was taken around 7:15am on November 6, 1971. I was about two hours old.



I like this picture because I believe it was the last time where I was smiling while shoveling snow.



My first set of wheels, license plate and all. It ran far smoother than my first motorized set of wheels, a 1977 Plymouth Volare. Go ahead, sing it, everyone does... "Voooo-larrr-e". Gag.


I love this picture because it captures several action points at once. My grandfather is on the right, pensively passing sugar to someone, my mom is on the left talking to no one in particular (ah, how things remain the same over time) and my aunt Julie ponders another piece of Bundt cake.


Vaudeville runs in my family and my wacky aunts are no exception to that fact. As they put on some sort of broadway show, I apparently don't seem too interested as for me, it's all about the bottle.


I love making funny faces and while I like to think that at age 1+ I was making one for the camera, I think it could have been because I am apparently teething.


This would have been a totally cool abstract picture had it not been for the reflection of my dad in the water below.


One thing about my Dad-- he loves to read. And I am totally sure that this article about the upcoming '72 Election is captivating him to the point of making a rather ominous face. Hey, at least he's not holding the magazine vertically.

OK that's it for now... expect something soon about 1977 and three albums that you should own if you either lived in 1977, were curious about 1977, or if you need to cover a hole in the wall and would like an album cover to do the trick!

Mike

Debate a day late and a dollar short...

SO... I'm pretty pissed right now.

After watching some of last night's debate between McCain and Obama, I had a great idea to write up my own mock debate and today, in between distracting myself from work and the week's events, I wrote it up. To spice it up and for comedic value alone, I included Palin and Biden in the debate and of course wrote about each of the candidate's "quirks" and also included Joe the Plumber in my mock debate.

Genius! (in my mind)

Well... SNL decided to kill time and put their own lousy show on tonight which took a lot of my own ideas and put it on the air. So I decided to shelve it and bring it out closer to the election where I can then edit it and make it seem "fresh", and not in the douchebag "fresh" way.

However I did find my 2004 debate email and decided to post it here anyway.

So go back in time and relive our reviled W and the flip-flopper and enjoy.
====================================
Fellow Americans (and a few Canadians, I think):

I am pleased to offer this exclusive
transcript of the Fourth Presidential Debate for
Election 2004. You may have thought that the
candidates only agreed to three debates, however using
some of the surplus from the Clinton Administration,
enough money was found to have a fourth. While the
Bush campaign party strongly opposed this debate since
it required the President to speak in complete
sentences and not use an earpiece, both teams agreed
to this on the condition that Kerry not whiten his
teeth and oversmile and that Bush try to say words
with more than three syllables. The debate was
conducted in my basement, aka Mantown, and carried on
C-SPAN2 (yes there is a C-SPAN2, as if C-SPAN1 and its
one camera wasn't enough).

Moderator (me): Thank you Senator Kerry and President
Bush for attending this totally false and made-up
Fourth Debate of the Presidential Election, live from
Mantown in Manchester, New Hampshire. This debate will
be short, as I can only type so much, and you will
each have several sentences to answer each question
directed at you, and those responding have several
sentences less, and so on, and you get the drift.
Before this debate, a coin was flipped to determine
who gets to answer the first question and the winner
was Senator Kerry, with President Bush, for some
reason, saying that he will defend the north End Zone.
So Senator Kerry, the first question is to you.

Me: Senator, your voting record in the Senate for the
past 20 years has been rather lackluster, attending
only a sporadic number of votes on the floor, some of
which were crucial to the debate. How can Americans be
so sure that you won't be retreating to Camp David and
that you will be an active president?

Kerry: Well first Mike, I want to thank you for
writing this email, since I get rather bored on the
Senate floor, when I do show up, and need something
besides Ted Kennedy's bar tab on his expense reports
to read. I want to address your question head-on, and
say that I have a plan. A plan. I have one. I told my
plan to Bethany, a midwifer from Rochester, New
Hampshire, just north of here. I asked her what a
midwifer was, and she told me. And I told her my plan.
If elected President, I intend to let everyone know
what a midwifer is and what she does, and what my plan
is and how i'll use it.

Bush: Thank you Mike for letting me come here. We no
longer live in a pre "9-11" America. That is because
my administration has spent millions to prove that
indeed we are living in a post "9-11" America.
(pause). 9-11 happened. (pause). It's in the past.
(pause). We've been through a lot together. Remember
that time I, I, denied I knew anything? Yeah, me too.
See, a lot together.

Me: Since neither of you directly answered that
question, I'll try again with another one and this one
is for President Bush. Mr. President, it has been said
that the quality of health care the past four years
has declined substantially and that your
administration hasn't done anything to combat the high
premiums from insurance companies. How do you plan to
change things, if you intend to, the next four years
if re-elected?

Bush: Well first Mike, I am proud of our health care
system. Sure, it ain't perfect. We got them Canadiens
there, to our "north", who make cheaper medicines.
That's ok. I've done research on how we can better our
health care bill. My research shows that if Americans
wash their hands with soap, they reduce their chances
of getting sick. That's why I propose, with the help
of my good friends at [checking notes to see where his
investments are] "Proc-tor" and "Gam-ble", to
introduce the "No Germs Left Behind" bill which will
give bars of soap, useful soap, to all Americans. We
gotta wash our hands. We do. It's that simple.

Kerry: Mike, to say that all Americans can cure their
ills with soap is just wrong. See, I have a plan. I
remember meeting Millie, an unemployed redneck at a
tractor pull in Jethro, West Virginia, complaining
that she has missed an entire week's work at the Dairy
Queen because of a twinge in her back. Millie gave me
an idea for a plan. And a plan I have. If elected, I
intend to start the "Don't Get Sick" campaign and my
plan will encourage all Americans to suck it up a
little, to take a few aspirin and get some additional
sleep, and see if their problem goes away. Got a
stuffy nose? Blow it. It works for me, and my plan
will work for everyone.

Me: I can only hope for the health of our citizens no
matter who wins this. Maybe i'll have better luck with
an education question. Senator Kerry, Massachusetts
has long been known as an "education" state, with many
fine colleges and learning institutions across the
commonwealth. What plan do you have for improving our
education level in the United States if you're
elected?

Kerry: Well Mike, we have all seen what lack of
funding for education has done under a Republican
government and presidency. I mean, highly educated
people are becoming disenchanted in their own jobs
that don't challenge their brain and are instead
writing long-winded emails that have no point and go
nowhere and--

Me: (coughing a little) Ahem, um, stick to the
question please, Senator.

Kerry: Our children have become dumber and as a
result, people like Janice, a crackwhore in Michigan
who I met at a Steak N Shake after a night out with
Ted Kennedy, are now turning tricks instead of
untangling trigonometry. I have a plan for education.
Education has been successful in Massachusetts,
especially in spelling, because the name of our state
is so hard to spell. You can see states like
Connnecticut, Pennsylvania, Mississippi... they all
have great spelling scores, besides Mississippi. I
pledge to reform education in states like Utah, like
Ohio, like Maine, to rename their states harder to
spell names and give our kids something tougher to
spell. I mean, President Bush's name is only one
syllable, and most kids add on an 'e' to the end
because it looks cool. I have a plan.

Bush: You know, I've been told that the "internets"
have all sorts of electronic e-mail-a-ma-jigs about my
edu-ma-cation. That's ok. I'm proud to show Americans
that you don't "need" education to become a President.
We introduced, with the help of the Democrats, my "No
Child Left Behind" bill. We're going to continue that
with my new program called "'C's' to Amaze". That
program will give C students, like I was, the
opportunity to B.S. their way out of class, to prove
that maybe that material they gotta lean just ain't
that important. It ain't! Also, my opponent hasn't
once mentioned that we can make our "internets" more
useful my deploying BOTH of the "internets". My
opponent only seems asphixiated on one.

Me: You do realized you used the word "asphixiated"
when you meant "fixated", don't you?

Bush: Just stick to the questions. That's our deal,
remember.

Me: Right. I think it's time to conclude our debate. I
would ask your views on gay marriage, however the
language that I would imagine both of you would use to
describe some of your fantasies would make this email
either undeliverable or directly into the "spam"
folder, so i'll go back to "old reliable". And
speaking of old reliable, tell me about the women in
your life again. I mean, that stole the show in the
last debate.

Bush: Well thank you Mike, and yes, I love women,
especially those who vote for me. I told America about
the time I met Laura, and how it was love at first
sight. I remember how she blew me off at first, and I
got her drunk and lied that I was a successful oil
businessman and that there was a sample of my "crude"
in the backseat of my pickup. [chuckles] That worked
everytime. I was immediately impressed that during her
"walk of shame" home from that BBQ that she didn't
immediately call me the next morning, making me meet
her parents or telling me that she loved me right
away. But enough of my wife. (mild applause). How
about my daughters? I mean dang, they are hot. Hot!
Got them twins there. Hot! You will see them in their
"twen-ties" the next four years. Vote for my opponent
and guess what, America. No Bush twins. That's right.
And if someone told me ten years ago that a woman
named Barbara Bush were hot, well, I'd have said you
were "loo-ney".

Kerry: First, I want to say how much I admire the
First Lady and how terrific I think she is. Laura is a
fine woman, and even though she didn't accept my
number I tried to give her after the last debate, I
still respect her. I told Ted Kennedy that didn't work
and maybe next time i'll offer her a drive in my car.
But last time I talked about the women in my life, I
talked about my mother. The first debate, I talked
about my wife, Teresa. Well I'd like to take that a
step further and talk about Mother Teresa. She was
quite an incredible woman and as Bonnie, an invalid
from ... [checking random swingvote state] ... Ohio
said, "I really want a woman like Mother Teresa to be
my nurse and increase my dosage of morphine." Amen to
you Bonnie, and to you Mother Teresa."

Me: Um, thanks Senator Kerry. That concludes our
fourth debate of the Presidential election. I would
like to thank... hold on a second...

Ralph Nader: Hey! Nice directions, Robinson. "Take a
left off the exit". Yeah, right! Did I miss anything?
Do I still have time?

Kerry: NO!
Bush: NO! I mean, YES!
Me: Have a great week, and no matter what you do
November 2nd, vote.

Mike

Taken for granite-- I mean, granted.

Good morning you hamburgers and cheeseburgers (RIP Little Joe Cooke, even if he's not dead yet...)

As I sit here in the Granite State, I tend to be more reflexive, pensive, comprehensive, and other words that end in the suffix "ive" and look around this great state, gazing at its beauty and its splendor. Of course I usually do this while at work which isn't a good thing unless I get a job at some state park, and at this rate, that's not all that far-fetched.

I thought of a few things which we all seem to take for granted, and decided to write about them. Those things that I thought about are words, and those words are here. And yes, some of this is recycled crap that I wrote a while back but borrowing some of Sarah Palin's milf-stick, I put a little on this ol' pig:

1. The "Snooze" button. I cannot thank the person enough who realized that not only does the average person who has an alarm clock not only not want to get up when their alarm clock goes off, but that after pressing that magical button, decided that exactly 9 minutes was "enough" in order for it to go off again. Just for that reason, for years I always set my alarm at a time ending in 1, knowing I would snooze for 9 minutes and then wake up exactly on a time ending with "0". Thus, I could tell people that I get up at a time like "6:30" or "7:00" instead of sounding like a total dork and saying "I wake up at 6:21 every mornng." I can see it now... my first item on this list and I've probably lost half of you already.

2. The phrase "you know". Everyone says it (at least those who speak English), athletes praise it, and I would easily campaign for it to be inserted into Webster's dictionary as "you know (-u `no) (adj); 1. Something people say when they just can't think of anything better to say, eg: 'I hate this place, you know?' or 'You know, um, you smell, you know?'; 2. Required language for any professional or collegiate athlete in any sentence. eg: 'You know, we played hard out there and, you know, gave it our all, you know, but you have to, you know, take these games one game at a time, you know, and then get back at it, you know, tomorrow.'" How many of us have been in a situation where we have no idea what we are talking about, stream off a bunch of gibberish phrases filled with "you know's" and then somehow got the other person to be filled with self-doubt about their own knowledge and think you're the more intelligent person? Probably none, but that's because you have to learn to use them constructively, like I did in a recent exchange with a colleague about a technology that I guess we sell here which I know nothing about. It went something like this: "Hey Mike, ever see a customer with frame relay have their DLCI framed so that the PVC channels emit a bandwidth higher than their own thru-put?" (note: after a sentence of this magnitude it is important that you recognize right away that (a) you have no idea what this person just said and (b) you respond immediately and not do what you naturally feel like doing, like pick your nose or run out of the room, screaming). Me: "Well, you know, the DLCI was framed, you know, and the customer does use frame relay after all* so, you know, it's entirely possible that perhaps* their own thru-put could have a bandwidth higher than, you know, they originally intended to have." (*-important words that mean nothing but sound cool). Of course, re-reading this sentence means absolutely nothing, and after I looked up what some of these things mean isn't even technically correct, but I walked away looking like I knew what I was saying, and I'm still employed, so why not say it, you know?

3. Getting the news on your cell phone. Those of us who have wireless toys, and I presume that based on the failure of my old company who specialized in wired land-line technology, is that most of you know what I'm talking about. Being trapped in a carpool in traffic with a bunch of people who are talking about their kids, insurance, or how much the traffic sucks doesn't present the best fodder for you to talk nor do you want to. It's easy-- just whip out the old cell phone and read about the latest news. Better yet, set the phone/pager to vibrate or ring when the news comes in, which if you get the right service is every 1/2 hour, making it look like you have an important call. Just say, "let me see who it is" and then pretend you're reading a text message or something. Pushing the buttons on the phone randomly to see if you can make a song is also fun (I learned dialing my name sounds like Yankee Doodle). Best of all, people leave you out of the conversations about their kids, insurance, or the traffic. Highly underrated.

4. Those oversized cups you get at drive-thrus or convenience stores but still fit into your beverage container in your car. A modern engineering miracle. It used to be impossible to purchase the 72 oz Huge Gulp or whatever it's called unless you were riding around in a F350 with those extra rear tires (what are those for anyway?). Now the cups are ergonomically shaped to fit into even a Hyundai Accent's flimsy cheap container (tested and proven). You almost feel guilty about filling up the cup at the 7-11, drinking half of it, then re-filling it up before you put the lid on, as if 72 oz of any fluid isn't enough for the average person.

5. Hourly "Sportscenters" on ESPN. Who cares if it is the same Sportscenter repeated over and over. I can watch back-to-back-to-back-to-back shows and still have to tune in to see something. Plus, two words: Erin Andrews. I have issues.

6. The thing near your fuel gauge on the dashboard of your car that reminds you what side of your car you need to fill your gas tank. How many of us have driven up to a gas pump only to find that it's necessary to turn all the way around because the gas tank is on the wrong side? Answer: no one. On second thought, this isn't underrated at all. It's useless. I'm having some writer's block I think. I think. Um.

7. If #6 wasn't bad enough, then this probably isn't any better. But it has to go to 24 hour breakfast places. There is nothing better than having a stack of pancakes, sausage, and some eggs, along with toast with 30 of those small little jelly things at 3am. Well actually, there are much better things you could be doing at 3am. Being a guy and having breakfast at 3am means that you probably aren't with the girl you were trying to score with all night and instead are taking your oral fixation needs out on a stack of flapjacks. But they are good. Of course, this will segue into my last thought...

8. The "Wingman". Long before Coors decided to make a pretty funny commercial about how the "wingman" (i.e. the guy who "takes one for the team" and gets stuck talking to the token fat, hideous, or totally uninteresting chick in a group of girls so other friends can try to pick up the prettier ones), the wingman in a group fast becomes your best buddy. The terms "maverick" and "cougar" are actually more common (Top Gun terms are still cool to use even after 15+ years after that movie came out). I have been wingman many times, but normally by default as most of my friends just went right for the prettier girls right away while the ADD part of me focused on stupid things, like where the bathrooms were located or what the cheapest beers were so I knew what to order when it's my turn to buy a round. My fondest wingman memory was a girl who was from Brookline who had a lisp and everytime she said the word "music" I thought she was saying the 's' word, like "mu-shit". So when she said "I hate this music" or "This music is too loud" I thought she had a foul mouth. She also danced with her "thumbs-up". Guys know what I mean by this. Her hands were in a frozen "Fonz" thumbs-up position as she moved her arms around, like she was cool. I think she danced like that to "Love Shack" which is one of the reasons I hate that song. Totally annoying, but if I remember correctly I distracted her long enough away from her group of friends some friends could take care of business. As a result, I got a couple of rounds from them as well as the chance to write this column, showing how much of a loser I was*. *- please let me use this word in the past tense. Please.

By the way, best t-shirt logo ever:



That's all folks. Enjoy your Tuesday or whenever you read this, you know.

Mike

Think Outside the Bun in the Fast Lane...

Buenos nachos,

As I was arriving home from a long day on the road last week, I realized I was hungry and remembered that besides some chip and dip and some condiments from food from a BBQ I hosted the past weekend, I had no food. So I decided to zip on up Rt 3 and had a craving for Taco Bell. Usually when I desire Taco Bell, I am one of two things: incredibly drunk or realizing I have only around $6 in my wallet. So I sped up the road and then I realized that there are two things that really piss me off. I decided to entertain you by writing about them.

1. Taco Bell Commercials. There are three fundamental reasons why any of us eat at Taco Bell: we are mesmerized and sucked into the perception that we can have a full meal from the money that is on the floor of our car, we are incredibly inebriated, or we have little or no standards to "Mexican" food whatsoever. Of course since one of those bean burritos for 79 cents won't fill up even the smallest child, we often go hog wild and order 4 regular tacos, 2 soft tacos, 3 bean burritos, several things we can't pronounce, and of course, a large diet coke. It still only comes to around $6 and we have the perception that we will be having a Mexican food feast only to realize that they use an eyedropper to put the "meat" into the food and exactly 4 minutes after the last bite of whatever you order, you begin the dreaded sport of projectile shitting.

The new commercials feature some asshole on an elevator who takes a bite out of what appears to be a giant cheese-filled sandwich from some douchebag stupid enough to open up his lunch in a crowded elevator. What pisses me off about this commercial is that you actually get angrier at that douchebag for not only opening his lunch in an elevator and then talking to people about his lunch but realizing he didn't immediately punch the other guy in the face the second he ate his food. I can only imagine how excited these two actors were to find out that they were in a commercial from a "major sponsor", read their script that called for acting like a total tool for Taco Bell, and then having to go through with it.

Speaking of Taco Bell, to this day I can not order the Nachos Bell Grande. When I was in college, one of my roommates came home from a long night at the bars, totally wasted, and of course carrying the overflowing bag of take-out Taco Bell (which smartly is open past 1am). Of course since I was such a great student, I was stone cold sober while studying for an important exam to help better my career aspirations. OK, so this whole story is a little embellished... anyway, as I proceeded to see him wolf down the entire bag in about 15 seconds while proclaiming after each bite that it was "the best __ ever", I went down the hall of my dorm to avoid getting sick to my stomach and about five minutes later, heard him running down the hall to the bathroom. Thinking he was throwing up, I felt compelled to follow him in (for some reason we used to do this a lot) only to see that instead he was there in the handicrapper, door open, laughing his ass off and taking what probably was the foulest smelling dump ever and them proclaiming that he was taking a "Beer Shit Bell Grande".

To add to the effect, I present to you... the Nachos Bell Grande. Bon appetit. Sorry, I should have warned you not to read this while eating anything.

Here's a picture of my dorm room during my junior year of college with my old roommate who took the aforementioned dump playing either Mario Bros or TechmoBowl on our No-Friend-O (I'm on the floor probably assembling a camera or some video equipment for my esteemed television career).



Yep, you guessed it: we got laid a lot. That's a fucking Flounder stuffed animal with a lei around it hanging from our ceiling which we thought would attract the girls and show how "sensitive" we were and the bottle caps on the ceiling would look like "stars in the sky" as we both enjoy post-coitus snuggling in our bunk beds. BUNK BEDS!! Of course all it really took was this secret potion I like to call "alcohol".

2. People who come to a complete stop in the "Fast Lane" on a highway. The whole reason to get a Fast Lane tag in your car is so you can avoid having to scrounge for change, roll down the window, pay a toll for a road that is probably long since paid for, and then moving along. Of course the line that you have to wait in to play the toll is bad enough; we have to slow down to PAY. I would gladly slow down if they were giving us something back. So, most states have this Fast Lane (some call it EZ Pass) designed to allow you to drive on through as the toll gets automatically charged to your credit card or bank account, softening the blow of realizing you're actually being charged and of course, allowing us free Americans to avoid as much human contact with strange toll collectors as possible.



Of course there's always some jerk who gets confused that they are in a Fast Lane and don't know what to do. You with these tags know what I'm talking about, they zip down the lane (because unlike the paying toll booths, there is no line), they slow down and then speed up, then slow down, then put the directional on, you honk, they try and back up, you don't let them, and they go through, hoping that they won't be charged a fine or get a letter in the mail with a camera picture of their car going through the lane with a comment that the toll-booth police were thoroughly enjoying the footage showing your confusion. By the way, do NOT let these people back up. You have to learn not to do it again somehow. Tough love, my friend.

But the worst are those people who slow down to nearly a complete stop and who DO know what they are doing. To those who do, here are some reasons not to: 1. They call it FAST Lane, not Slow Down to a Stop Lane; 2. Remarkably, electronics has progressed quite a bit since the card-reader machine and those scanners can pick up your car at remarkably fast speeds, like scanning food at a supermarket; and 3. You just suck if you do. I have determined that you can go through the Fast Lane at around 25-30 mph and not get caught speeding. Give it a try sometime.

So to make a long story short, I got home later than expected and enjoyed my chips with leftover dip, pickles and spicy mustard. Yo quiero Doritos.

Thinking outside the bun,
Mike

Gentlemen, start your engines...

Hey there all,

Even though I have lived up in Little Canada, aka New Hampshire, for a few years now, I have often been looked at by the natives up here as an "outsider". Sure, it could be my driving habits, taken directly from where I grew up in Massachusetts (my driving school motto was "License Yours, No Questions Asked, Just Don't Bounce The Check), my quasi-accent, the fact I still add 5% sales tax to some things, or that I am not currently driving an American-made pickup and I don't own and have never shot a gun, at least not for the hell of it.

But then it dawned on me that I haven't done the ONE thing that separates NH from the rest of the New England states. Yep, you guessed it.

I hadn't been to a NASCAR event.

Through pure serendipity and calling in a favor, I happened to grab a few free tickets to this past weekend's "Sylvania 300" series. While thinking that perhaps Sylvania makes light bulbs that are now 300 watts, instead I was told that this indicates how many laps each car goes around the track during the race. Ok, I'm getting it now, this is easy.

In a town just north of Concord (city motto: "No, We're Not Named After the Grape, Sorry") called Loudon (town motto: "The First Four Letters of Our Town Describe Our Races") there is absolutely nothing besides a Shell station, some run-down apartment buildings... and naturally, a race track with grandstands that fit 95,000 people. Because no one knowingly and willingly enters the town of Loudon ever besides twice per year for its two annual racing events, the roads are understandably not equipped to handle cars and trucks carrying 95,000 people so I was told to arrive early to beat the traffic, pack a cooler of beer to take into the racetrack, and not cheer for anyone named Busch, unless it's one of those cold beers in the aforementioned cooler.

WAIT.

Did I just get told to pack a cooler of beer to take INTO the racetrack? It is OK to bring IN beer to a sporting event? Yessiree! It turns out that NASCAR did a marketing study and found that watching 300 laps of cars going in circles to the left can be "boring at times", so I'd need an excuse to forget that I am indeed doing this. OK, I'm beginning to warm to the NASCAR experience.

To capture the experience, I tried to remember the approximate times of the day where something noteworthy came up and then what I did. Because bringing in paper and a pen to write down things to remember would tip off fans that I can read AND write and therefore provoke fans to make fun of my "fancy writing thingie", I used my noggin to try and remember, and only because I took a picture of myself at around lap 190, staring off into space, drooling, completely catatonic saying in a monotone voice "I'm going to write about this," while feeling I'd morphed into Cousin Eddie from "Christmas Vacation", here goes:

10:45am: After losing a debate that I shouldn't drive my Lexus to a NASCAR race for very obvious reasons, I donned my rain jacket and my Schlitz hat and my friend Janell and I begun to head up to Loudon with a cooler of tailgate food, a second special cooler of beer, some chairs, a camera, my last will and testament, and a rain jacket. She had been to one of these before and promised that I "was going to love this". I noticed she was crossing her fingers. Hmm.

11:05am: We're already past Concord and there was absolutely no traffic. The rain is coming down pretty well. Not a good sign.

11:10am: We then get onto the road that leads to the speedway which appears to be around 7 miles of stop and go traffic. Not a good sign, but in a different way.

11:20am: I notice one of those cell phone towers that has the fake branches on them that is made to look like a tree but because there are around 20 total branches on the gray metallic tower and the fact that the tower is easily twice the height of the rest of the evergreen trees, I asked her if the she thought if the people who made them seriously thought they were going to fool anyone into thinking that rather than a cell tower, it's just a really ugly, super-tall tree. "Only you would think of something like that," I was told, to which I pretty much agreed. But seriously, who are they trying to kid? Did I mention we were stuck in traffic?

11:20-12:15pm: Several witty comments made by me which were basically too boring or mundane to mention here, and since this blog is basically made to capture these gems, you can only imagine how boring they must have been.

12:15: Finally we get to the road where the parking lots are. The scene it total chaos. There are cars everywhere. Lots were filled with squatters just looking for parking spots and places to tailgate. We missed the turn to where our friends were and instead ended up in the "Family Parking" area which were really a bunch of RVs that apparently have to be fully occupied by 10pm. Time to turn around.

12:20: Ironically, we found a parking lot and spot that was about 200 ft away from where our friends were. This is a good sign!

12:25-1:30: After meeting up with Josh and his cousins, we tailgated for about an hour. It's a typical tailgate, like before football games, except rather than seeing people wear clothing and hats where the home team colors dominate, all you see is numbers.



1:50: We walk to the grandstand area and get our tickets. I am told that we CANNOT miss the "gentlemen start your engines" declaration as well as the actual starting of the engines, so we quickly get in line to security.

1:52: The 14-yr old kid who checks my cooler of beer opens it up. "Beer," he says. "Have a good time." Ladies and gentlemen, we are officially NOT going to Foxboro.

1:53: The lady takes my ticket and scans it. "Make sure that if you leave, you get your hand stamped so you can get back in." I look at her quizzically. "You mean you can LEAVE... and you can come back?" She shook her head and I then knew it was too good to be true until she added, "Only if you have your hand stamped". She then smiled. Ladies and gentlemen, we are officially NOT going to Fenway.

1:55: Told to hurry by Janell so we wouldn't miss the engines revving up, we go inside to as far as the gate as we can go. Turns out we are right at the starting line, and on that starting line on the track are a bunch of people including... Senator John McCain. I have just gone from a Springer-show audience to being 30 feet away from the possible next President of the United States. Only in America... or at least, Loudon NH.



1:55-1:59: McCain says something about how great it is to b e in New Hampshire and how happy he is to be back in the Granite State. I would imagine that his speech is written something like a Mad Lib that goes like this:

"My fellow Americans, I am honored and proud to be back in [state name] for this [event name]. It's always good to be back in the [colorful state nickname]. My wife [wife name] and I love coming back here. Unlike [name of unsuccessful Democratic presidential candidate with a funny name, like Dukakis], we are committed to serving the good people of [state name, of if confused, just say "this state"] for the next four years. Why, I remember back in [pick a year between 1960 and 1970 so no one will call you on it] when I was here [name of a worthy event or charitable cause] and I can still [taste, smell, see] the [popular food item] that I've known to love here in [state name]. And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, [sporting event catchphrase]!!"

Of course I couldn't really hear anything since I think I forgot to mention that the engines had already started anyway.

Here's how close we were to McCain, not that I could just be lying and secretly have a big zoom lens (ladies dig the big zoom lens):



2:05: After a few practice laps, the cars rev up and go. There are few feelings in this world that compare to being only a few feet away from a track where cars driving at around 200 mph produce a wind of exhaust, tire pieces, driver's teeth, etc., that come flying at you. I now know why sitting in the front row is less expensive than seats 30 rows up.



2:10: I ask "who do I root for" and am told "just pick a car and follow it". Since not only do I not care who is racing, I look at the cars and couldn't make up my mind. So I saw one that said "Stanley Tools" on it and thought, "well I did use some Stanley Tools when I did my Home Depot kitchen over, so I guess I'll pick that one." It was the #19 car and I think "cool. Josh Beckett. Fred Lynn." I have to remind myself I am not at Fenway, not that the cooler of beer I'm carrying doesn't constantly remind me of this.

2:11: I then see the Home Depot car and want to change my mind. F me. Janell says that I can't once I pick a car. I think I called her "Ms. Nascar" or something not that either of us could really hear anything.

2:20: Getting to our seats, 30 rows up, cooler in hand, we sit.

2:20-2:45. And we sit.

2:46 (or so): A crash! I hate to admit it, but watching crashes are fun. It sure beats...

2:50: More sitting.

2:52: Time to take a picture of the #19 car for everyone! Problem is, they go too fast. So, this picture was as close as I got:



2:55: Hey, I just realized that I'm bringing my new universal "coolie" commemorating Mike Doolan's 30th Birthday. This is my favorite coolie because I think I have about a dozen of these and don't care if I lose them (sorry Mike). Here's a picture of me trying to amuse myself while cars go around in circles:



3:00 to whenever: Since I really couldn't hear much since my ears were plugged, I then did a little bit of people watching. And here are my observations:

-- To our left was a child around 11-12 years old and presumably his Dad. Every time a certain car came around the turn, he would stand up and flip the bird and yell "FUCK YOU!". Interesting. I then looked for the car with the "Department of Social Services" sponsorship.
-- None of the race cars are sponsored by Colgate, AIM, Pepsodent or Dial, Dove, Right Guard or Ivory. Coincidence?
-- Racing car shirts are like Christmas sweaters: you drag them out once a year and then curse yourself if you have to leave the environment where you're wearing them and be exposed in them. Not that I am a fashion plate by any means, but the colors of most of the shirts are probably best suited for walking through the woods during hunting season and trying not to get shot. However with just a Schlitz hat and a black rain coat, I was considered "preppy".
-- No one really seemed to boo anyone. I did hear some boos for Jeff Gordon who, according to the guy we walked up behind to get to our seats, was "a fag" and for the Busch guy because I think people thought he was the president. Wait. I didn't hear anything because of the earplugs. I established this already.
-- I was able to see who was ahead and then count how many cars my car, #19, was behind. It was a little emasculating to see Janell make a "four" or "six" with her hands and then I flash both hands three times to let her know my loser car was in 30th place. I then felt much, much better when I reminded myself I really didn't give a shit.

I was then caught staring with my mouth open in a catatonic like trance at absolutely nothing whatsoever. She was fortunately able to catch this exciting moment on film and the picture is below. I believe that my mind was playing a continuous loop of some country music I heard on the way in and my mind was thinking mundane thoughts like "Green is a pretty color... Lowe's... Tony Stewart... people applaud... beer... 42 laps to go... exhaust... I like green... "



I then tried to guestimate how much time we had left sitting and staring at cars going around in a circle. Using my astute mathematical prowess (HA) I took a car and timed it. I counted. Around 40 seconds to make a lap. Around 40 laps to go. Hmm. Not being able to completely figure it out since I suck at math, I thought that I'd have about 1/2 hour to go.

Then, more accidents.

It at least allowed me to take pictures of cars.



OK, enough pictures of cars. Hey, the guy in front of me has a t-shirt from a place called the Boothill Saloon! I've never heard of that before!! I have to get a picture taken of it! Might as well include us in the shot as well!



To make an already too long story a little shorter, I'll sum it up by saying that someone named Greg Wiffle won (I assume he is related to the ball), we hung out because 95,000 people leaving all at once just isn't that coordinated, they played Sweet Caroline and Dirty Water to TRY and make it appear that we are still in New England, and then we left to tailgate for the next, oh, 8 hours, where I got my ass kicked in beer pong by Janell and one of Josh's cousins.

Good times, and actually, I think I might go back for the next race. Yep... I can feel my teeth loosening right now...

Mike

Sportscaster Babes

Ladies, there is no need for you to read this blog, not that any of you really read these things anyway. This is dedicated to the men out there longing for entertainment in written form, specifically those who love watching sports.

Oh, OK, so you're reading anyway. Fine.

It used to be that TV sportscasters were hired either for their knowledge or their insight into the game and not for their looks. This period was long known as the Cosellian Era, named after Howard Cosell who either you loved or hated but who had a voice that was easily identifiable as well as mockable. If you think Monday Night Football, you used to think Cosell, Al Michaels, Don Meredith... all good sportcasters who either showed off their Syracuse degree (Bob Costas, Michaels, etc.) or their pride of not being too banged up from concussions to talk in semi-complete sentences and some rememberance of their playing years (OJ Simpson pre-murder, Meredith, Criqui, etc.).

However after the Cosellian era, ratings seemed to drop. A sharp team of marketing individuals did a survey to figure out why. They came back with two answers: breasts. Guys like looking at breasts. Guys also like watching sports. Hmm. Breasts. Sports. Watching sports. Seeing breasts. It was the metaphorical peanut butter-meets-chocolate of sports broadcasting.

Now, football had cheerleaders specifically for this purpose. But it was hard to justify the camera to go to cheerleaders besides by accident since they bring little or no tangible value to the game. I'm sure that early scripts that were rejected went something like this: "1st and 20, Bradshaw in the shotgun formation. Three wideouts at the line and Harris now in motion. Candace is waving her pompoms. Bradshaw calls for the snap." Somehow, while we liked Candace and loved her pompoms, there was no reason to go to Candace at any point besides a football player going out of bounds and into the cheerleaders by mistake. Ha ha, "mistake!". So a great innovation was introduced: the "Sideline Reporter" or "In-Game Reporter".

And so it was born: justifying a hot chick to be shown on camera to share nothing substantial whatsoever but give you another reason to not get up off your couch during a lull in the action.

The steady rise of sideline reporters was documented by none other than Melissa Stark, hired by ABC to at least provide some sort of distraction from the gang of idiots like Eric Dickerson, Dennis Miller, etc., who worked Monday Night Football. While we had to put up with their witty banter, we hung around for those magic words: "And now let's to go Melissa Stark on the sideline." For those who don't remember, the dialogue was something like this:

Dennis Miller: "So Favre goes back to pass and it's... incomplete. Just like this one gig I did at the Chuckles in West Chester. I mean, talk about dying."
Eric Dickerson: "Yo what it is, I be dyin' if you be bringin' up mo stories like dat!"
Dan Fouts: "Yeah."
DM: "I second what you said Eric, whatever that was. Which reminds me of this one time on Saturday Night Live, when Dana Carvey and I were--"
ED: "Let's be goin to Melissa Stark on the sideline."
Us: "(THANK YOU)"

And there she was... in a nice tight sweater... saying absolutely nothing of substance but us not caring... out of her mouth were the words, "thanks guys, and I had the chance to speak to Coach Holmgren and he said that Favre felt 'ready to play' today, and that he'll let his actions come out 'on the field'. Back to you in the booth," but what we heard was "check these girls out. This sweater is easily two sizes too small. Blah blah, Holmgren, blah blah, back to you in the boobs. I mean, booth."


Unfortunately, angry girlfriends/wives who were listening or watching to the sportscast, not understanding a thing Miller or Dickerson or Fouts was saying yet noticing us drool and yelling "SHHH!" when Stark came on, called and complained, and ABC then ordered her to have a kid, wear frumpy sweaters and Hillary-like hats, and then banished her to NBC where she covered sports no men watch, like the Olympics or figure skating.

But that did not stop the trend from continuing. Here in Boston, NESN figured it out. Hazel Mae, Tina Cervasio, Kristin Mastrionni (sp?) and now the future Mrs. Robinson, Heidi Watney, all patrol the airwaves waiting to tell us interesting tidbits like a player's charitable contributions, an amusing story about the cherished family pet of one of the players, or an interview with a fan about their long journey all the way from some town no one's heard of.

So alas... my own Top 5 of who's on today, and free free to agree/disagree (note: comments add words to my blog!!). I will add photos of each one for you to peruse and to keep you reading.

5. Stark. I just wrote about her. Read above.

4. Jillian Barbarie. She used to be on Fox NFL Sunday and now only makes cameo apparances on a local NY sports show. I believe she once did the weather for an NFL show, like any of us cared if it was going to rain or snow at a football game since the viewer is most likely on their couch. She was not only hot, but filthy. When she showed up with Pamela Anderson one time, it made the highest rating of the demographic "Men 18-35 Not Looking At Any Person's Face". Has the look like she's just dying to tell us of her first threesome.


3. Hazel Mae. No longer on NESN anymore, she was a lot of fun and perky and really into sports but none of us cares: she had incredible breasts. When she was hired, she was referred to as "Witch Hazel" as she appeared to be a little bit of a butterface (everything's nice but her face) but then during the 2005 Opening Day for the World Champion Red Sox, wore this dress that showed the girls off. Insisted on dating players which meant she liked to have fun and you can just tell was DYING to drop a double entendre here and there to spice up a broadcast. And I once wrote that if I were a player having an interview with Hazel, it would go something like this:

Hazel: "So Mike, with that big stick in your hand, I bet that the feeling of the ball, or balls, and that big stick, um, oops my microphone fell down my blouse... hmm, well that must have been something, huh?"
Me: "..."
Hazel: "Um, Mike? My eyes are up here."
Me: "..."

She will be missed but I think she and the girls will be just fine.


2. Erin Andrews, ESPN. Wow. There is a reason why watching ESPN Sportscenter four times in a row on a rainy Saturday morning isn't that bad or monotonous and Erin certainly helps. Honestly, I have no idea who she is or what she talks about or where she came from in life nor do I really care at all. Now THAT'S a sign of a hot sportscaster.



1. Heidi Watney-Robinson. OK, so one can dream. I can remember where I was when she was hired. They had just fired Tina Cervasio and all of her teeth and then announced the hiring of this feisty vixen from somewhere out in California. Sure, I'm a sucker for blonds, but never before did I see someone so pretty ask questions to mundane yet look absolutely incredible doing it. Note that she actually went up in the "power rankings" because she was recently rumored to be dating Sox captain and catcher extraordinaire Jason Varitek, who recently got divorced (hmm). You may ask why she went up but 'Tek is one of those players who would make your wife/girlfriend/mistress's "list" of people that, if they ever had a chance to sleep with them, would be ok with you just like I assume you have one. And you wonder why I'm not married yet!

Not to sound stalker-esque but at a Sox game this past week, part of the reason to move down behind the visitor's dugout was to see Heidi and her blond locks get ready for what I assume was a thought-provoking and inquisitive interview with one of the stars of the game. However I would think that if she were interviewing me, the Q&A would go something like this:

Heidi: "So Mike, I saw that the wooden bat in your hand made contact with that ball thingie. How did that feel?"
Me: "Holy crap you're hot!"



And the exclusive picture taken behind the dugout below... she just yelled over to me saying what I thought was "when are you going to ask me to marry you?" but people around me heard something quite different.



Apparently she won't be on NESN for long, so enjoy her while it lasts. And yeah, I'm a homer: it had to be a Boston chick taking #1 (sorry Erin).

Ok that's it. Enjoy your weekend and be sure to watch your sports this weekend. Opening Day NFL!

Mike