Climb aboard the bandwagon!

New article up over at Chicago Sports Review.

Read it. Love it. Worship it. Caress it. Marry it. Eat it. Divorce it. Prophesies it. Financially back it. Photograph it. Remix it. Elephantize it. And, finally, alphabetize it under A for Awesome.

Galifianakis Appreciation Day

Slowly but surely, Zach Galifianakis has found his way into the dark, dark crevices of my non-gay heart.

Maybe it's because of his odd brand of surreal heavily-bearded comedy. Maybe it's because he once heckled the crap out of Survivor's Johnny Fairplay while on stage. Maybe it's because he thinks Morrissey is "pretty cool". Maybe it's because he hates Bush. Maybe it's because, in all likelihood, he's probably seen Eliza Dushku naked.

But, in all reality, it's probably because that, when he shaves off his enormous beard (as he does for the new Comedy Central show Dog Bites Man) he kinda looks like my dad.

In any case, here's a collection of Zach's best video clips as found on YouTube:









To get more Zach, head over to NetFlix and rent the wonderful docu-drama The Comedians of Comedy.

Quote of the Year Nominee

Spoken to my bearded, hat-wearing friend by a man bagging his groceries:

"You got a beard. You got a hat ... You got everything you need."

Happy Chicago Dual Victory Day

Yesterday marked the first time since May 17th that both the White Sox and Cubs won games on the same day. (To be fair, there was that 3-game stretch where the two teams had a rougher-than-usual game of paddy-cake.) And to celebrate the rare Chicago Dual Victory Day, ChicagoSports have decided to use the following pair of photos to lead off the stories:

Whereas the White Sox 11-0 blasting of the Indians is highlighted by Jim Thome smacking out his 20th Home Run, the Cubs photogenic highlight is a paparazzi-esque shot of Vaughniston as part of the "We Might Be Doin' It" publicity campaign for their upcoming movie.

Odds are that this choice might have to do with the two different directions these teams are heading. Since the last Chicago Dual Victory Day, the Sox have gone 8-4 while the Cubs have stumbled-and-bumbled along with a 3-9 record, including back-to-back sweeps. (The first by the best team $15 million can buy, while the second included three of the one-run notoriously heartbreaking losses Cubs fans have becomed accustomed to.)

Right now, to say that baseball is a little more important on one side of the city than the other is an understatement.

Irrelevant Contemplation

Why are there always dried boogers on the walls in the men's bathroom?

Monday's On The Case!

Whatever happened to the true investigative reporter?

A man with a 3-pack-a-day habit, a quarter-full fifth of vodka in his bottom desk drawer, and a press pass tucked into his dirty fedora. A man who would go into the field armed with only a tape recorder, a pad of paper, and his guts. A man with no morals, other than telling the public the entire story and letting them sort it out.

Nowadays, reporters just spend time surfing the Internet(s) to copy-and-paste their reports from the AP newswire. "Following leads" means clicking an extra hyperlink.

Thank God for Carl Monday. Cleveland's Investigative Reporter.

Carl Monday isn't going to stand for this breed of "pussy" journalism that's flourished recently. Carl Monday is going to go out there, into the bowels of Cleveland (public libraries) and set up a sting (with video cameras) in order to catch filthy perps in the act (of masturbating in a public place while downloading Internet porn).

And then, after collecting the video evidence, is he going to be a vaginally-equipped human being and turn the tape over to the police? No, sir (or madam)! Carl Monday doesn't associate with "pigs". (Unless he's bribing them for tips.)

He's going to show the video to you, the viewer, and let YOU come up with your own judgement.

And is the story going to end there? Fuck no! Being the testicular-fortituded man he is, Carl Monday will confront the man and ask, why exactly, he chose to masturbate in public while surfing for porn in a library. A good reporter's got to get both sides to every story.

For more information -- and, after reading the above, I couldn't imagine you not wanting more infomation -- head over to Deadspin for all the sordid details.

File Under: Morbid Curiosity

The following might be a bit upsetting to some of you (that is, if you're made of nothing but vaginas, which would be kind of interesting in itself, and most likely pretty stinky), but for those of you who enjoy bits and pieces of the macabre (you know who you are, sickos), then oh boy, have I got the reading material for you!

It's a list of suicide notes collected from a coroner's office by a psychiatrist.

He edited identifying details out of the compiled manuscript, and we changed the names. But the text of each letter plus the age and sex given are real. All these people did kill themselves. Were they ambivalent about it? About half the hundred or so letters we saw seemed to have some element of doubt.

Turn that Morrissey up full blast and head over here.

Everyone has AIDS!

Last night, while backing into a parking spot outside of UCB Theater, a middle-aged black man approached my open window.

"Hold on, buddy. You got to help me out."

My Catholic-forced instincts of helping others (or God will destroy you!) took over. I asked him what the problem was, and he responded that he had AIDS.

"But don't worry, you won't catch it."

Despite his reassurance, I pulled my hand back when he reached into the car to show me the piece of paper he was holding. He went into a story about how he was $20 short for his AIDS medication (the slip in his hand showed the $38.18 total) and his friend wasn't home to help him.

Apparently to him I was unconvinced, because at that point he turned around to show me the back of his jeans while proclaiming "I'm bleedin' from my ass!"

I said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let me park my car." I finishing backing into my spot, got out of my car, and told him I didn't have any cash on me. He shook his head and moved onto another unsuspecting couple walking down the block.

I headed into the theater, where I heard a comedian suggest that The Golden Girls was a parable about gay men in the 80s, because it was essentially old queens in drag hoping to find sex without catching the disease. In the show's case, the "disease" was death. The joke/thesis reminded me of my gay AIDS-man friend outside.

(With his bleeding ass, lispy voice, and AIDS, I went ahead and made an assumption.)

I spent the rest of the comedian's set deep in thought, hoping that the man's anus was no longer bleeding, that he had found much-needed help and, most importantly, that I didn't catch AIDS.

Later on, when I heard the line "We have girls so hot they'll make you jizz all over your cum!" I forgot about him entirely.

If It's Parody, It's Genius

(But I'm guessing this one's for real ...)

While the positives of your team winning a championship far outweight the negatives, there's still one aspect that all fans, nay, humans in general dread. And that's the eventual Championship Season Official Song.

Now, I'm not talking about songs that your team adopts during the season as their own rallying cry. I mean the songs that get produced after the championship is in the books (unless you're a punky QB known as McMahon, of course) serving as a time capsule for the year's previous success while hoping it will find its way into the national (fan nation, at least) conscious and become that team's theme song for years to come.

Of course, most of these songs such. Especially this one, for my beloved White Sox.

A sample of the lyrics:

Here come the Sox
Grinders and gamers and overacheivers
Foul weather
fanatics and true believers
A walkoff or a walk, it ain't the ball
that's
smart
Playin' hardball with a 16 inch heart
Sox rule, Sox
reign, Sox
rock
Here come the Sox

Good choice on the dirty 80s hair metal, guys. (Especially that awesome squealing high-pitched guitar riff, straight out of an 80s suspense movie.) That'll do wonders in erasing this image people have in their heads of White Sox fans.

[Insert Obvious Cleveland-Needs-A-Wide-Receiver Joke Here]

Man wearing Cleveland Browns jersey intercepts drive-thru orders at Taco Bell

(courtesy Fark.com)

Faith-Based Conspiracy

If you know me, you've probably been receiving an email or two a week about these 9/11 conspiracy theories floating around on The Great Soapbox of the Insane that clearly states my position on the whole matter. But for everyone else, here's a not-so-quick rundown to get you up to speed.

My first exposure to the conspiracy was a few years ago when a short Internet video was released. I don't know where to find it, and forgot a lot of the content, but it focused on the Pentagon crash and the lack of airplane wreckage there. Now, I like a conspiracy story as much as the next guy. But I'm not really a firm believer either way. It's fun to speculate, and interesting to see other opinions, but without hard evidence, I can't really believe anything. (It's the same way with me and ghost stories, religion, and JFK.)

But then a few months ago, this "Loose Change" made its way onto Google video and became one of the top-viewed Internet videos of all time. The video -- if you haven't seen it, do a search and 8 million links will show up -- provides a bunch of theories, eyewitness accounts, and speculation to help lead to the conclusion that: (a) the government -- or, was it the Jews? -- was behind 9/11; (b) the World Trade Center was brought down in a controlled demolition; (c) a missle was fired into the Pentagon; (d) the passengers are still alive; (e) the hijackers are still alive; (f) Flight 93 was shot down; (g) or it was a different plane; (h) or something like that.

I think.

The film makes all of those claims, without really making any of them. It hints that the above happened, but never provides substantial evidence or a solid single theory to plainly makes its case.

At first I thought, well, that's fair enough. All the filmmakers are doing is asking questions. And if one of them proves to be valid, then we might have a legitimate beef with the government for covering up something. At the very least, it'll get more people involved into researching the events. And research is never a bad thing.

With that last point in mind, I started doing some research on my own. I read the Commission Report, watched some documentaries, went to a bunch of websites, and so on. The more I read, the more I realized that "Loose Change" was absolute bullshit. In fact, it was more than just wacky conspiracies taken to the extreme. It was a piece of propaganda, skewing facts and quotes in order to trick viewers into believing their point of view. Kind of like "Fahrenheit 9/11", except a lot more menacing.

(There's some irony that the "Loose Change" folks are doing exactly what they accused the Bush administration of doing.)

And the dangerous part is that, since this video has been distributed free over Google, MySpace, and any other free link site you've heard of, the mass audience watching this (mostly teenagers with a chip on their shoulder about the government to begin with) are believing, word-for-word, the content of "Loose Change" without doing any of their own research. Instead of refusing to believe the lies of the government, they willingly believe everything these folks tell them.

But don't fret, ladies and gentlemen, there is good news.

Just as the Bush/Orwellian-named "9/11 Truth Movement" is starting to gain steam in the mainstream media, the debunkers are also coming out of the woodwork; people like the good folks over at Screw Loose Change, who are publishing daily debunkings of the video. It was them that led me to a debunking article over at Salon.com, and thusly, the reason for this much-too-long post. (Most likely you'll have to watch an ad to view it; trust me, it's worth it.)

The article goes over only a few of the accusations from the conspiracists; since it was written by Salon's "aviation expert", he takes on only the claims having to do with the flights themselves. It's strangely comforting when people deal with only their specialities.

Towards the end of it, the writer writes, what I believe, is the most concise explanation why there will always be conspiracists, no matter what evidence turns up.

It's distressing that so many people become married to a preposterous idea based on little more than erroneous interpretations of some pictures and selective, manipulative use of evidence. But in debating this stuff now and again, you learn that it can be a bit like arguing religion. Evidence, or lack of it, has little to do with what motivates many believers. At the heart of their convictions is something utterly unprovable. It's faith.

A healthy skeptism is a good thing, especially when this particular government has been anything but trusthworthy over the past 6 years. But a true skeptic is one who relies on facts and evidence rather than unvalidated theories and blind faith.

And the 9/11 conspiracy movement offers a whole lot more of the latter than the former.

The Gospel According to Ozzie, Part 1

There's no doubt that White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen has become one of the most quotable sports personalities today. Every interview he gives is comedy Yogi Berra-esque gold. If you can decipher it after the newspaper takes out all the expletives, that is.

In this installment, Ozzie comments on the allegations allegedly made by a Cubs pitcher (Ryan Dempster) following the great White Sox-Cubs brawl from Saturday. (If that sentence made no sense, read the entire article). The pitcher allegedly said that his third-base coach, Joey Cora, in the midst of the heated exchange, pulled a Mike Tyson and bite Cubs outfielder Jacque Jones. In the foot.

"Somebody told me [Dempster] said Joey Cora bit Jacque Jones on the foot," Guillen said. "Wow, when you're in the ballgame, you have shoes on. If Joey Cora is going to bite somebody, I hope he's not dumb enough to try and get his feet."If you're going to bite him, bite him in his cheek, in the ribs or someplace else, in the stomach. But if you pick the foot, that's the wrong place to bite somebody."

In the same interview, Dempster also apparently made reference to Guillen's children running out on the field and taking part in the fight. Guillen's response:

"Well, if my kids were on the field, [Dempster] was going to get his butt kicked. What's Ozzie [Jr.] going to do? Eat somebody? My other one is 20 pounds and the other one is only 14 [years old]. Ryan is stupid to make those comments. One is a baby, one is too little, another one [Ozzie Jr.], the only thing he can do is eat somebody or drink somebody."

The question isn't whether or not he'll get a talk show after he's done coaching, the question is what language they'll choose to subtitle to account for his Spanglish-speaking ways.

(Update to the two of you who care: Evidently, the pitcher did make those statements.)

The Death of the Water Cooler Chat

TiVo is slowly destroying society. With everyone getting to choose when and where they watch certain programs, one of the most enjoyable parts of life is dying: water cooler chat.

No longer can you ask your co-workers about the question mark business in "Lost", if they thought it was really necessary for Phil to stick a pool cue up Vito's ass in "The Sopranos", or if they thought that it was smart for the white trash couple to choose Air Force Amy over Isabella Soprano for their threesome on "Cathouse: The Series".

Instead, now you have to qualify everything by asking "Did you see (blank) last night?"

The most common answer you'll confront is "I TiVo'd it." And that's the end of the conversation. Not only did they not watch the show (putting an end to any specific discussion or exchange of ideas), but you also can't explain the show to them because they plan on watching it later. Well, at least there's always this delicious water to talk about.

And even if they didn't TiVo it, and are ready to discuss it with you, odds are that someone within earshot will make it known that they taped it with plans to watch it at their own convenience. "Don't ruin it for me," they'll say. "No spoilers."

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I say we begin to ruin it. Even though this is technically a new invention, I'm sick and tired of this already. Instead of biting our tongues, I say that we spoil.

Michael shot Ana Lucia and that other chick.

Uncle Junior shot Tony.

Maggie shot Mr. Burns.

(For some reason, every huge event in television always involves a shooting.)

It's their duty to watch these programs when they air. When they choose not to, they're just being lazy. You didn't hear people make excuses about why they couldn't see last night's M*A*S*H, Seinfeld or St. Elsewhere. It's called "appointment television" for a reason. Would you miss an appointment with your doctor because, say, your kid had to get stitches? No! And television should work the same way.

So please, when a co-worker tells you that he or she taped the program last night with the intent to watch it later on, go ahead and give them a not-so-subtle clue as to what they're about to see. Go ahead and give them the last 5 minutes or so. They can fill in the rest.

The time for spoiling is upon us. Let's not condone laziness. Or the Chinese will surpass us even quicker than we thought.

A sit-down with Stephen Colbert

Pretty interested, jumbo-sized sit-down interview with Stephen Colbert about his start back in Chicago's Second City, his Strangers with Candy days, the turn of the Daily Show from decent ha-ha non-sensical show to actual legitimate theater, all the way up to the enormous popularity of the Colbert Report these days.

In the third part of the interview, he talks about how news stories aren't really the news anymore. Instead, the figures reporting the news (Aaron Brown, O'Reilly, Anderson Cooper, Hannity, etc.) have become the actual news itself. People tune in not for the actual news, but for these large figures and their opinions (i.e. "spin") on the news.

It's also why, I think, that since the Colbert Report has taken this form, it has surpassed the Daily Show in its relevance and hilarity.

Links can be found here.

Let's get it started!

Blah, blah, blah. Intro post. Blah, blah.