The Big E

The Big E is the equivalent of the state fairs for pretty much all of the Northeastern States. It is a celebration of a number of things, but my sole reason for attending is to celebrate the absurd cuisine that the Big E has to offer. I tried it all and fortunately finished none of it myself. Krispy Kreme should consider licensing their doughnuts to Burger King. I ate a bacon cheeseburger sandwiched by two halves of a glazed doughnut. It was fantastic. I suspect it tastes like a McDonalds McGriddle. I also tried fried shepherds pie, fried snickers, fried dough pizza, and lots of Boston beer company's finest microbrews.

All in a delicious day that probably shaves a day or two off my life expectancy.

Fact: 2/21 - AoF's 2 Year Anniversary...Almost Made It...

I would be remiss not to point out that February 21st marked the two year anniversary since I found myself bored, either in class or at work...possibly both, and set up this blog. Since then there have been 160 posts, 4 contributors, and 1 mook put on notice. We set up a sister site (the Upper Decker) and are loosely affiliated with the hysterically funny in the abstract, but kind of disgusting when actually faced with it, PooPics. We had one centralized HQ in south central CT, and have opened and closed satellite offices in eastern CT, Brooklyn, and Westchester.

In the title I say "almost made it" primarly because for all intents and purposes, AoF closed down pre 2/21. I'm sure I'll post from time to time, and continue to implore former editors to contribute when the mood strikes, but the sad truth is, we're done. It's only fitting that I'm writing this while at work, going out in the same way we entered. Bored. To be perfectly honest, I'm just killing time until I can duck out early and head to the Mets new digs for their first, albeit exhibition, game at Citi Field. Even the prospect of rain isn't deterring me. Everything has fallen into place, we'll see how it plays out from here.

I leave you, for the time being, with this recommendation. While spending much time in Arizona, I started listening to the Adam Corolla show (yes, of The Man Show, and Loveline fame). Because the corporate pigs decided it was cheaper to run a top 40 piece of shit station in LA, Corolla and all the talk radio hosts were canned. What I subsequently discovered is that Adam Corolla is running his own podcast, free, downloadable online and on ITunes. I think it's better than Stern, and a nice break from the morning sports talk (particuarly during the 'dead' sports season). His guests have included Bill Simmons, Bryan Cranston, Kimmel, Tom Arnold, and Seth McFarlane, to name a few. I try not to steer you wrong. Throw it on your Ipod and give it a whirl, you'll either thank me or be offended (or both).

In the news:

"Pirates II: Stagnetti's Revenge?" screened at UC Davis. Yes it's porn and not surprisingly less gay than any of the actual Pirates of the Carribean films.

This is great. I wonder who the pilot/skydiver/hot-air ballonist was who tipped off his parents.

Lastly, "Student Kicked Off Bus Over Passed Gas". I didn't think it was possible. In fact, I grew up with a couple of kids who would have been banned from the Long Island Rail Road for this very offense. The best part is, even with that smug look on his face (probably from smelling his own farts), the kid goes with the timeless defense - it was the other guy. Clearly a fartist.

A View from 37,000 Feet

I originally began drafting this post on 10/31/08. Needless to say laziness took over and I lost track of the 4 1/2 inch by 3 1/4 inch notebook in which I scrawled the outline for this post. Why am I now posting it? It can't be because anyone will actually read it. I'm sure some of you are reading this as a result of randomly checking AoF just to pay your last respects to the corpse. Enough with the ramblings, here goes what may very well be the first and last AoF post of the New Year...
I wake up some 37,000 feet over Indianapolis...
Definitely drank too much last night, fully knowing I had to catch a flight 4 hours later. I realize now that ordering the "Simply Steak and Eggs" at 1 am was a truly regrettable decision. I do recall managing to request a 4 am wake up call, and the blur of a trip to the airport. It was a cyclical combination of nearly shitting my pants and sweating, the alcohol ingested mere hours earlier pouring out of my pores. Now I was sitting on the plane, grateful that my frequent travel has paid off in a complimentary upgrade to business class.

(As I was expelling my demons in the airport restroom, in my alcohol induced haze, it felt as though someone was anxiously waiting for me to exit that particular stall. Figuring either all the other stalls had been previously blown up, and thus uninhabitable, or I was going to get mugged at 5 am, I ignored the feeling as best I could. Upon exiting, sure enough there was a fairly ragged looking man eagerly waiting for me. Before I could defend myself, he pushed past me briskly. I twirled, nearly falling backwards over my carry-on bag into the high powered hand dryer as he scooped his plane tickets from off the top of the paper towel dispenser and hastily made a beeline out the door. Mystery solved, no further bodily injury suffered.) I pass out.

The man sitting next top me is shoving fist fulls of peanuts, SunChips, and Delta's trademark biscoff cookies into his mouth. This wouldn't have been so ironic if I hadn't just witnessed him picking daintily at what airlines attempt to represent as an egg/canadian bacon/potato wedge /fruit platter breakfast. Granted airplane food is hardly palatable, but it's 6:30 am and plane snacks is hardly the way to break fast.

Busted.

I just caught him looking at my notebook. Asshole. Claims that he was examining my handwriting style. Something about being left handed, I nod a half-hearted acknowledgement. He attempts to make conversation as I polish off the bloodmary in front of me, close my notebook and my eyes, and fall back to sleep...

As a general rule, I don't welcome unsolicited and/or (in this case and) unnecessary conversations. I'll make the occassional exceptions besides those necessistated by being a slave to the almighty billable hour - and when that's the case, at least someone's gotta pay for it. One of the few exceptions is when someone wants to shoot the shit about sports - usually at a bar or sporting event.

This is what landed me on this cross country flight, half hungover, likely still half in the bag and if not, trying to get back there. At least I didn't have to crap anymore. Immodium is a wonder drug. I wonder what the drug companies were really researching when they came up with immodium. We've all heard the story about Viagra starting out as a heart disease drug gone wrong. Improve blood flow indeed. I bet immodium have started out as an AIDS cure. The patients involved in the clinical trials interviews read something like: "Sure my AIDS is about the same, but let me tell you, I haven't shit in two weeks..." Boom, pharmaceutical gold mine.
As TDX knows, I've discovered a tea that can effectively solve that problem...

Reflecting while passing over the Great Lakes, I realize now that law school is an interesting time. Despite having a ton of work, the one thing you generally do not get in return is health insurance. TDX walked the tight rope and did not buy it, I did and as it turns out, am still getting fucked over by it. once did a chemical dance comprised of overdosing on Immodium (akin to shoving a little white pill, rather than a finger, in the dike) and after realizing everything was brought to a full stop rather than a slow trickle, combatting the effects with California Dieters tea and metamusil. Needless to say, it wasn't pretty.

I recently bought a 4-pack of yogurt, didn't eat any of it. A big waste. Activia. Let me ask this to no one in particular, what the hell is "regular"? Supposedly Activia is marketed to women as it contains certain bacteria which aids in "regularity". I never gave much thought about regularity but once I did I came to realize it means pooping. Now, I'm clearly missing something here. If I have to go I go (and if it's worthy, will consider memorializing it at poopics.blogspot.com), if I don't have to go I won't force the issue. Is it different for women? Is there a constant state of constipation until a box of prunes presents itself? Is Activia the holy grail of defecation where if I eat it, I can somehow program exactly what time I'm going to have to go everyday? I dare not find out.

The moving map in the headrest in front of me displays our flight path. We're just crossing into Pennsylvania. It just so happens that while was fighting his intestinal battle, we had to take a 5 hour road trip to Pennsylvania. With tuxedos in tow, we hit a lot of rest stops along the way (this was the dieters tea phase) - no need for skid marks on my leather seats. I flip over to ESPN. Suns/Hornets highlights. That was part of what contributed to my current state. I had floor seats to the game the last night and played the part of the random guy wearing a suit with no discernable allegiance to a team, sandwiched between a 50 year old "plastic" as I'm told they're called --> a woman well past her prime with a rack fit for a 20 year old but probably as old as a newborn. This one had little going for her. On the other side of me was a squat, fat 15 year old girl and her father, similarly short, squat and fat, tossing back Miller lights and mercilously heckling, of all people, the Budweiser vendor. TDX would have appreciated that.

Following the Suns loss, in which CP3 made the Suns in their home orange look like stationary cones in a practice drill as he dribbled around them, I found myself saddled up to the hotel bar at the Biltmore - ultimately a very nice establishment where ironically I'd spent many a lonely weeknight. At least the bartenders knew me as that becomes the closest thing to a familiar face and a slight source of comfort. Just my luck someone at the bar was also at the Suns game, and seeing the give-away lanyard around my neck they strike up a conversation about the game. Let's see, conversation, in a bar, about sports...I guess I can chat for a bit...

"I'M WATCHING MAMMA MIA, THIS GIRL GOES TO AN ISLAND WITH 3 MEN SHE THINKS ARE HER FATHER." I realize the man next to me has a discernable accent. "HAVE YOU EVER SEENT IT?" he asks. "No, but I heard it was a Broadway play and um, well I don't bang dudes." Perfect exit, conversation over. I get 10's across the board except for a 2 from the French judge...must be an Abba fan.

Flipping back to the moving map I look at the information presented to me. 500mph, 37,000 feet, crossing PA. What good does that information do me? I guess if I somehow fell out of the plane, at 37,000 feet, falling at terminal velocity or 9.8 meters per second like a bullet shot straight up in the air, falling back to earth, ah no calculator, can't convert feet to meters, screw it, the information is useless. At this point my eyes are fully open, the saliva has dried on my lapel and I'm fully cognizant. I'm definitely going to need to smoke. This drinking thing really fucks up my system...and makes me write train of thought posts.

Lame Duck Shocker

President Bush comes dangerously close to giving "the shocker". Damn ASU Trident....

Set Expectations Low and Lower the Chances You Let People Down

There is no question or a shadow of a doubt that Assertions of Fact is edited by a bunch of lazy mofo’s. Suffice it to say that AoF has become a solo operation with a couple of editors emeritus, and a writer who lasted one post. I’ll admit, when juggling all of life’s responsibilities – work, fantasy sports, drinking, women, and in DGD’s case, the occasional slice of man tuna, it’s tough to make AoF a priority. It was conceived during a time when there was arguably less on everyone’s plate, and flourished during a time when time may not have been free, but at least it was less costly.

While it would be great to get everyone back to tapping the old keys, I think we can safely say that there is no chance it’s going to happen. It’s a vicious cycle – when you stop posting, people stop reading, and when people stop reading, the motivation to post is decreased. With a daily hit count of a whopping 3, you can imagine we’re not exactly raking in advertising revenue. As the registered domain name holder, I’m faced with a difficult decision – either stop feeding the mice that spin the wheels of the proverbial interweb-presses and shut down the laptop for good, or keep AoF running in some shell of a capacity. The decision is not a pleasant one or one that I’m happy to be making. As I weighed the factors, both logical and emotional I came to a conclusion. I paid for a 3 year domain name license and hell, I might as well use it. The tiny parcel of the internets that AoF is occupying is hardly pissing in anyone’s cereal (and if it is – f.u.).

I could publicly plea for my fellow AoF founders to jump back into the mix and post (or just throw some feces at the internet and hope that some of it sticks and is funny) but I know that’s doing no one any good. There are too many clever and funny motherfuckers out there that but for an errant bong hit here or there could be great contributors.

So here’s what I’m thinking – if I can commit to writing once a week on a regular schedule – let’s call it “Monday morning” for arguments sake, at least there will be something new here for everyone to waste 30 seconds of their life reading. I’ll tentatively call it an outlet for me to recount all the things I’m thinking but can’t say while I’m traveling – mainly because I’m traveling alone 97% of the time.

At the same time quality is better than quantity, but AoF hasn’t been exactly producing quality material ever. (Take a look at my election primary posts – there’s a reason I don’t write about politics very often – although there’s a particular birdman who I hope went ahead and based his vote on that piece.) So I’m once again asking for anyone who wants to write about anything – sports, music, politics, life, monkeys, douchebags, poop – to sign up. It doesn’t have to be polished work. (it never is).

Also – in a fit of boredom (and possibly while studying for the Bar Exam) I created “The Upper Decker” – an AoF sister site specifically for sports content. Of course this further diluted our collective “resources” so for the time being I’m shutting it down. Another genius idea – PooPics.blogspot.com never really got launched, but is an idea that could absolutely have legs if it was opened up to the public. Think about it.

So without further adieu – e-mail AoF and get to posting – it’s fun, easy, and free. Hell if DGD can figure out how to use it, anyone can.

Second Ever: "What's Filling My Box?"

Much like magazines have taken to replicating "classic covers" I have taken to replicating "classic AoF posts". Yesterday I started writing a "City in Review: Phoenix" when I realized that my review would have been limited to eating at a Sonic drive in (not even close to as good as it looks in the commercials), seeing the worlds largest woman/tranny run out into the middle of the street and start yelling at oncoming traffic, and watching a shirtless and possibly homeless man in a wheelchair come dangerously close to getting hit by a city bus. (There are some obscenely wide intersections in downtown Phoenix, six to eight lanes across and this guy wasn't moving that fast. - Certainly no "Rolling Thunder.") This could actually be the guy. If so, R.I.P. buddy, and if I know my pop culture sign language, Rock & Roll!!!

There's also a "Mo' Money Pawn Shop/Superstore". Seriously, picture the K-Mart of pawn shops. Holy shit, in sticking with AoF's "train of thought" writing style I not only found a photo of Mo' Money Pawn Shop, but also their website. If you click on only one link today I suggest you make it this one and take a look at the plethora of items/services available. Shit the place is family owned and has it's own distinct departments including jewelry, electronics and firearms.
I'm trying to think if there is anything else that I'm missing before emptying my box...nope that's about it for now. Onward to my box.
Over the course of the last few months I'd planned a number of AoF posts, and never ended up writing them. Some are disturbing internet articles such as one from September 2007 about a woman who gave birth to her own grandchildren, while others are just odd or funny like this man (probably DGD) who was walking around Massachusetts wearing nothing but a gas mask. As you can see from the article, he's "at large". This one is just hilarious - a school principle in Canada (of course it's coming from Canada) is facing losing her job for flinging poo at a student. Note that she's only facing potentially losing her job, flinging poo at your students in Canada is a centuries old tradition, she's getting fired for throwing like a girl.

I think that's enough for now. This is Tony Wonder from the Phoenix HQ of AoF, signing off.

Worst Trade in Jets History or Best Trade in Green Bay's History?

I would like to apologize for extending this conversation, but I won't. I haven't been "covering" the Brett Favre story. I paid attention only to the extent that it would affect the Super Bowl XLII Champion Giants from repeating. And to that end the Favre trade to the Jets has accomplished a few of things: (1) it has taken the NY media's attention away from the Giants and (2) made it .05% more likely that the Patriots will lose the AFC East and not make the playoffs, and (3) finally force the Chad Pennington fans to admit that despite being a "good guy" or "a great clubhouse presence" he still kind of sucks - and the Jets had no chance of winning with him.

Since I'm likely going to end up billing my clients for the time I spend writing this, I'll cut to the chase. Green Bay made out big, and the Jets got John Madden's digitized fist in the arse. Stay tuned, if I get bored enough I may even try to photoshop a tasteful picture of this. I'm talking about the Madden Curse - perfect time to cue ominous music if you're a Jet fan. But let me take a step back. If you're reading this and you don't know what I'm talking about when I say "Madden" - you probably shouldn't be reading AoF at all. But for those who are out there seeking to better themselves, you can check it out on Wikipedia here.

In short, the Madden curse rules are as follows: player has a good season; player gets "honored" by being selected to have his image on the cover of the following years Madden video game; the following season said player suffers an injury or a decline in performance, nowhere near the level of the prior season. There's a great historical explanation of it here with all the statistics to go along.

The Jets clearly failed to consider the Madden Curse when trading for Favre. The Packers may or may not have considered it - I'm sure every "legit" sports media person would scoff at the suggestion. But I submit to you - Brett Favre will have some injury fate befall him and the Jets will continue to suck. Not only will it affect the Jets but it will also end his consecutive starts streak.

Perhaps there's a "Favre exception" to the Madden Curse. For example, Ray Lewis did not appear to feel any ill effects. He event beat a drug rap that season. Maybe players on the defensive side of the ball are actually "blessed". Using that logic, Adam Jones formerly known as Pacman, should lobby to get on the cover for next year if his reinstatement letter falls on deaf ears. Who knows it could be the Holy Grail of defensive players.

Here's how The Favre Exception could work: (1) no player ever awarded the Madden cover was traded in the following year/no player has ever work another teams jersey OR (2) John Madden is so in love with Favre that he would never allow any curse bearing his name to affect Brett.

As I write this I find out that Brett is complaining of "arm fatigue". And so it begins. You Jets fans better hope the Favre exception is real or that Kellen Clemens gets decent, fast.

Brokeback Mountain Gets Gay

Redundant title right? Well when I originally submitted this to the copy editors they informed me that the whole premise behind Brokeback Mountain was a big gay cowboy secret love tryst, taking place high up in the mountains. Who knew such a highly touted movie could garner such high praise with a controvertial plot like like that (and not win the Academy award for best picture). I guess everyone had their fill of socially conscious films after Crash made it's big splash and the league of nations convened on stage to accept the award.

So I had this whole spiel about making a good movie gay, but since that was yanked out from under me faster than a magician can pull a tablecloth out from a table (or a cowboy can pull a...nevermind...), I can really only point out that in spite of possibly making the gayest movie ever, the entertainment industry has managed to make Brokeback Mountain even gayer. Is opera gay? I guess it's just taking musical theater, changing the way it's sung so that (1) no one can understand what is being said and (2) no one has a good time...gay or straight. Yes, there will be a Brokeback Mountain opera opening in 2013, so for the time being you'll have to watch this 3 minute clip approximately 657,000 times to get your fill...

Welcome to California

Ahh Tony wonder thou hast seen nothing yet. If you really want poor service, come to our beautiful ocean paradise. Where it takes 10 minutes to get a slice of pizza with no one on line in front of you(chinese man says "we make to order".) That's right they'll make a fucking pizza for two slices. Lest you misunderstand this ain't 10 am or 2 in the morn, this is 5 pm at night. I guess these bastards like fresh food, but when you're raping me at 3 bucks a slice for cheese, I want it right fucking now. If I had 10 minutes would I order pizza? No, I'd order a sandwich and I'd only wait 5 minutes for that. Just b/c you throw avocado on everything doesn't mean I'll pay out the nose and wait forever for it. Now here are a few of my favorite california respones:

"May I speak to the manager/your supervisor/anyone else but you, you fuckwit/shit forbrains/waste of my life."
1. "He'll be in on thursday"(its monday)
2. "They're on vacation for Thanksgiving."(Its the friday before thanksgiving, as in 6 days b4 thanksgiving)
or my personal favorite
3.-Blank Stare for 15 seconds- "Why"

In other words this is why they don't allow handguns.

Anyways, this city I live in was supposed to have universal wireless two years ago. Instead we're in a budget crisis that is easily solvable by taxing marijuana producers and licensing all the prosties and massage parlors. Nah, not progressive california, instead I have to use internet in the bar. I mean christ, starbucks don't even have wi-fi.

Let's move on to cheerier subjects.

The restaurant I am employed in has received some pretty sick reviews in the last few months, most especially in a german wine magazine - "Die beste bar en San Francisco." Consequently our executive chef is now referred to as hasslehoff, or chef hoff. He is unamused, therefore more amusing for all of us. We're busy as hell and I am glad to work in an industry where I actually run my ass off from the minute I walk in the door to the time I try to do math drunk and stoned and leave.

On to the Mets, they play here in San Francisco early June, if any AOF readers or editors are interested in paying 10 bucks for a beer and being cold at a baseball game in SF, drop me a line and I'll get you drunk enough to forget you're sleeping in my kitchen under a table.

Until next time kids, when I profile new starting pitchers for the Mets including - Endy Chavez, Kordell Stewart, or possibly that super cute lipstick lesbian couple who cut my hair.

I'm Surrounded by Retards.

Ok, ok retards is not the "politically correct" term. It's tough to keep track of what the politically correct terminology is anymore. I suppose we're going with mentally challenged now...mentally retarded wouldn't make much sense, not much more than mentally handicapped. Well now, when can you actually use the word retard? Dictionary.com provides the following definitions:
–verb (used with object)

1.	to make slow; delay the development or progress of (an action, process, etc.); hinder or impede.

–verb (used without object)

2.	to be delayed.

–noun

3.	a slowing down, diminution, or hindrance, as in a machine.

4.	Slang: Disparaging. a. a mentally retarded person. b. a person who is stupid, obtuse, or ineffective in some way: a hopeless social retard.

So apparently it is now offensive to use the word retard in reference to a person. I guess it's particularly offensive to use it in reference to someone who is ACTUALLY retarded. Which I guess makes it particularly a propos for describing the not actually retarded people I'm surrounded by. Oddly enough I've only come across them in situations like getting my morning coffee at Dunkin' Donuts, or walking around Marshalls. I can't begin to describe the conversation I overheard at Marshalls, besides the fact that the offending retard said to her child (apparently they're allowed to bear children) "If you don't stay in your seat (in the shopping cart) I'm going to THROW you." I'm actually just disgusted thinking about the rest of the conversation.
On the other hand, it's become entertaining to watch the people at Dunkin' Donuts try to take an order for a "large coffee". At one point the screen displayed munchkins and 6 bagels. I'd analogize it to watching a person of normal intelligence try to launch a space shuttle. You're standing at mission control, looking up at the big screen, hoping that you press the right button, then realizing that you pressed the button that controls the space station instead. I don't know how many derivations of Large Coffee actually exist, since they must have 12 different options on the touch pad screen. Of course while this is all going on, 2 OTHER people are trying to understand my order so they can make the coffee. It's literally a crew of retards, spearheaded by the #1 retard, Brunehilda. Honestly, that's her name. I can't make this shit up. It makes me long for the days in southern CT when Mandeep and Mansukh would quickly serve up a coffee, with hardly a wasted motion and never getting an order wrong. Once when Brunehilda "accidentally" charged me for 3 coffees instead of one. When I pointed this out to her, rather than void the order or issue a return, she just reached in the drawer, approximated the price of two medium coffees, and handed me a wad of cash. I was amazed to the point where I didn't even bother to argue. I think I came out ahead in that transaction anyway. Yes, I am surrounded by retards, and not the real ones (although there definitely was one working at Marshalls), and as a tribute to them I leave you with the following video. It's worth it trust me.

What's Worse Than Sweet Caroline? These Nine Other Choices.

I can keep making excuses for failing to post, but really I have none except that I've been too tired, busy, or drunk to focus on it. Plus I spend 95% of my day staring at a computer screen with the other 5% on the phone, or staring at a piece of paper. Shockingly, I've actually received an "application" for an editorial position on the AoF staff. While this potentially ups our staff from 3 to 4, it decreases our readership from 6 to 5. Who am I kidding, it's probably more like 4 to 3 readers as I'm fairly sure that DGD doesn't even check the site let alone attempt to post. TDX probably forgot it even exists. Anyway, I'll repost the contact info, I'm open to adding more staff and are willing to consider any and all applications. Email me.

Anyway, by the way of a bit of background, the Mets last season adopted the Red Sox "tradition" of playing Sweet Caroline during the 8th inning for a sing-a-long. This is about as much of a tradition as the Mariano Rivera/Billy Wagner playing Enter Sandman as their entrance music. A better tradition in my opinion is the Mets playing Lazy Mary after Take Me Out to the Ball Game during the seventh inning stretch.
I just watched Beltran get robbed of a home run on an umpire conference reversing what was originally the right call. This is where limited instant replay should be allowed in baseball. One look at the tape would have clarified that in the fraction of the time it took the umps to fuck it up. At least it wasn't Chuck Merriweather making the call, as he has some personal vendetta against the Mets.
Anyway, there's some asshole working in the Mets stadium entertainment division (I just made up that division - whoever is in charge of the website/in-stadium music) as they have put an internet poll up asking what Sing-A-Long song they should play during the eighth inning. Hey assholes, how about NOTHING. That would be a nice change. Just like when they decided to pipe in the Jose Jose Jose chant - the incorrect chant I might add. I remember in '06, while sitting in K-dro's Korner - another unfortunate casualty of Pedro being injured and the Mets management being assholes for not giving up the $2 bleacher seats - the Jose Jose chant was born, during Pedro's first start of the season. It was an original, naturally occurring, beautiful thing that they stadium PA people (another made up division) stole and bastardized. So here we are with the option of picking from a list of 10 - with one write in vote - songs to sing during the 8th inning.

What Sing-A-Long Song Should the Mets PlayDuring the Eighth Inning in the Final Season At Shea?
Fans, select your favorite from the songs listed below.Your votes will help determine what Sing-A-Long gets played duringthe 8th Inning during the final historic year at Shea.
Fan voting is now open and concludes at Noon on Monday, April 7.Select a song from the list below, or select "Other" to write-in your own suggestion.

Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison
Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations
I'll Be There For You - The Rembrandts (Theme from Friends)
I'm A Believer - The Monkees
Land Of 1000 Dances - Wilson Pickett
I Love Rock N' Roll - Joan Jett & the Blackhearts
Livin' On A Prayer - Bon Jovi
Movin' Out - Billy Joel
Sweet Caroline - Neil Diamond
Waitin' On A Sunny Day - Bruce Springsteen
Other

Individually I'll agree, none of these songs are particularly bad or offensive on their own. NONE of them have a place in the 8th inning let alone during the game. We're already following the bouncing Mr. Met head to the lyrics of Meet the Mets during the 4th inning, mumbling the Italian words to Lazy Mary during the 7th, and (hopefully) singing along to Takin' Care of Business after a big win.
Not only do these songs not fit, but they're just wrong. Living on a Prayer? Waitin' On A Sunny Day? Build Me Up Buttercup (just to let me down? - I thought we were trying to forget 2007)...BROWN EYED GIRL?! What the fuck?!
Why not choose between Area Codes and Get Low (the Lil' John version)? Skeet, skeet, skeet motherfucka! The only thing I can think of that would be worse would be having a stadium kareoke competition with contestants primarily from the school of the deaf. Here's my only solution (and this stems primarly from the fact that God Bless America cuts short my enjoyment of Lazy Mary during the 7th Inning Stretch) - move God Bless America to the 8th, OR play the song from the 1986 Mets season "Let's Go Mets Go!" (we got the teamwork to make the dream work)

The video is mostly for my enjoyment - and probably yours as well. My only other recommendation would be Duran Duran - Wild Boys. So I guess this is my endorsement for writing in Let's Go Mets Go! in the ballot, if you are to vote at all.

Really, I think that as this is the last season at Shea, an 8th inning moment of silence is appropriate. Let's see if the PA people can shut the fuck up for 10 minutes and let the fans come up with their own stuff.

When It Rains, It Pours

As I ran past the empty rooms of the AoF HQ on my way to drop an emergency deuce after a particularly grueling assignment that took me three hours longer than I expected, I did feel a twinge of saddness. (oh come on you know the times when you really have to go and the thought of public facilities is quickly dismissed as you realize you still have a key to your old house.) Alas, maybe it was not saddness but the twinge of the turtle head popping. Or maybe it was the sheer joy of watching democrats rip apart their party (more on this next post, I've been been scratching my political itch and am close to being riled up once again). Regardless, it is indeed the closing of a chapter and a sad one indeed. However, I was barely able to continue with my life when the next news hit me: Dougie will not be going deep at Fenway Park anymore. No, now we'll deal with Kevin "Johnny" Cash as Tim McGraw's twin brother's personal catcher.

("I can't quit you. . . )




Indeed, my namesake has been released. However, his memory will live on. As with most cult favorites, this won't have an ultimate effect on our season, but it makes every fifth day much less enjoyable. I comment here, because this is Dougie's birthplace, although The Upper Decker might be a better forum and the name more appropraite for someone of Dougie's stature. Plus I'll be honest, I'm still sickened by the pictures on that site, speaking of not being able to quit something. . .



Anyway, I am officially putting my Dougie's Going Deep Tonight shirt with my David Wells t-shirt jersey and awaiting the perfect day to let it out in all its glory. Dare I say meatfest?

Stay tuned... next week: Why a Barack W will be less upsetting to me than that game in February, and why I might welcome it.

It's so haaaaaaaaard to say goodbyyyyeee...

It's a rare occasion that I get to blog these days. As it tends to, life got in the way of more fruitful endeavors, particularly posting on AoF and the Upper Decker. I know, what's more important than the AoF family of internet sites? Very little indeed. On a daily basis I try to listen to as much of Sebastian in the morning as I can, unfortunately after about 15 mins into my commute I lose the signal. On that show he regularly talks about myspace, the erstwhile social networking forum responsible for all things from bands making it big to date rape. Were I to have a myspace page (admittedly I do despite having already forgotten the password), I would set my mood to "sad".
Why am I sad? It's not so much sadness as it is just feeling down as the last of AoF's editors vacates headquarters. TDX opened the Brooklyn office which quickly went under. Without the constant pressure from TDX to post, DGD pretty much fell off the map, and no less than 2 weeks ago, he vacated AoF HQ to open the Easter CT branch. As the last man standing, I had little to no energy at the end of the day to even consider posting, although I had plenty of halfway decent ideas, and maybe a couple of good ones here and there that I ultimately forgot or were too topical to matter now. Now I'm officially closing the book on AoF HQ, and moving the HQ to the Lower Hudson Valley. (LoHud).
Obviously I'm not going to promise that I'll try and post with more regularity, in all honesty I can't make that guarantee. I'm going to cut this off now before my tears leak through the cracks in my keyboard and this never hits the interweb.
Ok fine, you got me, I'm not really sad. Although yes it is true that we're shutting down HQ and moving to a new location (with an arguably nicer view) the move is a good thing. Cut down on utilities, cut down on travel. It figures that we're installing new windows and a new bathroom now that everyone leaves. Only the best for AoF editors. I'm going to take this opportunity to implore DGD and TDX to at least make an attempt. I know there's a lot going on but hey, posting can be fun from time to time. Lastly, if you're interested in writing for AoF contact me and I'll get you set up.

Anyone Remember Money Train?

So here I sit, watching Miami Vice, Friday night, 10pm. I'm reminiscing about debaucherous days, where shooting yourself in the head with a NERF gun made perfect sense. It's been almost 3 weeks since I last blogged. That has nothing to do with desire. In that 3 week span I've had plenty of things to blog about, but no time or no energy to do it. I planned on doing a column on the city of Atlanta, while I was there. No dice. In fact, I'm growing tired the longer I sit here and I keep thinking that this post is going the way of TDX in never actually getting to the point (or using the point as an excuse to write about life, then throw in a quick blurb at the end. Quick shot of Colin Farrell's moustache. Drink twice.

So, I hate to play the race card, but I'm throwing it out there. Watching Miami Vice, I can't help myself. The question I'm posing is this: historically who is the best on-screen white guy black guy duo? Right now I'm watching Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx. Despite the fantastic facial hair sported by both the duo is not the greatest. I have just been reminded of DGD's obsession with Colin Farrell. Not so much his acting prowess, but moreso his nutsack, which DGD had to rewind to get a clear look at while watching Alexander. Immediately Miami Vice falls into last place. I guess technically they're currently in first and last place simultaneously. Next up from the bottom is Tyrese and Paul Walker in 2 Fast 2 Furious. Now ther eare terrible movies, and really terrible movies. These two movies are battling it out for each distinction. Ironically both take place in Miami. It is likely that nothing good comes out of Miami (with the exception of the 7th Floor Crew). I'm mostly amazed that they have not only a Wikipedia page as well as a myspace page. Here's another great article.

Moving on, as I'm losing steam, I'm going to put Woody Harrellson and Wesley Snipes in 3rd place. That's right I arbitrarily decided to make this a top 5, or perhaps it's really a bottom 5. White Men Can't Jump was a decent movie, although it was clear that neither of them could really dunk in real life, most of the shots weren't authentic, and the hoops were actually 7 1/2 feet rather than 10. And they were playing with women's size balls.

Mel Gibson and Danny Glover come in second. That partnership lasted for 4 movies. Not a bad run huh? Individually I really don't like either Danny Glover or Mel Gibson. In fact, I really dislike Mel. Actually, they're automatically relegated to last place on this list. Chuck Norris and that black guy in Walker Texas Ranger, but (1) that's not a movie and (2) it just doesn't count when one of the two is less than notable.

Samuel L. Jackson and Bruce Willis in Die Hard 3 and Denzel Washington with Ethan Hawke in Training Day, both good but not really a partnership.

I'm not going to lie, I've reached #1 and have no idea who to give the top spot. After careful consideration the award goes to Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones for the Men in Black movies. Do I think they deserve it? Absolutely not. Out of sheer laziness I'm going to end it here. If you're reading this and can think of one, even if it's questionable or not very good, post it in the comments section.

First Ever "What's Filling My Box?"

It's becoming readily apparent that, collectively, we (we being the editors of AoF) suck. As noted a thousand times, we're kinda lazy. Turns out that said laziness, coupled with billable hours, is kryptonite to our posting schedule. OK, perhaps that last statement wasn't entirely true in that only 2/3 of us actually are employed in the private legal sector. Those public sector attorneys (namely yours truly) are blessed with all sorts of spare time. For example, my day today only took place between the hours of 9:45 and 4:30, with an almost 2 hour lunch and about half an hour of assorted breaks scattered throughout. Needless to say, I'd be kind of a piece of shit to ignore AoF entirely. Really, only one thing keeps me from dropping endless nuggets of fact from high above, much like a condor after a spicy lunch would (I realize this is a metaphor better suited for The Upper Decker). I don't want to become the sole poster here because, let's face it, I'm probably a little too self-indulgent in that I largely post for my own whims and ignore the desires of You, the Reader (and by You, the Reader, I literally am referring to what is likely the one person left who reads this dreck).

Case in point of how this blog is gonna probably turn out is the post I'm currently turning in. As noted above, man, lack of time is not the issue. On the other hand, my mailbox is nearly full of nonsense that people send along and, quite frankly, I'd rather make some headway in emptying it rather than come up with original material. Without further ado, a new running column entitled, "What's Filling My Box?". For the first WFMB?, we're gonna have to take a look deep into my box, all the way back to stuff from October. (to answer your question in advance, no, I will never pass up the opportunity to poorly craft anatomical puns).

The first one is especially cheap since it was passed along by TW. So I guess, in a way, this is a cheap idea stolen from a fellow editor. I'm quite pleased with myself. It's the MySpace page for the CT Zombie Fest. It has your typical bullshit that a MySpace page has along with some twists. It's plastered with photos of, and crap written by, vapid and soulless creatures that likely roam the earth restlessly. The rest is about zombies. All I can say is that I'm sold. I'm in next year for ZombieFest. Aren't you glad I bothered to pass this along six months ago when it would have been useful?

If you thought that last item was lazy and pointless, wait until you get a load of this next one. It's one of many chain-type/general nonsense e-mails that my uncle regularly sends out. Honestly, some of my favorite e-mails are those that I get from a generation before us. Computers have been around long enough for them to understand how to use them, but they still feel obligated to pass along every single thing that ends up in their mailboxes (hmmmm, not unlike what I'm doing here). My uncle's emails have an even better twist to them in that he's from Alabama and, along with the usual support our troops, God Bless America, etc. type stuff that one would expect from a good ole Red State, he also sends out total nonsense sometimes. Case in point: This lovely picture to the right. It's purely space filler from my standpoint, but I'd be shocked if, next time I go to visit, he doesn't have the full poster sized version in his boathouse. Just bear in mind that this is a man who defines himself by the amount of Auburn stuff he possesses (he got a full write-up in the paper once about a huge cast-iron War Eagle statute that he has on the front lawn of his lake house) and refers to himself as "Lake Jim". Everyone needs family from Alabama.

FACT: Dinosaur Hunters Shape Annals of History

Truth be told here, its extremely difficult to write about anything other than the "Greatest Game Ever" this past Sunday. The aftermath has easily consumed every aspect of my life this past week It's singularly the greatest sports rooting achievement of my life. Achievement may not be the best word, but I think it's fairly appropriate here. I'm just pissed that I couldn't make it to the parade. Employment is not all its cracked up to be. Alas. With the advent of The Upper Decker, however, these sentiments are best reserved for a different forum. Before I move on to something non-sports related I have to point out that I'm currently watching some sweet DVRed World Arm Wrestling Championships that appear to have been taped at Mohegan Sun. These guys are nuts. They all have right arms that appear visibly larger than the left. It's really just a display of athleticism, replete with competitors truly at the apex of their game.

OK, moving on. It's pretty hard to keep this whole posting thing from devolving into me just breaking down whatever happened to occur in my life recently. It then becomes not much more than a diary, and that would be fairly presumptive of me to think that anyone actually wants to read that. Of course there's always the distinct possibility that there always involves some degree of presumption on my part whenever I write some of this nonsense and disseminate it out into the internet where its read by literally millions of people (or about a dozen, depending on your definition of literal).

All this being said, I'm about to briefly describe some of my day yesterday. I decided to take a break from the typical Saturday of drinking all day on the couch in contemplation of later going out that night and drinking at a more frenetic pace in a louder, darker environment. With this in mind I went the other way with the day and took a trip over to the American Museum of Natural History. It's not necessary for me to summarize the trip. That would be fairly shitty and lazy posting on my part. I only mention this because the dinosaur exhibits, always the greatest in the museum, stood out a little bit to me this trip. Some of the exhibits had been redone a little bit since the last time I was there, notably in the area of heavy focus on some of the actual paleontologists that did the exploration. Long story short, I'm fairly certain I'm gonna name my first born child after famed dinosaur hunter Barnum Brown. The exhibits actually referred to this man as the greatest dinosaur hunter of the twentieth century. The phrase spurs images of a wild-eyed bearded man chasing a herd of raptors while on horseback, armed only with a crossbow.

This fellow Barnum Brown is particularly notable since he's the guy who discovered the Tyrannosaurus Rex. If we're talking about the great men that shaped the course of history then Brown's gotta be right up there with Moses and Oscar Meyer, right? This guy's excavation tool of choice......dynamite. That's right, this Dinosaur Hunter said fuck that to being careful with millions of year old fossilized remains. I guess he just really believed in that mantra "Why put off for tomorrow what you can do today.....with dynamite." (Reader's note: I took a brief break in the creation of this paragraph in order to find topless photos of Jennifer Tilly. I dare you to find me a 49-year-old with a better rack than her. Amazing. Also, I feel Barnum Brown would have approved of this use of the internet).

The Writers Strike Has to Stop: Give them the 2.5%

Generally when I write so called "reviews" (complaining about the dreck that are called "hit" reality/competition/"game" shows) of television I'm not actually watching the shows. I'll admit, I'm openly critizing shows that I assume the generally less intelligent masses love, without taking the time to watch them myself. Well thanks to the minor disagreement over 2.5% of internet royalties between the Writers Guild and the TV Networks, there's been a serious lack of new non-garbage programming.

How bad has it actually gotten? Just look at my DVR. I've been recording only new programming and reruns of shows that I enjoy. The short list: American Gladiators, The Big Bang Theory, The Colbert Report, The Daily Show, Gossip Girl, How I Met Your Mother, and Two and a Half Men. Anyone who's watched American Gladiators has to miss the original hosts. Expecting a response to hard hitting questions such as "So , you just earned two points!?", gets you exactly the response to that you'd expect. Also, It's easy to pare down the contestant pool to 8 when at least one gets injured in the first event every show. Here's a picture of the new gladiator Justice - if you pan out, he's actually doubled over ripping a heinous fart and just realized he shit his unitard.

Anyway, it's a sad state of affairs when I have to record Gossip Girl just in case I completely run out of original programming. Still haven't watched it, but shamefully enough, it's there. I think it's this (high school) generations "Dawson's Creek" without the 'beek and Charlie (from Mighty Ducks). I'd do a quick "where are they now" on that cast but it's pretty simple: 'Beek- out of work, "Pacey" - out of work, TomKat - under contract (for life - or 10 years) with a sci-co (pronounced psycho). Michelle Williams is the only one working and is now the single mother of Heath Ledgers child. (moment of silence for the new "Joker"). I'm not a huge fan of Two and a Half Men, but it's decently funny enough to throw on in a pinch. Unless he's playing himself, Charlie Sheen's character is wholly unrealistic in two ways: 1) no man who clearly dyes his hair is banging that many model-hot chicks in their 20's on a regular basis (unless he's actually Charlie Sheen), and 2) no man sits on his couch to watch tv with his legs crossed like a chick. Sure I've seen it done by men before (mostly gay men) but no chauvenistc man sits like that, particularly while watching TV alone. (most would sit like that kid in the picture.

Ok, so I've been watching American Idol. I'll admit, in the early stages it's mildly amusing, but after a while when you've seen one crappy singer, you've seen them all. And seeing the joy of the "good" ones isn't enough because you know that although they made it to Hollywood, they have as much chance winning the big show as AoF has at becoming a legitimate blog. The other show I spent far too much time watching (about 4 mins) was The Moment of Truth. It's a "game" show where they ask people a bunch of questions while connected to a lie detector before the show, then asks them the same questions. The winner is the one who tells the truth. Where the hell is the game in this? What it means is if you have no conscience and really could care less if people know that you've done some morally questionable things or had mean thoughts about a loved one, you could win a bunch of money. Here's an example, I just saw a commercial for The Moment of Truth where they asked a contestant "Do you think your mother is overweight?" Then the cut to a shot of her mom, who is easily a deuce, more likely a deuce and a half. Then the crack producers make it seem like a huge deal, (piping in - I'm thinking "gasp" track) with an audience reaction akin to asking if you enjoy killing kittens and answered "yes!". Like this contestants answer is a big F'n shock. When you have trouble waddling from point A to point B, and don't have a serious groin injury, chances are you're a fat slob. Without the writers, my TV is suffering.

All I can say is it's a good thing Lost is coming back...

Fact: I'm Having a Bad Day, Craigslist, Movie Preview

Today has been especially brutal. The countdown to the last day of work is at 3 days. I actually have and should be doing work to leave one of the projects I've been working on in somewhat reasonable shape. I'm not saying I'm unhappy about leaving, gotta make that paper right? But what irks me is that as I ride off into the sunset, I'll be leaving behind a project that never really got off the ground, partly because I couldn't justify finishing it at my current payscale and partly because the government might be the slowest most painful entity to have to deal with. Also in my wake will be a number of recommendations, including what type of personnel will be necessary to step into my shoes and complete this project. Short of saying "give me a promotion/raise" I really believe that it will take no less than 2 but no more than 3 people in varying roles/responsibilities to get this done, all being paid significantly more than what I'd been exploited into doing for the past 4 months. The bitch of it all is that as much as I'd like to leave the company high and dry on this absurdly important project with a deadline over a month past, I actually like the people I've worked for/with and couldn't bring myself to do that. When I think about what I've done and how much of a struggle it has been living on next to nothing with no benefits, I want to pack my shit up and storm out of here with both middle fingers in the air. Unfortunately, unlike TDX, I'm not one to make a scene when resigning/getting fired. I looked for this new job purely out of necessity, and somehow managed to get lucky with a livable salary/benefits and big firm experience/training to put on my resume. Sadly though, I've come to enjoy blogging, and although most of it is usually disjointed ramblings (much like this current diatribe) I enjoy writing it and don't really give a shit if you enjoy reading it, and I won't be able to do it once the almighty billable hour takes over my life. Anyway, Friday is my final day here, and apparently I've hurt people's feelings over not making a grand announcment that I will be leaving but you know what, I probably couldn't muster anything that wasn't overly sarcastic or offensive. I don't think I can say "I'd stay if I could" (Read: I'd stay if you fuckers paid me enough) any more than I already have and any potential offer they could have made was still way off from even making me slightly consider staying. I guess I'm a little bitter.

My sincerest apologies for that rant. Once I get going it's hard to stop. I started off today on my usual internet scan, metsblog, woot, espn, AoF and Upper Decker. Shockingly there was new content on AoF that wasn't my own. Kudos to TDX for at least pretending to give a shit. I then moved on to looking for a place to live on Craigslist. This bored me rather quickly so I racked my brain for ideas for AoF. I thought about a commentary on Craigslist and remembered that DGD and Ms. DGD had mentioned that the personals were funny/disgusting. So I figured that there would be some fodder for posting in there. Boy was I wrong. 90% of posts were spam, and the other 10% were some combination of silly, desperate, or depressing. Funny and disgusting they were not. Hell, I even perused "Casual Encounters" and came up empty. There we're talking 99% spam, and 1% old "swinger" types, that are probably spam as well. Who tries to lure people into giving out email addresses and what are they even doing with them? I considered venturing into the realm of investigative journalism, but that urge quickly passed. I think the funniest personal ad was titled "Fat Chick Looking for Fun in the Sack"-35. Oh yeah, 35 year old porkers, that's right up my Allie, I mean alley. What I did notice is that no one posting on Craigslist knows how to spell worth a damn and more gay guys post than anyone else. I highly doubt any of this is real or ever works. I'm pissed I wasted my time on a bad tip. Maybe you'll find some entertainment value in there, but I surely didn't. I tried to link Craigslist but I'm guessing you can figure it out. My work decided to block it.

What I finally settled on was merely alerting you to the fact that there a few movies in the works that I am looking forward to not having time to watch. For those of you who are fans of either Happy Madison productions - Grandma's Boy, keep an eye out for Strange Wilderness. Not only is Kevin Heffernan in it (Officer Rod Farva from Super Troopers) but throw in Steve Zahn, Justin Long, and Jonah Hill and you've got a pretty funny cast all around. I think the movie is about a failing nature show that in an effort to save itself from cancellation, decides to document their hunt for bigfoot. The 80's produced much more absurd plot lines and my guess is this cast will turn in a funny performance that will likely be ignored by the general public.

Also keep an eye out for Broken Lizard's (Super Troopers, Beerfest, Club Dread) next movie Slammin' Salmon, about a retired boxer trying to make a comeback. Michael Clarke Duncan plays the boxer, and Cobie Smulders does something - plays the hot girl/love interest is my guess. Personally I've enjoyed Broken Lizard's work, granted a biased opinion, and admittedly their movies are not for everyone. But I'm looking forward to seeing what they do next. (Before Super Troopers 2 or Potfest).

Lastly Kevin Smith is back at it again, and this one doesn't sound like it's going to be anything like Jersey Girl. (Sorry man, that movie was just plain bad.) The title of this one is "Zach and Miri Make a Porno" and it stars Seth Rogan (the cop from Superbad, the degenrate friend from 40 Yr Old Virgin, and the star of Knocked Up) and the blond bookstore girl from 40 Year Old Virgin - name escapes me so I'm going with descriptors (Elizabeth Banks - I broke down and looked it up in my search for pictures). C'mon it's a movie with porno in the title. And Jason Mewes (Jay) has a supporting role. This promises to be more like Clerks than Jersey Girl. My guess is that there will be some underlying love story with witty dialogue and provactive undertones.

NYC Turns to the Third-World

Before we get going here it must be pointed out that TW is a fucking thief. I'd be able to summon more than fake anger at his pilfering of my "In Review" column idea if not for several things, in no particular order. A. I suck at regular posting. B. I wish that I had thought of the column idea. C. Had I reviewed religion I probably would have just posted some offensive rant. D. TW is the only reason this site is still going.

OK, back to the point of this whole thing. There was a particularly interesting article on the front page of amNY the other day. A quick aside: amNY is such a blessing and a curse. Sure, it's free, which is usually what makes it kinda crappy. It does provide me with valuable crosswords to do when I should be doing actual work. It's littered with typos, though, and I probably wouldn't bother with it if not for the fact that every single morning there's about a half dozen people giving it away that harass the shit out of everyone in my subway stop near my office. I usually end up with at least two if for no other reason than to appease those maniacs.

Sorry, that aside turned out not to be that quick. Also, I have no grasp of paragraph structure. I just kind of hit "enter" when there looks like a decent amount of text in it. Anyway, the front page the other day was all about this building on Broadway that's about to fall over. I only mention it because it's around the corner from my office and something seemed odd about it when I first noticed it. It was probably the fact that a complicated system of makeshift wooden planks appeared to be propping it up. It looks laughable how shitty it is and I just kind of dismissed it as there being no chance that could be the case. Turns out I was wrong. NYC is amazing sometimes when you see some of the nonsense that should only be happening in third-world countries.

Good example being something I just caught on the ol' television. It was one of those "Most Amazing Things Ever" type of shows, the kind of shit where people's parachutes don't open or they get bit by a shark but they survive. As if we're supposed to feel bad about people that are fucking with sharks in the first place getting hurt. Anyway, they had a bit about some little girl in Romania that fell down a well and the entire country couldn't figure out how to get her out. Literally the entire country. The news station that was broadcasting it was soliciting suggestions from the public. Ultimately, some skinny teenage chick was lowered in upside down by a rope into this tiny well and pulled the girl out. The best part was that the mayor of the village gave her a plot of land as a reward. I guess they were out of mules.

"Religion" In Review: Scientology

Every 4 or 5 months or so TDX has an "In Review" post. I think the last one was City in Review: Philadelphia, but I'm not going back to look. Today I'm going to review Scientology for two reasons: (1) it's mentioned in 1 of 4 posts on every gossip blog and (2) I want to know whether it's Scientology making Tom Cruise seem insane, or if it's Tom Cruise making Scientology seem like a religion for the insane. Either way, I feel really bad for Katie Holmes. Maybe she got confused and thought she was marrying Christian Bale and at the last second the switched him for Tom. Notice we never hear anything about her. I guess that marriage/children contract came with a gag order. I wonder who Suri's real father is? I'd pay for the paternity test, they can't cost that much right?

I think the hardest part about the Church of Scientology is not being able to find a concrete, relatively concise statement about the religion. All I could find from the "official" website was a lot of ambiguity. For example under "What is Scientology":
Scientology is the study and handling of the spirit in relationship to itself, others and all of life. The religion comprises a body of knowledge extending from certain fundamental truths. Prime among these:
Man is an immortal, spiritual being. His experience extends well beyond a single lifetime. His capabilities are unlimited, even if not presently realized — and those capabilities can be realized. He is able to not only solve his own problems, accomplish his goals and gain lasting happiness, but also achieve new, higher states of awareness and ability.
In Scientology no one is asked to accept anything as belief or on faith. That which is true for you is what you have observed to be true. An individual discovers for himself that Scientology works by personally applying its principles and observing or experiencing results.
Through Scientology, people all over the world are achieving the long-sought goal of true spiritual release and freedom.

At the same time I've found sites posting so-called "secret" documents that reveal the "creationist" belief of Scientology. Here's what the document says, paraphrased: Once upon a time (75 million years ago to be more precise) there was an alien galactic ruler named Xenu. Xenu was in charge of all the planets in this part of the galaxy including our own planet Earth, except in those days it was called Teegeeack.
Now Xenu had a problem. All of the 76 planets he controlled were overpopulated. Each planet had on average 178 billion people. He wanted to get rid of all the overpopulation so he had a plan.
Xenu took over complete control with the help of renegades to defeat the good people and the Loyal Officers. Then with the help of psychiatrists he called in billions of people for income tax inspections where they were instead given injections of alcohol and glycol mixed to paralyse them. Then they were put into space planes that looked exactly like DC8s (except they had rocket motors instead of propellers).
These DC8 space planes then flew to planet Earth where the paralysed people were stacked around the bases of volcanoes in their hundreds of billions. When they had finished stacking them around then H-bombs were lowered into the volcanoes. Xenu then detonated all the H-bombs at the same time and everyone was killed.
The story doesn't end there though. Since everyone has a soul (called a "thetan" in this story) then you have to trick souls into not coming back again. So while the hundreds of billions of souls were being blown around by the nuclear winds he had special electronic traps that caught all the souls in electronic beams (the electronic beams were sticky like fly-paper).
After he had captured all these souls he had them packed into boxes and taken to a few huge cinemas. There all the souls had to spend days watching special 3D motion pictures that told them what life should be like and many confusing things. In this film they were shown false pictures and told they were God, The Devil and Christ. In the story this process is called "implanting".
When the films ended and the souls left the cinema these souls started to stick together because since they had all seen the same film they thought they were the same people. They clustered in groups of a few thousand. Now because there were only a few living bodies left they stayed as clusters and inhabited these bodies.
As for Xenu, the Loyal Officers finally overthrew him and they locked him away in a mountain on one of the planets. He is kept in by a force-field powered by an eternal battery and Xenu is still alive today.
That is the end of the story. And so today everyone is full of these clusters of souls called "body thetans". And if we are to be a free soul then we have to remove all these "body thetans" and pay lots of money to do so. And the only reason people believe in God and Christ was because it was in the film their body thetans saw 75 million years ago.


Trying to mesh the "belief" (or non-belief) with the ambiguous statements is as difficult as mixing oil and water (peanut butter and ladies). At some point, the oily crap will have to separate and float to the top.

The website clearly states that you need not accept anything as belief or on faith, yet when you finally reach the point where you learn about your alien heritage, you've already invested copious amounts of money and time. How pissed are you going to be. It'll be like the time I trained to be a ninja and found out that once I reached the upper levels of my training, I couldn't fart a cloud of smoke and disappear, or fly through the air, leaping from treetop to treetop. Obviously once I learned that, I quit my ninja training and am now studying to be a member of the Matrix.

Ultimately from what I've gathered, Scientology is not a religion. It is a philosophy that L. Ron Hubbard Sr. was able to infuse into his science fiction (Dianetics), and then found a way to make money selling it to people as religion. In 1983 Penthouse published an interview with L. Ron Hubbard Jr. who had feared for his life and confirmed that his father was a con-artist and a wife-beater.

What did I learn from this? I'm not really sure. One of 3 things. Either (1) I'm way off on my information and this is all made up mumbo jumbo; (2) Tom Cruise really is insane; and/or (3) cults are just very influential - or they drugged and raped Tom Cruise and replaced him with a robot.

Speaking of crazy celebs, did you see that Britney might be schizophrenic?

This one hits close to home.

I'm going to apologize, in advance to friends, colleagues and fellow AoF editors for this one. I'm going apologize in particular to friends who are currently in law school and those considering joining the prestigious legal profession. I'm sorry. While it may be unclear as to why I am apologizing, I'll preface this post with all AoF editors are lawyers in some capacity, for better or most likely worse.

That said I'll start with a bit of good news. The "luster" associated with being a lawyer is fading. While it may have been the hot trend 3 or 4 years ago when I decided to being my pursuit to join the ranks of the over worked and underpaid, which at the time was a situation that I think most people were largely unaware of, college grads who want to make "moolah" are passing on law and medicine, two of what used to be considered the "nobler professions" (I'd say it's probably just doctors who are considered noble now...) for a career at a hedge fund or private equity firm. Volume of applications to law school have been steadily dropping, more than 10% over the last two years alone. Why is this good news? Less lawyers, means more jobs, means (theoretically) higher salaries. Applications are down, but enrollment is not, at least not yet. Law schools have become money-making machines, focusing on getting more students in, making more money, not really caring about the education (at least from and administration perspective) and churning out lawyers who subsequently suffer with six figure debt, and mediocre 5 figure salaries.

I tend to make a lot of references to Chris Rock's comedy routine. I'm probably over generalizing how widespread his comedy routines are and I'm sure 90% of people who seek them haven't committed them to memory. Rock speaks of a "stripper myth". The myth being "I'm stripping to pay my way through school." The then goes on to deconstruct the myth. Law school is much like this stripper myth. "I'm taking on an absurd amount of debt, because when I graduate I'll be able to pay it with my high paying job at a prestigious firm." The high paying job is the "stripping to pay for school" and law school is the stripper. Except in my example, it's the law student who's losing his/her shirt.

Everyone likes to feel good, which is why the New York Times can report, happily, that Big Firm New York starting salaries are ballooning from $140,000 when I was a 1L (first year law student) to $160,000 now, and upwards of $180,000. Truth of the matter is though, almost all of those jobs go to graduates of the top 5-10 law schools or the top 5% of their class, and the rest of us are stuck with salaries 60% less than that. Here's a list of the top and bottom 25 salaries coming out of law school. I am happy to say that my school was not on the bottom 25 list. Probably due to the fact that no one reports their salaries to the school post-graduation.

To be fair, I'm not saying I dislike being a lawyer. But I am a little disgusted at the salary deception that attracts people to law like moths to a bug zapper. The profession and the learning that takes place may be noble but I think many of the intelligent people who go to law school would have been intelligent enough to decide on another career path had they known it would mean huge loan payments that basically handcuff you with debt because the starting salaries are significantly lower than what you would have expected. I work for one of the largest franchises in the world, and I'm still looking for more money. How does that make any sense?

Hiatus Over....Probably

I haven't necessarily spoken to DGD about our combined lack of posting, but I think it's a given that he joins me in thanking TW for holding down the fort on AoF. He's been quite excellent lately in his coverage of all things relevant for the modern society. I mean, really, sophisticated political analysis from a man who has never voted before? Introduction to Modern (f)Art? Posts peppered with masturbation jokes? I don't know if DGD and myself are even necessary for the sustained excellence (subjective term) of AoF.

Nevertheless, I hope to be back now in a more permanent capacity than has been the case over the past month or so. I would apologize for my (probably less than notable) absence, but screw you, I don't need to explain myself to anyone. OK, for what it's worth, I started a new job. I say "new" job because it sounds much better than just saying I became un-unemployed and no longer sit on my couch full-time. To be fair though, plenty of successful people spend much of their time sitting around all day. A couple come to mind....luminaries such as FDR and Jabba the Hut. And as for the "job" aspect, NYC is my employer, so I'm sure the taxpayers will be happy to find out that precious little of their tax dollars find their way into my pocket. However, I have already begun my full-scale office supply stealing operation. We hope to be on the moon by 2012....or at least steal one of those sweet automatic staplers.

Wow...here we are...three paragraphs in...I wonder how fast anyone's gonna catch on that this post is about nothing. I almost instinctively fell back on something sports related but I guess that's what The Upper Decker's for. You gotta admit, by the way, that that's one great name for a blog. TW is good at what he does. Unfortunately for his overlords at work, it doesn't involve any of the things they actually pay him for.

As for something topical, I'm just gonna have to go with zombies/a half assed movie review. "I am Legend" pissed me off. Granted I saw it a couple of weeks ago now, but it still bothers me. You probably all know that its the third movie version of the 1950s book by the same name that largely introduced into pop culture the whole concept of vampirism. Well, the movie just didn't have enough vampires. Dammit Will Smith, fight some more vampires, drive some stakes through their heart, do something other than recruit people to Scientology. The only conclusion to take is that if Martin Lawrence had been there at least there would have been witty banter. Or an acapella rendition of the "Bad Boys" theme. Something at least. Oh yeah, for anyone who gets worked over the fact that I just said a few lines ago that I was gonna talk about zombies and then went straight into vampires, just remember that vampires are just zombies with some style. Kinda like Buck Nasty.

Everyone can think of someone like this.

It had a name and we didn't even know it. Nor did we know that there was a quasi subculture with crop dusting at it's root. It may be purely a phenomenon, but exist it does, and the internet has become a vehicle for unifying the movement. I'm talking about fartists. The Urban Dictionary defines "Fartist" as "One who elevates the act of passing gas(flatulence) to an art form." Coined by "Loveline" host Adam Carolla. "When I pass gas at the writing table at 'Jimmy Kimmell Live', I'm expressing myself--I'm a fartist."

An art form indeed.

But what about when you go beyond the fArt and use your gas for less noble means? The Urban Dictionary defines such a person as a "Martial Fartist". Someone who purposely uses their farts to annoy someone else.
JT likes to let his Don Fee build up lots of pressure, then he comes over to my cubicle and squeezes out his bean bomb real hard and fast, making a super loud & stinky fart. JT's a real martial fartist!

There is both the art and the offense, here's an example of the art. This French "Fartiste" elevated his special skills to professional flatulism.

The example of a martial fartist comes from an anonymous vigilante on Craigslist. Farting for the good of man. Passing gas on the wicked. I'll post his entire Craigslist statement for your enjoyment.

If V is for Vendetta, F is for Fartist.
The first part of the word is “fart” for the act of firing bacteria created air and poo particles at an incredible speed. Everyone one does it, and it has been proven that farts bring joy, yet they are taboo in public. The second part of the word is “artist” because that is what I am. Much like Picasso wielded a paint and easel, I have the ability to practically fart on command and have perfected the ventriloquist and ricochet methods which allow me to strike with devastating accuracy from cover much like a highly trained sniper.
My main hunting grounds are the mean streets of BART, which I am forced to endure twice a day for half an hour at a time. Many people from other places tell me that BART is great or some similar shit, but anyone who rides it daily like me knows that it sucks. To pay $10 a day for the right to park and ride to and from work is excruciating, especially on the way home when I think about paying to stand on a packed train with a bunch of self absorbed aholes. But I must give BART some credit, for they launched my career as the most lethal vigilante in history.
Here is a list of some of the victims and the methods with which they were punished:

Mr. Read the newspaper to his wife on speaker phone guy: You are on the top of the list for one reason and one reason only; you are without a doubt the biggest asshole in history. Who sits there and yells on speaker phone and reads stories about an axe murderer to his wife during rush hour (in the elderly and handicapped seat no less)? You do. I fought for almost two minutes, desperately pumping the volume up button on my iPod trying to block out your transgressions. My career as a fartist started then, my ignorant self absorbed friend, and you were treated to turkey chili con queso. Oooooh it was hot and wet when I crop dusted you, how did it smell? Call your wife and tell her about it.

Ms. Lower her shoulder and cram her way on to a way too packed train lady: I could not believe you were actually going to try to cram your way on to our way too packed train, but you sealed the deal when you lowered your shoulder and repeatedly rammed your way into the crowded mass of frustrated passengers. It took me a stop or two, but slowly I was able to back my tight buttocks right up to within 2 feet of your short ugly face. I used the silencer once again but you bathed in it. When you cried, “Oh god, who farted?” I was crying I was laughing so hard.

Two teenage girls talking about sex and two teenage guys talking about taking drugs and driving: You have no idea how stupid you sound talking about subjects like that on a silent BART train during the afternoon commute. I saw one lady actually get up and move away because your conversation was so inane and ignorant. Bonus points for the one girl saying she prefers wine and salmon to a beer and burger now, I can’t tell you how impressed we all were with you. The woman behind you who rolled her eyes and slumped in her seat wanted more of your tips on living the high life for sure. And guys, I’m not sure what drug exactly you were talking about taking and then driving on the freeway but I just hope you don’t take anyone with you when you earn your Darwin Awards. I approached smiling, appearing to be heading for the exit, utterly forgettable in my everyday Dockers with polar fleece pullover. You were all sitting together in the “quad” chairs that face each other and no one else was around you for obvious reasons. The ambient noise from the tunnel meant I was able to really make you shiver when I delivered, I am actually shocked that a burnt hole wasn’t left in the back of my pants. It was one of my fall specials, a preseason pumpkin fart that smells for five minutes. By the time you realized what was happening I was doubled over laughing on the escalator in the station, I hope my gas taught you something valuable. Silence is golden.

Next time, more victims and a discussion over which came first – the need to fart or the elevator.

We all look forward to next time good sir.

Here's a couple of YouTube clips to stink up your day.




The Anonymous Fartist




Enjoy!