What A Bunch of Friggin' Mor...Oh Wait, I Almost Did That Once

Leave it to 'Dega fans to make the rest of us citizens proud. Yesterday, as Jeff Gordon was cruising to victory on the final caution lap in Talladega, Earnhardt fans began pelting his car with beer cans and other types of debris. That is soooo classy. However, I'll refrain from going off on these people. Why? Because I feel their pain.

During the '91-'92 basketball season, I was with my dad at a Bama-LSU in T-town and witnessed what remains to this day the most poorly officiated sporting event I've ever seen. This was when Shaq was in school and he was getting away with bloddy murder at both ends of the floor. He was mauling our players without a call while getting ticky tac touches called on us. At one point I remember Robert Horry throwing his hands up in the air as fire almost came out of Wimp's ears. I was so pissed that I reached down and grabbed my cup of ice. Fuck it, I was gonna do it. I was going to zing that cup at the refs at center court and face the consequences (which would've been banishment for life from Coleman Coliseum). Fortunately, my dad read my mind and just looked at me while slowly shaking his head. He didn't have to say anything. I knew it was a lost cause. I placed my cup back down and continued hollering with the rest of the fans.

Ah, The Good Old Days...

Remember when we didn't seem to care about jackshit? Smoking was commonplace and even expected- you could even smoke at your desk at work. Car seats for children were basically optional. Kids would pretty much be allowed to ride anywhere in a car- the "hump" in the backseat, on their parent's lap; Hell, I used to lay down on the dash in the back window of my dad's car and we'd practically hang out of the back of my mom's station wagon. I guess she figured the further away from her the better (I can't say that I blame her).

My mom thought she was being a responsible parent by prohibiting us from drinking soft drinks while at the same time allowing us to consume a gallon of Kool-Aid every day. Have you ever made Kool-Aid? You have to add an entire cup of sugar to the flavored powder in each two-quart pitcher (my favorite was Rainbow Punch). And bicycle helmets? I think not. After all, Evil Knievel was our role model. We would construct the most dangerous ramps you could imagine out of old doors and rickety boards with rusted nails sticking out of them. It's a miracle none of us were killed or mamed.

And speaking of killed, wanna know how me and my cousins learned how to swim? When we turned four, my grandfather would dangle us (while we kicked and screamed) from the diving board over the deep end of his pool and then toss us in. It was sink or swim, baby. Kids are coddled these days. Pussies.

Random Thoughts from a Dental Chair

Ah, the things that go through your head while in the dentist's chair. I bring you the 1st Annual White Music Awards. Here we go:

The Whitest of the White Song Award - "Cherish" by The Association. This is the most embarrassing song ever recorded by Caucasians. You'll never hear words and syllables pronounced more correctly in a pop song.

The Sappiest Song of All Time Award - "Sometimes When We Touch" by Dan Hill. He should have been arrested for this recording.

The Happiest Song Award (Solo Artist) - “Daybreak” by Barry Manilow. You can always count on your worries being left behind by the inevitable mid-song Manilow key change.

The Happiest Song Award (Group) - “The Boy From New York City” by The Manhattan Transfer. These people shouldn’t be allowed to have a career in music.

The Saddest Song Award - “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word” by Elton John. Although not really embarrassing (I’m a huge Elton fan), it’s still pretty depressing.

The Whitest Retro-50’s Dance Song Award - “December ’63 (Oh What A Night)” by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. They experienced a comeback of sorts in the 70’s with this hit. Alas, it was over before they could organize a tour.

The Most Mistaken for Actual Soul Award - “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers. This song is considered a soulful classic but it’s actually very pale.

The Whitest Brit Song Award - “True” by Spandau Ballet. I don’t know what’s whiter or gayer- the song, the band or the name of the band.

The Whitest Superhero Song Award – “Believe It Or Not” by Joey Scarbury. I slump in my seat whenever I hear this song.

Peace out.

Just When I Thought Rock n' Roll Was Dead...

...along come The Dexateens, my new favorite band. My boys Elliott and Sweet Dog have been toiling away for years but alas, I've only just gotten to finally see them live. Their new record, Hardwire Healing, is a five-star gem and they've got the live show to back it up. I've known Elliott for 10 years, ever since he was a scrawy lad who looked like he was 14. He's come a long way - now he looks 18. Dog is, well, Dog. If you don't know him you've probably heard about him. Among other things he likes seein', eatin', doin' things, combin' his hair and fuckin'. Check 'em out if you haven't already. My boys have made me proud.

Easter Funday

Sorry folks, I just haven't had much to say lately. I spent my Easter Sunday going to Hotlanta to see my Bravos beat the Mets in their rubber match. Despite the chilly weather, I still managed to get sunburned on the right side of my face. Nothings pertier than an assymetrical sunburn. My ass is also sore from getting raped by the Aramark Corporation at Turner Field. They sure know how to jack up prices in the 755 Club. We also saw a group of drunks in the left field bleachers who were dressed in full Easter bunny suits. Alcohol + costumes + shamelessness = guaranteed TV exposure. Priceless.