Monday, November 30, 2009

Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year goes to . . . Tim Tebow?

The annual Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year will be announced this week...unlike in some year's there are at least six worthy candidates for this high honor...last year Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps was a hands-down unanimous choice for the honor -- well at least until he later got photographed smoking pot from a bong...

Anyway, here are my top five athletes who should be considered for the Sportsman of the Year....

5. Peyton Manning - over the last year Manning is the reigning NFL MVP and he has led his team to a perfect season so far...his career is deserving of an honor such as this...but I believe he will be passed over for now...eventually he will win this award...

4. Mariano Rivera - there is no way Mo will get this honor because he is someone who does not like the spotlight...but he has been the one constant for the New York Yankees from 1996 through 2009...without Rivera, the Yankees would not have won 5 World Series titles...and even at the age of 40, he showed once again this post-season why he is the most important player on the Yankees...

3. Jimmie Johnson - I know nothing about auto racing...but even I know it take someone special to win a title four times in a row...Johnson is probably the most deserving, but I don't see it happened just because he is with auto racing...

2. Roger Federer - this dude should have been the Sportsman of the Year already...he is the most dominant tennis player ever...this past year he finally won the French Open and once again reclaimed th Wimbledon title...he finished the year ranked number 1...his biggest drawback is that he is not American...if Federer was American, he would be more recognized for his greatness...

1. Tim Tebow - I think Tebow will be the 2009 Sportsman of the Year...I know that many people hate this kid...but the fact remains, he is a winner at the college football level...plus, he seems like the "real deal" off the field...sure it is easy to bash Tebow, but I would want his to be the QB on my college team...he epitomizes everything that is good with college sports...Tebow may be a flop in the NFL, but no one can take away his greatness at the college level...that piece of history is secure...

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Are You Married? Wanna Fuck Anyway?


I spent Thanksgiving weekend in my hometown. There was a reunion concert for a band named "Haze" that involved my old guitar teacher and his former bandmates. My best friend and I were trying to decide whether we wanted to go eat at the restaurant/club where the concert was being held or go to Hooters. It was a tough decision, hot young titties on girls who pretend to care about us, or a good show surrounded by a veritable high school reunion crowd and the occasional intoxicated hottie who genuinely does want to "get it on." In the end we chose the concert.

We arrived early, ate food that I probably will never order or eat again considering the effects it had on me throughout the night and the next day, and slowly rounded up a handful of friends to sit with.

It can be disturbing to see your old high school crowd show up, one by one, some looking stunning and others looking old and scary.

"What the hell happened to HER??" we wondered, as a very high and partyriffic girl stumbled over, stood in front of our table, and broke out into her traditional "I'm stoned, come fuck me" dance. She was totally and thoroughly wasted and it didn't come from that beer in her hand. We had learned in a slurred conversation with her that she had actually graduated after most of us. In short, she was younger. But oh my God, she didn't look it. She looked positively ancient.

"Rode hard and put up wet doesn't begin to cover it with her," my New York feminist friend leaned over and shouted into my ear over the sound of the band.

"Damn skippy," I replied. "She could be my grandmother."


I'm only 25, I swear

Throughout the night I began noticing increasingly frequent internal problems, apparently relating to the food I'd eaten. I farted a lot. A LOT. And I suddenly found myself feeling unbearably dehydrated. My kidneys hurt with each beat of the drum. I didn't know what the problem was, so I tried to ignore it and go on enjoying my night out with friends I hadn't seen in an eternity. Hopefully the problems would pass.

At one point a stunning brunette passed by me. She could've been a model. I sat there staring at her for the longest time. Finally I turned to one of my friends and asked, "isn't that Susie Swain?"

"I don't know who Susie Swain is," my friend responded, disinterested.

There were 2 very tall women with long hair sitting up at the front of the room, right in front of the stage. They both had identical large breasts. They would stand up during the songs and jump around, bouncing their ample breasts as they did so and catching the attention of everyone in the room.

"Either those 2 women are sisters," I said to my New York feminist friend, "or else they both got identical breast implants. Those things are almost too good to be true."

"You never know," she said. "All I know is mine don't stand out straight like that."

I studied the women a little longer. They had the hips for breasts like that. They were long and tall with hips, tiny waists and huge breasts. They very well might be real.

Midway through the night a pair of hot blondes came in. They looked familiar. I had encountered them before. They were the 2 women who had called me "Charlie" and left a phone number last July. I had not called and I wasn't sure how they were going to react to me now. More than that, I wasn't sure how I was going to react to them.

2 hot blondes
2 hot blondes

They saw me. There was no doubt about it. I made eye contact with them several times, finding myself frozen as we locked eyes across a very short space. Sometimes they seemed to be studying me. Other times I think they were irritated. Women generally don't like men whom they express an open interest in only to have that invitation fall unanswered. Hot blondes, especially, aren't fond of guys who don't come running when they offer the keys to the panty drawer.

The blondes disappeared for awhile. I couldn't see where they went. I thought I saw them at the bar, but the bar was full. A lot of people were forced to stand. Suddenly I became aware of the blondes standing right behind me, me in my booth and them no more than 2 or 3 feet away, standing there watching the band, talking to passing men who struck up a conversation, or talking to each other. I couldn't look back towards the bar without locking eyes with one of them. At one point they both stared me down, wordlessly drilling me with their blue eyes.

Suddenly the group sitting in the booth next to me got up and left. The 2 hot blondes immediately sat down, with one of them almost touching me.

Legally I'm married. Technically it's complicated. I'm not going into the details, but last time I encountered these 2 hot blondes I had tried to explain it, albeit through a 3rd party. I'm pretty sure they know the situation.

We sat there for quite awhile, side-by-side without speaking. I could almost feel them. Every time I turned to look towards the bar I was looking past them. One of them would flick her hair and it would brush the back of my head. I was sweating. Sweating and farting. Oh damn, what the hell was in that food I ate?? These women are hot, and now they're sitting right next to me. And I'm FARTING!!!

While all of this was going on, I was engaged in a 3-way conversation with the New York feminist whose breasts do not stick straight out, a brunette Canadian named Traci, and Judy.

Judy had come in after me. I had watched her cross the room. In fact, everyone in the place had watched her cross the room. Judy is a rockstar. Or rather, she could've been. She plays bass and she can sing like nobody's business. She's a girl who excels at everything she does. She was a model, a biker babe, a pretty, prissy girl, a vicious, ass-kicking drug-dealer, a business owner, a wife, and now a divorced mother. You couldn't miss her crossing the crowded room. Everyone turned to see that thick, beautiful, flowing hair, the gleaming eyes that seem perpetually amused, and the burning flame that defines a human stick of dynamite. Judy is only about 5 feet tall, but she seems much taller due to the effect of her personality. Normally when Judy and I talk I get the feeling that her eyes are looking through me, as if I wasn't even there. Tonight, for some reason, she looked right at me and smiled a happy, welcoming smile. It made me feel warm inside. I farted each time she turned that smile on me.

I was distracted from the 2 hot blondes. Judy kept smiling at me and laughing. 2 lesbians passed by us, one a red hot chick, and the other clearly the 'guy' of the couple. Judy and I turned to look at each other and raised our eyebrows in unison without speaking a word. It was just as well we didn't speak. It was so loud that we could barely hear each other. Finally I took her cell phone, entered her number into my phone, and began texting her. It was easier than shouting.

Susie Swain, or someone who looks an awful lot like her, kept walking past, catching my eye every time. "Damn, she looks REALLY good," I kept saying to my silent friend sitting next to me. He had arrived with me, sat next to me, and not spoken a word all night. My New York feminist friend and Canadian Traci had nicknamed him "Silent Bob."

Judy had stood up to see the band. Everyone was standing up, so if you remained seated you just couldn't see. I watched her move away slightly, standing next to the booth next to ours. A skinny, long-haired guy with a goatee started talking to her excitedly. I couldn't hear what he was saying. Eventually he stopped talking and Judy turned to me and laughed. Then she texted me, "this guy grabbed me and said "you're that bad-ass chick. You're a legend. You're a fuckin' legend."" Judy found it amusing. I found it not the least bit surprising, especially having seen how animated he was once he got her attention. She is a legend. That dude was wetting himself with excitement over finally meeting The Legendary Judy.

The 2 hot blondes had come as close to me as they could reasonably do without sitting in my lap. I had sat unmoving and indecisive, never attempting to spark a conversation with them. Finally, they got up and left, heading for the door without looking back. I farted again. My kidneys were also aching like a motherfucker. I felt as if my internal organs were turning to dust, I was so dehydrate. I kept drinking, and it kept not helping.

Another factor in my indecision regarding the 2 hot blondes was how sick I was beginning to feel. If I got a tad too intoxicated, and they were a tad too friendly, and we somehow ended up in the bathroom or at their place fumbling around, with the way I was feeling I wasn't entirely sure that all my important parts were going to work. I mean, clearly my ass was working. In fact, it was working overtime, tooting up a symphony. But my mouth felt like garlic and sand. And my kidneys felt as if I had been punched repeatedly there. If I am ever going to tranform "it's complicated" to "I'm available for one-night stands" it probably shouldn't be on a night when I'm not up for it.

No sooner had the 2 hot blondes vacated the booth next to mine when a large crowd of mostly women crammed into it. They hadn't been there for very long when the lone male in the group tapped me on the shoulder and said "she wants to ask you something."

A brunette leaned forward next to him and smiled at me. "Are you married?" she asked.

Fuck! "Technically I am, yes. It's .. um ... complicated," I responded, sick of saying this over and over.

The brunette sitting on her left leaned foward, laughing, and said, "would you like to fuck anyway?" Then everyone laughed.

canadian
Let me rub your junk, eh

At one point I ended up in a deep conversation with Traci from Canada. The more she drank, the more often she mentioned that she was from Canada. And then she got up from her seat and came over to sit right next to me. "Are you married," she asked, with her big brown eyes searching me.

Where have you been all night? Were you not just sitting there when I had that conversation with those 2 girls in the other booth? Damn!

"It's complicated," I said, sick of trying to explain this situation which I myself don't fully comprehend. "I'm legally married, but we live apart most of the time. We don't really know what we're going to do. She refuses to move here. I'm tempted to pack it all in and move to Australia. Take it to mean what you will."

"Dammit!" she exclaimed, as she bumped the table, knocking over a bottle of beer, spilling the freezing cold contents into my lap. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. Then she grabbed a handful of napkins and began dabbing at my junk.

"It's actually my thigh that's wet," I commented. "Although, you know, that's good too." Just then I felt some of the beer slosh up under me on the seat and freeze my butthole and my taint, sending me lurching up out of the seat in a reflexive jump. I ended up sitting on the back of the booth with several people around us looking at me funny, what with my leg all wet, a big-tittied brunette Canadian woman dabbing at my dick with napkins, and me sitting up in an elevated position breathing heavily.



The night was getting late. The band was wrapping up. The 2 hot blondes had left. Judy the Fuckin Legend had left. Several of my friends had left. Traci the Canadian was very suddenly and quite dramatically showing the effects of the alcohol she had been drinking. My pants and my coat were covered in someone else's beer. I had been feeling sicker and sicker as the night wore on, so that by now I was contemplating a hospital bed. Susie Swain, or someone that looked an awful like like her, was getting ready to go. The 2 tall big-tittied girls were sticking around, doing lap dances on the guys they had come in with. I was starting to get serious chills.

I pushed and shoved and crawled my way to the bar to pay my tab. I and the New York feminist walked out together. "You know, I've started getting counseling," she said to me as we headed out the door and into the parking lot. "I guess I have a lot of anger issues and I've never really dealt with them before."

"Don't we all?" I asked her.

"Yeah, but people say I'm way too confrontational. I seem to push even my own friends away and I don't even know I'm doing it."

"This isn't because I said that you side with women in every single case, no matter what the facts are, is it? Because that's pretty much most women in this country. It's not just you. You're just more honest about it. 9 of the 10 women on the Mary Winkler jury wanted to just let her go without even hearing the facts of the case, did you know that? The 2 men on the jury were furious at the blatant sexism they showed, but they couldn't do anything about it. That's not just you. That's America."

"No," she replied, "it wasn't that. I have a lot of issues from my own family that I've never dealt with before. Since getting divorced and having to move home again I've started to realize how much they affected me."

"Fucked you up?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"That's what family is for."

I was violently shaking by the time I reached my car. My teeth were chattering. I drove home in a miserable state of food poisoning. I stripped off my beer-soaked clothes and threw them into the tub in the bathroom. Then I lept into bed and shivered like mad for what seemed like an eternity while I pulled the covers up over my head, leaving not even an inch of my skin uncovered. It was 2 a.m.

At 3 a.m. I had to jump out of bed, run to the bathroom and shit my brains out.

At 4 a.m. I had to get up and shit my brains out again. I wasn't sure, but I thought I might puke.

At 5 a.m. the puking started. It felt as if someone was standing behind me, wringing out my kidneys like 2 nerve-filled sponges. As I lay there in a contorted position, hurling my enchilada and taco over the side of the mattress and hopefully into the garbage can I had placed down below, I thought about the brunette who said "Would you like to fuck anyway?" Somehow, for some reason, that made me feel good.

And then I continued vomiting.






*** Yes, yes, I know. Some of you came here expecting me to have written about Tiger Woods' wife allegedly attacking him with a golf club while he was fleeing for his life at 2 a.m. Well, I haven't. Maybe later. ***


Saturday, November 28, 2009

The Women Coats- Stylish and Trendy

Each era has its fashion classics, still few have proved versatile as the women's pea coat,belted trench coat. These styles staple has established itself as an iconic piece that adds cohesion and charm to fashion history. With new trends toward the art of refinement, these season's coats promise to inject a high degree of elegance, instantly updating any wardrobe with a balance of cutting edge and vintage charm.

Shimmering Lurex thread coat: Textured double-breasShimmering Lurexted coat is highlighted with subtle metallic threads that give it a look of richness and luxury. Accented with oversized buttons, deep cuffs and a funnel neck. Decorative back belt. Two slash pockets. Darts and contour seaming for an enhanced fit. Fully lined.

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Belted Trench
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Pea coat
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Thursday, November 26, 2009

Trendsetting Black Dresses by Max Azria and Rachel Roy

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HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL!!!


Wednesday, November 25, 2009

How Pumpkin Pie Is Made



It's Thanksgiving Day here in the United States of America. 

Thanksgiving is an American holiday, begun in 1621, in which we offer thanks to God for the fact that our pilgrims miraculously managed to survive yet another year in one of the harshest environments ever settled in early America, prior to the establishment of the city known as Detroit.

Today, Detroit celebrates "devils night" by burning the city to the ground and then living amongst the ruins. We've come a long way, baby.


But I digress.

The original Thanksgiving celebration was really little more than a 3 day party between pilgrims and American Indians in which it is likely that there was excessive drinking of alcohol, embarrassingly bad dancing, possibly some nudity and drunken sexual fumbling, and lots and lots of eating. Of food, I mean. They were eating food. There are no records relating to the eating of, I mean, relating to oral sex during the pilgrims' reign, although it is likely that some of this occurred.


Thanksgiving was not declared an official holiday in America until 1863, when then-President Abraham Lincoln, immensely unpopular at that time, needed a boost in the polls. He had already managed to kill off over half the male population of the entire North American continent. He imprisoned nearly a quarter of the remaining population of the northern United States in concentration camps for the crime of opposing his unpopular invasion of the Confederate southern States. His constant release of libelous letters "accidentally" leaked to the press in which he admits to hamstringing the Union army in an effort to sabotage his fiercest political rival, the very popular war hero, General McClellan did nothing to raise his standing in the eyes of the people, although it did lower their opinion of the General.


The original Thanksgiving Day pilgrims were members of the English Separatist Church, a Puritan sect that enjoyed a good leg of lamb and a beer. 56 Pilgrims and 91 American Indians joined together, stuffed their faces and got plastered. Then some of the women took off their tops and danced on the tables.


This is not officially confirmed, but we have reason to believe that it is likely true.

That Thanksgiving feast was not repeated again the next year. It was originally simply a celebration of having survived the previous year and come through with a bountiful harvest. The next celebration was in June of 1676 and is thought not to have included the topless table-dancing American Indians due to the large number of impregnanted women from the first celebration and various embarrassing nude photos on Pilgrim cell phones which eventually found their way onto the ancient internet.


One hundred years later, in 1777, the third official Thanksgiving celebration occurred. This celebration involved all residents of all 13 American colonies and thankfully saw the return of topless table-dancing Indian women and drunken impregnation by all. It was inspired by the recent victory over the British at Saratoga during the war for American independence.


George Washington proclaimed a National Day of Thanksgiving in 1789, although some were opposed to it (mothers of some of the girls who had turned up mysteriously pregnant in the following weeks.) There was discord among the colonies, many feeling the hardships of a few topless, table-dancing pilgrims did not warrant a national holiday. And later, President Thomas Jefferson opposed the idea of having a day of thanksgiving, allegedly out of fear that his no-good brother would use it as an excuse to impregnate every woman in sight, including Thomas Jefferson's own slaves. His fears turned out to be well-founded.


Thanksgiving was proclaimed by every president after Lincoln. The date was changed a couple of times, most recently by Franklin Roosevelt, who set it up one week to the next-to-last Thursday in order to create a longer Christmas shopping season. Public uproar against this decision caused the president to move Thanksgiving back to its original date two years later. And in 1941, Thanksgiving was finally sanctioned by Congress as a legal holiday, as the fourth Thursday in November.

And this, my friends, is why so many Americans are fat.





Recently, ancient video of one of the original Thanksgiving celebrations was discovered. The following is video believed to show the Navarro tribe, including famous Indian princess Elle, preparing for a Thanksgiving celebration in the Indian "city of angels" back in 1808:


Temple Owls: a quiet 9-2

One of the least talked about stories in college football this season is the remarkable record of the Temple Owls...yes, those Temple Owls...the same football program that was tossed out of the Big East a few years back because they were dragging down the conference's reputation...

The Owls now stand at 9-2 and the leader in the Mid-American Conference...Temple started the season 0-2 - losing to I-AA Villanova and Penn State...since those losses, they have reeled off nine straight includings a 27-24 win over Navy...

The leader in this monumental turnaround is head coach Al Golden (photo, left)...Golden, who is rumored to be the leading candidate as the next coach at Virginia, is a graduate of Penn State...in four years at Temple, he has posted an 18-28 mark...

Golden was a three-year starter at tight end at Penn State...he spent one season withe the New England Patriots...he started his coaching career as the offensive coordinator at Red Bank (NJ) Catholic High...Golden has ties to Virginia as he served as a graduate assistant and assistant coach under George Welsh and Al Groh...while at Virginia, Golden coached the defense and eventually became the defensive coordinator...

Helping Golden with Temple's climb to the top is stud running back Bernard Pierce... a bruising type of running back, Pierce will miss this week's game against Ohio University after sustaining a shoulder injury in Saturday's game against Kent State...

Pierce is a 6'0", 220 lb freshman who racked up 1,308 yards and 15 touchdowns before his injury...Pierce is a true workhorse as he carried the ball 40 times in a game twice this year...he also rushed for over 200 yards against Navy (267 yards) and Toledo (212 yards)...the most impressive stat - he has not fumbled this season...

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Youngstown State will look at 2 Ohio State assistants for head coaching spot

Youngstown State University is looking for a new head football coach after Jon Heacock resigned on Sunday night...Heacock was hand picked by former YSU head coach Jim Tressel after left YSU to take the head coaching position at Ohio State...



With the Penguins in full search for a new head coach, expect the next leader of YSU football to be someone from the Tressel tree...the local media has thrown out a few names...but the two who I think will be considered are currently on the
Ohio State coaching staff: Luke Fickell and Nick Siciliano...



Fickell (photo, top) is a graduate of Ohio State and serves as the team's co-defensive coordinator and linebackers coach...Fickell has been on the Ohio State coaching staff since 2003...this past off-season, Fickell turned down an offer to serve on the coaching staff at Notre Dame...Fickell played his high school ball at Columbus DeSales...Fickell has been talked about as a future head coach at a BCS level program...the YSU job would give him the head coaching experience he needs...



Another candidate is Nick Siciliano (photo, bottom)...Siciliano has strong ties to the Youngstown area as he played his high school football at Austintown Fitch, the alma mater of current YSU athletic director Ron Strollo...Siciliano is a graduate of YSU...



He currently serves as the Buckeyes quarterback coach...prior to coming to Ohio State, he was an assistant coach at North Carolina A&T State...he also served as video coordinator for Bob Stoops as Oklahoma...Siciliano's biggest drawback is that he did not play college football and he has only been in the coaching business for a short time...



As far as Heacock goes, expect to see him with his brother serving as an assistant coach at Ohio State...


Monday, November 23, 2009

Animal Printed Evening Wears

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Laundry by Sh
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Michigan - another year, another losing season

This weekend I attended the Michigan-Ohio State game in Ann Arbor...I went solo because my 78-year-old father had an inner ear infection and could not go...and once again I came home pissed and disappointed...here are my thoughts about the game...

- Before the game I met NFL Pro Football Hall of Famer and Michigan great Dan Dierdorf in the tailgate lot (photo, above)...Dierdorf's legs are shot - the dude is basically crippled...he uses a cane and can barely walk...his hands are as big and thick as a catcher's mitt...

- Got the see Ohio State get off the team buses...ever the "gentleman" that he is, Jim Tressel made sure his wife, Ellen, was the first person off the bus...

- During pre-game I got to yell some obscenities to former Michigan, now Ohio State offensive lineman Justin Boren...I hardly ever yell crap at opposing players, but I could not resist with this fat pig...I still cannot comprehend how he spent two years wearing the Michigan uniform then transferred to Ohio State...I could understand if this was professional sports because it is a business and money dictates where a player plays...but this prick could have transferred to any other school in the nation, but he chose Michigan's hated rival...to me, Justin Boren has no soul...

- Michigan had opportunities to win the game, but stupid decisions by quarterback Tate Forcier killed any hope...Forcier was trying his best to imitate Brett Favre with his knuckleheaded passes in which he was picked off four times...Forcier has regressed since the Iowa game, when Rich Rodriguez benched him late in the game...

- I hate when people keep defending Forcier by saying, "he's only a freshman"...I know that, but why do other freshman quarterbacks not make stupid decisions and lead their team to a winning record...Terrelle Pryor was a freshman and led Ohio State to the Fiesta Bowl...Colt McCoy started as a freshman and led Texas to a winning season that first year...I'm sorry for being hard on Forcier, but he did not progress nor mature throughout the season...

- Michigan lacks a quality big running back who can run between the tackles and pick up chunks of yards...Brandon Minor was supposed to be that hammer of a back but he was injury prone all year and never lived up to his potential as a senior...

- Pryor is a good quarterback, but he is not the All-American, Heisman caliber quarterback that he was billed to be when coming out of high school...he is over-rated...

- The Michigan defense played well...it was probably their best game of the season...

- Saw ABC sideline reporter Holly Rowe...she is a bit chunky...

- I could have punched one Michigan fan when I was leaving the game...this sorry case of a person wearing Maize and Blue said to his friend, "at least Michigan played well and we didn't embarrass ourselves"...WHAT!!!...WE LOST!!!!...WE HAVE LOST SIX IN A ROW TO OHIO STATE!!!!...I don't care if we lost by 1 stinking point, the fact remains that Ohio State has beaten us six straight times --- that my friend is an embarrassment...people with that type of losing mentality should never even bother to attend a game of this magnitude...

- I was disappointed in many of the Michigan fans who sold their tickets to Ohio State fans...sure these are hard times economically, but if you own season tickets to Michigan football, you are more than likely not economically disadvantaged...there were Ohio State fans around me who ran their mouth and were arrogant - but not one Michigan fan said anything to them...this would never happen at Ohio Stadium...if a Michigan fan ran his/her mouth in Columbus, they would be stabbed...I am proud that I attended the game and cheered on Michigan...my loyalty to the Maize and Blue runs deep...even though I did not graduate from Michigan, I can say that I am a Michigan Man...

- Michigan will not fire Rodriguez this season...but rest assure, he better go 8-4 next year and beat Ohio State...2010 will be his third year as the head coach...his "system" should be in place...and the players he recruited will be juniors and sophomores...Michigan better show marked improvement and beat Ohio State...if not, Rodriguez should be fired immediately after the game in Columbus...

Sunday, November 22, 2009

British Columbia Terrorized by Serial Sex Offender


A man walking alone near a McDonald’s in Langley, British Columbia, was dealt a savage kick to the groin in what seemed to be a random attack.

The assailant is described as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, Caucasian woman aged in her 20s or younger, and likely a feminist. She wore high heels, (Steve Madden flouro green stilletos, approximately sized 7, according to a female witness who greatly admired the shoes) when she kicked her 22-year-old victim so hard that he completely left the ground and landed face-first on the concrete as one of his testicles ascended into his abdomen with the force of the pointed-toe kick.

Initially it was thought that surgery could repair the damage. Unfortunately, the violence of the kick had ruptured the testicle and the victim woke from anesthesia to the news that he had been partially castrated.

Police believe that this is not the first time that the assailant has struck, with three similar attacks reported in September alone.

According to the victim, who has declined to be named:

"She didn’t say anything to me. I thought either she is really disgruntled with her boyfriend and I was the first male she saw or she’s a feminist. My mom heard from some constables that this is the third time in the past month this has happened. One of the times happened at night."

The victim noted that his attacker said nothing to him, either before or after the attack.

"I don't think she really even saw me as a person. Or perhaps she has some strange accent that might have given her away? I don't know."

Langley RCMP are concerned that some men might not have come forward about the attacks, likely believing that there is hardly any point as the woman will undoubtably not be punished for her crimes anyway. Authorities are turning to a crime analyst to track the attacks, but aren't sure how to proceed.


More

Men walking in the Brookswood area may want to consider wearing a sports cup, after a man was randomly kicked in the groin by a woman in high heels last month. The kick was so violent, her victim has lost one testicle and had to be hospitalized.

The crime has police concerned and the young man warning he isn’t the only victim of this high-heeled sexual-assault queen.

“It was around 2 p.m. in early September and I was walking by myself to McDonald’s, which is just on 41 Avenue,” said 22-year-old “Ed” (not his real name).

“The girl was walking in the opposite direction as me and I didn’t think anything of it, when all of a sudden she laid the boots to it.”

In absolute agony, Ed fell to the ground, face-first, as his hands flew involuntarily to his violated genitals, leaving him unable to catch himself. He thinks he had lain there for around 15 minutes before gaining the strength to get up and go home. Before or after the attack, the woman said nothing.

“I'm concerned that nothing is going to be done. They aren't even sure what to charge her with. I mean, it's sexual assault, but they say the law doesn't define sexual violence against males that way. And if she's a feminist, it's a sex-specific hate-crime, as she clearly targeted me because of my sex, but they say they won't charge her for that, either. So what's the point of reporting it then? What are they going to charge her with, being really, really rude or something?”

As the assault is not the kind of thing men want to tell people about, Ed didn’t go to police right away.

The damaging blow to his testicles sent one of them up into his abdomen.

“I saw a specialist and I went into surgery believing they could bring my testicle down again, like in that movie "10 Things I Hate About You." But when I woke up from surgery I was given the bad news that it had partially ruptured and so they had to remove it.”

He will get a prosthetic in December, for whatever that's worth. But, from what he has been told, there will be a drop in his testosterone levels which will have life-long detrimental effects. Ed is coming forward because he wants the girl caught, even if he doesn't believe she'll be adaquately punished, because he doesn’t want anyone else to go through the terrible and life-altering things he has been through.

Langley RCMP are using their crime analyst to see if other attacks of this nature have taken place.

“There are undoubtably other men who haven’t come forward to the police,” said Cpl. Holly Marks. She urges those men to call her or come in if the woman has attacked them.

She said there isn’t a way for her to track if there has been similar attacks, and she doesn't hold out much hope that the prosecutor or judge will do much about this once the girl is caught, but if she isn't caught the attacks will likely not stop.

"She clearly enjoys this, like any serial offender, and isn't going to stop unless something or someone stops her."

Before the attack, Ed was ready to start working again after being off on work-related injury for a year. Now he’ll be off for at least four more weeks without any heavy lifting. After recovery, due to having lost a testicle, he will not be permitted to return to any sort of heavy lifting for the rest of his life due to high risk of hernia.

His EI has run dry.

“It has not been good,” he said.

Ed didn’t get a detailed description of the girl because he didn’t expect her to kick him. She is described as in her 20s, or younger, 5’5” to 5’7”, blonde, blue-eyed and Caucasian. He had never seen her before and doesn’t think he’s seen her since.

If you have information about this person or if this has happened to you, call Langley RCMP at 604-532-3200.






*** Clearly I altered small bits of the story to make it out to be a certain blonde Australian we all know and love, but in reality the girl is described as brunette, and no eye-color was given. The crime itself is not a joke or made-up. It is really happening. The part where it says she will probably not be punished for what she's done is not a joke, either, although it wasn't in the original article.

You know I'm going to follow this story if at all possible, so I'll update it periodically.


Friday, November 20, 2009

I Don't Know If It's Art, But I Know What's Retarded

By Tresckow

I'm not an art fan. I don't pretend to be one. My programing is heavier on the concrete, fact based side of life. That's just how it is. I can appreciate good art. Who doesn't love a Dogs Playing Poker piece or a velvet Elvis painting?

Breath taking.

Alright, so I may not be able to derive the symbolism of a painting of a bowl of fruit or a free standing wood sculpture of a windmill made of clown heads. But, in general, I like to think I have an "everyman" sense of taste recognition. There are some things out there that are just plain ass kicking awesome.

Yup, I can dig this. Michelangelo went blind for this. Makes you wonder why he didn't invent goggles.

There's no friggin code in this, Dan Brown.

Who the hell are you kidding, Duchamp? More like Douche-chump.

They say art is in the eye of the beholder. Well, when I was strong armed into going to one of the nation's most famous art museums, I beheld crap. Tell me what talent goes into sculpting a gigantic red letter R? How, exactly, is a map of the United States completely fashioned from license plates NOT a shitty cop out? Don't get me started on that pretentious douche bag Andy Warhol.

It's a SOUP CAN you yuppie retards! A SOUP CAN!
If my kid tried to pull this bullshit and call it art, I'd send his ass to military school.


Needless to say, what I saw outright perplexed me. Not only have some of these nose picking wondertards get away with this shit, but there are tens of thousands of assholes that BELIEVE they get some secret meaning or message that the common man couldn't possibly understand. Oh, I understand, buddy. I understand you're banana sandwich making batshit nuts.

How many times can one critique a painting of an apple? Seriously, there is a shit ton of artists that have painted a shit ton of apples. They call it still life. I call it bullshit. Think you're so damn cultured? OK, wise ass, which apple below is art and which one isn't?

















Apple #1 Or Apple #2?


Give up?

If you guessed that Apple #1 is not art and is, indeed a photo of an honest to goodness apple, hit your head against the desk as hard as you can. WRONG! The first image is some still life bullshit that oddly centers on still life that looks exactly like a damn picture. Apple #2 is actually an image of a Rome apple found on the Washington Apple Commission's variety page. Feel art smart yet? Sure you do, you lying bastard.

Perhaps the only canvas art more infuriating than myriads of apples on tables, apples in bowls, apples with pears, and apples with touch screens are the plethora of awkward and straight forward odd paintings of supposed human beings. I listened to the MP3 the museum staff strapped on us like National Geographic explorers tagging radio transmitter collars on polar bears. The collection of dry, unfunny, painfully pompous "experts" droned on and on about the "cheeky, " "bold, " and "brazen" ways artists like Cezanne painted goofy ass portraits of the human form that couldn't exist in real time or space. Maybe the message is wasted on me. Maybe Cezanne couldn't really draw people so he made up some cock and bull story about the figures representing "harmony" and "peace." No, that dude stomping around the beach isn't grossly disproportionate, he's "powerful" and a "liberation to young artists of the time." Shit, I guess I have a completely different definition of liberation.

Liberation of Paris. Hmmm, I guess the French forgot that a bunch of
stupid Brits and Americans saved them from the Germans. Strange.


The Soviet "liberation" of Auschwitz.

The Beatnik liberation? This is one of the "liberation" events the disembodied voice on the MP3
was talking about? "Beatnik" was code for unemployed, speed balling slacker.


So, what? I don't get art? BFD. But friends, Romans, countrymen, shut your yaps for a second and hear me. Or, at the very least, take a look at this shit Cezanne cranked out.

The Bather (1855 - 1857)
This portrays a man in thought. I'm not so sure it's the man in the painting as it was Cezanne, five days before his deadline.

SHIT! I suck at drawing torsos. Why the fuck did I make his hands red? Was there a murder I forgot to depict? Fuck it. He's thinking. Yeah... he's in a state of deep contemplation. That'll work. Then no one will realize the poorly drawn mini skirt around his junk.

Bather With Outstretched Arms (1877-1878)

Yup, another male bather getting ready for a dip in his birthday suit. Cezanne's love for "active" male bathers was only trumped by his complete lack of pizazz for their titles. I half expected to see one of his slap together finger paintings titled: "Rectangular canvas with paint and... shit."

What was really going on in Cezanne's head:

Shit! Why the fuck do I keep painting bathers? And males ones at that. The Realtor told me this goddamn house had a view of a nude beach. Fucker didn't say it was an all male nude beach. Alright, what's that dude doing over there? Windmills? Why is a full grown adult spinning windmills on the beach? Oh, I didn't see the bicycle helmet near by. Is that Zola's kid. Ah shit, it is. That kid isn't playing with a full deck. OK, fuck it. The whole thing looks like a retarded kid pretending to be an airplane (whatever that is, right?). I'll smudge up the face a little so you can't tell it's Zippy the Pinhead over there. Damn it! The shorts still look like a friggin mini skirt. WTF?

Canuck Yankee Lumberjack at Old Orchard Beach, Maine'

Now this one isn't even one of Cezanne's pieces. It's actually a work by Marsden Hartley, an American Modernist painter who was introduced to his life's work via Cezanne and another nut job, Picasso. For the most part, Hartley went his own way with literature and travels. But he sure had enough time to kill to pretty much duplicate the work of one of his idols. Take a look at that painting above. Notice something familiar?


















How about that shit? If Hartley was sitting beside Cezanne in art class and these two paintings were handed in, some American Modernist would have a date with a suspension.

I've got it! I'll call it a tribute! Yeah, it influenced me. Yeah, that's the ticket. See? There's the same mini skirt dealy only mine is hot pink. It's a homage! Yeah, yeah. That's the ticket!











Megan Fox’s NYT outtakes courtesy

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I’d really like to hope that this is not really the way Angelina feels about Megan. What I want to believe is that either Angelina is like “Megan who now?” or that Angelina’s like “I’ll shank that sk-nky little poseur if she comes near me.” As much as the media seems to want to make the Angelina-Megan thing a competition, or that Megan is “replacing” the 34-year-old Jolie, I don’t really think that’s their dynamic. I think Megan stalks (”the comparison is the bane of my existence” she says), and Angelina is aware, but doesn’t really love or hate Megan. Certainly, Angelina wouldn’t care enough to give advice to Megan. Just my take.

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Transformers starlet Megan Fox, 23, has unabashedly talked up her lesbian trysts, wild temper and self-cutting. But Angelina Jolie has some advice for her young doppelganger: Shut your mouth.

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According to a Jolie source, “Angie has been saying, ‘That woman acts like a fool. She needs to mind her Ps and Qs. She’s saying shocking things for attention, but those things will follow her around and be reprinted forever.’”

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Jolie, of course, speaks from experience, the pal adds: “Angie said, ‘I wish someone had pulled me aside when I was young and told me that. Now I’ll forever be known as a lesbian or a self-cutter, instead of what I worked so hard to become. You have to put a muzzle on it!’”


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