Tag Archives: comedy

Portrait of an Old White #1

16 Feb

Louis-Francois_Bertin

After a brief trip to a museum this past weekend, it has come to my attention that most galleries are filled with portraits of old whites. I’m no art critic, but I am rather well versed in Old Whites, so this revelation inspired me to develop advanced criteria in judging these paintings to the best of my abilities.

Pose – He is hunched and close lipped. He appears very sickly and has chosen for some reason to splay his hands in an uninviting manner, as if he intends to play a creepy piano piece on his knees.

Color – The most prominent use of color in this piece is of course the old white of the subject, however, due to what looks to be the early stages of jaundice, the subject takes on a slight yellow hue, which detracts from the overall piece.

Strokemanship – I have no qualms with the brushstrokes here guys. This is par for the neoclassic course, but the background color reminds me of the bland topes and off whites used in some yearbook photos. In fact, this painting might very well represent that. One can easily imagine a disgruntled and jowly professor of metallurgy limping into a stale classroom and demanding everyone turn to page 22 of their textbooks.

Grade A+ While one may find technical holes in this piece, or even say it lacks inspiration or a certain je ne sais quoi, the very important fact remains that the subject is an old white, and everyone can see that.

Rivets and Reservations

28 Oct

magic castle

Magic is meant to inspire awe. It should suspend your disbelief and make you question all that is true in the world. At the Magic Castle in Hollywood they achieve these results in stupefying fashion. I’m rendered speechless not by any sleight of hand, but rather a wardrobe slight from one of the most inept managers upholding the silliest dress code ever created.

One must be invited by a member of the castle to enjoy the entertainment. This part of the journey is almost charming if you consider e-mailing random magicians and pretending to have seen their act in order to get an invite a good use of your time. I finally secure an invite through a friend of a friend and set up the date.

magicianThe evening is a surprise for my lady who mentioned in passing months earlier she wanted to go really badly. (Shout out to myself for remembering that) We arrive early at the valet. I take one step out of the car and the valet asks if I have read the dress code. I am confused because I’m dressed like a motherfucking GQ model, I reply yes; in fact I read it twice. He cringes and says I cannot come in dressed like that. Dressed like what? The poster boy for welldressedman.com? No, he informs me they will not be able to accept my pants. I am unaware my pants sent in an application, but just to clarify why will my pants not be accepted here? Here is a brief excerpt of how the next 5 minutes went.

On the left.

On the left.

“Well sir, they are denim-like.”

“What? But they aren’t denim.”

“Yes, but they are denim-like. They have rivets”

“What did you just say to me?”

He gets the manager who comes out and also informs me my pants will not be accepted.

“I am sorry to inform you we cannot accept your pants. They are denim-like.”

“But they aren’t denim! They are cotton twill. It’s a completely different weave! I don’t understand what the problem is?”

“Well they have rivets.”

“If one more person says fucking rivets…”

I look over at my date, she can see things are getting out of hand, and to be honest if she was not with me I would have told the guy to fuck off and left. There is nowhere in the dress code that states pants can’t have rivets. Have a look for yourself. There is, however, a few things that they do accept that I think will give you a good idea of what kind of institution this place is.

DRESS CODE FOR EVENING GUESTS:

MEN:

  • Think business attire.
  • Men must be in coat and tie (standard or bow tie)
  • Exceptions to the “tie rule” are: turtlenecks (that can be folded over), bolo ties, ascots, jeweled collars, ruffled collars and banded collars.
  • Military Dress (no fatigues), ethnic and/or religious attire will also be allowed.
  • No zippered jackets, outdoor jackets, polo shirts, t-shirts, denim (or colored denim), shorts, sandals, flip flops, sneakers or sneaker-like shoes are allowed.
  • Leather jackets (with buttons) and leather pants are allowed.
  • No casual attire will be allowed.

turtleneckTwo very important things to note on this list: Turtlenecks (that can be folded over) and leather jackets (with buttons) and leather pants ARE allowed, but god forbid your H&M twill pants have a couple rivets on them so help you Jesus and the divine power! I repeat. TURTLENECKS….THEN IN PARENTHESIS (THAT CAN BE FOLDED OVER!) End of discussion.

After calming down a tad, I ask what the solution is. He first displays a bit of competence and says he will go check if there are some pants I can borrow. Fine. This kind gesture is quickly destroyed when he comes back out and tells me in a sarcastic tone that they need to be taken to the cleaners because, “You don’t even want to know what happened to them.” Did someone shit in them? It’s shit isn’t it? No? Can I put them on past my knees? Then let me in to this goddamn castle!

soiled pantsHis second managerial gem is to suggest I go back home and change pants. It’s 6 pm in LA on a weekday. Kindly go fuck yourself. The final solution is to go to H&M down the road and buy new pants. I swallowed my pride like a porn star and set off to buy a new pair, while my date waits inside.

I lumber down the hill in my suit, neck sweat on full blast when I get a call from my girl. They don’t have my reservation for dinner. After some guidance on my part and some master sleuthing on his behalf, he determines the reservation is under my name. Yes, of course it is….I don’t even know what to say to that. That’s not the first name you check? I ask if I may return to my quest to buy new pants. He assures me we are on for the 8 PM dinner and show. Wonderful.

fatpantsI will give everybody one guess what happens when I get to the H&M. They only have denim pants in the entire store, riveted up the wazoo. I almost collapse in frustration, but keep it together long enough to ask the salesmen if I can buy his slacks. He contemplates calling the police, but ultimately mentions that they may have one pair by the mannequin. I slowly walk over to the pale hipster and find a pair of black dress pants discarded by the window. I pray to Hedi Slimane I can at least pull them up around my formidable thighs. 34/32’s. They won’t zip up, but they will do just fine for a night of magic.

I return to the Magic Castle with my mismatched dress slacks, a sweaty mess with my evil no good cotton twill denim-like riveted pants in hand. I lock them in my car and finally enter the hallowed mansion. After one beer my anger subsides and I enjoy the night of talented magicians. Despite the hoop jumping, I will be back, and when I do I will be in a bedazzled tuxedo with rivets, and a turtleneck that doesn’t fold over.

Classes I Should Have Taken

4 Mar

college jeapordyRecently I watched a college edition of Jeopardy. Everyone knows College Jeopardy is for pussies, but we all need victories no matter how petty, so I made sure the idiot from Dartmouth heard my condescending screams thru the TV. I performed admirably, but as the three awkward students shook Trebek’s hand at the end of the game I was left to wonder; how smart am I? It’s a hard thing to measure in your adult life. I’m not in class anymore, there are no scantrons or blue books to test what knowledge I do have, and to be honest some days I wonder if the information I learn is really all that important.

am i smart?If I wanted to impress you I would sit you down and tell you all about the spread of Islam, specifically how it related to Spain’s early history and how there was a beautiful yet controversial period called the convivencia in which Jews, Muslims and Christians all lived together in relative harmony until the crusades, church and the reconquista squashed it all. I could confidently mumble my way through the definition of what a quasar is, and might even be able to tell you what Boo Radley really represents in To Kill a Mockingbird. These are facts and theories that are not my own that I can spit out at a moments notice. When repeated properly to a willing audience, they provide a thin veneer of what many of us consider to be education and intelligence. I, however, am not so sure of this.

college andyI graduated from a 4-year institution with modest accolades. I never pushed myself too hard, nor did I allow myself to fall behind. Let me be clear before I continue that I would not trade those 4 years for anything (maybe a jetpack with unlimited fuel) because I met the most amazing people and had unforgettable experiences. Some would argue that socialization, learning how to behave in a pack, and thus becoming a quality citizen is the true objective of College, and if that is the case then College was a great success for me. I am more concerned with the education we receive from 4-year institutions in the U.S. and specifically the classes we are offered.

My sophomore year I chose to take a class called Earth Science and the Cinema. Yes, you read that correctly. We would watch clips of popular disaster movies like Twister, Armageddon and Deep Impact and then do simple math problems to prove why these disasters as portrayed in the movies would never happen that way. It satisfied my quantitative requirement as well as my penchant for shitty disaster movies. It was all very funny back then, and in many ways still is, but it’s also very sad. It’s sad students had the option to waste 6 weeks like this, it’s sad the university wasn’t more creative or progressive in their offerings, and in times of intellectual doubt, and we all have those times, I can’t help but think back to Earth Science and the Cinema and wonder what the hell I was doing.

college burYou can point to many reasons why these problems exist. Institutional bureaucracy is hard to deal with. Things don’t change with the snap of a finger. For me, College came too early. I wasn’t ready to be smart and seek out my own education. Maybe I would have been better served taking time off and traveling or working, or completing my general education requirements at a community college for a fraction of the cost. I chose to major in history early on because it was the class I didn’t fall asleep in during high school. Many other students pick their classes based on their friends, sleep and or drinking schedules. These choices don’t matter a whole lot when you exist within the colligate bubble, but what problems do they potentially create once you graduate? I may not want to trade those 4 years I spent for anything, but if I were creating classes to best aid students in “the real world,” I would do things a little different. The following is a mock syllabus of a course I’d like to call #Realworldshit (You know, to appeal to the youth or whatever).

Week 1 – Graphic Design

• A skill that allows you to call yourself an artist while getting paid? Awesome. Sometimes the freelance life can be stressful, but as long as there are movies, concerts, companies, ads etc… Graphic designers will be in demand. Go torrent Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop and lets get started.

Week 2- Web Design

• Similar to week 1, but this week will focus on HTML, basic coding and maybe some looks into Ruby design and app development. Kids are on their phone and apps all the time; let’s make their appsurd ideas a reality.

Week 3 – Tax Returns and The IRS

• These guys aren’t just bad guys and assholes in movies? What!? Yup, they exist and want your W-2’s, A-1’s, and G-6’s. I made up the last two, but maybe you don’t know that I did. Some basic financial knowledge goes a long way.

Week 4 – Car Maintenance

• You don’t need to be a grease monkey, but checking your own oil, jumping your car and changing a tire are all things you should have in your carsenal (sorry). Plus girls get super wet when you can do car things.

Week 5 – Actually Learn A Language

• Juan and Pablo sit at a café: Juan: Hola Pablo, como estas?—Eff this shit. You will never learn anything this way. I think studying abroad should be mandatory. It’s the best way to learn a language, learn about yourself and meet hot foreign people in the process.

Week 6 – Ping Pong

• It’s just a great game.

grad with debtMaybe one week for each of these is too short, maybe they deserve their own semesters, or even majors, but I can guarantee the world at large does not care how many times you can use the word ‘hegemony’ in a sentence. There is no premium placed on the general knowledge of anything, in fact, life can be quite specific and often rewards those who seek out its niches. We need to take responsibility for our education. I still don’t know whether I am smart, but I know damn well I don’t crush at Jeopardy because I took Earth Science and the Cinema.

Are Millenials Shitheads or Just Kinda Alright?

13 Feb

It seems like every month a new article comes out in a high profile publication either taking a huge crap on my generation or taking a smaller, more polite crap while at the same time reassuring our parents that we’ll get it together soon.

time millenialThe NY Times fired two shots, “Millennial Searchers” and “Embracing the Millenials Mindset at Work,” wherein the latter essentially paints us as a bunch of over-educated, under qualified status seekers who need constant encouragement, gold stars and magical hand jobs from unicorns to be useful employees. Slate asks, “Why can’t Millenials Grow Up?” The Atlantic wants to know, if Millenials are the “Greatest Generation or the Most Narcissistic?” And even Buzzfeed, that never ending nonsense machine churns out their shitty opinion in Pulitzer prize winning pieces like,”19 facts we learned about Millenials in 2013“

student millenialsTo my knowledge, none of the authors of these pieces are in my age group, which is evident in the length and detail of each article. (Don’t they know we got ADD and only watch the YouTubes!?) They give us gaudy statistics, colorful pie charts, and interview disappointed millenials who studied for too long and now find themselves stuck in entry level jobs paying off heaps of debt. Boo fucking hoo. I’m never sure what the point of any of these articles is. Life is sad and frustrating, but there is hope? We’re terrible, ungrateful shitgoats who should respect our elders and go die in a corner somewhere? No wait, we are insightful, emotionally intelligent, tech savvy dreamers who hold the key to the future if somehow we could just get out of our parent’s basement? Thanks 50 year old journalist mom of two, without your intensely accurate analysis of what it’s like to be a fledgling 20 something, how would anyone ever know how to interact with us? I get it; we’re a real mixed bag,

need a job meillenialThere is nothing inherently bad about our generation; we are merely products of our surroundings. If Tinder was around in the early 20th century, your grandfather would have never gone off to be a war hero, he would be in his Model T trying to get fresh with Eloise May or whatever girls were named back then. Hemingway would be the most subscribed to YouTuber as he belligerently vlogged his tales of bravery and breast fondling. None of us are going to write the next great American novel or build miles of interstate to connect the country, but we might create an app that makes it safer to send dick and titty pics and get offered a billion dollars for it.

Hello MillenialIt’s hard to blame us for being ambitious yet distracted when faced with these realities. Our successes and failures cannot be measured in the same way as previous generations, but I assure you older folks and self-deprecating millenials that cool shit is happening. You may not achieve all you want as quickly as it takes to swipe to your next match on Tinder, but ideas are important. The founder of SnapChat was laughed at for his idea at Stanford Business School, but he charged forward and followed through. I don’t think it will alter history, but it altered his life, made an impact on people and realized a dream of his, which is all we can really hope for. I don’t necessarily want you to make an app, but we all have great ideas that go to waste. Kindly forget the naysayers, charge forward and follow through. You may be shitheads to them, but you’re all right with me.

Early Bird Gets the Sex

5 Feb

early birdIt’s 2:15 AM. You double click your keys to unlock your modest midsize sedan. You try to focus your vision thru the slightly fogged windshield. Your last call whiskey soda put you .05 over the legal limit. A date, lover, girlfriend, hussy plops into the passenger seat and tells you to turn on the heat. You are holding in farts.

You arrive at her two-bedroom apartment. You wonder if her roommate is finer than her. It’s quarter to 3 because parking is terrible. Her living area smells of pomelo and citrus, but don’t second-guess why you know this. Her room is surprisingly messy. Everything you thought about girls being cleaner than guys is an illusion now. You kiss her. You have to poop.

In her most seductive voice, she asks you to fuck her. You hold in a burp as the night’s dinner is still clashing with the Jameson and IPA. You silently oblige, and unhook your belt, while you take one last look over at the nightstand. 3:30 AM. You tell your insides to shut the hell up and cooperate. You imagine your dick as Thor, conqueror of women and worlds, able to shoot lightning from its tip and render mortals and gossips speechless. Your abs hurt from clenching.

hot duvetShe falls asleep because it is her bed and she is in familiar territory. You are overheating because she has a duvet cover and too many pillows. You try to stick one leg out in an attempt to counter balance the temperature, but alas the covers are too well insulated. You drift in and out of consciousness, stomach still unsettled, your arm trapped under her dead weight. Big spoon problems.

At first light, you sneak out to the adjacent bathroom. You hope for a fan, if there is no fan or it’s not loud enough, you put on Two Chainz Pandora radio at mid to high volume to mask the trombonery. You aim for speed, but without the velocity to stain porcelain. It is uncomfortable and the reading material is sub-par. You wonder why you held it for so long. As you put back on your clothes and tell her goodbye, you start to question many things.

On the car ride home you think how much easier it would have been to just take a crap at her apartment and then resumed activity. You wonder why it’s so taboo to poo. You also consider not staying out until closing time, which not only cuts down on drink costs, but also maximizes energy and agility. You wonder if you are getting lame or smart. You decide it’s a combination of the two and happily accept your fate.

Songs That List Names of Girls

25 Nov

Music industry executives are constantly under pressure to find the next big thing. There are certain formulas that work better than others. One of the most under utilized hit making strategy is the song with a bunch of girl names. It’s a tried and true staple of our sonic landscape and one that never fails to entertain. I would be an excellent record executive. I would tell all my artists regardless of genre to create a catchy melody and then just sing the names of every girl they ever knew. It would be the best selling record of all time, until my next artist who did the same thing would top it. Don’t believe me? Check it out for yourself.

Petey Pablo – Freek a Leek

How you like it daddy? Daddy loves it. Daddy loves it so much that daddy stumbled across how many times he listened to it on iTunes and let’s just say it’s over 100. Shameika, Keisha, Tara…Shonda, Sabrina, Crystal, Daronda…I could go on, and apparently so can Petey Pablo. This song has two pretty amazing verses as well, which describe Petey’s various sexual proclivities. Sorry ladies, he’s not going to perform cunnilingus because he ain’t drunk enough to do that. I would be just as satisfied though if he cut these verses and made a 3 minute song that was just names of various girls he’s fucked. I would also encourage him to explore other ethnicities and names. Maybe each verse becomes a freek a liciously geographical linguistic adventure. Get at me Pete.

DMX – What These Bitches Want

This song is very typical DMX until around the 1:30 mark when he unleashes the most impressive list of women’s names we find out later, “were all treated fairly, but yet and still…bitches on some other shit now that he’s fuckin with Dru Hill.” This list is far more comprehensive than Petey Pablo’s. There are more women and seemingly of different ethnic backgrounds making it at times difficult to believe. Diane?! Come on dog, we all know you didn’t get with a Diane. Pesky Sabrina also makes the list again. She seems to be a busy and ambitious lady and I applaud her for that. DMX also incorporates his trademark collection of adlibs, barks, growls, whats and whooos, which really add to the confusion and excitement. All in all this seems to be an introspective analysis of why DMX’s relationships have failed rather than a braggadocios horn toot of how fame can get you lots of pussy.

Lou Bega- Mambo Number 5

While this song is generally regarded as the corniest shit ever, you can’t deny how popular it was and still is in many respects. I know I was tearing up Bar mitzvah linoleum every weekend in my khakis and blazer to this, and you know why? Everyone needs a little, [insert girl name] in his or her life. How many times do I have to tell these clowns at Capitol and Universal? If Lou Bega can make a hit, then logic would have it that any motherfucker with a voice box who has ever met a girl can make a hit too! I hope he fired his manager because the first and only thing I would have done after releasing Mambo Number 5 is to make Mambo Number 6. R Kelly has hundreds of episodes of “Trapped in the Closet,” Fast and Furious is going to be our first never ending movie franchise, why wasn’t there a Mambo Number 6? Or do it Star Wars style and tease your audience with some prequels. What ever happened to Mambo’s 1-4. I smell a web series.

Over Under #1

19 Nov

Over Under is a series where my readers submit things to write about, and I say if they are overrated or underrated. Get it? Feel free to submit future topics in the comments section, on facebook or twitter.

squirrelJapanese Squirrel Parks – Underrated

50 Cent once said, “I’m similar to a squirrel tryna get a nut.” Maybe all Fiddy needed was a park to alleviate his stress. Dogs have parks, horses have tracks, and killer whales have New York one bedroom sized pools to go crazy and kill people in, so it’s about damn time squirrels are shown some love. They need their own space to do insane squirrel things like: run really fast and then stop and look intensely into the middle distance. Or run across power lines with an acorn in their mouth and then stop, and look intensely into the middle distance. Or…you get it, squirrels are weird.

detelfshumpertDetlef Schrempf vs. Iman Shumpert – Overrated

If we’re talking basketball, this is a terrible matchup. Detlef dominates hands down. If we are talking haircuts, it becomes a much more interesting debate. Detlef suffered from being white in the 80’s, like really white. If he was playing in today’s NBA he would have succumb to peer pressure and gotten the Macklemore and called it a day, but his escaped mental patient cut was bold in its own right. Shump meanwhile chooses to keep things retro and has clearly watched Do the Right Thing one too many times. While he definitely gets style points, his well-maintained high top only brings attention to the fact that he is a mediocre player at best, while Detlefs’ opponents were left wondering, “How can a man with this haircut be so good at basketball?”

rob fordRob Ford- Overrated

“I don’t pop molly, I smoke crack, Rob Ford.” I don’t know this man’s policies, other than he’s honest as all hell and I think I’m on board? I don’t support crack cocaine, but I do appreciate transparency in politics, and I do approve of fat sweaty guys going on benders and doing stupid shit. His run as mayor of Toronto may be over soon, but as a final good deed he inspired all drug addicts to pick up the pipe and get crackin’ on a campaign slogan.

toilet bowlToilets – Underrated

In honor of national toilet day, I am writing this segment to you live from the king’s throne in the porcelain palace. I think scientists or biologists or body studiers claim it’s more natural to squat while you excrete your matter, but the sit down toilet offers so many modern luxuries that we never think about. Facebook creeping, guitar playing, magazine reading, angry birds playing and that old familiar wake up call to get off the toilet when your leg goes numb. Three cheers and one energy saving weak flush for the toilet!

brussel sproutsBrussel Sprouts – Underrated

B sprouts used to be synonymous with death, decay, ugliness and vomit. They were truly the A-ROD of veggies. Supposed to be good for you, but everyone hated them. Somewhere along the way, Brussel Sprouts said eff all this! I’m meeting with a brand strategist and the next time y’all see me I’m going to be respected for who I really am! Maybe it wasn’t so dramatic, but the European sprout has finally found its way into our cold American hearts. They are tasty, healthy and you feel like a real fucking adult when you eat them.

EDM Festival Tips From an Adult Who Shouldn’t Be There

5 Nov

edm showHide Your Crippling Self Awareness– You remember that dude at the party when you were growing up who you would periodically look at out of the corner of your eye and think, “What the hell is this guy doing here? He’s like, 40. Go home old man!” The average age for these things is I think 12 years old, so just know you are teetering on that brink. Don’t be afraid to embrace your age, and enjoy things the way you would, which means…

Don’t Wax your Chest– These festivals are populated by little ripped raver boys who apparently have a lifetime gym membership and supply of nair. Go ahead and take your shirt off, but you better be confident in those love handles and beer guts cause everyone else is on the Deadmau5 diet.

Don’t Wear a Costume– You’re already in one once you enter thru the gates. You’re an adult. By default you are one of the weirdest looking people there. No fuzzy boots, body paint, animal hat or pacifier can make your existence more enticing. Be comfortable in your Levis and hoody and marvel at the small Asian girls in booty shorts.

Don’t Dance Like Them– Goose stepping, jimmy hopping, bean bopping, ground stomping. I have no idea what the dance is called, but everyone knows what I’m talking about. Whatever it is, it’s for the kids. There is nothing less appealing than a grown man gasping for breath as he tries to herk and jerk his creaky frame to heavy bass. A two-step and some shooter Mcgavins will do just fine.

asian edmDo Hydrate and Stretch– Don’t let the youth dissuade you from being limber. They know nothing of failing arch support, slightly torn menisci and lower Lombard issues. Sip that water and stretch it out.

Do Smile and Be Happy– Whether you’ve popped the molly and sweated or not, there is generally a happy vibe and good community at these events. Be open and take the time to talk to a few people. They might give you a funny story; a high five, hug, massage or crazy ass kaleidoscope glasses that almost made me shit my pants. That scare was worth the ticket price alone.

Baseball is Boring

19 Sep

baseball is boringThis summer Ryan Braun was suspended for the use of performance enhancing drugs (PED). The 2012 National League MVP is just another in a long line of ball players accused of trying to do the impossible, make the game of baseball exciting.

But players who use steroids are cheaters! They undermine and corrupt the sanctity of American’s purest pastime. This kind of behavior is inexcusable and unbecoming of a professional athlete. It also happens to be the only reason I don’t click over to “Bar Rescue” during Sportscenter’s Top 10. It’s time to re-evaluate America’s beloved sport and the way it’s played. These players should not be punished; they should be applauded and revered for trying to make baseball watchable.

old baseballThe sport may have been moderately entertaining in the 1800’s when it competed against other American past times like; tilling the fields, dying young, and hating the Irish, but now we have actual sports where athletes are required to be in motion and you know, generally do cool, athletic looking things. Surely we can’t still be watching questionably out of shape men swing a stick once every couple minutes. But we do. We still love it. Baseball is that friend who you don’t really like, but he’s been around forever, and his parents know your parents and they run into each other occasionally at the farmers market and trade stories about you both and so without ever really trying to keep in contact, you know every fucking detail about this kid’s life. This is baseball. Too engrained in our personal histories to be told its boring and stupid. Too proud of its lore and statistics to let anyone tell it they don’t care. Most likely your grandpa, dad or uncle dragged you to a game when you were little, put a hat on you, made you eat shitty ice cream with a wooden stick and that was it, you were never allowed to speak ill of it again.

rookieIn the summer of 1994 I played my first and last season of baseball. Angels in the Outfield and Rookie of the Year had come out recently so naturally I had to find out if I had a missile for an arm. That season I was hit by no less than 14 pitches got severe sunburns in centerfield waiting for fly balls that never came, and ultimately went 0-11 with the Berkeley Frank Lee Jewelers (great jeweler). So yes, I am biased, but I also love sports. I love to play and watch them. I want to love baseball like I love the others, but I can’t. The games are long and often uneventful, seasons are like most SNL sketches with promising premises that linger and grow stale and ultimately become unwatchable, players hold our eyes hostage as they chew tobacco, scratch their crotches and rearrange various elbow and shin pads as if what they do is dangerous. Don’t even remind me of how the old managers put on saggy uniforms and try to convey secret messages to their team by throwing up gang signs. But only so many people can hit a curveball! Well, there are only so many people who can solve a rubix cube, but you don’t see that shit televised 6 months out of the year.

arnoldThere is a simple solution to all this madness. Rather than getting all fussy every few months when another high profile player is caught using substances, lets give all the players drugs. I’m not talking about little league deer antler spray either, I want super strains of whatever Arnold was on during the ’74 Mr. Universe competition. I want a mutant league of baseball where players check into spring training camp with a head diameter of no less than golden era Barry Bonds. I want home runs hit every other at bat to roust me from my slumber and wipe the drool and flaming hot cheetos from my mouth. We want super fast outfielders that back flip to catch fly balls at the warning track, and hock loogies up to the second deck. We need pitchers who can throw 200 mph fastballs and not get Tommy John surgery, and hitters who look like “The Rock” from Fast 6. America needs managers to take PED’s so when they insist on wearing their droopy uniforms only some people laugh. America needs baseball to grow up and get with the times. Students take aderol to study harder and get better grades, adults drink coffee to stay awake and make money, rappers pop molly and sweat to sell more records. Lets face it; drugs are just as engrained in American culture as baseball is. If ballplayers are cool with small balls, then they should be able to play in the bigs however they want.

I went to Phish and Kind of Had Fun

14 Aug

phishPhish is many things to many people. No wait; Phish is a couple things to a select group of white people. They seem to be either a quirky group of talented musicians who have jammed and improvised their way to cult status, or they are an aging group of cornball rockers who write lyrics about lasagna and shit. While I can’t disprove the first statement, the latter must not be overlooked in understanding their popularity. They are huge dorks, and not in the Zooey Deschanel “adorkable” New Girl kind of way. The only cool thing about them is Ben and Jerry’s kind of named a flavor after them in 1997, yet last week the Hollywood Bowl was packed to see these goobers jam face and melt minds the only way four old hippies from Vermont can.

While trying to find my seat, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. I never listened to jam bands in college, but I did live in the dorms freshmen year and experienced the uncomfortable wardrobe choices that were somehow deemed acceptable. If you ever wondered what happened to the guy who wore baggy cargo shorts, airwalks and was always pretty high, worry not my friend, he is 35 now and he’s at the Phish show. The female fishies were slightly more put together, but still nothing you would want to holler at. If you look past the faded tie-dye and dank weasels, however, there is a palpable energy and enthusiasm that doesn’t always exist at other shows. Whether it was someone’s 106th time, or first like mine, everyone was anxious to see what was going to happen.

Make no mistake haters, it was a show. It was a downright spectacle of trippy lights, good vibes, glitter, and glow sticks. I’ll admit I got swept up in the hype and dare I say…gulp.had fun. One phish head behind me kept muttering, “Tour!” either as some kind of rallying cry, or a reminder that Phish was indeed on tour. He made his allegiance well known when during an improvised light sequence he shouted, “2001!” indicating this wasn’t his first Tour! Another wide-eyed bro was in awe at every pluck of Trey’s guitar strings. He would frequently turn to others around him and high five and shake his head in disbelief. He later told me he has seen Phish over 50 times and that I should have been there for Tahoe night two when they jammed a 36-minute tweezer. I later confirmed this was a 36-minute rendition of a song about the device used to remove splinters. This sounds like my personal hell, but it was in the words of many others, “face-melting.”

This is where my love affair ends. I appreciate different tastes in music and always try to keep an open mind, but I just can’t get down with the Phish sound. They are by all accounts competent musicians. I’ve even heard that Trey is actually a ‘pretty sick guitarist,’ but to me their music is indiscernible nonsense. After the show a friend asked me which songs I liked. I had to think very hard before I remembered that none of the songs had hooks or any real beginning or end. I vaguely recall one song being about pumpkins and destiny and another one where someone had a knife. Other than that I was pretty much staring at the lights and watching the freaks flip their shit.

I came into the experience ready to enjoy Phish ironically, from an outsider’s holier than thou pulpit. I was ready to smile at the weirdos, not with them. Many of us believe our musical tastes are far too sophisticated for this granola goobcore (yes I just coined that impressively accurate phrase), and we might be right, but for one night I was let in to a special community. Phish is a phenomenon, but the band will always play second fiddle to the legion of strange whites that follow them around the country. It’s hard not to love something that is loved so intensely by those around you. I won’t be going back anytime soon, but I can think of several reasons why you should give it a try. Tour!