Category Archives: random thoughts

It’s one more, isn’t it?

Blatantly stolen from BBSpot, which should be okay because Brian is sort of a friend:

Reasons Steve from Dell Should be Fired
11. Michael Dell tired of hearing “Dude you’re getting a… you!”
10. Addiction to canned air becoming a real problem.
9. Was seen near the HP headquarters wearing a cow costume.
8. Too many girls are buying computers.
7. More “computer savvy” Wil Wheaton close to signing a deal.
6. Consumers feel Steve talks too high tech.
5. Bidding war with The McLaughlin Group quickly reaching stratosphere.
4. Simon Cowell thinks his performance is complete rubbish.
3. His MENSA wrap parties get too out of hand.
2. Keanu Reeves threatened identity theft lawsuit.
1. Market research show dude market completely saturated.

P-Funk

Man, you know what I hate?
When I’m running late, and I grab a pair of pants out of my dresser, and I don’t realize until it’s too late that they sat in the dryer too long, so they’re sort of funky smelling.
That’s right, I’m wearing my funky pants today.

Rhymes with News

Today, I present to you, the faceless internet monkey, a short collection of news items featuring me, or my friends.
Enjoy them in moderation. (+1, Interesting…I hope):

Epitaph

Spudnuts is a familiar name to the regular WWDN reader.
He makes me, and everyone else, laugh and think, and laugh some more.
He also types in this form.
That.
Is.
Very.
Unique.
Well. I recently read something he wrote, and asked him if I could post it here, because I thought it was really cool.
Quoth Spudnuts:

I have this thing for cemeteries. Always have. I’m not morbid or goth or anything. They usually are just scenic, empty, and verdant.
But I always notice the generic script that accompanies even the most flamboyant tombstone. It makes no sense. Surely, there must have been some cut-ups, clowns, subversives, eccentrics, mavericks, firebrands, freakshows, or just someone who wants MORE on their grave than…
“Died in Troutdale.”
What is so fucking sacred about a tombstone that you can’t be shocked or amused when you happen upon the burial site of some HUMAN?
Jesus.
It’s like being interred at the Christian Science Reading Room, laundry mat, or DMV.
So…
INSTITUTIONAL and sterile.
Then…
Who knows?
Maybe only the boring ones actually get a gravestone. All the interesting ones had their ashes scattered from a hangglider over Euro Disney.
Two years ago, I wrote down about fifty variations I would like on my tombstone. Here are a couple of the better ones…
– Caucasian. Gamer. Hermaphrodite.
– He was better than you
– It’s fucking dark in here
– Buried with a big sack of emeralds. No, really.
– Secret agent
– He owned a television
– He was kind of funny in an annoying sort of way
– RIP BFD
– He went straight to Hell
– Feeds upon the blood of the Irving
– He is in space now
– Deposit urine here
– He neglected his colon
– Yet another dead guy
– He was full of shit

Let them play

I have been a baseball fan my entire life. When you cut me, I bleed Dodger Blue. I can remember stats and significant dates in baseball history as clearly as I can recall birthdays and anniversaries in my family.
I hate the DH, I wish they’d raise the mound. I sing “Take me out to the ballgame” when I watch the games on TV.
I buy the Baseball Prospectus each year.
I calculate player’s OPS.
I play roto every season.
I keep score during most games I watch, and I save my scoresheets in a folder in my closet.
When I play softball, I hear Vin Scully and Harry Carry calling the game in my head.
Yeah, I am a baseball fan.
I watch the All Star game. Every year. If I’m not going to be home, I tape it, and if I catch a replay of a classic game on ESPN, I’m lost for the duration.
Yeah, I’m a baseball fan, and I am furious. I mean, vein-popping, ear-steaming, teeth-gnashing, hair-pulling furious.
Just when I thought that Bud “King Jackass” Selig couldn’t do more damage to the game, just when I thought that we’d nearly hit rock-bottom, he calls the freakin’ All-Star game!
A major comeback by the AL, amazing individual efforts from players on both teams, towering home runs and extra innings, the hated Barry Bonds being robbed of a homer in the 2nd only to hit a two run shot in the third.
The first game in a decade that is TRULY exciting and Selig calls it.
No winner, no MVP. Randy Johnson couldn’t even be bothered to show up.
Those fans who paid their money to watch a game tonight in Milwaukee expected to see a full game. With a winner and an MVP ceremony. That’s what they paid for, and that’s what they deserved.
What they and we got was a nice big “thanks for your money, now please leave.”
I don’t buy this idea that the game doesn’t mean anything, so the players shouldn’t give their all. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to the players, but it sure means a lot to us fans. Sure, it doesn’t count towards anything in the standings, but we baseball fans wait each year for this mid-summer classic, when the best of the best show us what they can do. It is supposed to be an honor to play in the All Star game. It is supposed to be a time when the owners and players give something back to the fans.
Major League Baseball should be ashamed of itself. During a year when Selig has talked of contraction, players are threatening to strike, and the spectre of steriod abuse looms large over each and every ballpark, this game was an opportunity for Baseball and it’s players to transcend the controversy and just play, the way we all play in sandlots and back fields and vacant lots all across America.
Instead, they showed us what they’re really made of, and it’s outrageous.
I have been a baseball fan my entire life, but I promise you this: after tonight’s disgraceful ending to an otherwise magnificent game, if there is even one day of strike or lockout, I’m done.
Let them play, Bud. Let them play.

113-107

So the Lakers just won the NBA Championship for the third year in a row.
You know how I know that I am 100% Los Angeles sports fan?
As soon as the game was over, I turned on the local news channel so that I can watch the victory riot.
So far, it’s pretty bush league, but I’m sure they’ll be flipping over cars within the hour.
UPDATE: Dang. The LAPD got in there with their rubber bullets and tear gas, and they didn’t even let the fans start one fire.
Oh well. There’s always the victory parade.